#you’re tired and loopy

[morgana-pendragon]

every time i go to take these goddamn pills i forget how to swallow what is UP with that .

[tojisun]

found you today through your plumber simon story and hngggg how can you take a concept that's so overdone and still nail it??? THE TALENT

(I need more of those plss)

aww im glad u liked the lil drabble teehee and thank you so much!!

(idk if this will serve the way the first past did but—)

just. blue collar simon makes me shrivel up in need. he’s just so…capable. so competent. he’s suave and ruggedly charismatic. he sees what he wants and knows how to take it; how to coax it out of you.

simon sees how wide-eyed you are when you look up at him, sees the shyness in the way you give him that drink he asked for, sees the way you curl into yourself while you explain to him the problem you’re having with your kitchen sink, and he physically has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from preening.

you stuttered out your concerns, ducking your head down when you noticed how much eye contact he’s keeping, only for your lungs to constrict when all what your quiet murmur did was make him lean ever so closer to you.

“sorry, miss,” he drawled, shuffling to rest his hand on the counter. “just can’t hear y’well, s’all.”

“oh, okay,” you replied, voice all sticky because what else could you say?

and simon just watched with narrowed eyes and pinched lips because darlin’, you didn’t even know what you do to him.

simon didn’t really fuck you then, not with how you laid there on your kitchen table, loopy and twitching, eyes faraway while your body came down from the intensity of your orgasms.

little lady, you fuckin��� squirted. you drenched his mouth and made his fingers all pruny with your slick.

god, doll, you were so pretty, all sweaty and drooling, unable to even properly kiss him back when he leant down to nab a taste of those spit-slicked lips. all you could do was whine, your body locked while your cunt spurted uselessly, still so overstimulated by the way he stuffed you.

you pawed at the tent in his jeans when you finally came back to, and who was simon to deny you of his cock?

you sucked him messily, but simon’s never been so horny until then. you couldn’t even swallow his prick properly, your mouth tired and your body still putty, but simon came the fastest he’s remembered, shooting his spunk all over your sweaty face.

simon would’ve snagged a photo of how you looked but the pipes really needed some fixing. so he tucked himself back in his jeans, then slapped the inside of your thigh softly, his eyes still on your puffy cunt.

“a’right. this bloke need t’work again, is that not right miss?” simon crooned, dragging his hand along your leg, watching your skin dimple with the weight of his hold.

you warbled a response.

simon chuckled and pressed forward to brush a kiss on your forehead before forcing himself to walk away because he’s still on the clock.

not like he’d even charge you after all of that.

.

it’s two weeks later when you finally called the plumber again. sure, you had to slam the hilt of your knife on your pipe until it finally dented, but it’s not like the plumber—mr. simon—would need to know.

your call gets picked up after the second ring but before you could even offer any greetings, all of which you’ve rehearsed in front of the mirror over and over again, he says, “well, that sure took y’while, didn’t it doll? almost had me worried that you wouldn’t call.”

you breathe in sharply, your pussy tingling already. he chuckles.

“same address?”

“yes, please,” you rasp out before licking at your chapped lips. then, “can i request for an asap service? it’s…leaking right now.”

mr. simon laughs loudly this time. you end the call before he can say anything more, dutifully ignoring the way your cheeks thrum with feverish heat.

because you’re sure that this time…

[dadsbongos]

YOOOO awesome denji obsessed girl is back. ok so i was rewatching csm and during the scene of them trapped in the hotel and was like, "ohoho how about denji x (fem) reader with them sleeping in the bed and maybee like how denji acts like loopy after the bloodloss back at the apartment after a blood transfusion or wtvr"

anyway just a thought u dont have to 👍👍 something nice and fluffy

super quick super quick drabble less than 300 words

written w/ fem reader in mind + not proofread

~~~~

Denji’s laid back in bed, still due for a blood transfusion following a drawn out battle in chainsaw form. And you’re on duty to watch him until Aki gets home.

“You’re really pretty…”

“Thank you.”

“And smart. And nice.”

“Thank you.”

“Like… so nice you’re an angel…” he scrunches his brows up at you, eyes narrow, “Are you an angel? You gotta tell me if you are…”

“Nope, not an angel. Just a boring human.”

“I think you’re…” he giggles, poking your cheek, “awesome.”

“Thanks,” you brush his tangled bangs from his face, resting your palm against his warm forehead to keep the frays away, “I think you’re awesome, too.”

“No way,” he grins, folding his hands politely over his chest and stretching his legs out with a throaty groan.

“Are you comfy, Denji?”

“So comfy.”

“Good,” you lay out beside him and pull the soft blanket up to your chins, nestling your cheek on Denji’s shoulder, “Because I’m tired, too.”

Denji stills completely, even his breathing ceased in his paranoia to not rouse you. At least until,

“Denji, you can breathe.”

“Thank God,” he wheezes, “Feel free to pinch me if my breathing gets annoying.”

You shake your head against his shoulder, curling both arms around his and slinging a leg over his, “I like you when you’re breathing.”

“You do?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Turning his head to lay it against yours, soft peachy skin smooth against yours. Hair entwining and lashes fluttering over you. Denji knows just by the thundering in his chest, he’s in love with you.

“I love you,” he slurs, exhausted.

You reach up with a quiet yawn, petting through Denji’s silky hair, “You’re adorable, Denji.”

Denji gets so overwhelmed with excitement that his heart gives out completely -- he finally passes out.

[brokenmenswhore]

Hiiii!! I love your writing and I have a request for Best Friend x Reader where Reader has had a crush on James for years and thought he never noticed because he was way to focused on Lily. But in reality he had been in love with her from the second they met on the train but every time je was almost caught he’d look to the closest person by you, which was usually Lily. Maybe smut too if possible. Thank you!!!!

i love this request!! james is just so 🥺🫶🏻❤️‍🩹

the closest thing | james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+)

────── ☾ ──────

“Hey, can I sit here?”

You were eleven. The boys in the train compartment all turned their heads toward you. One boy in particular, with brown curly hair and glasses, stood and approached the door.

“Hi, I’m James,” he said, sticking his hand out for you to shake and giving you a warm smile.

You told him your name and sat down across from him.

That’s when the crush started.

Through your first few years at Hogwarts, you and James grew extremely close, and became borderline inseparable. He was your best friend in the world, and you were his. Your infatuation grew with time, watching as he grew up and came into his own, his features morphing and sharpening with age.

When you were thirteen, you met Lily. She had been sorted into Gryffindor the same year as you and James, but you never spoke until your third year. She was charming, pretty, and loved a good laugh. You and her became fast friends, and you introduced her to James.

Whenever you sat in a group for breakfast, you would steal glances at James, who would be looking at Lily next to you. During classes, when you sat between them, you could feel James’s head turn toward you, but if you looked back at him, he was staring straight across you, fixated on Lily as she tucked a piece of fiery red hair behind her ear.

For years, you watched him gawk at her, and it caused you to hold your tongue about your developing feelings for him. Your friendship was so pure, it wasn’t worth ruining with a confession, especially if it would lead nowhere. Why tell him you liked him, just for him to tell you he liked Lily?

By the time you were sixteen, James was on top of the world as captain and seeker of Gryffindor Quidditch. He, along with Sirius and Remus, knew everyone and everything happening at Hogwarts. James in particular was the top of the class, and often had to help you with assignments. He still maintained your friendship, working to make time for you, but his popularity meant one thing you hated: attention from girls.

Girls often threw themselves at him, as they did Sirius, but he mostly turned them away. Waiting on Lily, you thought.

You and James had fun, and you made a habit of jumping on his back and making him carry you around. You weren’t much different in size, but he liked showing off how strong he was, and you liked wrapping your body around him.

Girls would often approach him, and when he entertained their attention, you would complain, “James, I’m getting loopy.”

James would bend over slightly, continuing to talk to the girl in front of him as you jumped on his back. He would hook his arms underneath your legs, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Gotta go,” James would say, dismissing himself as he stood tall, walking completely unobstructed with your weight on his back.

“You’re a child,” he laughed.

“Can’t help when I’m tired,” you would say, resting your head on his shoulder.

One afternoon, you were taking a walk on the grounds to find a quiet place in nature to study, and you saw James and Lily alone together. It would seem innocent to anyone else; they were side by side and just talking and laughing, but to you, it was so much more. James looked enamored, like he was the happiest he’d ever been, as they strolled along the path together. You desperately wanted to know what they were talking about, but you didn’t want to expose yourself for liking James, so you simply turned around and retreated back to the castle.

You were upset, but you knew you had no right to be. James wasn’t yours, and you had never told Lily of your feelings. If they liked each other, there was nothing you could do. Nothing, except, of course, pushing it down and asking Remus out.

“You’re kidding,” Remus said, shocked by your request.

“It’s just a trip to Hogsmeade, Remus, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m saying yes.”

“Well that’s pretty rude,” you scoffed.

“No! Not like that, I just mean-“ Remus’s voice trailed off as you listened intently, “you’re James’s best friend.”

“Technically so are you,” you responded.

“But he, like— whatever. Not a date?”

“Not a date, sure,” you clarified, honestly just happy to accept the company, “just two friends hanging out. That’s a thing girls and boys can do, right?”

Remus looked at you strangely. “Yeah?”

You smiled at him, telling him you’d see him later that night before walking away. Sirius slapped his arm. “James is gonna kill you, you know,” he said.

Remus just shrugged. Of course he knew that James liked you, and always had, but this wasn’t a date, so what did it matter? He was also allowed to be friends with you.

You and Remus enjoyed the evening walking through the streets of Hogsmeade and sharing a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, and you fought with every cell in your being to avoid bringing up James. Every time Remus tried to, you shut him down and changed the subject. You wanted to vent about him, but admitting your feelings to someone else made them all the more real, and you weren’t ready to face true rejection quite yet.

When you returned, you entered the common room together, and saw James and Sirius draped over the couch.

“Hey,” James said, sitting up as you both approached the couch, “where were you guys?”

“Just hanging out,” you shrugged nonchalantly, dropping down onto the couch next to him.

“I didn’t know you guys hung out, like, alone,” he said, forcing a small laugh on the last words to make them seem lighthearted.

“I didn’t know you and Lily hung out alone either,” you responded, catching his gaze for a full thirty seconds before you joked, “you just upset I finally have a friend that isn’t you or her?”

James forced a chuckle in response, but there was a slight bit of tension in the air between you both.

Things stayed the same as always as time passed. You hoped your time with Remus would spark some jealousy within James, but he didn’t seem to care. Every time you looked at him, his eyes were next to you and on Lily.

The one thing that did change, however, is James started throwing around a pet name for you.

You were excused from Potions one day to grieve the loss of your grandfather, who was an extremely important part of your life. You adored him, and you had a close relationship.

James found you alone in the west tower, crying at the bottom of the curved staircase.

“I figured something was up when you didn’t show,” he spoke, sitting down next to you, “what’s wrong?”

“My grandfather passed away this morning,” you explained, “I received word from my mother just before Potions. I just couldn’t bring myself to go.”

You wiped your nose with the back of your robe sleeve, taking a deep breath to calm your crying.

“Oh, angel, I’m so sorry.”

Your heart skipped a beat. James had never called you angel before. It felt so intimate, so endearing, and so personal. He threw around terms like “doll” and “baby” to other girls, but never angel.

You rested your head against his chest and calmed your breathing.

The next day, James missed you in the common room in the morning, first seeing you for the day in Defense Against the Dark Arts. “You doing okay, angel?” he asked.

You blushed at his words, and he caught it, but assumed it was because you were upset and fighting back tears. “I’m okay,” you smiled.

A few weeks later, James was shitfaced drunk at a Ravenclaw party, sat in a large group with you and your friends. You stood to get another bottle, and James called out to you, “Hey, angel, can you get me one too?”

That was the first time he ever used the term in front of Lily, or in front of anyone, and it slightly confused you, but also thrilled you. You handed him the bottle, and he watched you sink back down to the floor, sitting cross-legged next to Lily. When you met his gaze again, he diverted his attention to Lily, and you sighed.

He then started casually calling you angel.

It was nearing the end of your term, and therefore your time at Hogwarts, and your patience was gone. You had nothing to lose. If James was weird about it, or rejected you, you could just ice him out, and without Hogwarts, you could avoid ever seeing him again. That’s not what you wanted, but it was a possible worst case scenario.

After finals were over, you asked to speak to James alone.

You pulled him into a now-empty classroom, shutting the door behind you for privacy and taking a deep breath.

“Everything ok?” he asked, leaning back against one of the desks.

“I need to talk to you,” you replied.

“Yeah, I get that,” James giggled, “what’s up?”

Both of your hearts were pounding, and both of you assumed the feeling was solitary.

“I need to tell you something,” you said, your voice small and shaky.

“Okay, you’re kinda starting to scare me, angel.”

You took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as you tried to steady yourself. “You genuinely have no idea what I’m gonna say?”

James was slightly taken aback by your question. “I don’t remember doing anything bad.”

“No, James-“ you rubbed your hands over your eyes, desperate for him to understand you without you having to be clear or coherent at all. You didn’t want to say it out loud, you just wanted him to know already.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” he said.

You sighed. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, hoping you would be able to speak the words while simultaneously pretending he wasn’t there. “I like you.”

“Aweh, thanks, I like you too,” he said.

“No, oh my god-“ you spun around and paced for a moment, sighing loudly before stopping in front of him again. “No, like, I like you.”

“Oh.”

You looked up at him. That’s it? That’s all he had to say? Oh?

“Yeah.”

“I thought you liked Remus?” James spoke, confused by your confession.

“What would make you think I like Remus?”

“I don’t know, probably the dates you keep going on with him?” James threw his hands up, as if it was obvious.

“We’re just friends, I haven’t been-“ your voice trailed off for a moment. “James?”

He looked down at you expectantly. “Yeah?”

“I know we’ve been friends forever,” you started, “and I really don’t want you to hate me or this to be ruined, but term is ending, and you should probably know that I’ve had feelings for you since we first met.”

You exhaled, letting out a heavy breath that you weren’t aware you were holding in.

“I-“

You cut him off before he could respond, “and I know you like Lily, so I’m sorry I’m telling you this, I’m just kinda tired of holding it in.”

James furrowed his brows in confusion. “What?”

“I don’t want to fuck up whatever it is you two have going on,” you said, and it was genuine, “I know you really like her.”

James tilted his head to the side. “Based on what?”

You returned his confused gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Why would you think I’m into Lily?”

“Be-because you are?”

“No I’m not,” he defended.

“James, it’s okay, you don’t have to lie to me, every single time we’re with her I can see you staring at her.”

James instantly knew what you were talking about.

“No, no, that’s not it,” he stopped you, “she’s just always the closest thing to shift my attention to when you catch me.”

You paused for a moment. “Catch you what?” you asked.

“Staring at you.”

You were so taken aback that you physically stepped backwards. “What?”

“Mhm,” he said, confident.

“But- but I’ve seen you alone with her, walking the grounds-“

“Lily is the only person on this planet I talk to about you.”

“About me?”

James reached a hand out and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and sighed of relief. “Angel, I’ve been in love with you since you first asked to sit with me on the train.”

You opened your mouth to speak several times, but only small noises came out. You were speechless as James wrapped an arm your waist and pulled you flush against him.

“But-“

“Get out of your own head and listen to me,” James said.

“But I-“

“Shut up,” James sighed, pressing his lips onto yours to keep you from refusing to believe him any longer. Your muscles relaxed as you melted into his touch, your hand caressing the side of his face as you kissed him back. Your lips moved in sync with his. Molded with him, you were home.

James’s hand moved down from your waist to grab the flesh of your ass, pushing your hips harder against his, causing you to whine into the kiss. James moved his hands lower and lower until they were behind your thighs, prompting you to jump. He caught your legs as they wrapped around his waist, and he spun you around, seating you on the desk, his lips never breaking from yours.

Once you were seated, his hands held the sides of your face, desperate to deepen the kiss even more. You had both waited forever for this moment, and you both wanted to savor it as much as you possibly could.

You whimpered when he pulled your hips against his again, grinding his clothed cock against your clothed core.

He pulled away and smiled at you.

“What?” you blushed.

James nearly growled, “you sound even prettier than I dreamed you would.”

You looked deep into his eyes, and could tell he was being genuine. “You’ve been dreaming about me?”

“Feels like every night,” he said, his voice low as he slowly pulled your shirt above your head, and then ran a hand up and down your side, sending shivers down your body, “I’ve dreamed about simple little things, like holding your hand, kissing you, holding you…”

A hand moved to your skirt, pushing it up to your waist and beginning to move your underwear to the side as he continued, “and I’ve dreamed about fucking you, and watching you come around my cock.”

His words sent chills down your spine, his lips connecting to your neck as you sighed in pleasure.

He ran a finger between your folds, sucking the side of your neck as you shuddered. He collected your wetness before slowly inserting a finger into you.

You threw your head back, holding onto James’s shoulders to keep yourself upright.

“This all for me?” James asked.

“Mhm,” you moaned, unable to speak.

He slowly pulled out and pushed in his finger, watching your mouth fall open.

Your fingers ran through the curls on the back of his head, holding him against you.

“J-James,” you moaned, his palm applying pressure to your clit and doubling the stimulation.

James dipped his head for a moment and released a low, guttural moan from his throat.

“You okay?” you breathed out.

James giggled, his hand never stopping. “Did you just ask me if I’m okay?”

You nodded your head yes.

“I’m literally fingering you right now,” James said.

The reality of the situation dawned on you, and you realized what you asked, and you couldn’t help but laugh. James laughed with you, continuing to fuck you with his fingers as he swallowed your noises with a kiss. You were so, so happy.

The joy and laughter of the situation brought you close to the edge, your walls squeezing around James’s finger. He felt it, and immediately pulled his finger out of you.

You gasped at the loss of contact, the cool air hitting your wet core. You looked up at James, your eyes confused and desperate.

James smirked at you. “I wanna fuck you, angel, it’s no fun if you come already.”

“Yeah, but, but I-“

“There’s more where that came from,” James said, placing a kiss onto your forehead, assuring you this was not a solitary event. “For right now, though, please just let me fuck you.”

You nodded your head up and down rapidly, as eager as ever to feel James inside of you.

James pushed his pants down and freed himself, giving his cock a few strokes as he looked down at your body. He lined himself up with your entrance, looking to you for permission.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, James, please,” you spoke.

James immediately pushed his tip inside of you, and you inhaled a sharp breath. James slowly pushed the rest of his length into you, stopping once he was fully inside of you, allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Shit, you’re big,” you moaned.

James moaned back in response, your words making him harder as he slowly pulled partially out of you.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Please, James, move,” you answered.

James pushed back into you, your wetness lubricating his cock as you laid your back down onto the desk, no longer having the strength to hold yourself up anymore.

James took the opportunity to grab your breast, watching as your body moved up and down in sync with his thrusts. Your head was almost entirely off the desk, your neck tilting slightly backward, causing each moan to come out strangled.

Laying down meant James could see your entire body as he fucked you, and he was losing control at the sight of your breasts bouncing with each hit of his hips.

He picked up his pace, harshly grabbing both of your hips in order to push you into him with each thrust.

“Fuck,” you cried out, the entire classroom echoing as the legs of the desk shifted slightly across the floor.

“You feel so fucking good,” James praised.

You whined and whimpered and moaned beneath him, unbearably turned on by the feeling of his cock finally inside of you.

James moved one of his hands to your core, rubbing circles against your clit as he fucked you.

Your body jolted upward and you grabbed at James’s shoulders, pulling yourself up and hanging off of his neck. You were eager to come around him, and you kissed him hard.

“Please, James, make me come,” you begged, hoping your pleas would help him reach his climax as well. Though the sex wasn’t too long, you were so aroused by finally having him, and you knew you couldn’t last much longer.

James began to piston his hips into you even harder, determined to bring you to your climax. He wanted to savor the sex, but it would be so fucking hot to see you come in a matter of minutes. It stroked his ego, knowing that you were so hot for him that you were going to come from just a few minutes of stimulation.

“James, I-“

“Come for me, angel.”

The use of the pet name in your current position was enough to push you over the edge. You squeezed James’s cock, your legs shaking around James’s waist as you came.

“Shit, where can I come?” James asked through shaky breaths, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chased his own high after feeling you squeeze him.

“In me.”

“You sure?”

“I’m- yes, I w-want your come in me, please, Jamie, please-“

The nickname and the pleading had James coming inside of you with a final few sharp thrusts of his hips. He groaned as he came, settling inside of you for a few moments while he caught his breath.

He slowly pulled out of you, watching his seed spill out of your hole when he was out. He couldn’t help but lean down and lick the juices up, savoring the taste. You shuddered when his tongue touched you, you were so overstimulated.

James helped you stand, your body aching from the uncomfortableness of the wood beneath you.

“You alright?” James checked in.

“I’m alright,” you confirmed, leaning upward to place a kiss on his lips.

“You able to walk back out there?”

Your legs were shaky. You tried to take a few steps, but you nearly collapsed, and James caught a hold of you.

He smiled at you, turning his back to you and bending down.

“You serious?” you asked.

“‘F course.”

“James, I’m still wet. Won’t it get-“

“You jumping up or not?” James asked.

You hopped onto his back, holding onto him for dear life as he stood tall and swung the classroom door open.

At that very moment, of course, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Lily walked past the room.

“Oh hey you two,” Sirius said, noticing how unkempt your hair was and how flushed James looked, “had some fun, did we?”

You reached a hand out to hit his arm as James stepped in front of him, joining the group with you wrapped around him.

“Child,” he whispered to you, referencing you being carried on his back.

“At least this time I have valid reasoning for not being able to walk.”

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely! Me again but with an actual request this time 😭😭 would you be able to write poly!marauders with reader who just got their wisdom teeth out and they’re all taking her home and taking care of her while she’s all loopy and hyped up on pain meds. I think it’d be so silly and cute. Only if you want to though! Much love and thanks!

-🍓

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: mention of blood, effects of anesthesia

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Sirius had offered to be the one to drive you, but no one had let him because of how upset you all knew he’d get. As soon as you come through the door, Remus knows they’d made the right decision. 

“I know, darling,” James' voice is low, sympathetic, and a bit panicked, “but I promise you can have them in a couple of days, alright?”

Sirius leaves the dishwater to get cold, beelining for the front door. Remus is hot on his tail. They find James kneeling in front of you, untying your shoes while tears dribble off your chin and into his hair.

“I can make you a smoothie, or mashed potatoes, or any non-solid your heart desires.” He turns his head, mouthing help. 

Your face only crumples miserably, and James looks nearly like he might cry too but Sirius comes to his rescue. 

“Hey, sweet girl.” He palms the back of your head, careful of your face as he tilts it up towards him. “What’s got you so wound up, huh?” 

“He won’t let me have marshmallows,” you cry, words all garbled by the gauze in your mouth. 

“So mean,” Sirius commiserates. “I’ll do you one better and make you a chocolate milk, how’s that sound?” 

Your tears dry instantly. James lifts your ankle to take off your shoe, and you grip Sirius’ arms, beaming up at him. Or beaming as best you can, with your mouth all numb and full of cotton. 

“That sounds amazing,” you sigh, blissful. 

Sirius grins right back at you, his hand coasting down your neck and back up again. Remus can tell he’s dying to touch your face the way he normally would, but he restrains himself. “You’ve got a deal,” he says as James pries off your other shoe. “Come watch me work.” 

He steers you toward the kitchen, Remus passing a hand over your head as you go by. You give him a sweet, lovelorn look in return. 

“Can she have her gauze out soon?” he asks James once you’re in the kitchen. 

He sets your shoes by the door. “Yeah, it should be fine by now. They said a half hour.” James leans against the couch and passes a hand over his face. He looks so worn out Remus can’t help but cross the room to him, taking his hand and kissing it lightly.

“Was she very upset the whole time?” he asks.

“No, she’s been all over the place. Far worse than you, though.” 

Remus feels heat rise to his face at the memory. He’d had his wisdom teeth out last summer and reportedly spent the rest of the day clinging to whoever was nearest, grousing about how tired he was but never actually going to sleep. 

“Oh, uh…” James digs in his pocket. A few receipts and a dime come out, then a small bottle of pills. “They said she should start on these once she got home, but I can’t get them open. Can you try?” 

“Mhm.”

“Thanks.” James’ eyes widen, and he rushes off to the kitchen, saying something to Sirius about how they can’t let you use a straw. Remus follows a few steps behind, reading the label of the pill bottle before twisting the top off. It was childproofed, bless him. 

When he enters the kitchen, Sirius has you sat up on the counter and is poking around in your mouth. He takes out the gauze carefully, one piece at a time, and sets it on the counter. Remus makes a mental note to deep-clean that later. Your eyes follow Sirius’ movements, slowly widening. 

“Is all that blood from me?” Your voice carries a slight quiver. 

“That?” Sirius says swiftly. “No, that’s old blood. You’re good as new now.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, deflating a bit in relief. Remus chuckles, and your eyes fly to him, lighting. “Rem!” 

You open your arms wide. He steps into them, raising his eyebrows at James as you grip his shoulders tightly. 

“Told you,” James stage-whispers. “All over the place.” 

“I can hear you,” you say, words muffled into Remus’ sweater. He pets the back of your head pacifyingly. 

“How are you, sweetheart?” 

You take some time to mull this over. “M’okay,” you decide. “I’m a little sad they had to take my tongue, but it could be worse I guess.” 

“They didn’t take your tongue,” James says, like it’s not the first time he’s had to tell you this, “you just had some teeth removed.” 

“They’re dismantling me,” you say morosely. It’s clear you’ve accepted your fate. 

Remus strokes your hair again, leaning away slightly so you’ll look up at him. You do, and even with your glassed-over eyes and puffy cheeks you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

“I’m glad you’re not hurting too badly,” he hums, cupping the side of your head. You smile dopily and lean into the touch. “I’ve got a pill that’ll help make sure you don’t hurt later, too.” 

Sirius passes you your chocolate milk so you can take it, and James clucks about how you need to take slow, careful sips all the way until you’ve drained the glass. As soon as it’s out of your grasp you’ve replaced it with Remus’ hand, your fingers tracing the lines of his palm with idle fascination. 

“Feel like watching a film?” he asks you softly. 

You hum. “That sounds nice. Can I have the fuzzy pillow because they’re taking me apart?” 

Remus huffs a laugh, and James groans. “Nobody’s taking you apart, darling,” he reasons. “The dentist only took the unimportant bits.” 

“Bit by bit,” you sigh. 

James looks in distress, so Remus takes the crook of his elbow in hand, squeezing lightly as Sirius eases you off the counter and into his hold. Remus thinks you’ll be lucky if he releases you before tomorrow. 

“You can have all the pillows if you want them,” Sirius promises you. “My poor girl, being taken apart bit by bit. You can have whatever you want.”

[dollfacefantasy]

End of the Night

pairing: mafia!leon kennedy x reader

summary: leon comes home late from a job. he finds comfort in his pregnant wife who's fast asleep.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, somnophilia, pregnancy, mentions of blood and violence and typical crime stuff

word count: 2.7k

a/n: hey besties. here you go. hope everyone enjoys. if you're interested, check out my ko-fi. i appreciate the support you all give me oh so much. mwah <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld

Another late night. The car rumbles as it pulls into the driveway. He shuts it off and sits there for a moment, taking in the quiet of the neighborhood street. Moonlight illuminates his bruised knuckles and bloody sleeves. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, the skin beneath the dried crimson liquid turns white. A deep sigh seeps out of his lungs. 

He runs a hand through his dusty brown hair and looks in the rear view mirror, seeing his tired eyes looking back at him. He’d been meaning to get it cut, but he’d been busy as of late.

“It’s getting shaggy,” you’d tease him while scratching his scalp with your manicured nails. Then you’d lean in close and give him a big kiss on the cheek. “It looks good.”

You. His beautiful, darling wife. The greatest pride of his life. Only a few rooms apart, tucked away safe inside.

He lets out another sigh as he thinks of you, but this time it’s a breath of longing rather than exhaustion. You were why he was out here, cooling off. He’d promised himself since the day you got married those years ago, he wouldn’t let this affect you. Wouldn’t even let you get close to this side of him.

All the windows of the house are dark. He knows you’re asleep, curled up under one of the many plush blankets he’d gotten you. Face pressed into the silk pillowcase, your soft breaths drifting through the bedroom.

The mental picture brings a smile to his face instinctively. It quickly fades though as he looks down and crashes back to reality. Blood covered his suit, soaked into the fabric. He knew he’d have to just throw it away. He wouldn’t even bother asking you to wash this one.

He gets out of the car, careful to shut the door quietly. Walking up the stone path to your house, past the pristine lawn, he jams his key into the front door. The air in the house is so much warmer than the chill outside. It hits him in a rush, making his face feel numb. He slips his shoes off by the door, something you always asked him to do after one night when he had tracked remnants of some unfortunate guy all over the bedroom carpet.

Sometimes coming into the house almost made him unsettled. It was as if he still couldn’t believe it was his. That was how he felt about you too. Sure, he’d always expected to get married, but he never thought it’d be like this. Never thought he’d be happy.

He walks across the entryway and heads up the spiraling staircase, passing pictures of the two of you hung on the walls. When he reaches the bedroom, he sees exactly what he suspected. Even though he expected it, the sight of you fast asleep didn’t melt his heart any less. It filled his chest with warmth and made his head feel loopy with how much he adored you. The worst thing he could imagine was coming home and finding that bed empty. Whether you left or someone took you, he didn’t want to ever think about either. That was why he was always so careful. So that would never happen.

He pads across the room to your side of the bed and looks at your sleeping form with love in its most raw state. The kind that made him ache. He strokes your head and smooths your hair out. A light kiss lands on your forehead before he leans down and kisses your belly, swollen with his child.

More than anything on this earth, he wants to crawl into bed with you and do all that lovey dovey shit until the sun comes up. But he knew he needed to shower, not wanting to even imagine the disgust on your face if you woke up to his clothing, blotted red with blood, pressed to your skin.

He goes into the bathroom, making sure to be as close to silence as possible. He cringes when he turns the shower on, and just hopes the noise of the rushing water isn’t enough to wake you.

The next step in this little routine is taking out one of the disposable bags you now stored under the sink for nights like this. He peels off his suit and stuffs it into the plastic before dropping it in the trash. He’d take it out tomorrow.

He gives his body a once over in the mirror, looking at the stained and scarred skin before stepping into the shower. The hot water feels damn near euphoric on the taut muscles in his back. He lets out a muted groan. It sprays down on him and dampens his hair, the locks transforming from their lightened shade to a deeper brown. 

The white tile surrounding the drain turns red as the marks from work get washed away. He uses the little scrubby thing you bought him, making sure all of it is really gone. Washing his hair too, he uses some of your shampoo tonight just for your scent.

He can feel the pressure dissolving in his shoulders and the tight coils in his back beginning to unwind. He no longer feels like a live wire. The hot tension in his neck melts and rolls down his back, pooling in his belly. The heat of stress evolves into the warmth of desire.

When he’s finally done in the shower, he gets out and wraps a towel around his waist. Water droplets roll down his chest as he dries his hair. He then takes care of his other getting-ready-for-bed tasks and comes into the bedroom. He pulls on some flannel pajama pants and turns to his bed, ready to finally lay with his stunning wife and hold you till he passes out.

But when he looks over at you, that warmth that collected within him starts to bubble up into a boil. You had shifted positions, kicked the covers off so that you were much more exposed. It wasn’t unusual for you. The fact that it was freezing out now didn’t stop your body from heating up like a furnace while you slept. It started when you first fell pregnant, and while it caused you great discomfort, Leon secretly enjoyed it, infatuated with the warm, soft feeling of you against him in the night.

You were wearing a baby pink nighty he’d bought for you. It barely held your breasts which had just started to fill out more a few weeks ago. The lower part of the dress bunched up around your waist just below your bump, letting him see the matching panties you had on. He nearly drools as he imagines your lush thighs around his head, locking his face against that fabric.

God, and the final straw, your sweet, precious face. So clueless, not the slightest idea that your husband was a few feet away, leering at you. Slightly parted lips, twitching lashes, those cute round cheeks. It was too much. He had to do something even if it risked disturbing your slumber.

He had already drifted to the foot of the king-sized bed in his lustful stupor. Kneeling on the mattress, he leans forward and crawls to his target. One hand scoops up one of your legs, placing it on his shoulder. The other does the same to your second leg. It was just as he’d imagined, that familiar engulfing heat against his cheeks, around his neck.

Flat on his stomach, he brings his head in. His thumbs hook on your nightgown to slide it up a little more, resting it on the peak of your bump. His lips meet your clothed pussy in a gentle kiss. He then takes a deep breath, inhaling his favorite smell.

He trails some more kisses up the fabric to the level of your clit. The cloth gathers wet splotches from his saliva. Before removing the garment, he nuzzles your center, dragging his nose upwards against the silk.

Everything about you was soft, tender. From your voice as you spoke to the way you looked at him with love pooling in your eyes. His refuge from everything else, the blood, the betrayal, the guilt.

He loops his finger under the strip of fabric that conceals your cunt from him. After tugging them down, his eyes train on your folds. He locks his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer, smothering himself with you. Closing his eyes, he gets to work.

He delves his tongue between the velvety skin and licks stripes upward. His tongue draws skillful patterns on you and swirls around your clit before taking the sensitive bud between his lips to suck on it.

And there it is. You squirm ever so slightly. Your hips shift, but he keeps them pinned down in place. A small grunt leaves you and a smirk rises to his lips. So sweet, his innocent girl, never the wiser. 

In waking life, he wished he could keep you so blissfully unaware. Obviously, you weren’t privy to how deep the darkness of his work went. You had a basic idea though, and that was too much for his taste. You didn’t deserve to know any of that stuff even existed. He wanted to shield you from all of it. Just let you live like a princess in a castle without wondering how he could afford to give you that castle in the first place.

He shoos his concerns away by burying himself further in your cunt. He flicks his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves in rapid succession, applying pressure with his gentle sucking. A sense of satisfaction comes over him as he feels your slick beginning to coat his chin. He increases his efforts and flattens his tongue on your clit before going back down and working it into your hole.

He laps every drop of you he can, groaning at the taste. His arms squeeze tighter around your thighs, and he takes a deeper breath of that heady scent. He’s so laser focused on your pussy, he doesn’t fully register the moans beginning to spill from your lips.

Finally, he perks up when he hears possibly his favorite sound in the entire world.

“Leon?” you whimper, your voice soft and shaky with arousal.

He groans again, opening his mouth now to make out with your cunt. His tongue massages you and works inside you again.

“S’ok, baby, everything’s ok. Keep having those pretty dreams,” he mumbles into the junction of your thighs.

He doubts you could even hear that at the volume he spoke it, but he’s back to work anyways. Your squirming is getting more frequent as the coils of pleasure tighten within you. Your legs shift around in a futile attempt to alleviate the disruption to your rest.

More wetness collects between your legs, mixing with his spit and making your folds slippery. It’s the best feeling ever to him, he just can’t get enough. That smooth, slick skin. Your warm, plush thighs. He’d do this all day if he could. Any stress he’d had from work was as dead as the guy who’s blood had ruined his suit.

With one particular stroke of his tongue, you rouse from sleep. Your legs tighten around his head with a few conscious whimpers. You lift your head and look down at the mop of hair working at the apex of your thighs. You lazily run your fingers through the locks.

“What are you doing?” you mumble, your voice a little whiny from the nonstop ministrations to your cunt. Your head falls back to the pillow with a soft gasp.

“I think it’s obvious what I’m doing, sweetheart,” he teases before continuing.

“Bad day?” you rasp.

“No. Now shhh. Let me make you feel good, honey,” he says simply.

While Leon loved talking to you, he couldn’t eat you out till you were trembling if he was using his mouth for anything else. He returns his full attention to your pussy, devoting all his energy to getting you to that peak.

Your moans are louder now, becoming higher pitched as sparks of ecstasy fly inside you. The sheets gather and twist around your body as you writhe on the mattress. Toes curling as moon light shines through the curtains in your bedroom, you suck in a hushed gasp as his fingers slide inside you with ease.

You’re so sensitive from your condition that it only takes a few gentle pumps and scissoring motions of his fingers to have you dangling from that pleasurable edge. Your hips try to buck, but again, his palms have you secure, right where he wants you.

“Fuck… Leon. I- I- babe, I’m gonna-” you whimper while your breathing becomes more labored.

“Come on, babydoll,” he nearly growls, “You can do it. Cum for me. All over my face.”

Strained cries rise in your throat, your hips rhythmically rolling into the pleasure he provides. Not one to ever resist him, it’s only moments later that you do as he says, the band of euphoria inside you snapping.

He works you through it, not stopping his tongue or fingers. Your moans are deep and loud. There was no reason to be concerned with volume so you let the sounds fill the bedroom and spill into the hall. Wet noises bloom from the bottom of the bed as your release coats Leon’s fingers.

Not wanting to waste anything, he laps up every drop of you that he can. His tongue makes broad strokes over your cunt, and even as you begin coming down, he doesn’t let up right away. You squeal and squirm as your high overflows. Your feet weakly kick at his shoulder to signal it’s too much.

“Leon… can’t take it… fuck,” you whine and claw at each side of the pillow behind your head.

Normally, he’d keep going. Mouth would be latched on to your pussy for the next hour at least. Swirling circles around that pretty clit until you were crying and had gone hoarse. But right now, you’re carrying his baby. Your days are hard enough, and the last thing he wants is to be the cause of any discomfort for you.

He forces himself off of you, panting as he disconnects and pushes himself up. Looking up at you, his eyes are blown out with love. You roll on to your side, stretching your sleepy limbs as you slip back into the state of relaxation you were in before he’d woken you. He watches you, adoring the way your mouth widens into a yawn as he crawls up the bed to slot himself behind you.

Curling up against your warm body, he lets out a hum of satisfaction. He places a few tender kisses on your neck and behind your ear. His fingers run through your hair and stroke it back from your face in soothing motions.

“My pretty little wife,” he whispers.

Now you hum in satisfaction. Your hand finds his which was on your belly, rubbing your bump. You gently squeeze it before lifting it to your lips and kissing each one of his bruised knuckles. It was something you’d done hundreds of times at this point in your relationship, but it was never any less special to him.

“How’re my girls tonight?” he murmurs and places more kisses on the side of your head.

“We’ve been good,” you answer softly, voice becoming sleepy again already, “Well, she has. She’s just like her dad. Been kicking ass inside my stomach all night.”

Your eyes are closed, but it’s as if you can see the grin on Leon’s face. “She can act like me all she wants as long as she’s as cute as her mother,” he breathes with a peck to your temple.

No matter how many times he’d say things like that to you, you could never fight the heat that rose to your cheeks and the smile that broke out on your face. You turn and connect his lips in one final kiss before you settle into the pillows to sleep again.

He just watches you, the best way for him to unwind at the end of the day. When he looks at you it’s easier to remember that while tomorrow’s gonna be another day in his life full of gunshots and corpses, it’s also gonna be another one he spends with you, spends waiting for that perfect baby in your belly.

[valentine-cafe]

Hello!! Rasui-obsessed anon here! First time requesting and I’m a bit new here so sorry if I get it wrong!

( smut ) for ftm reader please? You just wanted to spend some time with the ever so busy Rasui in his office, being clingy and wanting to get intimate without disturbing his work, you suggest cockwarming!! But then it totally backfires cause now you’re all needy and whiny after a while and trying so hard not to beg him to fuck you because you don’t want to bother him anymore than you already have!!

love you guys lots! can i also be 🦐 anon hehe

˖⁺. “ how to not ! cockwarm your busy bf ” : 

﹙ top fire elemental mercenary x bttm ftm reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 9948e rasui x ftm reader!! 🍒 : ﹙ mercenary leader ˖ fire elemental character ﹚

you're always such a needy thing. you couldn't help but cockwarm your beloved boyfriends while he's busy. . . and now here you are, wishing you could bounce on his cock instead 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ cockwarming ˖ teasing ˖ edging ˖ rough sex ˖ dirty talk | wc : 2.1k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: this request was so fun to write ! I hope that you like this our dearest no.1 rasui-fucker/romancer <3

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

The scratch of a pen. It scribbles away so skillfully over paper. Yet the itch within you is left to swelter. So close - and yet so far.

Deep mahogany seems most interesting to you in the moment. Or at least, that is what you wish to delude yourself with. Your focus hones on the scatter of documents full of text you can barely decipher. Not that you would be able to even if you understood. Not with the warm, thick cock that fills you to the brim. A perfect stretch to your rim that you fight to hell-and-back not to clench up around your hard-working boyfriend.

How dutiful is he. Only one hand to write away at his work that you so desperately wish he would discard. Why can’t it be you on the table with his hands all over you?

Instead you will have to settle for the touch of ember upon your thigh with a calloused thumb lazily tracing circles. Mindlessly, you assume. For Rasui has yet to let out so much as a peep.

While you are here. Suffering. Needing.

All it would take is a small dip of your hips. A rock back into his lap to send fireworks through your twist of a tummy. Perhaps a tender word uttered to his ear where brunette locks lap along his lobes neatly. The slightest of pleads and you knew - work would become an afterthought.

Alas, anxiety is a fickle thing. The mere possibility of him looking at you with those flames of his eyes dampened with disappointment. The warmth of his voice drained into a dull scold: “I told you I am busy.”

It almost loops your tummy more than the intense pleasure that throbs along your gummy walls. They remember his rough thrusts, and they flutter. As though crying out for him to wreck them as he usually does. Simple grinds. Slothful humps. Whatever he wants.

Anything, but the stillness of a lake. One that you drown in. Agonisingly.

That irritable lump that continues to form inside of your throat refuses to go away. Regardless of how much you attempt to swallow it. A sigh escapes the man from behind your back. Heavy and tired. As are the few last scribbles on the current document that plagues his mind so clearly.

All before he moves on to the next. Endless. Piece of document paper, that has laid in the piles of documents.

What else can you do but cry out internally? The flames within your soul feel as though they will rage through your entire form soon enough and rip you to shreds from the need. Yet he knows none of what you feel —

In the reality of it all, he is very aware. It is all a game. Why should he tell you? Oh the cruel man of magma and fire reaching high up to the skies that he is. He recognises the loopy look.

It is sweet. That you think you remain unseen and unnoticed. Without the slightest of realisation you clench around him mindlessly. The way your eyes squint. Pearly whites biting down upon the plush skin of a bottom lip.

“Careful, darling, you’ll break skin.” He murmurs, eyes remaining where they have all this time. The sheet of paper, gathering the slightest of burn marks from the heat emitting from him.

With teeth halting immediately, and a breath hitched quietly. Your eyes move to focus somewhere else in the room — Perhaps a smell could distract you? Cinnamon? No. . . No that is just Rasui.

The window displaying the society of shades’ bustling nightlife? Most uninteresting. It gets harder and harder to not allow a whine or more out of your lungs. Head limping back against his shoulder.

“Sweet thing. You are bothered.”

Oh. Oh this bastard. The question carried such innocence. Feigned, you’d assume no less. You couldn’t do anything, it was mock. Was it not? “I am— I am okay, just tired.” The response earns the lift of a dark brown brow, and a huff. Flames puff into the air from the locks of hair at the top of his head.

“Certainly?” You yelp at the words slipped out into the atmosphere of the room, for you felt his hips shift below you. Pistoning up, as if to adjust. And then he begins to act as though nothing had happened? Pretending. Infuriating.

A part of you wishes to spin around. Hook your legs through the loops of his black office chair and ride him until creaks bounce off of the wall in an endless drone. What a sweet fantasy that is. If you promptly ignore his difference in strength in comparison to you. How easy it would be for him to simply shove your form across his table and fuck you senseless. Surely the chair creaking would be replaced the legs of the desk skidding rhythmically across the floor in no time.

Your mini mirages send another shudder through your body. Your walls flutter around his dick with one of your innermost crevices nursing along that one vein that makes Rasui restrain a groan of his own.

He couldn’t give you what you want just yet, now could he? Not when the payoff of your pitiful begging would be all the more sweeter. He spoils himself in the slightest with traces of his heated lips along your shoulder. A flicker of taste to the confection yet to come.

The click of a tongue breaks the silent. You catch his frustrated scribble of a signature on a document you barely have the chance to read, before he shuffles it beneath the stack of paper. Another operation he does not agree with - you assume.

The ball of irritation that has so stubbornly nestled itself within your core quickly bubbles into guilt. Here you are, whining over not having his dick pounding you sore.

Out of habit, you shift around in an attempt to quell the prickle of conflict within you. It seems you have so easily forgotten of your favourite cock that is buried so deep within you. Its pulses are swift to remind you, coupled with the spurt of pleasure that rattles through your body.

“Fuck,”

It is a cross between desperacy and bliss. What a cruel mix to lather itself over you skin and set your nerves ablaze. Your muscles move on memory and chase the spark of pleasure with stiff cradles of your hips. Sense and conscience flung out the window you so uselessly attempted to distract yourself with.

Surely, if you hadn’t snapped yourself back into presence, your moans would have poured through it shamelessly as well.

“Mm. What’s this?”

“Rasui. . . please.”

You can deny the shivers that course through your body no longer.

It truly was a pain in and of itself. Why could your nails not be scratching hard across the beautiful desk at this moment as you got fucked intensely?

Why did it have to imagination and nothing more?

“Please? Please what, habibi?” He croons. The deep timber of his voice vibrating through your right ear. With the mission to twist your tummy once more and have you clenching.

The needy begs he wants to hear from you— they are not coming. And it sets him ablaze. In the literal way as much as it is figurative. Emotions scattered and screaming, like a wildfire spreading across a meadow.

Hungry, tearing into it.

Just like the flames that surround his office, you feel the ones from him surround your body. Licking away at your skin in possessive manner. As if the flame had a life of it’s own.

You moan out quietly as he shifts his hips into an upwards angle, the throbbing tip of his cock hitting at the sensitive bundle of nerves you had been needing to feel getting fucked into.

“I need — I needyou. Rasui, I nee—ed you, need you so bad—”

And as you went on, you would come to feel the familiar rhythm, slow. Agonising, but despite it all you revered in it.

The pleasure shot bliss straight to your head. Nausea mixing with the pleasure and overwhelm. Furthering your whines as you cling onto him. A groan escapes your throat. Only to cut off into a gasp, when calloused, hot, flaming fingers find your nipple.

Thumb swiping across your top surgery scar. Whilst the heated voice in your ear whispers: “It is pitiful. How you wait, I am right here. Take.”

And there’s the skid of the table.

A familiar weight presses you down as though you are one of those documents. Rasui’s body so firmly pins yours against the smooth wood of his desk. It creates such a delightful friction to your already perked nipples that slide and scrape across the surface.

The hand that stroked along your thigh has found home on your head. With strength that could rage embers through vast forests, it forces your face to half-press against the solid surface. It is a sensation you would have no time to delight in. Not with the fierce claps of hips to your ass. Warmth of flame and force combined.

“Is this what you wanted?” You feel the fire lap from his tongue and lips. They kiss at your ear with a familiar heat that boils in the core of your tummy as thrusts wreck your body. Cinnamon floods your senses - more potent than earlier. An addictive aroma. Almost akin to the delicious feel of his cock splitting your walls open.

“Wanted to come around here. Disturb my work.”

His palm joins the assault. It smacks at your ass and grips at the soft flesh. The perfect leverage for him to angle his thrusts and knock against that one, darling spot. Flames might have consumed you whole - yet white floods your vision in waves. White. Hot pleasure that crawls up your throat and forces your mouth open. Subjecting the office to your moaning melody.

“All so this needy hole could get a good fucking, hmm?”

“Y-Ye - yes yes - yeesss ah! ‘m sorry-”

The table legs screech against the floor at the rise in tempo. Your nails sing in tandem from the scratches they etch into the wood. Just as you wanted them to.

Much like the bright burning stars that litter the night sky, embers scatter off of your joined bodies. Flaming hands keep you down against the wooden surface. Whilst the only thing that burns you are his nails, that dig into the skin of your waist.

A small moaned out scream mixed with pleasure and pain runs around the room. Like a wild animal on the lose. It makes you lightheaded.

The feral feel that swells within your stomach. Your sensitive hole begging for more, whereas your body only seems to collapse more against the desk each time.

“o- o-h! — o — ngh-m hn— R-Ra-sss-zuii!” You moan out loud. Yet what meets you instead is a hand squeezing tight at your thigh and leaving a few burn marks. Whilst sharp teeth find purchase in your shoulder.

“Not that. Say it right.”

The command is shot at your heart, and oh the weakness that spins around with it. In a dance of fresh air and lava pools trying to catch the wind.

Thinning your lips on instinct as the pleasure grows. It takes another hard thrust into the right spot for you to spill out messy calls for him. “D—Director— Di— Director Rasui— ngh — Pl-Pleas-ah!”

“Good boy— thas’ it, good boy.” grunts against your ear, as the pace whips itself out of rhythm. Even if he tried to keep it going, your desperate pleas sent him straight back home to the elemental realm. The sweetest song he has ever heard.

How can he deny you the pleasure of being full of his hot seed when you sing for him so delightfully?

﹙ taglist. ﹚: | get tagged for specific posts

﹙ tip jar. ﹚: like our work? consider suporting us 𖹭 

[sunsherbet]

Insomniac

In which spencer reid offers to help you with your sleeping troubles.

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

CW: incorrect depictions of insomnia i think, post!prison spencer, aka freaky/confident spencer, praise, fastburn, fingering, not beta read

A smooth string of steaming water pours from the Keurig and you dunk a lavender tea bag into the clay mug. The water pulls the bag deeper into the mug like exhaustion pulling at your heavy eyelids. You press your palms into your eyes and let out a sob-like sigh in frustration.

It must’ve been the fourth time this week that no matter how hard you tossed and turned, sleep simply wouldn’t come.

The Keurig lets out a low whirr and you move your tea onto the island. You lean against the granite countertop and sip the warm liquid, dunking the teabag a few times for good measure.

Lavender tea was your newest attempt at curing your insomnia. Last night there was white noise and the night before was a weighted blanket- neither offering any meaningful relief. Your days have been a blur of restless naps and excessive caffeine, both efforts falling short in battling the relentless fog of sleep that clings to your mind.

By the time you reach the bottom of the mug, it’s clear—the tea has done nothing to increase your melatonin. You’re no more tired than before.

In your sleep deprivation and anger at another failed attempt you launch your mug into the wall. It shatters upon impact and you slide down the length of the counter in exasperation. Ever since you had moved to Washington DC, sleep had been a struggle. Maybe it was the bright lights and constant buzz of the city or maybe it was simply that feeling of homesickness you’d found nestled in the basin of your stomach since you moved away from home.

The sudden knock at the door breaks your thoughts, and you get up on shaky legs to answer it.

The clock above the stove reads 2:45 A.M. and you distantly wonder who could be at your door during this hour. Despite your exhaustion, you manage to gather enough sense to peek through the peephole. A man stands there, his floppy brown curls spilling just under his ears. He’s got gold wire glasses sitting at the edge of his nose. He wears a short-sleeve white shirt, light grey sweatpants, and brown bunny slippers. Those bring the first smile to your face all night.

Deciding a man in bunny slippers probably isn’t a murderer, you unlatch the door and crack it open just enough for you to slip into the hallway.

“Hi, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, trying to subtly adjust your Kohl’s pajama set.

“I sure hope so,” He gives a boyish smile and you feel something squeeze your heart. “I heard something shatter through the shared wall and wanted to make sure you were ok?”

Shit.

Of course, you’d woken him up, you threw a mug at the wall.

Seemingly sensing your distress he rubs a hand against his neck and says, “I was up anyway so don’t worry about waking me up or anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

And of course, he’s the sweetest man ever.

Maybe it’s because it’s late and you're tired or maybe it’s because his smile is so warm it makes your cheeks heat but you can’t seem to lie, “Honestly? I threw a mug at the wall because I tried drinking lavender tea because the stupid internet told me it’d help me sleep but it didn’t and now I’m in the same situation I’ve been in for the last few weeks where I can’t seem to fall asleep for the life of me. I was irritated and mad and upset and I’m exhausted but can’t sleep and so no I’m not okay.”

You finish your tirade with a long inhale and peek at his reaction through squinted eyes. He’s looking at you from under those stupidly attractive glasses and you feel your legs clench involuntarily.

Fuck. Now, you’re tired and turned on.

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t mean to go off like that. I think the lack of sleep is making me a bit loopy.”

Spencer shakes his head, “Did you know 12% of adults in America have insomnia?”

“Do you have a stat for how many of them chuck purple mugs at their wall because of it?”

He seems to mull over this for a bit before leaning in and saying conspiratorially, “No, but I may have something that can help you get some sleep. You know, before all your mugs are gone.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that makes your heart flutter and before you know it, you’re nodding and opening your door further.

You hear his footsteps as you walk into your apartment and when you turn to close the door he’s so close you feel his breath on your skin.

Spencer swallows and your eyes trail the motion. The moment feels oddly intimate so you whisper your question, “So, what did you have in mind.”

“It’s been shown that when sex involves orgasm, it can help people fall asleep. Following sexual climax, the body releases hormones, such as oxytocin and prolactin, that promote feelings of satisfaction and happiness. At the same time, the production of cortisol — a hormone that induces alertness and excitement — decreases following orgasm. This combination of hormonal processes makes people feel tired and ready for sleep.”

Your mouth goes slack and you feel a familiar shiver of arousal. It’s almost concerning how attractive you find his knowledge of something as trivial as cortisol production. “Are you suggesting we have sex?”

He seems at least a bit flustered at your bluntness and gets rosey. He nods, “I hope you don’t find this rude, I just know what it’s like to have trouble sleeping and I found sexual stimulation profoundly helpful.” When you don’t respond he backs up, “I should go-”

With a rise of your toes, you’re gripping the collar of his sleep shirt and slamming your lips together. Spencer steadies you with a hand on your waist and gently guides you to the door. He tastes like coffee and toothpaste and he smells like cinnamon. Everything about him envelopes you so wholly that you have no choice but to surrender to it. His lips latch onto your neck and he alternates between soft kisses and gentle sucking.

You throw your head back but instead of making contact with the wall, you feel one hand shoot out to cradle it as his other drags your leg around his waist.

“You sure you wanna do this pretty girl?” He murmurs against your collarbone.

Nodding you helplessly roll your hips against his as you say, “Yes, please.”

He grins, “Well since you’re being so polite.”

Between his fluffy words and soft kisses, you’re fuzzy on when or how but you end up lying against the couch with his leg slotted between your thighs.

Spencer’s fingers trail against the hem of your sleep shorts and with a desperate nod of consent you lift your hips so he can pull them off you.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do baby, I’m gonna help you cum as many times as it takes for you to feel tired. Are you okay with that?” Spencer asks, allowing featherlight touches between the crease of your legs.

You start to nod but he shakes his head, “Words please.”

You whine and let your head thump against the plush sage sofa. You’re almost boiling with need and you feel a wet patch growing on your cotton panties.“Yes, Yes I’m okay with that.”

Before you know it Spencer is sliding your underwear to the side and slipping a finger up and down your slit. He drags some wetness from your center and uses it as lube to circle your clit. You let out a soft moan at the feeling, feeling your thighs tremble.

“Shh, I know baby but we can’t have you waking up the other neighbors like you did me now can we?” Circling your clit with one hand he uses his other to pinch at the peaks of your nipples through the thin material of your shirt.

Maybe it’s because of his deliberate and strong strokes or maybe it’s because you’re exhausted and this is the only semblance of peace you’ve had in days but you find your release within moments of him touching you.

The next morning you wake up from the first restful sleep in days and a pleasant soreness in your legs.

[sapphicantics]

Shambles

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After Regina’s life goes down in shambles, she calls on the one person who’s always there for her.

Contents: lots of self-hate from Regina, vulnerable!Regina, sweetheart!reader, reader’s an angel, hurt/comfort

Word count: 951

Author’s note: Personally this came out a lot shorter than I would have liked, but it is what it is 🤷‍♀️ Based on the TikTok audio “you came, you called.”

— — — —

Regina George does not do vulnerability.

Vulnerability means weakness and being weak is not a trait that she possesses.

She’s the apex predator and people cower at her feet, tripping over themselves to please her.

Of course, that’s all before Cady fucking Heron steals her throne, steals her friends, steals her boyfriend, ruins her life, and gets her hit by a bus.

Now she’s stuck at home with this ugly ass spinal collar on, she has to take this pain medication that makes her loopy as hell, and she has to rely on her mother for help with the simplest of things.

Embarrassingly enough, she thinks the worst part of it all is that she’s alone.

She knows she shouldn’t care about that, knows it shouldn’t matter that nobody came to see her.

She wishes she could say she didn’t understand why no one came, wishes she could say they’re the rude ones, the mean ones who don’t care, but she can’t. She’s never been an easy person to approach before so why would she be now, after everything’s been taken from her and her life’s been turned to shambles?

Her eyes sweep over the flowers scattered about her room, pity gifts left at the front door by her classmates who clearly don’t mind spending money on her anonymously, but don’t have the courage to show they care in person.

She knows it’s her fault she’s by herself.

She glances to her phone on the blanket next to her, wondering if she really has to be.

The phone goes straight to voicemail and Regina releases a shaky breath as she speaks. “Hey, I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but I’m having a tough time and I didn’t know who else- I didn’t have anyone else to call. I can’t do this — I don’t want to do this alone. I know I deserve this, but please I…,” the phone beeps, her voicemail reaching the time limit before she can finish. Still she whispers into the quiet room, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “I need you.”

Exhaustion starts to creep in and for once, despite hating how tired her meds always make her, Regina doesn’t fight it allowing her eyes to slip shut and sleep to take over.

She wakes sometime later, her back throbbing in pain and a groan escapes her as she attempts to push herself into an upright position only succeeding in aggravating her back more.

“Careful there,” a voice — one that is decidedly not her mother — calls from beside her before a pair of hands are helping her into a more comfortable position. There’s shuffling next to her and she tries to turn and see who it is because there’s no way it’s who she actually hopes thinks it is, but her brace is making it impossible to turn her head so she stays facing forward until finally you step into her field of vision.

Regina blinks, trying to determine if you’re actually standing in front of her or if her medicine is making her hallucinate. “You came.”

“You called.”

It’s a simple response, one that falls easily from your lips and succeeds in making Regina spiral, thoughts of why, why, why, swirling through her head.

Why’d you come running just because she asked you to?

Why’s it so easy for you to come running to her?

Why didn’t you abandon her like everyone else?

Why do you tolerate her after everything?

“How many do you need?”

The question pulls Regina from her head and she looks to the orange pill bottle in your hand before returning her gaze back up to yours. “Just one.”

You nod, shaking the bottle until the pill falls into your palm and you help Regina take it, cupping your hand under her chin while she takes slow sips from the water bottle in your hand.

A single drop escapes her mouth and slips down her chin and you wipe it away with your thumb, your hand warm against her cheek and it takes everything in Regina not to lean into the touch.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says after a few moments of silence. “You should’ve ignored me.”

“Never, Regina.”

“I’m not a good person, you know. You shouldn’t be wasting your time on me. I’m not worth it.”

“Being mean doesn’t make you a bad person.” You shake your head at her, cupping her cheeks in your hands. “I’m not wasting my time; you’re worth everything to me.”

Regina can’t stop the tears from falling at that. You’re good to her, to everyone really, but always, especially to her; you’re too good to her and she doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve you. She knows that, there’s a part of her that has always known and refused to acknowledge it, choosing instead to bask in it like she always does, but now that she has, now that she’s had all this time to reflect, it’s too much for her.

She’s so mean, she’s such a bitch, and you’re so sweet, you’re an angel even when you shouldn’t be, like now, with her, and she’s consumed with so much guilt.

The tears come harder, a pained sob escaping her.

Carefully, you take her into your arms and she squeezes you tight to her, burying her face in your side. Crying hurts, but she can’t stop. You card your fingers through her hair and scratch lightly at her scalp, whispering soft reassurances to her.

“I’ve got you, Regina. You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’m here, I’m right here.”

You press a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ll always be here for you.”

[gyuswhore]

the story of us ✦ j.w.w x reader

the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now - the story of us

synopsis: So many walls that you can't break through; except you do.

wc: 2.1K

contains: best friends to lovers, angst, fluff, humour, happy ending, alcohol, arguments

masterlist

Support creators by reblogging!

[a/n]: im exhausted, im loopy, im hungry, but i really wanted to post this so here you go my babies I'm sorry i haven't fed you in so long (ty @toruro for making sure i wasn't talking out of my ass in this ily)

[edit; 11/04/24]: grammar and spelling.

Jeon Wonwoo was nearing boiling point when he watched you push him away from yet another conversation.

He tried to understand, just like he always had. But it was proving near impossible at the five-month mark. 

There were clear signs you exhibited when you needed space, for whatever reason, Wonwoo knew you would tell him when you recovered. So he gave you what you needed.

And yet, when he finds himself pushed away from what looks like a casual conversation between your mutual friends, he finds his mild annoyance grow into something hotter. 

There’s a clench in his jaw as he tries not to squeeze the red cup in his hand with too much pressure, even when all the spiteful bit of his brain wants to do is to pour its pigmented contents all over your cream outfit. He manages to control himself, choosing to get up and exit the premises entirely. In complete silence, he refuses to acknowledge any yell of his name from passing acquaintances. 

Jeon Wonwoo refused to respond to any of your advances after that. 

Invitations to lunch were left on a jarring sent, the notification sitting in his log until he chooses to open it too late. His response was bare when you asked for help on some accounting concepts, pushing you over into Jihoon’s hands to fulfill your requirements. There’s a blatant shrug when you touch his shoulder, concerned, asking why his behaviour had become so distant in the past weeks; he responds with a mumble of, “just tired”.

The great divide happened a few days proceeding your birthday, one for which Wonwoo did nothing for but send you a quick message during the evening, never to see you throughout the extended day. 

“I can’t believe you’re putting this on me!” you all but yell, eyes wide and expression exasperated at the situation.

“Are you blind? Or just plain stupid? Because I didn’t tolerate months of your shit attitude to have you say it isn’t your fault.” Wonwoo is breathing heavily, hands motioning towards your entire figure with equal disbelief.

“What attitude?” you emphasize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I couldn’t be upfront with my best friend.”

“There’s a difference between being in a mood and blatant disrespect. I’m tired of having to put up with your mood swings like it’s my responsibility to coddle you. When was the last time you genuinely asked me how I was doing?”

“All the time!”

“Yeah, after you realize there's nobody else to whine and wail to!”

“Wonwoo, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Fine. If I’m clearly so unhinged, I’ll leave you to your liking.” 

The dwindled interactions, from messages to hellos, went from sparing to nonexistent — just like that. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t expect for you and Wonwoo to reconcile in the matter of a few days, if not a couple weeks.

But when the distance did nothing but grow larger, there was a settle of resentment in the pit of your stomach as you accepted the feud you were in. 

A text was sent from your phone a couple days after the incident.

[You]: can we talk?

But when you see no sign of the grey Delivered on the end, you knew he had blocked you. 

This was all nothing less than baffling to you for a number of reasons, starting with how you had never witnessed Wowoo acting this way. 

Wonwoo had done nothing but reprimand you the rare chance you suggested blocking an apprehensive individual, something about not showing that you cared. His voice seemed redundant after a certain decibel, the rarest chance to witness him yell at a failed video game or a frustrating professor. 

You know better, which is the only reason you’re ruling off paranormal possession. 

The claims against you came as an afterthought, not, however, rendering them any less strange. There’s a part of you that pondered if your shield of annoyance blocked you from seeing the truth in his words and in your behaviour, finding yourself overwhelmed with emotions when the thought crossed your mind, tears of frustration immediately blurring your vision. 

You did not understand, you could not. And when it all got too much, you allowed the hurt and confusion to turn into something more dangerous. You replaced it with anger, in the same place that once occupied a more delicate emotion. 

There was an uproar in Wonwoo’s mind when he sees you walk into the lecture hall, unaware of your overlapping schedule in the new semester. He watches as your eyes pass over the moderately packed space, briefly glancing over where he sat; if you saw him, you did nothing to bring a reaction out of it. You take a seat a few rows up front, right in front of him where he’s able to see the back of your head for the next two hours — for the rest of the semester. 

He wonders if it’s too late to switch classes. 

“Wonwoo, I honestly think this is getting out of hand.” Jihoon munches on his cashews, leaning against bark of the tree they were both sat under. 

“Did you want me to keep tending to her bullshit then?” he grumbles.

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know it’s not.”

“That’s what it sounds like.” Wonwoo’s retort is brisk.

Jihoon is suddenly snapping his fingers in his face at the reply, a flinch accompanies Wonwoo’s already sour expression. 

“See! See how frustrating it is when somebody isn’t making sense?” 

“How does this—” 

“Wonwoo, did you try talking to her about how you felt, you know, without the screaming?” 

Jihoon watches as Wonwoo’s expression clears out, his eyebrows unfurrowing and the scowl fading. He doesn’t speak, choosing to let the realization kick in.

“No.” 

Jihoon sighs, taking another pause. “I’m not saying what she did wasn’t uncalled for, but you need to talk shit out before deciding you hate each other.”

“I don’t hate her.”

“Right, so can we wrap this up quickly and have you confess your undying love so we can all relax.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Heat crawls up Wonwoo’s cheeks.

“What? If you don’t hate her, it’s gotta be the opposite.”

Did Wonwoo like you? Yeah, he probably did. Did he ever let himself ponder upon it? No, because he was downright mortified of the mere thought. He finds himself a hypocrite to say it was to preserve your friendship, but he figures he’s fucked it up in a way that’s arguably worse. 

Regardless, Wonwoo walks away from that conversation with two things: a stark realization, and an even starker admittance. 

Everything was going wrong. At least that’s what it felt like when you hear the clang of your water bottle hit the pavement, rolling off into the oncoming traffic as you sprint to grab it. You nearly cause a vehicle pile-up, swallowing a couple profanities from braking drivers. 

You’re stuffing the darn thing into your bag when you trip on a loose brick on the path, nearly landing on your face. The glare you send into the pavement costs you even more when a hard shoulder bumps into your side, sending you another couple steps back. You don’t bother to see who the perpetrator is, too preoccupied with your attempts to take in deeper breaths amid the blankness of your mind. 

There are no hiccups after that, what you might owe your more conscious mind to. Stomping up the library steps, you thank nothingness for the air conditioning that meets your hot face, slowing down as you take in the crowd. 

Scanning the room for an empty seat is harder than you’d anticipated, hoping the heat would keep students away from the building as you left to get work done. Approaching a table, you set down your bag with a huff, pulling the chair out to finally take the seat you’ve been needing for so long. 

The universe seems to have other plans. 

It’s almost funny the way you and Wonwoo make eye contact across the other table, the recognition sending a jolt through your stomach. 

You’ve never moved so fast, pushing the chair back in with a screech that earns you a few looks, grabbing the handles of your bag as you turn around to leave the building you’d just entered. 

No way you'd sit there. Not when he was around.

You're bounding down the steps when somebody passes you, murmuring something without slowing their stride.

“I’m leaving, you can go inside,” Wonwoo says, and the sound of his voice has you halting almost immediately.

Whipping your head around to search for the sound, you watch as he takes a turn at the end of the steps, slowly moving out of your vision. 

There’s a swirl of something in your chest, and you realise in that moment how much you missed hearing his voice. 

Chiding yourself, you blink back the water that wells up in your eyes, embarrassed at how quickly you were losing yourself.

But the damage was done. And you wanted to be reckless, regardless of how desperate it made you look. A split second decision is made in that moment, one that lightens the heavy feet that you’ve planted on the concrete. 

You’re back to bounding down the steps, but this time with aim. 

Taking the same turn you saw Wonwoo take, you break into a sprint as you see his figure move farther away. You keep running, continuing to bump into both objects and people, hurried "sorry"'s the only thing you choose to throw their way. 

“Wonwoo!” Your voice comes out stronger than you’d intended, the sharpness having him turn around in search, eyes landing on your accelerating figure. 

Both of you realize too late how fast you’re really going, the velocity taking you directly into his outstretched arms, hands grasping the sleeves of his shirt as you come to screeching stop directly into his chest. 

You don’t have the time nor the patience to be embarrassed, pulling your face back to look directly into Wonwoo’s bewildered eyes to huff out your next words.

“Why did you block me?” you ask, voice gruff and slightly out of breath.

Wonwoo’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, words refusing to come out. 

“Why are you so mad at me? Why are you being nice to me if you’re mad at me?” You don’t stop, the direct questions tumbling off your tongue in desperation. 

You search his face for an answer when his mouth fails, but all you find is the remnants of shock yet to ebb away. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t important, I’m sorry for taking your presence for granted, I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for…for… I don’t know! I’m just really sorry and I don't know how else to make this right.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you hear him say and you feel the moisture return to your eyes. 

“Huh?”

“I should’ve…” he pauses, looking sheepish. “I should’ve talked to you before I, y’know, went off on you. I should’ve managed my feelings better, I’m sorry.” 

You're silent for a few tantalizing moments before you raise your fists, and pound down on his chest with everything you have. You do it again, and then again, and again—

“What?- Ow!” 

“When are you gonna stop bottling up your feelings for fucks sake, it’s landed you everywhere but good!” you say, nearly yelling.

Wonwoo whips his head around to see who’s listening, palm to mouth in attempts to silence you. 

“I’m sorry! I know! I’m working on it,” he rambles, trying to get you to quit struggling. “Jihoon and I talked, that’s why I realised I was being dumb.”

“Are you gonna unblock me now or do I need to pay Jihoon to sit down with you again?”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow. “You payed Jihoon to sit with me?”

“No, you idiot. But I should have because you can’t seem to figure out how to feel emotions.” 

Wonwoo can’t help himself when he breaks out into a grin, letting out a breathy chuckle that has you asking “What?”.

He pulls you in, heart to heart in an embrace, holding you tight to make up for the weeks of no contact. He breathes in your scent and feels as though he hasn’t in years. 

“I’m not gonna come running up to you the next time you decide you hate me,” you mumble into his shoulder, pouting slightly.

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“No.” Wonwoo pulls away but keeps you in his arms, looking at you, “I love you. Like, the kind of stuff that makes you wanna live together forever. I love you.” 

It’s your turn to gape like a fish. 

“W-what?”

“You told me not to bottle up my feelings.” 

“Yeah, but—wow, um.” 

“Did I make another mistake?” 

No! You wanted to scream. But you don’t. You instead lift your hands up to come around his face, cradling it. And you kissed him. 

“I love you, too. Like the live together forever kind.” 

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

Raphael (NSFW Alphabet)

Bayverse Raphael x F!Reader

Our big guy is my second installment. Word Count: 1700. Mentions of exhibitionism, dirty talk, choking, and just general debauchery. I love him.

Raph is a brash, sassy, and gruff person most of the time around most people. It’s a blatant act. It takes extremely little to reveal an extremely sincere, loving, protective, passionate soul, and it’s a side of him reveals to his partner often. ESPECIALLY in the bedroom. Sex is extremely intimate with him, even if he’s being rough. 

Enjoy!

A- Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) - Raph is the one who needs aftercare tbh. He’s a little clueless about what aftercare even is though. He’s loopy and tired and he just wants to kiss and hold you, and unless you speak up and ask for water, a towel, wipes or a snack- he will stay right here with his arms around you. He's a touchy guy, okay? It feels like he’s recharging. If you try to get up, he will pull you back and whine, “What do you think you're doing,” and if you tell him you that you need something he will push you back down, huddle you into the pillows and blankets and go get said items for you. 

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners) - He loves his arms and tattoos and scars. He knows he looks cool. But he does NOT know he is attractive. Or sexy. Verbal affirmations are overwhelming, especially about his appearance. So be gentle with him about that haha. On you, on the other hand. Ass man. Ass man. Ass man. Ass man. He is checking you out, he is grabbing you, he’s spanking and pinching your ass 24/7.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum) - He needs you close physically. He is grabbing you and holding you close. In missionary he always presses his forehead to yours. Doggy, he nuzzles your hair and buries his face in your shoulder. He loves when you hold his face and keep your eyes on him when it hits. He swears a LOT, and he’s trying to breathe, so if he kisses you it’s super super messy and pathetic in the midst of orgasm. If you’re going down on him or if he’s going down on you, he’s always searching for your hand. Will grasp your hand or arm, and oral get’s intense for both parties, giving or receiving so the connection is needed. 

D - Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of theirs) - Actually doesn’t watch porn. He doesn’t like it, and he associates it with a lot of the bad people he faces topside. Feels dirty and thinks it's a dishonorable thing. He doesn't know he's the only one.

E - Experience (How much experience do they have) - Because how little exposure he allows himself to sex, and how little he’s entertained the thought of actually having a partner, he is going in completely- and utterly - blind. At least beyond basic, basic 'what goes in what' stuff. He has no idea what he’s doing. But that won’t stop him from pretending he knows. If he’s allowed complete control the first time, it will end HORRIBLY, so please PLEASE don't let him take over. Allow him to slow down and mess up, he will feel so big and clumsy and ugly so he requires lots of affection and reassurance. And PRAISE. He's a super, super fast learner.

F - Favorite Position - He isn’t picky, but he loves when you get him to relax against the headboard with all the pillows and you ride him. He loves that comfort and he gets to watch and touch and feel as much as he wants. But if he has to pick a favorite…he loves doggy. He feels big and strong and he loves that he can kiss and talk to you in the same moment he can pull back and enjoy the view. 

G - Goofy (How goofy are they?) - He won’t goof off until you do, but damn it’s a relief when you do. He feels enormous pressure to do well by you and not hurt you. So when you flirt or joke it’s an enormous relief. Give him some time to get used to fucking because he loves to laugh and tease you. 

H - Hair - He does not care.

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment) - Raph doesn’t really know he does this, but intimacy comes so naturally to him. There are moments when he’s almost innocent in how much he fucking adores you and needs you. So it can get super emotional super super fast. 

J - Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) - Masturbation is pretty low on his list of stress relief. When he’s frustrated or stressed or anxious he is in the gym. Then he has like twelve other different hobbies outside of the gym he falls back on often. There isn’t a whole lot of privacy in the lair, and out of everyone he isn’t that desperate for privacy either. 

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks) - Raph learns very, very quickly that he’s super into dirty talk and praise and begging. Giving and receiving. Words of affirmation are super big for him, and it shows in the bedroom. He loves reassuring you and telling you how much he wants and needs you. If you beg for him he'll give you literally anything you want. Very big into choking or holding you down. You weight two pounds to him, so manhandling you in bed or even standing is so exciting for you both. 

L - Location (Favorite places to do the deed) - He doesn’t like anything super sexual around his family, but he does not care anywhere else. He doesn’t care if ya’ll are at risk of being seen or caught or heard- if you are down, he is down and he will make it work. 

M - Motivation (What turns them on) - Okay, he’s a slut for your body, so your ass, for one. The second most motivating thing is compliments and physical affection. You start feeling up his arms or waist or dipping your hands in his back pockets, all while telling him how handsome he looks right now- he’s sold instantly. 

N - No (Turn Off’s) - Doesn’t like it when his family is around. He wouldn't want to be in a threesome ever. Not at all into the thought of someone else touching you. 

O - Oral (Preference in giving/receiving) - He loves the pleasure of receiving, and there are times when he NEEDS the worship and loving's from you. But damn…he prefers to give, and he is really, really, good at it. Really good. He could eat you out for hours and hours. He gets pussy drunk so easily, especially if you're praising or begging for him, or scratching and petting his head. Damn he loves it.

P - Pace (Are they fast/rough or slow/sensual?) - He can do both. He sometimes gets a little lost in the moment and is especially when he’s close, so he can get a bit rough. He struggles to stay slow, especially if you’re talking to him and petting him. 

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies) - He likes them a lot, because it makes him feel desired and attractive. If it’s been a while and you REALLY need him in an area around his family (say, at the lair) he gets SUPER nervous and subby. Will do whatever you want. 

R - Risk (Are they games to experiment? Do they take risks, etc) - Raph is the kind of guy who falls into a routine, so while new stuff isn't a problem, he might take it as he’s doing something wrong or ‘you're not satisfied with him anymore’. So just a lot of communication and assurance will make him an easy sell. 

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last) - Superhuman stamina. He could have you in bed all day. 

T - Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them?) - With lots and lots of assurance and communication, Raph wouldn’t see toys as an insult or replacement for him. He would be uncomfortable and a tad bit insecure at first, especially at first, and is NOT the type to have his own collection. But with time and age he would master them. He wouldn’t like to tie you up often. He likes you touching and holding him too much. 

U - Unfair (How much do they tease) - Give him some practice and confidence and you will unlock a horrible GREMLIN of a tease. He will tease, flirt, tempt and touch literally all the time, in and out of the bedroom. PDA be damned. 

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds?) - Raph’s more growly and grunty by default, and he swears a lot. He likes to talk, and he gets good at it quickly, but his sounds only start getting strained, desperate and emotional the closer he gets. 

W - Wild Card (Random) - He’s so big, that one time you came just from his dick pushing into your pussy. It lives rent free in his head and it boosts his ego for ages…

X - X-Ray (What's going on in those pants) - Team cloaca, here. Raph is fucking…huge. Giving him a bj is a sloppy, wet and messy event. You need tons of prep, lots of foreplay and lube despite all the extra lubricant from both of you. He is large, even proportionate to him and that means he's massive in comparison to you. It’s a lot of work to get him inside of you and it’s kind of the opposite of a problem for you both. 

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive) - He yearns for you all the time. His drive is enormous, and he could hole up with you somewhere for days and never leave, if it was possible. But your desire for him matters greatly, so his desire for sex depends greatly on yours. If you want to fuck, he will make that happen, but if you don’t want fuck, he REALLY doesn’t want to fuck. If you turn him down once, it will be your turn to initiate the next time you are in the mood. 

Z - ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards) - Depends on the circumstances. He is a very sexual person, so a good fuck won't necessarily be what tires him out. But if you're loving on him and giving that physical and verbal affection, and he knows that there is nothing left to do but cuddle and fall asleep; he will pass out instantly. But be careful. He's heavy, it's hard to wake him up, and he snores.

[sun-kissy]

Hello,💚

I was wondering if you’d be willing to write Remus x Fem!Reader who just had surgery of some sort? Preferably some hurt/comfort and fluff, where R is in pain and Remus is sweet about it?

Or if you’re not comfortable with that, any hurt/comfort with Remus would be great :))

(This is my first time requesting, but I really love your works! I just had surgery for my endometriosis, and I haven’t been sleeping much because of pain, so I’ve been up binge reading your works instead 😅)

💚

thank you so much for the request angel! honestly this hit home, because my mum had to have surgery for her endometriosis too, and i just wanted to say that i’m proud of you for being so strong. i hope that the pain has eased now, and you’re getting some well-deserved rest! <3

better | r.l.

tw: mention of surgery, hurt/comfort

remus lupin x reader

Remus rolls over on the bed, feeling around for you until he finds your hand. He takes your fingers in his, lacing them together before giving a soft squeeze.

“Hey sweetheart,” his words are soft and stringed together, as though dipped in honey. Your eyes are wide open as you look at him, the soft moonlight from the window casting shadows across your face. “Hi.”

“Still can’t sleep?” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles gently. His heart aches as he eyes you, curled up in a foetal position with your arms wrapped around your knees. You’ve pressed yourself so tightly together Remus thinks you might squeeze yourself half to death.

“No,” you mumble, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice for his sake. But he can see the slight contortion in your features, and he knows the pain is bothering you.

You’d just gotten surgery for your endometriosis a few days ago, after much convincing from your boyfriend. The pain had been bothering you for months before the surgery and he was convinced that you would feel a lot better once you faced the music. However, these past few days post-surgery weren’t proving to be any better, and he’d often find you in tears from how much everything hurt.

Remus hated that he couldn’t do anything to just take all your pain away and make it alright. But like all good things, it had to get worse before it got better.

He reaches a hand out, cupping your face in the basin of his palm as he silently thumbs your cheek. You relax into his touch, and let your eyes flutter closed.

“Rem,” you whisper.

“Yeah, dove?”

“It really hurts.”

Remus doesn’t miss the crack in your voice, and he feels like his heart is being cleaved in two. A pitiful sound comes from the back of his throat as he extends his other hand to stroke comfortingly at your hairline. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

At his sympathy, you curl in on yourself even further as though pained. Hot tears dribble down your cheeks and curve the bridge of your nose, and Remus moves his thumb to swipe at them. You whimper, and it makes him hurt in all the worst ways.

“I’m so tired. And I just want to sleep, but I can’t, and –” you choke pathetically on the lump in your throat. Remus shushes you, unable to stop himself from tugging you closer until your knees are squished between both of your chests. He presses a hand to your back, rubbing up and down your spine in a way he hopes is comforting.

Leaning forward, he presses his lips to your hairline. “I’m so sorry, honey. But you’re going to feel better in a few more days.” He desperately wishes his kiss could convey all the comfort and love you needed right now.

Remus needles an arm between your knees and stomach, pressing the back of his hand to your abdomen. His fingers start to trace a circular motion, knuckles brushing against your stitches in the same way they’ve done countless times before. He feels the muscles underneath his hand relax slightly.

“But what if I don’t feel better?” you warble. “What if I never sleep again?”

Remus could almost laugh at how loopy the meds made you if you didn’t sound so pitiful. More tears wet your eyelashes, and he indulgently kisses them away before smoothing his fingers over your cheeks.

“Then I’ll get you sleeping meds.”

“Really?” you sniffle, and it’s the most hopeful you’ve sounded that whole week. But you both know that Remus wasn’t going to let you ruin your system with more medicines than necessary.

“No,” he whispers bemusedly, almost guilty when he hears the earnest longing in your voice, “but what I can do for you right now is get you the heating pad.”

You don’t even look upset at his words, seemingly expecting the response. Your lip quivers as you draw it in between your teeth guiltily. “I don’t want you to get up, though. You should be getting some rest. I bet you’re exhausted, looking after me all night.”

Remus presses a quick peck to the tender spot beneath your eye as he pushes his elbows into the mattress, hoisting himself up straight. “I’m up, sweetheart.” He pulls his hand away from your abdomen, unable to stop the small smile that forms when you whine in protest.

He bends down to press another kiss to your forehead, and you feel the upward curve of his lips against your skin. “And I don’t mind looking after you. The only thing I’m worried about right now is you not getting enough rest.”

You hum softly in response, and Remus resists the urge to cocoon you in a mountain of blankets and smother your pain away. Instead, he brushes strands of hair back from your face. “Try to sleep, please.”

“After you get me the heating pad.”

He hums indulgently, moving his hand to the nape of your neck and comfortingly brushing over the baby hairs there. “You want anything else? Chocolate, or hot tea, maybe?”

“Chocolate would be nice,” you admit.

“Then chocolate it is,” he smiles as he stands up, rounding the bed.

“Rem?”

“Yeah, dove?”

“Are you sure you can’t get me sleeping pills?”

Remus huffs out a laugh, giving your foot a warning squeeze before leaving the room.

[gothamite-rambler]

Dentists seem to be their one weakness

Yes, this is based of Tori and Trina when Trina got her wisdom teeth removed.

Cass, Tim, and Stephanie entered the department store, but Cass quickly glanced at her phone and noticed that a couple of people were missing.

Cass: Where are Dick and Jason?

Tim: Um, I guess they didn’t tell you. Jason had all his wisdom teeth removed, and Dick guessed the wrong number, so he’s taking care of him.

Stephanie (alarmed): He got… all his wisdom teeth removed?

Tim: Yep. The crazy thing about the Lazarus Pit is that the liquid grew his wisdom teeth back, even though Bruce paid to have them removed before Jason died. Apparently, the dentist convinced Bruce it was best to take them all out because of the damage already done to Jason's mouth when he went last week.

Stephanie: Why would they even tell Bruce—he's covering the payment for the removal?

Tim nodded, chuckling.

Stephanie (snarky): Let me guess, Bruce dipped for an important vacation or mission?

Tim (feigning shock): Oh my God, how did you guess? He even brought Selina along to 'keep him company.'

Stephanie (shaking her head with a smile): All to avoid dealing with loopy Jason. Poor, poor Richard.

Cass: Why wouldn’t Bruce want to take care of Jason?

Stephanie snorted in laughter, waving her hand for Tim to explain.

Tim: Who do you think came up with this system? He’ll provide a ride home—that’s it.

Stephanie: It’s deceiving as heck, but I admire it.

Tim rolled his eyes.

Tim: You would.

Cass (doubtful): Jason has been through worse pain; he can’t be that bad.

Tim and Stephanie exchanged a knowing glance, then resumed their shopping without discussing the matter further.

---------------------------------------

Meanwhile, at Dick's apartment, Jason sat on the couch, arms crossed, in pain from the novocaine wearing off, refusing to open his mouth for his medication.

Dick (holding out a purple pill): Take the pill.

Jason (with gauze in his mouth): No.

Dick (for the tenth time): I need you to take the pill.

Jason (muffled): Nuh-uh, they taste nasty!

Dick: We’ve been at this for thirty minutes!

Jason’s eyes darted toward the door, searching for an escape. In a sudden burst of energy, he elbowed his brother in the stomach. Dick fell to the ground but managed to grab Jason's leg before he could escape, knocking him down as well.

Dick (angry): You’re going to take this fucking pill—

Jason punched Dick in the cheek, sending him backward. In retaliation, Dick kicked Jason in the stomach.

Dick: We’re doing this the hard way, got it?

Dick grabbed his brother’s leg again and dragged him back. The brothers started grappling as Dick tried to pry open Jason’s mouth.

Jason (whining): I don’t want the pill!

Dick (shouting): You need it, or you’ll get an infection!

Jason flipped Dick across the coffee table, causing the irritated, tired man to growl in frustration.

Dick (enraged): I will break every bone in your body until you take this pill!

Jason: Catch me first!

Jason ran across the apartment as Dick chased after him. Hayley the dog and Austen the cat watched from a distance, amused by their antics.

Dick (pinning his brother): Take the pill! I don’t care what you say!

Jason: No, I don’t want it! They taste awful!

Dick: I’ve been dealing with this for five hours! Take it! Take it now!

With a final surge of determination, Dick held Jason down, pried his mouth open, and forced the pill down his throat. Jason screamed but eventually swallowed the pill, whining as he shoved Dick off him. Dick collapsed onto the floor, grumbling.

Jason rubbed his sore mouth, cursing the fact that his wisdom teeth had regrown since he’d been brought back to life. Dick calmly stood up, grabbed a glass of water, and lifted Jason by the shirt collar.

Dick: Here’s your water!

He tossed the liquid into Jason’s face, then dropped him back to the ground.

Jason: When my mouth is healed, I will break your arm, your leg, and all your teeth!

Dick: Awesome, I’m just going to lay down. Stupid number-guessing game!

[gatorbites-imagines]

Dick grayson x male reader (preferably YJ verse)

Reader is Clark's bio son and their both hopelessly in love but reader is scared of dicks dating history and how close he's with all his exes and he doesn't want to get burned in the process

Dick Grayson x kryptonian male reader

Headcanons

Featuring some of my kryptonian headcanons.

You and Dick would be close even before the young justice team was made, since Bruce and Clark worked side by side so much as you were growing up. That results in you two knowing each other pretty well.

You would both be crushing on one another, but neither of you would confess or think the other feels the same way. Dick would the one to go off and date other people whilst you just stayed single and nursed what you thought was your one-sided crush.

Clark would have realized very early on how you were feeling for Dick, and he would tease you good naturedly about how you keep purring when your around him, saying its good he cant hear those frequencies or dick would have known immediately too.

You bring kryptonian makes you one of the team’s power houses, since you pack a major punch and other very strong powers. This results in you also looking out for a lot of the other team members just in case.

You’ve taken many hits for Dick over the years, since you on instinct keep a closer eye on him than everyone else. It’s not on purpose, you just do.

When Conner shows up, you don’t turn him away like others and treat him like a fellow kryptonian even if your dad is having some issues with being cloned. You don’t blame Conner for being created, and you just want to help out.

This leads to you and Conner getting close, and you teaching him about the weird quirks that come with being part Kryptonian. He almost exposes you when he asks why you purr so much around Dick, but you quickly shut him up.

Pretty much everyone can tell Dick is just as head over heels for you in return, it’s probably why some of his past relationships ended. I could imagine his partners realizing he was pining hard for you, which lead to a breakup for the most part.

Dick would think you don’t want a relationship in general since you’ve never been in a relationship with anyone, but everyone knows its because you pine after him too.

You two circling eachother like a pair of peacocks has been the cause of many tired conversations between your dads or your teammates. Bruce and Clark have known for years that you two like each other, but they also don’t want to push either of you to confess if you arent ready.

Your teammates have bets on how long its gonna take, Roy is the winner right now, since the bet was made years ago and he bet it would take you guys years, whilst the others said months or a year max.

You guys “hang out” all the time, but its very much just dates without you guys admitting it is. Like going out to eat together, going to the movies, or you flying around with him in your arms just for fun.

You guys end up kissing when you’ve been hit with a pretty strong dose of kryptonite, and you were loopy and weak. You weren’t sure you would make it out, so you kiss him.

Of course, you survive, and try to ignore that anything actually happened since you still think he doesn’t like you in return, and you fear you might have ruined your friendship.

It doesn’t help that all his exes are so attractive and skilled that it makes you insecure. Dick isn’t doing well with you avoiding him, as you go as far as using your super hearing to avoid him.

It ends up being Wally or Conner who explains to Dick that you feel insecure and like you won’t be able to meet his standards, which Dick doesn’t understand because he thinks your so far out of his league.

He would want to talk to you, but again, you’re avoiding him. Dick ends up getting the help from teammates and probably even Clark as you can’t outfly your dad like you can some of the others.

Finally, you two get to talk it all through, tears or shed, both sad tears and happy tears. You both feel so stupid cuz you’ve liked each other for years, but neither of you realized or confessed.

It takes a while after you start dating for you not to feel insecure or like you can’t meet some invisible standard, but Dick being so insanely smitten as he is helps quite a lot.

Your teammates have definitely joked that Dick would kiss the very ground you walk on if you asked, not that you wouldn’t do the same though.

You two are so cute together its almost sickening honestly. Always near eachother, holding hands, cuddling, kissing. The amount of flirting you do over comms now that you are together is unbelievable.

You’re very happy, though the insecurity does pop up at times. Your families and friends are happy you two finally confessed too. And Roy won the bet and became a richer man.

[literaila]

"i don''t wanna get you sick"

from either reader or peter (sorry if you've already written a fic like this)

where’d you get your medical degree

tasm!peter x fem!reader

warnings: the ask says it all.

a/n: in lieu of sick season. and because of many illnesses (such as writers block, and insanity) which are preventing me from writing anything serious

*

“no,” you whine, pushing him away. “don’t touch me.”

peter is looking down at you with an incredulous look on his face. his hair is loose and his eyes are close, and he’s unbelievably pretty. like you have to blink a few times, just to make him appear normal—and a little less blurry.

you think he’s smiling too, but you can’t really see it. you might be dreaming.

“is there any particular reason why not, bub?”

his hands near you again, cold fingertips on your jaw, around your head. you groan and move your face away from them—even though it feels wonderful.

“i don’t know where those hands have been.”

peter snorts. “trust me,” he says, tilting your head back to him, “you do.”

your stomach turns, and suddenly his hands are a saving grace, so you grab both, holding them to your cheeks.

“change your mind?”

“cold,” you sigh, leaning as close as you can get to him.

“you’re burning, love, and not the elvis kind.”

you shake your head, eyes closed. “not funny,” you mutter.

“can you look at me real quick?”

you moan and close your eyes even tighter. “i’m tired, peter. come back when we’re open.”

“just let me see those pretty eyes and then you can sleep. i’ll even get you some comfier clothes. and some water.”

you move your legs around, feeling the stiff polymer pants you wore today, assuming that you wouldn’t be halfway to death by 3pm.

“how bout some ice cream?” you ask, opening one eye.

it is not lost on you that peter is trying to flirt with you. or that he’s frowning.

“your pupils are big,” he says, concisely. “did you get drugged?”

you giggle, moving away from him, his fingertips suddenly ticklish. “yes, from my computer,” you grin at him, closing your eyes again. “at my office job.”

“okay, stoner, what medicine did you take?”

you frown. “none.”

peter is frowning back. you can feel it. but you’re not going to open your eyes, just in case he’s suddenly brushed his hair or something. put on mascara. who knows what lengths peter would go to surprise you.

“wait,” you hold a finger up. “whatever’s in my bag, i think. i took it at work.”

peter sighs, patting your leg before he moves about the room, looking for a purse you must have lost.

you actually can’t really remember how you got home in the first place.

“if your fever gets any worse, we’re going to the doctor.” peter says this from across the room, and you’re pretty sure he’s not even talking to you. “here. this is just acetaminophen. how long ago?”

your face is pushed into the pillow beside you. it smells like peter, so you keep it there.

“loopy, can you just answer this one question?”

“the pillow is speaking to me.”

peter puts a hand on your back. “i am so sure you’re on drugs,” he says, almost adoringly. “the pillow is telling you that you need to clean up. trust me, we’re close. let’s get you into pajamas and then i’ll find you some stuff.”

you don’t move. maybe you didn’t hear him.

“bub,” he says, a bit louder, sterner. “c’mon, it’ll only take a sec.”

“not moving.” your voice is muffled. “ever.”

“how am i supposed to kiss you, then?”

you turn and peek out at him, lip curling at the mention. and then you cough. “you cant kiss me. i’m sick.”

“it’s disappointing that you think that would deter me.”

“if you’re sick how are you supposed to take care of me?”

“i’ll always take care of my baby,” he swears, leaning into you. if you were of right mind you might realize he wants a kiss. you might realize what you want.

but you only nod approvingly, and then smush your face back into his pillow.

peter groans. his hand moves to the back of your head, and he massages your scalp for a moment. “i know those clothes aren’t comfortable,” he pulls at your tight blouse, the one you wear when you want to feel good about yourself and you don’t mind neglecting to breathe. “even though it looks good on you. you’re sweating through it.”

your muffled voice returns: “do i smell?”

it’s a miracle that peter can understand anything you’re saying. “just like you,” he sniffs, “and maybe a bit like coffee? did you spill something on yourself?”

you don’t move. just hum into the pillow, hacking up a lung into it.

peter shakes his head. “i’m gonna need to wash that. up, baby. a shower would help your sinuses, but we’ll change if you’re tired.”

“baby,” you giggle to yourself.

“yes, baby, because you have de-aged significantly in the past hour. do i have to carry you to the closet?” his voice is teasing, but you’re not really sure that you can hear anything.

you finally turn, sitting up so you can look at peter. “am i being difficult?” you ask him, worriedly. your skin has shifted colors, and your voice is more like rock on rock. but you still frown at peter. “i’m sorry. you don’t have to do anything. i can change.”

but as you say it you double over in a coughing fit, and while you can feel peters hand on your back, you’re almost worried he’s already left.

“don’t be ridiculous,” he whispers when you’re silent again, swallowing. “i like taking care of you. though, i’m not loving that cough. do you need some water?”

you look at him, checking his eyes for something that you’d never be able to recognize in this state. and finally you nod, silent.

peter kisses your forehead and leaves for the kitchen.

you sit there, trying to keep your back perfectly straight. even through the overwhelming urge to lay back down in the bed and suffocate in the blankets.

you really just want to smell that pillow some more.

your head is pounding, and you try to remember if you even took that medicine in the first place. how long you’ve been sitting there. if peter even took your temperature in the first place.

but peter is back before you figure it out. “here,” he hands you a glass of water, watching you with narrowed eyes. “drink all of it.”

“i’m not thirsty.”

he glares at you and you smile, sipping on the water.

he smiles back, sitting down next to you and feeling all over your face with his hands. “what’s the status report?”

“still sick, but my mental capacity is coming back.”

“oh good,” peter says, leaning back but not letting go of you. “i was worried when you didn’t laugh at my elvis joke.”

you snort and lean right back into him, your head against his chest. he smells a lot better than cheap cotton.

“sorry ‘bout your pillow,” you cough out, leaning away from him suddenly so you don’t spit in his face.

“it’s fine. i enjoy a little snot with my sleep.”

“gross, peter.”

he grins down at you, kissing the top of your head again, because he is beyond adorable. then he sombers, still staring, carefully evaluating you. “do you want some more medicine? i think we’ve got some cold stuff in the cupboard.”

“the sleepy kind?”

“probably. take some of that. do you want to shower?”

“not really,” you say, letting him hold your head up. “i’m a little dizzy.”

peter frowns at you. “i’d make sure you don’t fall,” he offers.

“that’s okay,” and then you, once again, hack up some mucus in front of his face and sigh pathetically into your own hands.

“how about some tea? for your throat?” his hand moves yours away, brushing the hair out of your face.

“peter, it’s okay.”

you kiss his hand and push it away.

“the teas okay?” he frowns. “as in yes?”

“i’m okay,” you repeat, shaking your head at him. “you don’t have to do anything else. i’m fine.”

“you’re sick,” he corrects.

“i’m a big girl. i just need a nap. i’m probably not even sick.”

you emphasizes this point by choking down a cough, making your eyes water.

peter raises a brow.

you smile, tightly. “i’m just gonna go change now—“ you stand up, and then fall back down. your head spins as you feel peters hands wrap around your waist, his lips pressed against the side of your temple.

“just let me help,” he whispers, into you. “i’m not busy.”

“you had a long day.”

“i just want to cuddle with you anyway. i can take a few extra steps—like making you tea and getting you medicine.”

you shake your head. “i can do it.”

“i miss high you,” peter sighs. “c’mon, bub, stop being stubborn.”

you frown. “you’re the stubborn one. go swing and save someone else,” you tell him. “i just need a nap.”

“then i’m napping with you.”

you tilt your head back, groaning, and regretting it immediately when there’s a sharp stab in the front of your eyes.

peter kisses your now exposed neck, moving his hand so it keeps your head still. “you probably need to go to the doctor.”

“don’t be dramatic.”

peter scoffs. “you’ve got a fever of 103 degrees. i’m not dramatic.”

“i think i missed the era where you got your medical degree.”

peter scowls at you, pushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes and making sure you can see his conviction to never ever let this go. “it’s called webmd. it’s a wonderful place.”

“peter,” you whine, trying to push him away.

“baby,” he whines back, but smiles as he picks you up, like a literal baby, making sure not to jostle your head. “pajamas. what do you want to wear? and what’s the verdict on the tea?”

you sigh and lean your head into his neck. you don’t appreciate this, but it’s hurting to keep your eyes open. you cough into him, muffling yourself from the world. “can i wear your shirt?” you say, softly.

peter smiles like he’s won the lottery. you can feel it against your head. “yup,” he pops, “but it’ll cost you.”

“what?” you ask, sniffling.

“a kiss.”

he pecks your cheek, then your nose, and carries you away.

*

[ohdeerfully]

Can I request Alastor baking or cooking for reader? Maybe making one of his old mother recipes for reader while he wears a silly apron or something? I'm loving all of your one shots!

☀️ anon

short but sweet!! i made it a human al story, hope thats cool! i really enjoyed writing this one but now i want cookies (,:

btw tumblr is really lacking with human alastor gifs so sorry guys

Sweet Treat

Human!Alastor x Reader (fluff)

TW: reader is implied female but pronouns arent used/doesnt effect story much. other than that none!

join my discord!

◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

Alastor was always aware of your wants and desires as if the glasses he wore helped him read directly into your mind. You were tired? Okay, the bedsheets were freshly dry and warm. You were hungry? He already had a pot of aromatic food cooking in your kitchen. Thirsty? Here’s some ice water. Headache? Oh, here’s a remedy that he learned from a traditional healer in the city. 

You get the idea.

You had come home from a long day of work at the speakeasy you performed in, a hankering for something sweet filling your mind as your mouth watered at the idea of sugary goodness. You fiddled with your keys for a little, eyes slightly bleared from both a mixing of light alcohol consumption and just general sleepiness. No, those are your work keys… no, that’s to your office… Finally, you grasped your manicured fingers over the correct silver key and jittered it into the hole.

You slumped your body against the door dramatically as you pushed it open, a loud sigh escaping your lips to announce you were home. You knew Alastor was already home, seeing as his shoes were tucked neatly in the nearby rack and jacket hung up against the wall. Usually Alastor would join you when you were at work late, both to watch you perform and to walk you home, but he had been caught up with his own work and likely got home not long before you. A light smile dusted your face as you recalled how desperately sorry he sounded when he phoned you a few hours ago—it was sweet. 

Your own heels were unceremoniously kicked off in the general direction of the shoe rack—you’d fix them up later. Right now, you were mostly focused on the sound of a spoon scraping against a bowl as Alastor was doubtlessly stirring something. Your interest was piqued, and your stomach growled at the idea of food.

“Ah, you’re home a bit early,” He said as you rounded the corner, your gaze immediately fixating on the mixing bowl propped against the junction of his elbow as he stirred with his other hand. There was a plume of flour resting against the left rim of his glasses. “A bit too early for my surprise.” 

Your eyes then traveled down to the apron he wore, a black one that had a silhouette of a deer and text that read “best buckin’ cook.” You had gotten it for him as a joke for your anniversary due to his fondness for hunting and deer.

“Yeah, Ms. Ruby let me off early if I performed a couple songs in a row,” There was an eye roll as you said this. You pursed your lips as you approached him, gingerly taking his glasses off to clean the mess from the glass. His eyes held a slight squint as he looked at you, slightly unfocused without his aides. “I’m guessin’ you knew I’d want something sweet, then?”

A smirk crossed his lips as if you asked the most obvious question in the world. Which, considering how he always knew what you wanted, it kind of was the most obvious question in the world.

“What kind of suitor would I be if I didn’t know what my darling desires?” He leaned a little closer as he spoke, halting the stirring motion. His voice had dropped to a teasing husk, and your ears tingled at the hint of that Cajun accent you loved so much. It didn’t help that you were just a tad loopy with alcohol.

“And I love you for that,” You said, trying to ignore the heat in your face. You pressed the glasses back against his face, using your finger to push them up the bridge of his nose whilst simultaneously gently moving his face away from your own. “As soon as I wanted a treat I knew I’d come home to one.”

“It also helps that you always want one when you work late, love,” He mused, turning away and walking back to the counter that had a splay of ingredients. There was also a mess of flour—likely from the same incident that dirtied his glasses—but you bit back a comment. You knew he’d clean it up after.

With a hop you had sat yourself on a tall chair next to the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the cold granite top as you watched him work on mixing in the rest of the ingredients. He seemed a little nervous now that you were watching him, his stirring a bit stiff and measuring a little overanalyzed, but he kept working nonetheless.

The oven chimed when the preheating was done, and at that point Alastor was already in the process of portioning out little balls of dough. A proud smile donned his face.

“I think this is the fastest I’ve gotten to this point,” He claimed, not looking up from the task in front of him. You loved the way his brown hair fell in neat, light curls over his eyes. His glasses had begun to slip slightly down his nose, but he quickly pushed them back with a knuckle. “I nearly beat the timer.”

With an absent nod and quiet ‘congrats’ you eyed the nearly empty bowl and the discarded rubber spatula that sat nearby with velvety, doughy sweetness still clinging on the edges. You slowly raised your hand and inched towards it.

A hand snatched it up at the last second, and you slumped backwards in the chair with a defeated whine. Alastor waved it at you with a teasing grin. 

“So greedy,” He chided, although he did so unseriously. “I can’t believe you would spoil the taste before I even finished baking them… after I worked so hard…” There was a fake pout in his voice as his lips turned down, one hand on a hip and leaned against the counter behind him. You rolled your eyes in response and folded your arms.

“You know it never even tastes the same when it bakes,” You pursed your lips as you looked away from him towards the oven. You could see the faint silhouette of the cookies he had put in just a minute ago, now slowly flattening. “C’mon… Just a sample… please?” You drew out your plea, pressing your face between your hands as you tried your best to look at him with wide cutesy eyes.

It didn’t seem to work on him in the slightest, as he only looked down on you with a raised eyebrow. There was, though, a soft change in his brown eyes as his gaze swept over your face, though you were sure it had nothing to do with your current charming tactics. He was just, in all ways you can imagine, insanely devoted to you—he would tell you, very rarely as he had trouble expressing tender words, how he found you to be the most beautiful being he had ever been lucky enough to see. 

As corny as it felt if you thought about it too hard, you actually believed him when he said he would kill for you. It was something many men would exaggerate when courting, and they never truly meant it, but there was a glimmer of crazed obsession in his eyes when he had told you it one time. A look you had no choice but to take seriously—you tried not to think about it too much.

He sighed dramatically as he threw out his hand to bestow upon you… the spatula. You took it with a pleased grin and put a corner in your mouth to taste the dough. You could almost see the sparkles dancing around you as the light sweetness touched your tongue. You could see Alastor’s proud grin out of the corner of your eye but you chose not to meet his gaze and inflate his ego even more.

The two of you chatted idly about your respective days for ten or so minutes as you waited for the cookies to bake. You always had something to complain about considering the nature of your job—it was always either some drunk bonehead interrupting your show, or some drama between the other performers, or some hatred towards your employers… always something, and he always listened, equally attentive every time no matter how repetitive it was. He, on the other hand, never had much to say about his work. He was just a radio host, after all.

The little white timer finally went off, and Alastor cracked open the oven door to peek. He seemed satisfied enough with the result as he quickly removed them, gripping the pan with a small towel and carefully setting it down against the stove-top. The room was immediately filled with the warm, sweet aroma of fresh baked cookies. 

Just a few more minutes of waiting, but you could barely contain yourself when the cookies had finally cooled a bit and firmed up outside of the oven. When Alastor presented one to you it took all your self control not to just straight up bite it out of his hand. 

The cookie had a crisp, golden outside that gave way with a light crunch when you bit into it. The inside was soft and fluffy with a taste of vanilla and chocolate. You sighed loudly in glee at the experience, resting your head against your hand as you chewed.

“You really are the best ‘buckin’’ cook, Al,” You complimented, watching him as he cleaned up his mess from the process. “This recipe is new, right?”

“Ah, not really,” He admitted. You wanted to play offended at the fact he had never made these for you before, but the aura around him seemed to suddenly get a bit too serious for that. There was a vacant look in his eye, but his lips held a tender smile. You took another bite of your cookie as you waited for him to continue.

“It was one of my momma’s recipes, I actually found it today in the box of her stuff I keep,” He was washing out the dishes as he spoke. You could tell by the light glaze in his eye that he was reliving a fond but bitter memory. “She was the best baker I know.”

“If these cookies tell me anything, I would have to agree,” You were licking a glob of melted chocolate off your thumb as you spoke. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

Alastor nodded with a hum, agreeing with your statement. He told you many times before how much she would’ve loved you. You knew he didn’t like sweets, but you tried to prompt him to try one with you in an attempt to lighten the mood. He refused, as expected.

You stood from your seat and began to help him clean, much to his chagrin as he tried to push you towards your room to get ready for bed, but you forced yourself back towards the kitchen and stubbornly began rubbing the dough out of the mixing bowl. He sighed and yielded.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence that was only broken here and there by utensils clinging and water splashing. You rested your head against his shoulder as you absently ran a dry towel over the now clean rubber ladle, and he pressed a featherlight kiss against the top of your head in response.

Maybe he could teach you the recipe later.