#drabbles are open

[madame-fear]

Brain rot of Jace practicing high valyrian on ur clit🫶🫶🫶🫶that’s it ily!!!!

꒰ 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 | 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄. ꒱

˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request above. ♡ (I hope you enjoy this, nonnie, ilyt!!) ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 469.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : smut, drabble. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x (fem!)Reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; slight profanity, slight praising, cunnilingus/oral sex (f receiving).

→ click here if you want to request a drabble for my followers milestone celebration! drabbles open from February 14th, to March 1st.

“Ao sylutegon sīr sȳz,” (you taste so sweet.)

A reddish hue began forming on your thighs, along the marks of Jace’s fingers gripping them firmly, spreading your legs wide as his face was buried betweem your legs - his mouth overabusing your sensitive clit, as his fingers teasingly moved in and out of your entrance.

It had been a good idea, to tell Jace just how much you adored hearing him talk in High Valyrian. Perhaps he wasn’t yet properly good at it, but you were still delighted in having him practice with you. And what better idea he had, than to practice High Valyrian and eat you out all at once? Not only it was something that pleasured him, but overall it was a different type of experience that he knew you’d enjoy; and the eldest Velaryon was right.

“Fuck,” with soft pleas that escaped continously from your partly open lips, your hand found it’s way to his brunette hair, interwining your fingers on several strands and unconsciously burying his head deeper into your moist, stimulated pussy; moving your hips forwards to give him better access. “Iksā iā olvie sȳz riña, issi ao daor?” (you are such a good girl, aren’t you?) a proud grin grew at the corner of his plump lips, feeling his panting breath hit against your nub, increasing the speed of his fingers fucking you.

Wetness oozed from your cunt, coating his fingers, as his mouth occasionally drank from your own cum. “Kesan qogralbar ao tolvie tubis hae bisa, issa jorrāelagon.” (I will fuck you everyday just like this, my love). Your fingers gripped desperately from his hair, as his tongue flicked ravenously on your slick-coated folds, until his mouth found his way to nibble on your clit once again. A loud groan escaped deep from your throat, throwing your head back as a knot formed on your stomach, anticipating your release.

Briefly, his coffee eyes moved to stare at your expressions, taking pride in himself for how ruined he managed to get you - having you panting and begging for more. “Keep... Keep going,” you weakly encouraged, barely being able to form a coherent sentence, at the feeling of him stopping for a few seconds. He scoffed, widely grinning, as he lowered his face one again, placing gentle pecks all over your folds and slowly moving his fingers inside of you. “Ao hae ziry skori gaoman ziry hae bisa, gaomagon ao daor?” (you like it when I do it like this, don’t you?) he muttered, using his tongue to lap at your own fluids, that violently flowed out of you.

“Kostan hae sȳrī gaomagon bisa tolī jēdi lēda ao,” (I might as well do this more often with you), the eldest Velaryon whispered against your edging cunt, “Eminna jeme bantis mirre syt nyke, issa dōna.”

♡ taglist : ♡

@damatheirin @jacesvelaryons @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

[minimiance]

size difference kink but in the “i grew up being made fun of for being chubby so now the idea of a giant of a man being able to toss me around and tower over me without making my weight a problem makes me really horny” way, you get what im saying?

[stevesgother]

quick little blurb abt this thought i got in my inbox a while ago steve harrington x gn!reader just suggestive fluff/ post-coital bliss :) 18+

Steve's fingers draw slow, methodical circles where they meet the small of your back-- his wiry chest hair tickling your nose where your head rests on his chest.

"You fallin' asleep on me?" He asks, barely parting his lips to do so. You can hear it in the way his words slur with the weighted bliss of the moment you're both suspended in.

You don't answer verbally, only shaking your head lethargically against him. The hand that's not tracing your back moves to caress the side of your face instead, tucking stray hairs behind your ear with the delicateness one might handle a flower petal.

He kisses the supple plush of your lips, his tongue sliding languidly against your own. Nothing like the way he had been ravishing you just twenty minutes ago.

The palm cradling your face travels south to where your leg is propped on top of his groin, softening beneath you with each minute that passes. For someone who doesn't want you to fall asleep, he's sure making it impossible not to-- every touch pulling you further into the vast ocean of unconsciousness. You don't fret though, knowing you'll see him there, too. Even in your dreams.

Steve's soft breaths cascade over your forehead where it meets your hairline. He places kiss after kiss there until asking, "Wanna take a bath with me?"

And how could you bear to deny him when he asks so sweetly? Even if the absence of his body heat and the sweat cooling on your skin leaves you shivering under your downy cotton sheets.

You can hear him floundering about in the ensuite: opening and closing cupboards, twisting the shower's diverters until the temperature of the water is just right. You like it a little too hot, if you ask Steve, but he doesn't mind overheating for you.

He reenters the bedroom, scooping up your still naked body and carrying you to the bathroom against his chest. Thankfully, there's no need for either of you to get undressed; having gotten so familiar with each other's bodies over the years, it was like he was just an extension of yourself.

The steaming water hits your skin as you're lowered into the tub by Steve, the temperature relaxing you immediately. This was your favorite post-sex ritual-- too tired to shower, but just awake enough to enjoy each other's company a little longer before bed.

Steve slots in the tub behind you, wrapping you up in his muscly thighs and biceps like the most comfortable security blanket. You've never felt safer than when he held you like this.

"Want me to wash your hair?" You ask him over your shoulder.

A tender smile tugs at the corners of his lips, "Only if you want to, baby,"

You raise a skeptical brow, because of course you want to. Steve hands over your own strawberry scented shampoo, because he likes it more than his own. He'd much rather have your scent following him around like a cloud as he goes through the monotonous tasks that come with each day.

It's selfish, in a way, because you love to watch the way his eyes drift shut as you thread your fingers gently through his scalp. You like to make a show of it-- it doesn't really take that long to wash somebody's hair. But he just spent the past three hours taking care of you in a way no one else could, so, you felt like this was the least you could do.

And when the time comes, you tip his head back and rinse the shampoo meticulously from his tresses-- taking extra care to shield his eyes from any rogue droplets of water.

Steve never lets you dote on him for long, though. Eventually he's got you back where he wants you: between his legs, in the comforting safety of his arms. You're turned around now, pelvis to pelvis. He guides you head to lie in the crook of his neck, as he orchestrates long, languid strokes from the crown of your head all the way to the base of your spine.

And you stay there until the water grows cold.

divider credit to @/plum98

[oldermenfucker]

dr robby and medical kink i need religiously!!! having her legs propped up all open for him to see and he’s torturing and teasing her. with gloves on of course. i do think he uses toys aswell

OH MY GOSH OH MY GAWQWWWWWDHEIXEJXHAOZBWOZBWJ YOUR MIND OMGGG SEND MORE THOTS IN!!!!! I’m starving for moreeee

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut! Y’all know me -> THE GLASSES STAY ON! Use of dildo, roleplaying doctor/patient, humiliation kink (not a lot but he mocks reader from time to time heheeeee), sex in on call room, p in v, kind of infidelity (but not really ITS JUST ROLEPLAY) finger sucking, breeding (cause let’s be real he won’t pull out), a little impregnating kink from Robby—oops English isn’t my first language<3

“On-call room. Now.”

Robby opens the text immediately, glancing around to see if anyone’s looking at him before he bolts toward the room. He manages to get inside without anyone noticing him.

“Dr. Robby…” he finds you sitting on the small bed, scrubs discarded on the shelves, and you are wearing… a gown? A patient’s gown?

“What’s going on?” He asks, eyes eating up the exposed skin of your thighs when you slowly bunch the cheap fabric around your waist, “What are you doing?”

“Lock the door, Dr. Robby,” you uncross your legs slowly, biting your lip as soon as you hear the clicking of the lock, “You should give your patients more privacy, that’ll make your satisfaction scores higher.”

“A patient? Is that what you are today?” He smirks, catching up on your game pretty quickly. Robby nods, faking understanding as he steps closer, towering over you, “Well then, what brings you here today, Ms…”

“Mrs. Actually,” you untie the strings of the gown, stripping yourself off before dropping the fabric on the floor, “Mrs. Robinavitch.”

“Lucky guy, Mr. Robinavitch I mean,” he hums, cupping your jaw to tilt your head up, “So, what is it? Are you hurt, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” you nod bashfully, leaning back on your elbows as you open your chest more to Robby’s greedy eyes, slowly spreading your legs with a soft pout, “It hurts, doctor. I tried everything, but I can’t get it inside.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he coos, kneeling between your thighs and pulling out a pair of gloves from the pocket of his jacket, “Where does it hurt? Gotta show me or I can’t help you.”

“Here,” you grab his gloved hand, guiding it from your chest down to your core, pressing his fingers over the damp spot on your underwear, “Make it go away, sir?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” with his free hand, he takes his glasses out and puts them, making you gasp softly and try to squeeze your thighs together. He huffs out a laugh, the feeling of his cold plastic gloves on your heated skin makes you tremble a little, “Now, what can’t you get inside there, Mrs. Robinavitch?”

“This,” you pull out a blue dildo, large enough to hurt but not as big as what Robby is hiding under his pants — it is enough to make his eyes go wide and his brown orbs disappear, “I tried all week to get this inside me, but I only could go a bit past half of it. Whatever shall I do?”

“Well,” he is stunned, to say the least, but the way you utter the words so innocently makes his cock throb in his cargo pants. Robby smirks, pushing on your chest until you are lying on your back before he grabs your legs and rests your knees on his shoulders, “We can’t have that, can we? We should start by stretching you out, what do you say? Open up the muscles a bit?”

“Anything, doctor,” you whine, biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t break character, “Please, help a poor woman. I wanna satisfy my husband—“

“Tsk tsk,” he takes off your underwear, letting it dangle from one leg as he leans closer, “No small talk when I’m focusing on my patient. Let me examine you first, yeah? Didn’t get to read your medical records.”

“Of course, Doctor!” You grin at him but soon you are gaping at how hot he looks while he slowly pushes your lips aside by his thumbs, humming approvingly — as if he hasn’t dived between them a million times already.

“Such a pretty pussy you got, Mrs. Robinavitch,” he mutters, his chest heaving with anticipation as he drags his gloved fingers over your labia, slowly parting them before he makes a ‘tsk’ sound again, frowning a bit before his eyes meet yours in disappointment, “You’re all soaked through, how cute.”

You bit down your lip so hard when he leans down to give an experimental suck on your clit, and he has the fucking audacity to hum and frown in concentration while he rubs your wet cunt with his fingers.

“Why did you want to fit that thing in you, sweetheart?” He looks at you with such a sad look as if you are his med student that has failed an exam, and it awakens something so deeply primal inside you, “This tight little cunt can’t handle it.”

“That’s why I’m here, Dr. Robby,” you mumble the words as best as you can, throwing your head back when he prods you open with those damn blue gloves, leaning in to lick a quick yet firm strip from your entrance up to your throbbing clit.

“You want me to stretch you out, is that?” He grabs the dildo, acting as if he hasn’t used it on you for hours before he looks back at you with a mischievous smile, “What would your husband say when he finds out I have to fuck his wife with a fake plastic dick that is probably bigger than his?”

“He encouraged it!” Your voice comes out in a shriek, and Robby realizes how needy you must be to be acting like this, “He said to start with the toy and move to something bigger if you could.”

“What a thoughtful husband you got there,” he pushes the glasses back on the bridge of his nose, grabbing the dildo by the end of it before he slaps the heavy object on your aching cunt a few times, dragging the tip of it between your folds before he nudges your entrance with him, “But we don’t have something bigger here, darling.”

“Anything will be fine, Doctor!” You bite down on your knuckles when he pushes the dildo inside, slowly inching it in until he reaches the half.

You already feel full, but not stuffed enough to your liking. You know it, Robby knows it, because nothing will ever feel as huge as his cock, and he is going to make sure you take him up in your tight cunt in a few minutes.

“Is that enough, sweetheart?” He asks with such a pitiful tone it makes you clench around the toy hard. You shake your head, hands flying to hold onto his free arm, and he scoffs, “No? You want more? Greedy little thing—“

He pushes one more inch inside, and you throw your head back as it reaches deep inside you, hitting that sweet spot just right. He notices, of course he notices, and it tickles your brain when he starts chuckles in a tone you know he is making fun of you.

“I’m gonna make you come once over this stupid fucking toy, then I’ll give you something bigger to cry on, yeah?” It’s more like a statement before he starts thrusting the dildo inside you at a fast pace, making you fist the cheap itchy sheets of the bed while raising your hips to move them.

You nod mindlessly, not wanting to say a word or you’d be moaning loud enough for the entire department to hear.

It feels too good to hold yourself back, so when you are about to come you tap his arm, and he goes faster, enough for your body to go rigid for a minute, wetness dripping down from your swollen hole.

He doesn’t wait anymore, reaching down to undo his belt and pull the zipper of his cargo pants down before he pulls you to the edge of the bed with his hands under your legs, making your hips rest against his abdomen with how high he positions your thighs on his shoulders.

He grabs the pillow next to your head, placing it under your ass to make you comfortable before he lines himself up with your cunt, slamming himself inside you with an urgency he has never shown before — Robby is not a man of quickie, so it is a shock how fast he is slamming himself inside you.

You wail out at the penetration, screaming out his name in pleasure before he stuffs two of his gloved fingers in your mouth.

“Suck on them, sweetheart, busy yourself while I open you up for your husband—“ he loves how your eyes roll to the back of your head as he splits you on his fat cock, his glasses sliding down his nose, sweat beading at his hairline as he fucks you.

Then an idea pops in his head.

“Are you trying for a baby?”

Your brain short circuits, eyes widening at how breathless and needy he sounds. Too hot, too fucking sexy to handle his teasing, and now, he is the mastermind because he is too deep inside the character that he brings up this topic.

“Yes—“ you squeal when he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, placing them over your clit as his pace somehow grows faster, changing his angle so he can reach deeper.

“I’m gonna make you feel better, sweetheart,” he leans down, pushing your knees to your chest and you nearly black out from the pleasure if it wasn’t for his voice to keep you attached to reality, “I’m gonna fuck a baby inside you so this you aren’t this tight, what do you say?”

You can’t say anything, he doesn’t need an answer anyway, because in mere seconds, both of you are shaking and moaning into each other’s mouths as you come; you gush around his cock while he stuffs you full of his warm cum, painting your insides white with a deep groan.

“You’re a fucking menace, wife,” he whispers before pecking your lips, gently lowering your legs, and laying you on the bed completely, “Go home, there’s only an hour left from the shift. I bet you can’t walk.”

“Whose fault is that, husband?”

“Yours, entirely yours.”

You grin at him, knowing full well he is right, and you would do it again sometime soon.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

That moment Floyd or Jade have Azul made fake adoption papers to make the pc their sibling. Floyd says he always wanted another sibling so now he's not the youngest.

You sat there, staring in shock at the paper in front of you and the three mermen watching you expectantly.

One moment you're sat in the fountain in the botanical gardens, waiting for Professor Crewel to finish the antidote that'll make you human again and next you're sat in Azul's office with a pen in hand and adoption papers in front of you.

Reader: "This can't be legal-"

Azul: "The documents are official."

You give him a look. Avoiding the actual concern, but okay.

Reader: "We'd need their parents' permission-"

Jade: "Worry not. Floyd and I already called them to tell them the good news and they were elated."

Reader: "Well. . .Don't they need to be here or something!?"

Floyd: "They're on their way, Shrimpy~"

Reader: "FROM THE CORAL SEA?!?!?!"

You are now sat in the same position as earlier, but now with 5 mers watching you eagerly.

Reader: "I-. . .I technically don't exist in this world. I have no legal documents! Documents you'd. . .need. . .Azul, how did you make those and why do you know my blood type?"

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[03jyh23]

༘⋆mon's 500 followers special.ᐟ.ᐟ 500-word prompt roulette⟢

🏠┆home in your arms

song mingi x gn! reader

│synopsis: the one where mingi missed you

│genre: fluff

│trigger warnings: none!

│roulette prompt 6 + mingi + galactic

You put the key into the lock, making sure you're quiet enough not to wake Mingi up—your flight was delayed and you landed in the middle of the night. You were about to turn the key when the door suddenly opened. Mingi stood there, his hair disheveled. You smiled at him and wanted to say hi, but before you could open your mouth, Mingi pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you. He breathes in your scent, and you can't help but smile against his chest.

"I missed you," he whispers, arms tightening around you. "Don't go away for that long again."

You laugh. "Baby, it was only three days," you say as you gently pull away to peck his lips, but he only pulls you back in, burying his face in your neck.

"Three days too long," he mumbles against your skin, and you can't help but melt into his warmth.

He hums contentedly, swaying you both gently from side to side in the doorway. The cool night air wraps around you both, but you can barely feel it with how warm he keeps you. His fingers trace patterns on your back, and you can tell he won’t let go even for a moment.

"Will you at least let me close the door?" you ask yet your arms tighten around his waist.

Mingi chuckles, "Fine, but only if you promise not to leave my arms for the rest of the night." You smile and nod against him, letting him shuffle backward just enough for you to kick the door closed behind you.

You lock eyes as you stand on your tiptoes to peck his lips. He smiles into it and pulls you closer to kiss you, slowly, lovingly.

"I missed you too, love," you say, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. His eyes are filled with so much love and adoration that it makes your heart skip a beat.

Mingi pulls back slightly, a pout forming on his lips. "You better have missed me just as much," he teases, his eyes twinkling. "I might be devastated if you tell me you didn't think about me every single second you were away."

You giggle, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Every single second? Even when I was sleeping?"

"Especially when you were sleeping," he says with mock seriousness. "I expect detailed reports of all your dreams about me."

You laugh, playing along. "Well, there was this one dream where you were a galactic cowboy, riding through the stars on a glowing space horse..."

Mingi's eyes light up with amusement. "A galactic cowboy? Do tell more."

You can't help but giggle at his eager expression. "You were wearing this ridiculous sparkly spacesuit with cowboy boots and a hat that had little twinkling stars all over it."

He bursts into laughter, the sound warm and rich. "Sounds like quite the fashion statement. Maybe I should try that look sometime."

"Please don't," you say through your giggles, burying your face in his chest. He kisses the top of your head, and you both stay like that for a while.

"Come on," he whispers, tugging you gently toward the bedroom. "Let's get you to bed. You must be exhausted from your flight." You nod sleepily, finally feeling the tiredness settling in now that you're home. As you both curl up under the covers, his arms still wrapped protectively around you, you know that no matter where you go, coming back to him will always feel like coming home.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

♡│please join my 500 followers special!│

[maiiuelle]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

rafe got you a nintendo switch in hopes of keeping you occupied — not that he doesn’t like to spend time with you, it’s just that he’s a very busy man, and you need a distraction when he’s off handling business.

your cozy game addiction started with an innocent folder on his phone, and now rafe’s paying for your annual nintendo online membership. you have all the basics — mario kart, stardew valley, pokemon, and your favorite, animal crossing.

obsessed is an understatement — your manicured hands are glued to your baby pink nintendo switch at all hours of the day, hard at work on your animal crossing island. your intense focus on decorating keeps you from hearing rafe return home, his eyes skimming over where you’re laying over the arm of tannyhill’s leather couch.

“you’re still playing that goddamn game?” he sighs, squinting at you in disbelief that you’re not coming to hang off of him like you usually do. instead, he swaggers over to where you’re sitting with his hands in his sweatpants pockets.

“yeah, rafe. i have a lot to do.” you respond matter of factly, not bothering to take your eyes off the little screen. “i have to catch all these fish before next month, pay back my home loan, and decorate the campsite. and that’s just today, if i can get through it all.” you shake your head at the stress, but you shrug as if it’s unavoidable, still laser focused on planting flowers in the game. “i want my island to be pretty and nice for my villagers. i mean — if i don’t take care of it who will?”

you finally pause, lowering the switch to cover your mouth suddenly. “ew.. i sound like you.” you peer up at him looming over you, your head practically hanging off the side of the couch.

“wh—what?” he rears back, visibly offended. “i do not sound like that, okay — first of all.” he gestures to himself, poking at his chest through his preppy collared shirt. “‘n i don’t talk to fuckin’ cats all day, alright? i got real business — real shit i gotta take care of.” he smacks his hand, trying to drive home the point for you. then, like the realization had just hit him, he presses his lips into a line, tapping his temple. “y’know what? at least now maybe you can understand the stress i’m under runnin’ all this shit.”

you raise your eyebrows at him, his frustrated tirade only proving you right. “you’re right, you sound totally different.”

“aight, i’m done with you. seriously.” he throws his hands up, his short fuse slowly fizzling out. “you gonna put that away and gimme a kiss or not?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

[ghoulishhx]

been thinking about frank with a reader whos a switch… like sometimes she needs to be taken care of and sometimes she just wants to fuck the living daylights out of him- poor guy would get emotional whiplash but would be too turned on to complain

I had to write on this pretty much the second the request came through because me as fuck. need more switch representation in frank fics/drabbles honestly!! this is a mixture of a headcanon/drabble, idk i got too excited to write this LOL

18+ MDNI below the cut :3

Frank Castle x Switch!Reader

so i picture it like this. one minute you're bent over, ass high as your face is smushed into the pillow, franks hand wrapped around the back of your neck whispering the most sinful, dirty things

"that feel good baby? you're so fuckin' tight princess, made to take my cock shit... my dirty fuckin' girl"

he would growl into your ear, making you a whining mess, incoherently begging him for more.

he slams impossibly harder into you with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against each other fills the room as a hand lands on the flesh of your ass with a harsh smack.

you're so unbelievably cockdrunk you don't recognise it as pain, only sending pleasure through your body like a jolt of electricity.

"that's it babydoll, cum for me. my good girl, all mine." primal possession takes over him as he continues ruining you. moans and whines leave your mouth along with his name and a string of curse words as you milk him dry, orgasming so hard around his cock. you loved being used by him, you loved being his to devour.

the next moment you're on top of him, riding him with one of your soft hands wrapped around his neck, taking complete control of all the movement, all the pleasure.

I believe frank does not have the ability to fully let go and let you go hard dom on him, but he loves you more than anything and if his sweet girl wants to use him, he'd be damned if he didn't give her what she wants.

"fuck frank, being so good f'me. filling me up so well." you whine, tightening your grip around his neck as you grind your hips harshly against his, he can't help but whimper at the sensation of your walls throbbing around his length, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he grips your hips so intensely you're for sure gonna be bruised in the morning.

"mhm sweet girl, take what ya need. 'm all yours princess fuck, i belong to you." he babbles as you giggle, relishing in the way your boyfriend has come so undone for you, allowing you to explore the more dominant side of you. he was too fucked out to even care about how he sounded, too drunk off of your voice, touch, body.

you hum appreciatively, addicted to the way his cock twitches inside of you, the way his moans hitch in his throat as his jaw ticks. you could tell he was getting close.

"gonna cum for me frankie? fill up my pretty pussy huh? make me yours baby." you coo, guiding him through his release as he paints your insides white with his seed. the noises that erupt from him sends another orgasm barrelling through you, joining him in ecstacy.

"that's it baby, good boy. such a good boy for me." you test the waters as you reach down, plunging your fingers into your spent core, collecting your shared juices along your digits. removing them from your cunt, you thrust them into his mouth. he doesn't think, he instantly starts lapping up the juices, tongue swirling around your fingers, sucking them dry. your clit throbs at the view beneath you, Frank fucking Castle being so fucked out of it that he's wrapped around your finger, literally.

ARGHHHH I NEEEEEED HIMMMM

a/n: I hope this is ok pookie, it's very self indulgent because I would do anything to have this. I'd be more than happy to write more stuff like this, switch reader x frank is everything to me

ok mwah you know the drill

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my inbox is open!

[noorpersona]

Hear me out. Giving bokuto or ushijima their first bj in their early 20s. They’re just so busy all the time and once they finally meet you, how do you think It would go down?

You've been heard and its fantastic lolol

I hope you enjoy my love <333

--

Anon Ask: Bokuto (NSFW)

The door creaked open, and Bokuto stepped inside with a quiet, exhausted sigh. His duffel bag was slung over one broad shoulder, and his varsity jacket hung haphazardly off him, half-zipped like he hadn’t even bothered to fix it. His hair was still damp from a post-practice shower, curling slightly at the ends, and the faint scent of soap and something distinctly him wafted across the room.

When he spotted you sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, his whole face changed. The tension in his shoulders softened, and a slow, sleepy smile spread across his lips.

"Hey," he said, voice rough and warm from hours of practice. "Didn't expect you to wait up."

You shrugged lightly, trying to keep it casual even though your heart squeezed at the sight of him—tired, flushed, and somehow still so beautiful. "Missed you," you admitted.

His smile deepened, fondness glowing in his golden eyes. Dropping his bag by the door, he kicked off his shoes with a lazy nudge and trudged over to you.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he collapsed beside you with a soft grunt, leaning heavily against you. His head found its way to your shoulder, his body curling toward you instinctively, seeking your warmth like a magnet.

"I'm so tired," he mumbled, words slurring slightly against your shirt.

You threaded your fingers through his damp hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. He melted instantly, a low, content hum vibrating from his chest.

"Poor baby," you teased gently, though your heart ached with how worn down he was. He always gave everything—on the court, in class, with his teammates. There was never anything left for himself.

He huffed a quiet laugh against you. "Missed you too, y'know."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

For a while, you just sat there, letting him soak in your presence. You could feel the weight of his exhaustion, the way his body sagged against yours, trusting you to hold him up.

After a long moment, you shifted slightly, your hand trailing down from his hair to cup his cheek, tilting his face up to look at you.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted. So open. So vulnerable.

You leaned in, kissing him softly at first, your lips brushing over his in a slow, lingering touch. Bokuto sighed into your mouth, his large hands finding your waist, gripping you gently like he couldn’t bear not to touch you.

The kiss deepened naturally, lazy and warm, until you were shifting to straddle his lap, feeling the solid weight of him beneath you. Your hands slid down his chest, over the faint ridges of his stomach, until they hovered at the waistband of his jeans.

When your fingers brushed the growing tent forming there, he gasped softly against your mouth, hips jerking up slightly into your palm.

You pulled back just enough to look at him—his cheeks flushed, pupils wide, breathing shallow.

The thought struck you all at once. A way to take care of him. To give him something back.

"Let me take care of you tonight," you whispered.

Confusion flickered across his face. "You don't have to—"

You silenced him with another kiss, even deeper this time, pouring everything you felt into it—all the longing, all the tenderness, all the need.

When you pulled back, his breath caught audibly. His pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed a soft pink.

You slid off the bed and knelt between his legs, resting your hands lightly on his thighs.

His breath hitched. "Wait—you… you don't—"

"I want to," you murmured, voice steady, fingers tracing slow circles against the thick muscle of his thighs.

Bokuto looked like he wanted to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He nodded instead, swallowing hard.

You reached for the button of his jeans, popping it open with deft fingers. His breathing grew ragged as you tugged the zipper down, his cock straining against the fabric.

When you freed him, he was already hard, twitching slightly under the cool air and your intense gaze.

You smiled up at him—gentle, reassuring—and leaned in to press a soft kiss against the head of his cock.

He gasped, his hips jerking slightly before he forced himself to stay still, fists clenching in the blanket.

"Holy shit," he whispered, voice barely a breath.

You took your time, trailing kisses down his length, licking slow, teasing stripes along the underside. Every little sound he made—the sharp inhales, the choked-off moans—made your stomach flutter.

When you finally wrapped your lips around him, sinking down slowly, his whole body shuddered.

"F-Fuck…" he whimpered, head tipping back against the bed, throat working as he swallowed thickly.

You set a slow, steady rhythm, bobbing your head while your hand stroked what your mouth couldn't reach. Your free hand stayed firm on his thigh, feeling every tremor, every tiny twitch.

Bokuto was a mess almost immediately, biting his lip hard enough to turn his knuckles white, trying desperately to keep quiet. His hips jerked despite himself, tiny, helpless movements you easily accommodated.

When you glanced up at him, the sight nearly undid you—his flushed cheeks, the glassy sheen in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were something holy.

"I'm gonna…" he panted, voice breaking. "Gonna cum… if you…"

The desperate edge in his voice made something snap inside you.

You moaned softly around him, then picked up the pace—bobbing your head faster, taking him deeper with each stroke. Your hand worked in tandem with your mouth, twisting gently at the base as you sucked harder, tongue flicking against the sensitive underside.

Bokuto cried out, head falling back against the bed, chest heaving with ragged breaths. His thighs tensed under your palms, muscles trembling as he fought to keep himself grounded.

"F-Fuck, baby…" he gasped, voice cracking, hips jerking up despite himself. "I'm… I'm—"

With a shuddering groan that was almost a whimper, Bokuto came hard, hips stuttering helplessly as he spilled hot and heavy into your mouth. You swallowed carefully, easing him through it, the sounds he made—broken, vulnerable—searing themselves into your memory.

You kept your movements slow and gentle until he sagged back against the bed, completely spent, every muscle in his body quivering with the aftermath.

When you finally pulled back, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, you looked up at him through your lashes.

He stared down at you like you’d personally rewritten the laws of physics, wide-eyed and flushed, chest still rising and falling rapidly.

"You're…" he croaked, still breathless. "You're amazing."

You climbed back onto the bed, and Bokuto immediately dragged you into his arms, cradling you against his chest like he never wanted to let you go.

"Stay," he whispered, voice raw.

"Wasn't planning on leaving," you murmured against his skin, pressing a kiss to his racing heart.

He held you tighter, burying his face in your hair, soaking in your warmth, your presence—everything he’d missed without even realizing it.

And for once, there was nowhere else either of you needed to be.

[midnightshindig]

could we get hc’s/a drabble for a reader who’s cecil’s daughter x rex? keep up the great work 🙏

Rex Splode X Cecil’s Daughter! Reader

(Omggg I love this request, thank you sm!!!)

You worked closely with your father, partly because you were the best supervillain profiler in the world and partly because he loved you dearly

After the life he’s lived, Cecil knew the safest place was with him and Donald at HQ.

But you couldn’t just stand around and look pretty, no no, he insisted you learned a trade

and I mean hey, you get good at what comes easy, right?

so you ended up being the top profiler for the GPA, figuring out a villains motive and analyzing the best course of action from hundreds of thousands of miles away, with only information gleaned from surveillance drones and the Guardian of the Globes’ radio comms descriptions

This is how you met Rex

Like your father, you were efficient to a fault

like your father, you made few mistakes and took pride in your work

Unlike your father, you sounded cute as hell

and Rex noticed.

it started off innocent enough, with him being the most descriptive of the Guardians when it came to villain descriptions:

”OH MY GOD FUCKING SHIT HES GOT A GUN OEJABTBNWNT-“

”Uhhhh temperament? Well shit Y/n he’s got a temper he’s TRYING TO MURDER ME AGRHAHR-“

“No I have no idea what her agenda is- but she kicks like a fu-cking mule and I can’t get her to back off of me!”

mostly just whining. Actually, almost exclusively whining.

You built up a rapport over time, like audio pen pals, or a really shitty podcast for the other to listen to.

eventually, you started chatting over comms even outside of missions.

”heyyyy y/n, are you online?”

”Yes Rex, you know I stay on during the day. Is there a threat?”

”Naw I just thought you’d want to hear me drink sixteen beers in five minutes”

”why would I want to-“

the sound of chugging and metal being crushed, followed by the horrific noises of a newly emptied stomach followed suite.

Your father didn’t approve, not because of intermingling work and pleasure, he knew the best source for companionship is within the industry

bit Rex?

*glances over at Rex trying to drink a beer immediately after throwing up sixteen beers*

are you trying to send him into an early retirement?

but he’s your dad and ultimately he figures you could do Rex some good

so at the Guardians Christmas party, he introduces you:

”Uhm, I’d like you all to meet Y/n, she’s the chief profiler you’ve been communicating with for the last few months. She is also my daughter, but I trust you will respect her as the professional she is.”

Rex is on you immediately

Cecil is regretting all his life choices

he should’ve gotten you a puppy and Rex a tomagatchi. Or actually nothing because he doesn’t care about Rex.

buuuuut he cares about you, and what kind of father would he be if he didn’t try and facilitate you being happy?

so you and Rex meet in person for the first time, and he’s a mess.

”Heyyyyy hot stuff, we gotta get you a video camera or something because god damn!”

you raise an eyebrow with a smile, and take a long, agonizingly quiet sip from your drink.

before spitting it into the cup

he can’t help but laugh when he realizes what’s happen

”Oh yeah! I spiked the punch, it’s so highschool Cecil didn’t think I’d actually do it!”

”Jesus Christ- what the fuck did you spike it *with*?” You ask indignantly, your mouth burning

His Face is smug as ever “Everclear”

After everyone (including you and Rex) get belligerently drunk, Cecil cancels workplace parties.

It brings good things, however, breaking the ice for future in-person hangouts

he may not be able to fly you around the world like Mark, but he can treat you to a pretty impressive firework show whenever you want

the first time he does this is the time he asks you out.

You’re on the mountain outside the base, and he says he’s got “something special to show you”

Please don’t throw up sixteen beers again please please please-

A mirage of colors and shapes flash across the sky

He looks back at you after finishing, the last firework delayed enough to erupt into a burst of pinks and reds when he asks you

”Uhm- I know it’s super unprofessional and your dad will totally kick my ass if I mess this up, but would you wanna go on a date sometime?”

Your profiling skills didn’t pick THAT up

You blink. Hard.

”like. With you?”

he furrows his brow in embarrassed anger and takes a few huffy breaths, folding his arms

”Uh. Yeah. With me!” He frowns even more, his anger breaking to reveal a glimmer of anxiety

this boy is so nervous please just answer him

and do you do, standing up from your perch on the snowy mountainside and putting your gloved hands in his

”Yeah- I mean- that’s agreeable to me if it’s agreeable to you.”

somewhere like hundreds of miles away, Cecil sighs in relief for the first time in decades.

so you and Rex start dating!

he’s a bit of a gym rat, and most of your interaction is still over comms, since he’s so busy saving the world and stuff

wow your boyfriend is so cool!

but you also carve out time to show Rex the cool stuff your dad has taken you to see over the years.

its a little weird for Rex

”Yeah- this is my dads favorite painting- and this is where we go to get ice cream- and-“

Rex isn’t sure he knows how to interact with Cecil after learning his favorite broadway musical. Or that he has one at all.

Cecil isn’t sure how to react when your bedroom cork board is no longer sparse, but filled with Polaroids and photo strips of you and his employee slash superhero lackey. Kissing. Eugh.

Rex values your skills, and often makes a game out of people watching with you

”The guy with the huge dick energy, in the green hoodie.”

”Mmmm…. Kelptomaniac with a fent problem, looks like he has early onset arthritis and an iron deficiency. Most likely to rob a combination grocery store and pharmacy.”

”that’s brutal! Okay what about the girl with the huge… um… tank top. Striped, by that statue!”

”Developed quickly, has crow feet and probably did ballet as a child, but stopped around middle school. Her hair looks natural but is dyed, likely from ginger to brown based on the undertones. She has a twitch in her arm and a shakiness in her eyes, probably low blood sugar. Hence-“ you gestured to the ice cream cart next to her “Why she’s in line. Like we should be, cmon!”

you pull him over and get ice cream, he gets rocky road every time, and always insists on getting a bite of whatever you got

Bonus:

Rex and Cecil are both relatively bad at the traditional family dynamic

but Rex wants to”meet the parents” like he never could with Eve for obvious reasons

so you bring him to hq for the Superbowl

Every year you, Cecil, and Donald stream the Super Bowl on a side screen while carrying out your regular duties, along with a cheap plastic football shaped bowl of potato chips, Donald’s favorite, and a smaller bowl of peanut m&ms, Cecil’s favorite.

Rex studies really hard on the Eagles and the Chiefs

only to realize nobody except Donald actually gives a shit how the game plays out

rex scores MAJOR brownie points with Donald though

and since he’s like basically an uncle to you, he counts it as a win

cecil thinks he’s lame

”if you put this much effort into training as you do trying to impress me via an archaic bid to my masculinity, the world might actually be a safe place.”

ouch.

Rex eats all the peanut m&Ms in revenge

[grenadehearts]

wlw smut.

it’s been a full month since you and jirou have had sex—let alone kissed—all because her tongue piercing needed to heal. and fuck, you’re needy. though not nearly as bad as jirou, apparently, because the second she bustles into her dorm and sees you perched all pretty on her bed, strumming her guitar with freshly manicured nails like you’ve got no idea how many times she’s told you not to, her pussy clenches. hard.

because she needs to taste you. bad.

she doesn’t even pretend to care about the guitar—just lets her gear drop by the door with a loud thud before stalking over, one leg swinging over your waist as she settles in your lap. her hand reaches out, takes the guitar from your hands, and sets it aside like it’s nothing. “hi, baby,” you coo, but she’s already on you—mouth crashing into yours, no warning, no hesitation.

her lips drag lower, tracing heat down your jaw, to your neck, where she bites, then licks, then bites again. the cold metal of her piercing presses wet and flat against your skin, kissing and nipping at the juncture of your neck, dragging slow, deliberate stripes, Your head lolls as you let out soft whimpers, thighs instinctively clenching together—until Jirou moves faster, shifting positions and wedging her knee between your locked legs.

and later—when her fingers are stuffed deep inside, curling into that spot that makes your hips jerk and your mouth fall open in a moan—she doesn’t bother with the strap. too long. it’s been too long and she needs to feel you soaking her fingers, needs to hear those filthy little squelches each time she fucks into you.

and that’s when she’ll rasp it—right into your ear, all breath and bite.

“touch my guitar again, and i’ll make sure those pretty hands, ain't free for a week.

masterlist link here.

taglist: @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation @van9lla @dienamiight @sk1ppy-art @ni-aaaaaaa @kelisewrites @chosostonguepiercing @izzymff @swuzzin @aryuunachigiri @badslittlemuffin @yuhkai @candiiee @ugh-ellie69 @khloefrlsss @camydoesstuff @11thlife02 @alixezae @diamondocean001 @izycarrot7 @vivitg @cupkiki @wonubby @lotusstarr @tatumsscream96 @babriye @cphlo @mwahs-stuff @r0m4nth33rizzl3rr @makaroni-and-chez @mightydynamight @soundtrqck @gethexxed

[madame-fear]

For drabbles maybe prompt 14 with Enzo’s nose? 🤭 love all you do, hope you have a wonderful day

꒰ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 | 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄. ꒱

ೀ amira speaks! : you are so sweet nonnie, thank you, glad you like my works! 🥺 this is the first request I ever take of him,, so I hope you enjoy your reading! 💕 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request above.♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 437.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : drabble, fluff, established relationship. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Enzo Vogrincic x (fem!)Reader ˗ˏˋ ꒰ prompt used : 14. tracing [character]’s features while they sleep, and vice versa.

→ click here if you want to request a drabble for my followers milestone celebration! drabbles open from February 14th, to March 1st.

Physical touch was something Enzo always craved for in your relationship — it was a love language already established in your relationship.

There was something in the way the tip of your fingers traced his skin delicately that helped him feel soothed by your warmth. With all the premieres, interviews, events, and other things related to his acting career, he was just tired. And sometimes, he didn’t have as much time to spend with you like he used to have — but, something Enzo often appreciated, was feeling your touch whenever he was just too exhausted.

You sat on the couch of your living room, as he laid on it and his head weighed on your lap; enjoying the comforting silence that loomed over the space. For you, it felt quite comfortable to have him that way, being allowed to trace his features as much as you pleased while Enzo tried to rest after a long, tiring day. The only thing he could possibly wish for at the moment, was to be taken care of by you.

The tip of your finger wandered mindlessly over his features, occasionally tracing small shapes on his skin. Your stare was fixed down on him, admiring every bit of his face as he calmly rested with his head on top of your lap. Enzo wasn’t asleep per se; his eyes might have been closed, yes — but merely because of the heaviness he felt on them from exhaustion. He was quite conscious of the way you took care of him. The feeling was soothing enough to help him fall asleep almost immediatly.

Softly, you moved your finger towards his nose. Your digit traced the outline of his nose, moving slowly as to appreciate the feeling of his skin against your own. The tracing movement you made was calm and leisure, allowing your index finger to explore his nose and pamper him in a sweet way. You knew he liked the way in which you took the time to caress every inch of his skin and his beauteous features, and you would do it whenever it was needed, or he asked you to do so.

A discreet, tired grin appeared at the corner of his lips, as you continued to move the tip of your index finger through his nose. You noticed it immediatly, smiling to yourself proudly. He felt as satisfied and content as you felt whenever you managed to explore his face with your fingers. His life by your side was quite fulfilled even with tender little moments such as these — and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[zevrra]

hi! jayce x reader where she (or they whatever) is working in the lab w him and the experiment goes a little haywire, getting her hurt? please make my man as pathetic wet dog guilty as possible bonus points if you mention the beard please thank you

includes: [fluff!] something goes wrong in the lab and jayce feels really bad about it!

ft. jayce x gn!reader

extra(s): i hope i wrote jayce pathetic enough for you anon!! thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy it!! (also i love the beard and will take every chance i can to mention it KSHSKH jayce is SO FIONE)

you had wanted to surprise your lover, jayce talis, so you showed up to the lab with some lunch for the two of you. he hadn’t expected you and was so happy to see you. soot covers the side of his cheek as he wears his cute little goggles, hair a mess as he turns his back on his latest project to greet you.

“baby!” jayce chirps happily. his hands find your waist as he settles to stand before you, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips.

you smile and roll your eyes at your goofy boyfriend. moving his goggles out of the way before kissing him back. “thought i’d drop by with some food. is that okay?” you ask as jayce wraps you up in a hug. you move your thumb across his face, wiping away as much dirt as you can with a furrowed brow; it was never easy cleaning his face with his beard now. “maybe you should shave?” you tease him with a soft laugh, wiping your hand across his lab coat.

jayce pouts at your words, running a hand along his bearded chin. “what, you don’t like it?” he asks with a lifted eyebrow before shaking his head to get back onto the topic of food. “anyway, you have perfect timing actually! i could use your help with this…thing while we eat.” jayce sighs as he gestures towards the project he’s probably been slumped over for too long; hence the length of his beard. you smile as he joyfully takes the food you offer him before moving back to the lab’s desk while dragging you along with him. “i just don’t know what i’m missing.” he mutters as he takes a bite out of the snack you’ve brought him, leaning against the desk. his eyes glance from his notes, to whatever hex project he’s got sitting on his desk, before looking over at you.

you settle in beside jayce with a smile as you reach to pick through his notes. your eyes scanning over his messy handwriting as thoroughly as you can while jayce rests a heavy hand on your waist, needing to keep you close at all times when it’s just the two of you. something you dearly loved about the man. “have you tried upping the voltage?” you ask as you read through the notes; to which jayce nods in response, mouth clearly full. “what about switching the plus and minus here around?”

jayce stops his snacking for a minute, clearly thinking about your proposal, as he considers the option. he sets his lunch down and turns around to face the notes in your hand, reading over where you point to. “no but…here, i think channeling energy here instead might work!” jayce states with a newfound confidence, slipping his goggles back on as he fully turns to the hex project.

and then it all happens so fast.

seconds within jayce toying with the rune, an explosion sets off. the light blue shimmer of magic raises every hair on your body; and it sends a cold, dreadful shiver down your spine. you barely have time to react to get away but luckily, jayce does. his hands are grabbing your body, yanking you away while turning his back towards the explosion, pulling you entirely into his chest to cover you from the blast. thankfully, by some miracle, before the “big boom” the rune fizzles out and dies, and only a very small shockwave shatters some nearby glass; leaving you and jayce intact but shaken up.

after it quiets down, you manage to peel your face off of jayce’s shoulder and look around. his desk is a mess, notes mixed with broken glass lay all over the floor— meanwhile smoke rolls silently around the project. jayce, suddenly realizing that he and you were both, in fact, still alive, gasps, squeezing you a little tighter before barely pulling inches away.

“oh gods,” jayce mutters as he quickly scans over your face. he pulls you gently further away from the blast, hands roaming your entire body to inspect you before caressing the side of your face. his thumb wipes gently along your face as he inspects a cut you didn’t know you had. “shit!” he curses under his breath, hazel eyes full of agony and sorrow as he looks at the wound inflicted upon you. “are you ok? does it hurt anywhere else?”

your heart beats hard in your chest but you shake your head at his question, still in shock from moments ago but relatively you’re physically okay. your hand slightly trembles as you manage to reach up and touch where his hand gently caresses you, feeling the sticky of your blood from your open cut. it stings, pretty good, but not deep enough to need any kind of stitch work. jayce holds your face dearly in his hands as his eyes fill up with tears. “i’m so sorry. my god i could’ve killed you.” jayce practically sobs as both of his hands hold your face gently now, pressing his forehead against your own. “i’m so sorry love. please forgive me.” he mutters, defeated as he holds you.

you take a deep breath in, hold it for a second, then release it; squeezing jayce’s hand gently. “jay, it’s not your fault. please, are you okay?” you whisper in a worried tone, pulling away just enough to look at him.

“i don’t care about me!” he responds with a tremble to his voice; seemingly biting back his sobs.

you shake your head, giving his hand one more squeeze. “well, i care. now come here.” you frown before taking a step back and dragging him along with you. without struggle, he let’s you lead him further away from “ground zero” and finally allows you to check him out now. and thankfully jayce has only suffered a few small cuts to the long coat he wears. and if it weren’t for that damned lab coat he wore, things could've been a lot worse. “you’re okay.” you sigh with relief, smoothing your hand across his jaw and neck. “no serious bleeding or any open wounds that i can see.” you add with a soft smile.

but his eyes continue to tell you how upset he is. unhappy at all about the injury on your face but he remains unscathed. he can barely look at you; and when he does, he stares at the scratch along your cheek. “i can’t believe i got you hurt.” jayce says, drooping like a wilted flower as he looks up at you through his eyelashes as he sits down in a cleaner area.

“jayce, darling, you didn’t do anything. you can’t control the uncontrollable.” you hum softly, taking his face into your hands as he settles himself down. and at your touch he melts into your palm, puppy dog eyes staring up at you as one of his big hands covers over one of your hands.

“i am so sorry.” jayce mumbles with a sad pout.

you frown a little, pouting, as you move the flat of your palms across his beard, scratching his face just a little as you try and will his self blame away. “maybe this beard is just bad luck.” you grumble but the tease manages to get jayce to crack the tiniest smile. you chuckle as his face softens in your hands. turning his lips to kiss the inside of your palm.

“ha, nice try. i’m not shaving.” jayce teases with a smile he hides behind your hand. you mirror his smirk as he pulls you down to him, pressing his lips into yours in a tender kiss.

yeah. you two were going to be okay.

[stevesgother]

constantly thinking about how steve was alone in the back of the ambulance at the end of season 3 watching everyone else reunite with their families

baby boy needs a hug

STOP it. i will throw up.

his sailor's uniform that was once so cheesy and endearing is covered in blood and sweat and vomit; his left eye so swollen that he can barely see out of it.

he can't find his car keys, so he's kind of resigned himself to walking all the way from the mall with a definite concussion and probably at least one broken rib. every intake of breath hurts.

and you spot him from over your mother's shoulder, though you're not sure what to say. what could you possibly say to console anyone who just went through what the whole of you went through?

you can barely get your mom to release you from her iron-clad grip long enough for you to go see if he needs anything. a ride home or a hug or a joint. something.

he's the only person here who doesn't have a mother holding him in her arms. the EMT's have even stopped paying attention to him. there's no reason for him to still be sitting there-- wrapped in that tinfoil blanket-- and yet, he hasn't left.

steve offers you a weak, barely there smile that doesn't reach anywhere near his eyes when he spots you approaching. his grins usually incite the cutest crow's feet by his eyes, smile lines adjacent to his lips. but not tonight.

"hey," he whispers when you reach him

"hey," you whisper back, "what did they say about your--" you gesture around your head, your torso.

"pretty gnarly concussion," he tries to play off, "bruised...everything else," he chuckles but it's so obviously not funny. you don't even crack a smile.

"steve..."

"listen, um," he clears his throat, "this is so--lame, god-- but could i maybe crash at your place tonight? i swear, i'll go home in the morning--"

"steve--" you take a microscopic step forward, hesitant to touch him, to comfort him, but aching to. "of course you can. you can stay as long as you need to. c'mon," you settle on offering him a hand to help pull himself up. at least that could be played off as simply friendly-- if either of you are capable of remembering this night years from now.

steve takes it, his hand clammy and blood-streaked in yours. you hope you won't have to do much convincing for your parents to let a boy stay over, given the circumstances.

"mom, this is steve. he needs somewhere to stay tonight--"

you aren't even able to finish your sentence before your mother, ever the caretaker, interrupts you, "of course, sweetheart. oh, you poor thing." you're not entirely sure whether she's referring to you or steve. maybe both.

after refusing your mother's several offers to swing by his house on loch nora to grab a change of clothes, she finally accepts and lets him borrow a pair of your father's sweats and a t-shirt. he's settled into the pullout couch in the basement.

"um, if you need anything, my room is the first door on the right upstairs."

he nods, you can tell it hurts him to do so, "thanks. and thanks for letting me stay, you didn't have to--"

"don't." you tell him firmly, "you shouldn't have to be alone."

you're unsure what time it was-- having never checked your alarm clock-- when steve trudged his way up to what he really hoped was your bedroom door, nudging it with his foot. you were still awake to no one's surprise, staring blankly at your ceiling fan as it spun in an endless, hypnotizing circle-- it's only job in life. how enviable.

you let steve crawl into your bed beside you after he'd confessed he couldn't fall asleep downstairs. mindful of his injuries, you pet his hair, smoothing it away from his face as you did. you hugged him close to you after that, rubbing soothing circles into the tense muscles of his back. you were acutely aware of his shoulders shaking at one point, a wet patch on the shoulder of your sleep shirt where his head rested. you wondered when the last time that anyone held him was. you didn't call attention to his obvious weeping.

"you're safe, steve. you can rest now." you whispered softly into the shell of his ear.

his nod was nearly imperceptible, but he did sleep that night. and even despite the circumstances, better than he had in a long, long time.

[oldermenfucker]

everyone is talking about robby talking you through it? think you can maybe please write something around that?

Of course I can babe! Ask and you shall receive!!! It’s not long unfortunately but Robby has a MOUTH on him:)

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, robby has a filthy fucking mouth YAS🤭

You knew Robby was a man of words, you experienced it firsthand. He guided you through so many procedures, threw praise words around like candy, and made sure everyone knew how appreciated they were.

So it shouldn’t have been a shock when you found out he has a filthy fucking mouth on him, but it was, and worse, he knows what he is doing to you.

“I’m gonna put it in, yeah?”

You nod hurriedly, hands roaming his broad shoulders and back, practically vibrating with need as he taps the head of his cock on your clit twice before he lines himself up with your hole.

“Ah, good girl,” he groans as he pushes in smoothly, stretching you out with his fat cock, “Feels so good.”

Your lips part in a soft moan as he slowly begins to thrust into you, deep and intense, enough to make you arch your back.

“Look at you taking me so beautifully,” he cups your face, his pupils blown and widened as his hips slam into yours, his cock reaching deeper with each stroke, “You were made for me, fuck, yeah you were—“

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, nails digging into his broad shoulders as his grip tightens on your hips.

“There is my girl,” he doesn’t take his eyes off you, staring as your face twists in pleasure as he drives into your velvety walls, “Does it feel good, baby? Should I go faster?”

“Yes, yes— Mikey, please!”

“Anything for you,” he kisses the corner of your lips, chasing your tongue into your mouth while he fastens his pace, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. He pulls back a little, panting above you as he angles your hips a bit up, “Want me to play with your clit? Cause I really want to, baby. Let me make you come—“

He doesn’t wait for your response, he just reaches between your bodies, thumb pressing down on your buzzing nerves as he begins to draw slow circles.

You squeeze your eyes shut as a new wave of pleasure begins to fill your veins, the knot in your stomach tightening with each second.

“Come for me, baby,” he gasps against your lips when your walls clamp down around him, making it much harder for him to keep himself composed, “There you go, want you to come for me. C’mon baby, go on, come for me, make a fucking mess—“

And you do, with such a force that has your vision going blank for a second, chest pushing upward as your body shakes, legs quivering around his hips as he rubs your swollen clit and fucks you through your peak.

“The prettiest girl, the world doesn’t deserve your beauty,” he groans, his face flushed as he watches you ride your high. “Fuckin’ hell, you must see yourself, you look like sin but feel like heaven—“

[hyruling]

Happy Buddie Eve! I love your writing so much!! Especially that last one with the covering the other’s mouth prompt - it was so warm and funny and adorable!

How about 17 for buddie? ❤️🫶

Thank you!!

17. holding the other’s chin up

—

The silence in the car ride home is heavy.

They showered at the station. Eddie borrowed some of Buck’s spare clothes from his locker — his turnouts and henley were too filthy to drive home in, and the rest of his clothes are all packed in bags at the house, waiting. His hair is still damp and dripping down his neck, and it feels suffocating in a way that doesn’t make sense; feels like ants on his skin, a buzzing in his veins, an itch he can’t scratch.

Or maybe that’s just Eddie.

Eddie, who keeps looking at him. Who’s in his passenger seat again, dressed in Buck’s too big sweats and LAFD tee, Buckley splashed across his back in a way that makes him want to throw up the sickly warmth that pools in his gut every time his eyes find it.

He’s watching Buck now, a burning gaze that digs in like a bruise, and he can’t keep delaying the inevitable.

“What are you gonna do?” Buck asks over the soft sounds of the radio.

Eddie huffs, self deprecating and gentle, turns his attention briefly to the road ahead. “Think my orders from Captain Han were pretty clear.”

Buck smiles despite himself. “Yeah, but—I mean, is that—enough?”

He feels Eddie look at him again. “Enough?”

“To come back,” Buck says, keeping his eyes carefully on the road, anywhere but where they desperately want to look. Stalled car half a mile ahead. The Fiat next to them that keeps inching over like they want to merge. Yellow traffic light, red brake lights of the white sedan they’re trailing. Eddie’s eyes, still burning a hole in his temple.

“You mean, is Chim bossing me around enough to get me to come back?” Eddie asks, an edge to his voice Buck can’t place. Like he wants to laugh, but it’s getting caught in his throat.

And he’s tired, suddenly. So tired. Tired of grief weighing on his bones with every breath, the heaviness he can’t shake, can’t outrun. Tired of missing Eddie when they’re in the same room, of tiptoeing around and not saying what they mean. Even when they’re at each other’s throats, when Eddie bares his teeth and Buck nips back, they’re still not saying it. And he can’t do it anymore.

“You know what I mean,” Buck says.

“Yeah. I do,” Eddie admits. Goes quiet.

Buck still doesn’t look. Keeps his hands carefully at ten and two, turns down the side street that will take them home.

“You’re bleeding,” Eddie says in lieu of an answer.

Buck barely resists the urge to shrug. Makes a left onto South Bedford.

“Your neck,” Eddie continues.

The sting cuts through the fog, a sharp pain he didn’t notice until Eddie pointed it out. Buck pulls into the driveway and opens the door, snatching his bag from the back. Eddie is on his heels, and Buck fumbles with getting the key in the lock, and then they’re inside the empty house, the fading light outside dying in the windowpanes and shadows on the wall.

“Chris?” Buck asks.

He tosses his bag on the couch and winces when he remembers the dusty handprints. Motes of it swirl in the air from the impact and land somewhere on the couch he hates, that’s responsible for the crick in Eddie’s neck.

“Pepa has him,” Eddie replies, toeing off his dusty boots in the entry, his back turned to him, Buckley across the shoulders.

“We could have picked him up.”

“She’s taking him to dinner and then shopping. Making up for the months she couldn’t spoil him,”Eddie explains.

Buckley disappears, and then Buck is looking at him for the for the first time since the roof. The first time in months that Eddie was moving towards him rather than away. He’s moving towards him now, and the hand on his elbow jolts through him like a shock.

“C’mon. Bathroom.”

Eddie tugs, and Buck follows. Eddie parks him on the closed toilet seat and fishes around for the first aid kit in the cabinet. He unzips it and grabs a pack of gauze, tearing it open as he comes back, ever efficient and competent in a way Buck’s never learned not to envy. His finger gently hooks under Buck’s chin and he tilts his head back, finding the cut close to Buck’s jugular and pressing firmly with the gauze.

“Think your chinstrap got you,” Eddie says, tilting Buck’s head where he needs to stop the bleeding. He feels like a dog offering up his belly, brought to heel by Eddie’s gentle hands on him. “You missed some dirt in the shower too.”

Eddie releases his chin, instructing him to keep pressure on the cut, fingers brushing as he moves Buck’s hand where he wants him. He digs through the bag for antiseptic and Buck watches him, takes him in after hours of denying himself. The drying hair curling over his forehead, the fan of his lashes over his cheek, the slope of his nose. He’s gorgeous, of course he is, Buck’s always known that. But he’s been caught in a feedback loop of thought that began when he crossed the threshold of the roof, to where Eddie was waiting for him, and the only thing louder than the adrenaline surging through his skull was that Eddie was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

It’s dangerous ground, made even more so by Eddie’s hands back on him, tilting his chin this way and that, fingers skating across his jaw in a way that makes him have to clench it around a shiver. Eddie cleans Buck’s face first, wiping the dirt away with a wet washcloth. He goes in with the alcohol swab next, and Buck hisses at the sting. Eddie mutters an apology and finishes quickly, dabbing with a fresh gauze pad once he’s satisfied.

“Don’t think it needs a bandage,” Eddie says. “If it starts bleeding again I’ll put one on.”

“Okay,” Buck grates out, voice hoarse.

Buck keeps still while Eddie cleans up. Eddie didn’t tell him to go, and so he stays, watching Eddie’s hands work. He closes his eyes after a minute, slips in that middling headspace between sleep and wakefulness. He’s not sure how long he drifts there before Eddie brings him back with a hand on his shoulder, thumb brushing his collarbone.

Eddie’s squatting in front of him when he opens his eyes. His hand is warm on Buck’s shoulder. “Get up, bud, let’s go to bed.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need—I can help, if you need to get Chris, get to the airport—”

“Wow,” Eddie interrupts with a soft smile. “From sabotaging sub-letters to pushing me out the door. That’s some real growth right there.”

Buck flushes. “I was never—I’m not pushing you out. Just, I know you were—your shift is at seven—”

“Buck,” Eddie interrupts again with a long suffering sigh. “I called Captain Morales while you were in the showers.”

“You—you did?” Buck asks, and a tentative sort of hope starts scratching at the door.

Eddie shakes his head, looks down at his knees. “Okay, guess we’re doing this here.”

He stands and pulls out Chris’ old step stool from under the sink. When he sits across from Buck on it, he’s a good inch or so shorter, and Buck bites back a smile at the picture he makes perched so low to the floor.

Eddie’s arms cross over his knees. He almost looks like a little kid when he says, “Yes, I did. Told him I was sorry but I couldn’t take the job after all.”

“Wh-why? Because of what Chim said?” Buck asks.

Eddie shrugs one shoulder. “Partly. He was right about a lot of things. But I—Buck, I never wanted to leave. Not now, not then. I was just—doing what I thought I needed to. And I did need to, I had to go for Chris, I had to fix things, and—and be his dad again. But I should have come back for Chris too. And for me.”

Buck swallows, and it echoes like a shot in the small bathroom. “What does Chris say?”

Eddie smiles. “I talked to him before I called Morales. He wanted to come home weeks ago, but he knew how much I put down on the house and didn’t want to shake things up again. It wasn’t until I said I wanted to stay that he finally spilled.”

Eddie shakes his head, looks at a spot over Buck’s shoulder. He knows without turning that he’s looking at the marks on the doorframe, the ones that measure Chris’ height over the years. “That kid. Too damn good for his own good sometimes.”

“Yeah, he is,” Buck says, finally matching Eddie’s smile. He feels like he can breathe for the first time since he laid eyes on Eddie at the airport. “So, you’re—staying?”

“Yeah, Buck,” Eddie says, eyes shining. “We’re staying.”

It’s a miracle he doesn’t slide off the toilet from the weight that disappears from his shoulders. He releases a shaky exhale, and he wants to touch Eddie so badly he could cry.

He balls his hands into fists instead, pressing them into his knees. “That’s—that’s really great, Eddie. I’m glad Chim—y-yeah. Thank god for post adrenaline speeches.”

The smile slips from Eddie’s face, and Buck is right back on the precipice again. Eddie shifts closer, legs crossed under his clenched hands, and holds Buck’s gaze. In a low voice, he asks, “It—you still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” Buck asks just as quietly.

“You never asked,” Eddie says, and Buck’s heart rushes to his throat. “You never asked me to stay, or to come back.”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” Buck says, a little sharper than he means it to be.

“No, you’re right. You didn’t need to,” Eddie says. “But I still wanted you to.”

“Eddie,” Buck breathes, air punched from his lungs. “You—I couldn’t. I never asked you to choose between me and Chris, you know.”

“I know you didn’t,” Eddie says, surprisingly placating.

Buck frowns, continues, “That’s—that’s not my place, and I-I know that. I would never put myself between you. But the thought of you being gone was s-so—and I know I acted out, and I know I let you down when Bobby died, I left you alone when I s-should have—god, fuck, I’m sorry Eddie. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, hard. Tries to stem the flow of tears that are always right on the brink these days.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, tugging at Buck’s wrists. Buck gives in, lets Eddie pull his hands away from his face. The fading light from the window and the pressure on his eyes turns Eddie into a strangely haloed figure, the only real thing in the room.

"I'm sorry too," Eddie says, and squeezes Buck's wrists. His palms are up like a supplication, and he curls his fingers until his nails dig into his skin. "I'm not telling you this as some kind of guilt trip, I'm trying to say that—I'm coming home for me. And that means I'm coming home for you too, do you get it?"

"I—not really," Buck answers honestly.

Eddie chuckles softly, looks down at his hands encircling Buck’s wrists. He thumbs over the delicate skin, traces the blue veins with his nail, and a shiver shakes down Buck’s spine.

"This is my home," Eddie explains, speaking to their hands. "El Paso was a lot of things for me, but it was never really home. This place, this is where I found it.”

Eddie’s eyes find his again, golden in the dusky light. “And Buck you're—god, you're the reason for almost all of it. Don't you know that?"

Blood rushes in his ears, and any hope he had of suppressing the tears is gone. They spill warm over his cheeks while Eddie rubs circles on his wrists, beautiful even here, even like this — cramped on the tiled floor that could use a good scrub, three toothbrushes in the cup by the sink because of course Eddie forgot to pack them, the way he always forgets. And the feeling he'd been trying to ignore, the one he's spent nearly Eddie's entire absence explaining away and denying, hooks itself behind his ribcage and glows.

—

prompts xo