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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months

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How these guys would react to having their face held…

Dick smiles out of habit and pushes his face even further into your hands, humming in content.

He loves it when you held him, however that may be, as it was the one thing he looked forward to the most when coming home.

He’s prone to frequent bouts of fatigue with patrols and the like, but it was moments like these where he could truly appreciate your touch and the healing properties they have on him.

‘I could spend forever here in your hands.’ He’d sigh as he allowed himself to relax within your touch.

‘Oh really? Is that so?’ You raised your brows, watching as the features within his face relaxed into a one that showed you just how exhausted Dick looked. You could see the toll his job his job took but you knew that Dick was too devoted, too attached to what he does to ever give it up, no matter how constantly drained and tired it made him.

You respect his decision to keep doing what he was doing but there came times where you’d just wish he would take a breather from it all, even if it was just for a second, you just wanted to take the weight off of Dick’s shoulders and put it aside for a moment while you work the tension out of his aching muscles.

‘Yeah.’ He responded, feeling himself sink further into sleep. Dick loved what he does but some times he resents it for leaving him with little to no time to spend with you, at least not without him falling asleep five minutes within the interaction. Time with you was sparse and all Dick wanted to do was spend as much of it as he could to make up for the fact that he was barely home at all during the day.

He knew that he prioritised being a hero over your relationship too often and he couldn’t help but feel a tremendous amount of guilt over it during your relationship. You didn’t deserve to wait up for him every night to make sure he was okay, not while developing heavy eye bags of your own and a lack of a sleeping schedule.

He just hopes that one day you too will realise that you better then what he’s giving you and put yourself first, but you were too selfless to ever do that and he could feel that through the way you trace his features with your fingers with featherlight caresses.

Jason stiffens beneath your touch and goes unresponsive for such a long time that you were worried that you had accidentally crossed a boundary.

So just as you were about to remove your hands from his face, Jason quickly reaches out to grasp your hands and pull them back to cupping his cheeks as he then proceeded to nuzzle his cheek against your palm.

‘Stay.’ He whispered. ‘Please.’

Your heart broke at his plea but obeyed as you began to stroke his cheeks with either of your thumbs, feeling him gradually relax under your touch until he was practically a puddle in your hands.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whimpered, burying his face into your hands so that you didn’t see his tear stricken red face. ‘I don’t deserve this. None of it.’ He adds, cursing himself for being so pathetic but your touch practically broke him in the best way.

In your hands Jason felt as though all his broken prices were being put back together again through love, warmth and patience and that was enough to make him breakdown into tears.

Physical affection is a foreign concern to this poor man, and in due to that Jason is naturally going to be skeptical and on edge the moment the pads of your fingertips explore his jawline, before slowly coming up to cup his cheeks. ‘I’m right here Jaybridie.’ You utter softly as you felt his grip on your wrists slack a little. ‘I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere because nowhere is more important than staying here with you. Just take your time.’ And stay with him you did.

Damian is another one who’s not use to soft touches and sweet affection.

So he’ll initially be on guard when he saw you coming his way with your hands outstretched to cup his cheeks, but will huff and reluctantly rest his face in your palms, he’s extremely stiff while doing so and looking away from you out of initial embarrassment.

‘Get on with it.’ He’d mutter, acting as though such acts or moments of tenderness and vulnerability were beneath him, when in actuality Damian loved the feeling of you hold his face as though it were porcelain. He loved the fact that despite knowing his upbringing you still treat him with a love, kindness and warmth that he has never been shown before.

To Damian it was clear that you didn’t care if he was the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul, grandson of Ra’s al Ghul. You only cared about him, Damian Wayne and he could feel that care through your touch as he vowed to cut through anything and everything that intended to harm you.

Your touch brings him a sense of calm, serenity and peace that brought him back from the brink a plethora of times, especially in moments when his arrogance and brashness would resurface. Damian was thankful for you being in his life, a true guiding light in his darkest moments, and he couldn’t think of any possible way to thank you for everything you’ve done for him but he’ll surly try.

Bruce feels the tension behind his eyes and in his jaw sooth themselves under your touch.

His eyes would slowly close as he brought his calloused hands up to gently stroke the inside of your wrists. Bruce needs no words to describe how he felt because he feels as though his expressions and the noises of content made it clear how much he appreciated you being here with him.

‘You look tired.’ You commented, tracing the weary lines on his hard face with your eyes as he observed your face and the way it showed most of your innermost emotions whether you were aware of this fact or not.

Bruce knew that you worry and that you worry a lot about him in particular when it came to whether he was sleeping enough, eating enough and keeping himself safe whilst fighting on the streets of Gotham. Bruce knew he was as stubborn as mule when it came to his life choices and that you were only just worried about him because you cared for him, but sometimes he wished you would redirect all this effort towards yourself because he oftentimes didn’t think he was worth of your worry, nor your care.

Bruce felt as though he should be the one taking care of you rather than you taking care of him. It’s not as though he hates it, it’s just you’ve shown him on countless occasions of your care towards him, and on even more occasions you have shown him of your unwavering dedication towards him. Bruce also feels like he should be the one paying you back for all the hard times where you stood by his side, watching him practically work himself to the bone and almost into a comatose if you didn’t step in and deal him away from the computers.

For you’ve proven time and time again that you weren’t so easily swayed into leaving, and that was made more true when he felt comfortable enough telling you that he was Batman and the dangers that would come with knowing such knowledge. You however only shrugged and told him that by his side, you were the safest you’ve ever been or will ever be.

‘More so than usual?’ He asked in a way that it might as well have came out as an indignant huff.

‘And by more so than usual you mean constantly, then yes, yes you are more tired than usual.’ You replied as you ran your thumbs under his eyes and across his eye bags as if to emphasise your point. Bruce only huffs as he watched you take in all of him with nothing but love and affection in your eyes and your touch.

John would most likely bite your hand out of an inherent need to be a teasing little shit.

Will boast about the fact that you just wanted to touch up his stubble. He wasn’t lying but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that and instead say; ‘in your dreams John.’

‘Oh I’m sure I am in yours.’ He reply with confidence as he winked, causing you to lightly pinch his cheek as punishment for his cockiness. ‘I hate you.’ You’d say as you push your fingertips through his stubbly beard, enjoying the way it deliciously tickles your skin, almost as though they were little prickly kisses.

‘No you don’t sweetheart, try as you might but you and me both know that for definite that you love me.’ John would state in a matter of fact tone. Once again you hated how right he was, but kept your lips sealed shut as not to give him any more ammunition to tease and contradict you at any given opportunity than you’ve already have.

The air between you is playful and light in comparison to how cynical, sharp witted and sarcastic he usually is on a daily basis. It was a welcomed change as you allowed the blonde to pretend to bite your hand, only allowing for his teeth to barely graze your skin before pulling away with a sly smirk as you scratch at his stubble.

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paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles · 4 months

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Why?

I’ve done it. It’s over.

I let out a deep breath that turns into a burp. My belly lets out a gurgle.

Another gorging come and gone. A party sized fast food order completely inside my fat, burgeoning, hefty gut.

All that remains outside are wrappers, a few empty bags, and an empty cup.

I lean back in my chair. It creaks slightly. I’m so full I can barely keep my eyes open, my body devoting all my energy to digesting my oversized meal. I let out a long, breathy sigh.

The buttons on my shirt are straining and it has ridden up. It’s my favorite shirt. Soon I’ll grow out of it. It bothers me. But I cannot stop giving my stomach what it needs.

I let my shirt just roll up the rest of the way. My full, satiated belly softly plops out in my lap. There isn’t really any space for anything else. My stomach easily covers about half of my gigantic thighs. I rub my huge, sensitive, engorged gut. Involuntary moans escape me. My smooth skin is soft and warm, my squishy fat presses in with my hands as I firmly push and precede over the swollen, fleshy orb in my lap.

I’m so tuckered out. My whole evening. My valuable and limited free time…gone. Just like the 1000s of calories of food, my needy, heavy, inflated gut has consumed that entirely too. I have no choice now but to sleep off this multi person gathering sized meal. I can’t remain conscious much longer.

I must get up. It’s so difficult. My belly weighs me down. It all sloshes inside me as I stand. I’m so fatigued, and downright sluggish from the new contents of my stomach. My breathing is labored and short. I’m simply out of breath.

I waddle out of my dining room. My heavy steps are slow, I can’t manage anything fast. I feel dazed, so encumbered, so overladen with delicious food. My belly doesn’t jiggle as much in this state. It’s so solidly filled.

I stop to inspect the damage I’ve dealt in the bathroom mirror. My shirt is draped over my torso like a tent now. 4Xs don’t fit like they used to. I slide it off. My belly is taunt up top. My stretch marks more pronounced. Soft, squishy flab hangs off of me and sags low. My deep overhang shocks me as usual when I turn to the side. I am so wide, and even wider like this. I scoop my prize up in my arms, lifting it. This pushes out another burp. It’s a relief taking the pressure off my back for a moment, achey from lugging this enormous thing around all the time.

Thoughts dance through my mind as I hold up my bloated stomach.

Why do I do this? I eat so much food constantly. Entire evenings, hours on end devoted to consuming it all and digesting it and cradling this fat, overfed gut.

I drop my heavy belly on the counter. A loud, meaty plop echoes off the walls. It has been sagging slightly into the sink. I use both hands to manhandle my squishy, overstuffed pride. Pure ecstasy. My bellybutton gaped more fully open. My thick, blubbery side rolls squished against the edge of the sink. My gut has become a solid, fleshy sack of pleasure. A bulging, globular trophy of unrestrained gluttony and hedonist overindulgence. It’s simply covered in decadent fat. My whole body is overladen with lard.

Why? Because my belly always gets what it wants. It’s pampered. Spoiled. It needs to be filled until it no longer can be. I must oblige. I have no choice. It is a command. I must obey.

Why? Because it feels so fucking good.

This is why.

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ghoulphile · 5 months

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wish you'd make me cry | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.3k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, dom!cooper, frottage, sitting missionary, dirty talk, degradation kink, pet names, teasing, dacryphilia, bareback, drug/chem use (jet), shotgunning, high sex ➥ summary | "You’re such a needy fucking brat." :3c ➥ notes | drabble (that's no longer a drabble lol) request for @tearueful, thank you bby!! this one really got away from me... i had to stop myself from writing lol. un-beta'd atm. masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Setting up camp for the night in an abandoned warehouse, you and Cooper wait out a radstorm that blows in off the horizon. Because while he loves sitting outside with a smoke, soaking in the rads until he’s buzzing with frenetic energy, you don’t feel like hunting down RadAway tomorrow.

It’s quiet apart from the distant sound of super mutants and ferals roaming the city, the sporadic roar of thunder, and rain tinging off the sheet metal roof. There’s still hours left until daylight, and it doesn’t seem like the volatile weather will break soon.

Unfortunately, you’ve read all the Grognak comics you could get your grubby hands on three times over, and there’s not much else to pass the time besides scuff your boot along the concrete floor, and pluck at a stray thread hanging off your tattered sleeping bag.

Meanwhile, Cooper lounges on his side, unbothered. His hand - bare for once - props up his head, the unscarred skin of a commandeered digit stark against angry rad burns and ropey scars. Between the knuckles of his other hand, he rolls a vial of chem over and over in a mesmerizing flick of deft fingers.

A lantern sputters between you as the old battery struggles to keep it lit. Its jaundiced glow banishes the thick darkness; a fuzzy halo of light that elongates shadows and deepens the cuts of his face.

You kiss your teeth, and say, “Hey, you got any more Jet?”

Lazy eyes slide towards you. A hairless brow quirks. “And if I did,” he asks, the vial pausing between his fingers, “why you wanna know?”

“Dunno, I’m bored… wanna get high?”

“Well, shit,” he whistles, bares his teeth. A low, crackling laugh rumbles from his chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you ask sooner.”

You shrug and crack a knuckle.

To be honest, the idea hadn’t occurred to you at first. Now that it has, anticipation curls low in your belly. Not only has it been a long, long time since you last got high (the sensation a hazy, half-remembered dream of fuzzy warmth and whirling thoughts), you know Cooper always carries a top-notch stash.

The little chem fiend, you think fondly.

“So,” you prompt. “Wanna get high together or what?”

“Sure as shit, darlin’. Let’s party.”

He settles against the pockmarked wall beside you with a soft grunt, the grit of concrete digging into his back. Thigh to thigh, his body is a rad warm line of heat. A bloom of suffocating heat in the otherwise biting chill of a wasteland night. Gunpowder and smoke tickle your nose when he leans over to rifle through his bag, leather creaking.

Muted, mellow; everything fades into a silent companionship as you pass the red inhaler between you. With every puff, whorls of smoke curl from your mouths until a murky gray cloud hovers in the air; defining the edges of your crafted universe.

The acrid vapor of chem burns its way through your lungs and into your bloodstream. A bitter taste coats your fattened tongue, lips tingling as your palm smothers little coughs. A flood of static rushes down your nerve endings, sends your head spinning.

As your vision blurs, the tension leeches from rounded shoulders with a bone weary sigh. And with every slow clicking blink, colors spark to life in a distorted kaleidoscope. Head lolling to the side, you watch through heavy eyes as Cooper rattles the inhaler and takes a shallow hit.

When he exhales, little tendrils of smoke caress the plains of his cheek. Dance along the hollow nasal ridge. “Almost out.” He grunts, your fingers brushing when he passes the cartridge back. “Go on, now. Finish it.”

The kind gesture (for him) touches you.

Then a faraway thought flutters.

Snags - settles into a nebulous desire.

And before you can second guess yourself, a rumble of thunder shakes the building. Wipes away the last of your common sense, and reservations. After all, why not? He was nice enough to share. You can too.

To his credit, Cooper doesn’t startle when you slink into his lap - not that you expect him to, even without being chem-addled. He tracks your movements from beneath a heavy brow bone, the dark Nuka Cola of his eyes glittering like shattered glass in the wane light.

“Heh, this that kinda party then, darlin’?” he asks once you settle, your thighs draped over his hips and your ass flush with his crotch. “‘Cuz you’ll be wanting ta extricate yourself if it ain’t.”

—Before I do it for you.

Humming, you dip forward until your breasts brush over the wide expanse of his chest. Interest flickers to life behind your navel; cinders cracking and popping along your spine. While you’d never considered Cooper a sexual availability beforehand (what with his never-ending search for family), the laden weight of his gaze as it pauses on your chin before dropping lower sings through your blood.

Kickstarts your heart into a galloping stutter that thuds against your ribcage as longing hooks behind your navel, tugs sudden and sharp. The world spins.

Maybe, you think, peering at him from beneath the fan of your lashes. Maybe…

“Pervert,” you murmur, biting down on a small smile.

The knife-sharp smirk falls from his lips faster than a comedown from Psycho when your fingertips ghost over the curve of his jaw, turning his head towards you. Like this, you share breath, the scant space between you thrumming with energy.

So close you can see flecks of gold in the amber whiskey of his eyes.

Your forehead brushes over his; the rough drag of gnarled skin sending a shiver through your limbs. “Let’s share the last hit. S’only fair.”

Pausing, he considers you for several long moments.

His gaze bounces from yours to the playful curve of your mouth and back. A small eternity passes like this. And then - when you’re about to crawl away to lick your wounded pride - the most imperceptible of nods grants his assent.

There’s a hiss of aerosol, a lung burning inhale, and then you’re exhaling into the open gash of his mouth.

Wisps of smoke dance off your tongue onto his, the bow of your lips glancing off the swell of his top lip as you squirm closer. You feed him chem in a slow, steady stream until all the air has left you.

He groans - a wounded, low-throated sound.

Your eyes flutter open to find him already staring, his iris a thin ring around the Blackhole of his wide blown pupils. Hooded, hungry: a caged predator. You lick your lips, and in doing so, flick your tongue over his.

Your stomach swoops, “I --”

“You’re such a needy fuckin’ brat, y’know that, sweetheart?”

Whether it was an apology or some other retort stuck to the back of your teeth like hard candy, you’ll never know because in the next moment a rough hand knocks the Jet out of your hand. The inhaler cracks against the concrete with a plastic smack before skidding off into the darkness.

A burning palm curls around your wrist, calloused fingers digging into your fluttering pulse point. “Hey — hngg!”

He yanks you close, and you taste the violence in his kiss.

Harsh lips map out the softness of yours as teeth pinch and roll until your mouth is a swollen mess of tender flesh and smeared spit. Keeping up with the frenzied scrape of his tongue and the deep pulls of his kisses is like trying to weather a hurricane or fight off a Yao Guai with a single bullet.

“W-Wait,” you gasp, fingers twined through the lapels of his duster. “I don’t --”

“Shut up,” Cooper growls, worrying the swell of your bottom lip until a bead of blood bubbles to the surface. He sucks it away with a stifled moan, his hips kicking up against the plush of your ass.

“Shut the fuck up right now. You know what you was doing - trying ta act innocent when you’ve been gaggin’ for it.”

Flustered, you pull back, “No, that’s not true!”

It’s hard to keep your balance with chem pumping through your veins, and you sway to the side. The only thing keeping you upright is the bruising grip Cooper has on your wrist. “I haven’t been — you’re wr-rong.”

He spits out a mean spirited chuckle. “If that’s what you need ta tell yourself, sweetheart.” A critical eye drags down the pathetic sight you make, crumbled as you are in his lap. “But I know the truth. I felt you looking - pantin’ after me like a bitch in heat.”

“...”

Panic grips you by the throat, your pulse thundering against the thumb he strokes along the curve of your shoulder. You should’ve known better.

Of course, he’d notice.

He was The Ghoul after all - best bounty hunter from this coast to the next. It was his job to perceive everything around him, sus out friend from foe.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

What else can you say?

He brought you along (for whatever reason, fuck if you know why), and you’ve caused nothing but trouble every step of the way. It’s a wasteland miracle he hasn’t kicked your ass and left you bleeding in the dirt by now.

I have to fix this. Whatever it takes.

“I ain’t wanting you sorry.”

Gulping, you will away the sting of tears, and say, “Please, don’t kick me out.”

“Y’know, sometimes I think it’s a miracle you survived this long at all.”

“You don’t have to be so rude about it…”

“Listen good and well, sugar,” he says with a roll of his eyes, that tender hand brushing over your neck turning into a collar as he drags you close. His lips whisper over yours with every word. “I didn’t go through all of this bullshit just ta get rid of you. Now--”

Hips rut up into you, dragging the firm line of his growing erection along the soft globes of your ass. “Stop teasin’ and make yourself useful,” he says. “Or you will be sorry.”

Everything after that flicks in and out of focus like a zoetrope: the burning clasp of hands, the slick glide of hungry mouths, the frantic rock of your hips as you both chase after dry friction with a desperation that borders on madness.

Your hands don’t know where to settle, fluttering from the nape of his neck to the breadth of his shoulders to the rippling muscle of his stomach as he rocks into you. Bites at any exposed skin that he can until his teeth leave marks you’ll carry for days.

All the while the hard edges of his body crash into your softness like waves against an eroding shore. Liquid fire blazes in your belly like a raging wildfire, scorching you from the inside out until you’re dumb and dripping.

The chem snaking through your body enhances the littlest of sensations until you feel like one giant exposed nerve. Slick drenched and sweaty, you moan weakly and rest your forehead against his cheek.

“Please,” you slur, thighs trembling where they squeeze at his live-wire hips. “S’not enough - need more. Wanna cum. Please, please, please. Make me cum.”

Cooper bites out a curse, his fingers biting into the fat of your ass. “Yeah, s’that right, sweetheart - d’you think you deserve it for bein’ such a lil brat?”

“Yes, yes, please, I’ll do anything. Just - hhahh, fuck!”

The fabric of your panties clings to your folds, and your pants chafe.

Your clit throbs with every thud of your heartbeat, every firm grind of his cock and low husk of his voice. Want him seated so deep inside you choke - your poor pussy struggling to take his cock as he rides you so hard you cry.

“Anything?” he asks with a breathless chuckle.

The devilish gleam of his eyes rattles your bones, shivers of electric anticipation fizzing through your veins like Quantum.

“Well, shit. Don’t come cryin’ ta me when you regret it. Now, take off those fucking pants and ride my cock like a good girl.”

And when he bullies his way inside, those thick ridges dragging along gummy walls, you almost swallow your tongue. He’s so big - the biggest you’ve ever had.

Every inch is a struggle, a victory. He’s not patient, he’s not kind. You don’t want it any other way, spread so wide your pussy flutters pathetically, trying to push him out.

Then the fat head grazes past the rough patch of your g-spot, sliding home to kiss your cervix. Your knees lock around his ribs, your head tossing back as a high-pitched whine punches its way out of your throat.

“A-Ah! I can’t — oh shit — you’re so,” you babble. “Too much!”

An ache spears deep, roots behind your navel.

“Heh, you asked for it, sweetheart. Look at me.” A scarred thumb wicks away a tear as you peel your eyes open with a sniffle. “That’s it. Shit, you look s’pretty when you cry.”

He licks his skin clean, uses his wet thumb to reach between you and roll the pad over your abused clit. You jump, sliding up on his shaft only for gravity to drag you back down with a solid smack of skin, your limbs jello soft.

The motion slams him deeper and slick drips from you in a sticky gush to soak his balls. You cry out, reedy thin.

Cooper grunts, warns, “You keep doing that and we’re not stoppin’ til you’re dripping cum.”

Though the thick haze of chem and syrupy sweet pleasure, you cobble together a grin and lick your way into his mouth. Tangle your tongues and suck as your hips arch into his. “Please, ruin me,” you breathe.

A possessive greed glints at you from the depths of his hangman eyes.

“Don’t go sayin’ I didn’t warn you, sweetheart,” he promises.

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout smut #fallout fanfic

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anadiasmount · 5 months

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as time gets close - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: almost close to your due date, what is wrong with a late-night grocery trip with your very excited and anxiously waiting fiance?

wc: 1.8k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa 🗣️: a little dad! jude blurb bc we haven’t seen much of this on the timeline!! like always hope you enjoy 🤍

"why are you bending down? you know that is bad for you," you rolled your eyes at your fiance's scolding, grabbing the keys from the floor. "i dropped the keys by accident," you say as you pick the correct key that belonged to the lock. jude rubbed your belly, ensuring you were okay before helping you out to the car, the reusable bags tucked underneath his arm.

"did you bring the list?" you ask him seeing as he nods and pulls it out from the pockets of his hoodie. "i did. i also brought you some snacks because you didn't eat much after getting some nausea," you pouted your lips leaning up to peck his cheek thanking him. "what would i do without you?" you tease, a playful scoff falling from his lips.

"what makes you think you'd be without me? i'm attached to you for life remember?" he grabs your left hand kissing over your ring finger as he gives you a knowing look. you feel as he brings your intertwined hands to your belly, "and you're carrying my baby in there."

"really i couldn't tell," you say sarcastically.

"let's make it quick because my feet already hurt and i want to sleep," you advised letting out a tired yawn. despite being close to your due date, you still had some work to do before maternity leave. making calls to set meetings, attending them over zoom, filing paperwork, in charge of making sure the firm doesn't backfire, and planning some stuff out for your wedding.

jude had told you multiple times to take it easy, but placing that aside, he always helped you unconditionally. in the shower, when cooking, taking care of chores, before bed, and attending all your doctor's appointments. he was your personal midwife and wanted to take care of you the most he could.

you remembered to look on his face when you told him you were expecting, the tears on his face as he spoke to your barely bump all night and traced his hands on your belly. singing and humming lullabies and stories about his day. since then he wanted to protect you the best he could.

going to the grocery store at this time was nothing new, in fact, it became so prevalent now that you were pregnant because you craved everything. making jude do a late run to pick up your cravings or groceries for the upcoming weeks. the same store, at the same time.

you placed your purse on the cart, snuggling into your jacket as the cold air inside the store blew you away. you followed jude who picked out veggies and greens for his meal prepping, helping him tie the bags and weigh them on the digital scale that produced labels. you watched in awe as your boyfriend picked out three pairs of different flowers. "what are these for?" you asked, smelling the flowery scent.

"for the house. we need to replace the old ones that dried out," jude says with a shy grin. "you were the one who said plants and flowers bring a sense of home into our house, " jude recalled your words, kissing your temple, pushing the cart since it became a bit heavier. "i did say that didn't i? well i wasn't wrong," you shrug, wrapping a hand around his bicep as he trailed along isles to pick up the different items on the list.

he did all the heavy lifting as you reached and picked stuff up from your level, like spices and eggs. you turn your back for a few seconds to retrieve some milk and coffee beans for the morning, to see the cart filled with pop tarts and other salty snacks. "no no no," you shake your head, as jude whines out protests. "y/n we need them! they're even on sale!"

“jude, i don’t care! we just got some three days ago!,” you say laughing, putting back the box of pop tarts. “y/n i’m telling you right now, in a couple of hours or days you’re gonna have me running back here for them,” jude states following behind you.

“am not!” you quickly defend, bringing a hand to your aching back. “are too! last night you had me running out for cheetos. what’s it going to be today? kettled popcorn? or wingstop?” jude teased making you rolls your eyes and focusing back on to what needed to get done. “don’t forget we need to pick some of that acid reflex stuff for you, to get rid of the heartburn,” jude reminds you, taking the cart and walking out of the pop tarts isle, sneaking a box in for you.

“what’s left on the list?” you ask him, taking out a small snack you had in your purse and offering some to jude. “we need bananas, strawberries, orange juice, and meats for upcoming dinners…” jude reads the list one by one, using his index finger as he goes along.

you pass by an isle grabbing some cereal and granola for your yogurts and bowls. jude insisting he grabs his favorite too since you refuse to share from your part. as you wait by the deli section jude come behind you, grabbing your belly and relieving some of the pressure.

you immediately lay your head back on his shoulder sighing in relief, hearing jude chuckle and place a kiss on your head. “almost there darling,” he whispered running one of his hands along your tummy. “i know what you’re doing jude… and if this baby starts kicking right now i’ll leave you here,” you warn.

“i’m just trying to help you love. doesn’t it feel good?” he reprimanded as you nodded. “yes but not when she starts kicking, i swear she does it on purpose and it’s your fault. like she knows it you,” you said feeling your lower back less tense and heavy. "i kid you not, last night she almost made me pee from this hard kick!"

"sounds to me like we have a mini footballer coming into our lives," said jude continuing to hold your belly since you were tired and your baby was heavy. he had read the method online with other tips and tricks. jude got more into reading when he found out you were pregnant, wanting to know every effect and secret to ensure a healthy and safe pregnancy.

"let's hope not, i don't think i could handle cleaning up broken stuff around the house every day," you sigh, releasing yourself from his hold because you began to get hot. you didn’t understand how your body was so quick to adjust and then de-adjust from hot and cold, but it was so easy and it drove you mad sometimes.

“you okay?” jude softened his eyes as you let out a breath of despair, holding your hand and feeling a sit squeezed tightly against his. “yeah just got a mini cramp,” you held your back and practiced breathing methods you learned, “i’m good, i promise,” you kiss his hand before retrieving the meats from the butcher. "we'll get home soon, and i promise you a warm tea and massage okay?"

"did you want chocolate or strawberry milk?" jude held up the pint containers, "strawberry, we still have chocolate milk at home," you said, jude nodding as he quickly picked the orange juice and your favorite yogurts. "i was never a fan of sweet or flavored milk but these are soooo good," you exaggerated, jude smiling hard down at you.

"never a fan? these were my childhood as a kid! my mum used to buy these or the powder to make it ourselves," jude says recalling a old memory thinking of his babygirl. "you reckon she'll like them too?" jude spoke softly as he saw you give him a fast nod. if there was one thing loved it was discussing his babygirl. he was so anxious and wanted to meet her. the itch in his teeth getting bigger as every day passes.

to hold her while she slept, hug her to keep her warm, coddle her to sleep, feed her. he was ready for it all. he loved to shop and spoil her already. her carrier, crib, different books, toys, and stuffed animals like he had as a kid. she didn't know it yet, but she would be jude's second best friend. firstly you. always you.

they saw if one ever finds love at first sight, and jude definitely did with you. a smile so bright, eyes gleaming with happiness, a stranger who he fell madly with almost immediately after hearing her say hello. through ups and downs, you found your way to each other and since then, it's a love story for the movies. jude had his career blowing, a beautiful fiancee, and now a baby on the way. what more could he want?

as jude helped bag the groceries into the recycled bags you had, you paid and thanked the cashier whom you got close with on nights like these. asking how her day was, about her kids, anything special, always something to distract her. "you two have a safe night!" she yelled as you turned and thanked, wishing her a good night as well.

after you insisted on helping, you carried four light bags as jude carried most bags since he hated double trips. you guys quickly unpacked everything, longing and wishing to get into bed. you ensure the stove and other appliances are off, grabbing your tea and heading upstairs with jude.

"lay here for me," jude instructed, grabbing some cream and begging to smooth and massage out the muscles on your legs and shoulders. "after we have her, i promise i'll return every single thing you did for me while i was pregnant," you say struggled and full pleasure as the tension went away at jude's fingertips. "oh i'm fully expecting the injured boyfriend method again," jude teased as he finished up.

he grabbed a new book, laying on your side as you brushed and played with a few curls on his head, twirling them around your finger as he breathed softly. he looked so gentle and full of excitement like this, reading to your babygirl, who sensed her daddy's voice as she kicked. she knew, she always knew.

he applied your belly oil to prevent any stretch marks and kissed the small ones that formed along the way. jude cherished your body for carrying his baby in there, for being able to give and bring a new life into his and yours. you laid on your side, jude's chest connecting and fitting the crevasse on your back, holding your tummy as in a way to keep it safe.

you placed and locked hands with his, as jude wishing you a goodnight, peering kissed on your shoulders then finally lips, moaning in delight, a tiny groan leaving his lips. "i love you so much darling," he whispered, kissing your temple and snuggling into you more. "iloveyoutoojude," you said fast, with a playful smile on your lips as you felt a familiar sensation of a certain craving. "okay now i do want some pop tarts..."

"are you serious right now?"

#jude bellingham #judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader

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frannyzooey · 1 year

Text

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E

A/N: Thank you to the incomparable @bageldaddy who not only looked this over for me, but who also inspired the entire idea by being such a inspiring, delicious Joel Miller whore. This one is for you ❤

“Stop squirmin’,” he scolds, a hard hand on your hip.

You’re trying not to, but tension builds between your bodies, the solid wall of his chest rising and falling along your spine. So close you can feel heat leeching through his clothes, his warm breath skims along the nape of your neck and a damp throb beats thick and distracting between your legs.

Slow, steady breaths are all you have, and so you take them.

In and out. In and out.

His hips shift when he zips up the sleeping bag along the side and when his lap nudges you from behind, you hold your breath and clench your eyes tight, your thighs squeezing together.

The masculine scent pressed into his clothing fills your senses, the strength in his solid form enveloping you in a protective press when he slings his arm around you in an attempt to get comfortable, and struggling to quell the need building deep between your hips, you squirm.

Waiting a beat, you do it again.

“Come on now,” he scolds, impatience slipping into his tone. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s all we got. You need more room, or somethin’?”

That drawl of his is driving you crazy, just as arousing as the constant frown you know he has on his face right now. His sternness shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, and yet it constantly plagues you: is he always this stern? In every situation?

“No, I’m good,” you reply, letting out a sigh.

You’re really not, but in order for you to be okay, he’d have to be outside the sleeping bag, and so you try to still yourself again, focusing on the sounds of the night.

Weeks spent traveling together, it’s now a familiar background that often lulls you to sleep: the soft chirp of crickets, the rustling of leaves, the creaking of trees as they sway gently in the breeze. Up until now, you’d gotten away with sleeping separately on the ground but tonight marks the first truly cold one of the season and when he rolled out the single sleeping bag, you bit your lip.

“It’s a double,” he said gruffly, kneeling to spread it out. “Plus, it’s all we have.”

You knew it would be a tight fit, but this is unbearable.

His hand twitches, the heavy weight of it brushing just underneath your breasts and your nipples tighten into sensitive peaks underneath your layers. His hand is so close, you can’t help but imagine how it would feel if he slid it up just enough to touch you.

Taking another slow breath, you try not to move.

“You sure we can’t light a fire?” you ask.

“Now why am I gonna tell you no?” He sounds exasperated, a tone he uses more often than not with you.

The closeness of his mouth to your ear has his deep voice sending a shiver through your torso every time he speaks and needing him to be quiet if you’re going to survive this night, you don’t answer.

He lifts his knees, the front of his thighs coming in contact with the back of yours and the brush of his lap against your ass has you biting back a moan that almost crawls out of your throat. You fit the cradle of it perfectly, and if you really focus, you swear you can feel him through your layers of clothing.

With that image filling your mind, you try to press your thighs together in hopes of relieving the ache between them, but not only does the squirming ratchet the heat higher, it earns you another scold.

“You gotta stop.”

A slight plea to his words, his hand settles on your hip again, but this time his fingers accidentally brush the hem of your shirt up in his haste to stop you from moving and you bite your lip at the warm, dry heat of his palm on your bare skin. All sensation centers on that point of contact, and you feel a fresh wave of dampness creep into the crotch of your underwear.

“Sorry,” you apologize quietly.

Restless with want, arousal blooms through your system: starting slick and sticky between your thighs, it spreads low and heavy between your hips, travels with tingling heat through the tips of your breasts, and envelopes your head in a dazed cloud of need. You close your eyes, attempting to will it away, but it only makes all your other senses heighten.

You feel his presence even more: the weight of his arm around you, the damp heat of his mouth near the delicate skin of your neck, the sound of his breathing. Moving on their own accord, your hips shift again, connecting with his and he lets out a sigh.

“You sleepin’ on a rock, or somethin’?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow. Taking the space he’s left, you roll onto your back to face him and instant recognition registers on his face. He frowns, his stern expression causing another wave of sticky wetness to gather between your thighs.

“That why you’re so squirrelly?” The register of his voice has dropped lower, more intimate in the darkness yet no less forgiving. “If so, you’ll just have to deal with it later. You ain’t the only one who’s uncomfortable here.”

Your eyes drop down from his face to where you think his crotch must be, automatically seeking confirmation of his words as if you could actually see anything and his head tilts in silent reprimand at the action, his frown deepening.

“I told you no.”

He did. He said it weeks ago after you kissed him by the fire, again after you took his hands in yours and pressed them along your body in the saddle, again after you kissed him with urgency after a close call in the last town. Every one of those times he responded with his own need: blatant and wanting, all low groans and rough lips and hands and touches, until he pulled himself back.

“Wouldn’t be right,” he said.

“I’d be takin’ advantage of you,” he said.

Like you didn’t know your own body. Like you couldn’t make up your own mind.

He looks down at you for a long moment, the silence heavy between you in your wordless standoff and right when he’s about to lay back down, you speak.

“Please.”

You almost don’t recognize your voice with how helpless it sounds, breathless with need.

Dark eyes searching yours, they study your own for a weighted beat and the thing that’s been growing for weeks between your bodies pulls taut: a string, ready to snap.

You throb and ache, squirming next to him. So, so empty.

“If I do it, you’ll go to sleep?”

“I promise,” you hastily agree.

His jaw shifts under his sparse beard, his expression contemplative and then his eyes scan the darkness around you for a moment, making sure it’s all clear.

“Undo your pants.”

You’ve never obeyed a command faster in your life, already reaching under the covers to fumble with your belt. Your fingers trembling, his dark eyes drag down the parts of you he can see and his hand covers yours, stopping you.

“So needy.” The words are said to himself with a slight shake of his head that has you squirming again, and he pushes your hands out of the way, making room for his own. There is a weighted feel to them against your skin where his knuckles brush against your belly, his fingers working open the button of your jeans and you let out a shuddering breath, the liquid heat between your thighs flaring bright.

Jeans open for his access, he keeps his eyes on your face when he slowly slips his hand down the front of them, pushing beneath the band of your underwear. When his fingers find the damp, warm heat that greets him, a pained look crosses over his features.

“So fuckin’ wet, and I ain’t even hardly touched you yet.”

He is touching you, you want to argue, but the words are caught in your mouth when he slides his hold lower, his broad hand cupping you wholly between your legs. The thick tips of his fingers press heavily against your entrance, and you widen your legs to give him more room.

“Goddamn,” he breathes out, swallowing hard.

His middle finger dips into your slick seam, immediate wetness covering the digit before he drags it through your folds with a testing stroke and your back nearly arches off the ground, needing so much more yet not being able to breathe with what he is doing. He slips it inside you, just down to the second knuckle, and then he’s sliding his soaked finger up to your clit, finding it with ease.

Your hips jerk up to meet it, the calloused pad of his finger providing instant relief. Your head falls back, your throat straining with the effort to be quiet.

“Feels good, huh.”

There is a smugness to his tone that you think faintly should bother you, but it doesn’t. Instead, your body responds in a wholly different way, wanting nothing more to find out what else he seemingly already knows about how to make you feel good.

“Tell me, or I stop.”

The harsher tone of his words brings you back to the present, and you frantically nod, eager to obey.

“Yes. Yes, it feels good.” The roughed pad of his middle finger is swirling firm, neat circles just over your clit, the texture and intensity just right and when you answer him, he rewards you with a second finger. Arching your hips into it, your mouth drops open, a silent cry forming in your throat.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, his hooded eyes looking down at you.

His fingers speed up, quickly slipping down between your thighs to coat his fingers with arousal before bringing them back up again and your hands find his wrist beneath the sleeping bag, holding on while he swirls, swirls, swirls.

So wet you can hear it, you’re sticky and slick underneath his touch, and it’s almost clinical with how quickly he’s going to make you come. Your thighs starting to tremble, his dark eyes never leave your face and chasing his touch, you focus on the centered need he’s building deep within you.

Still so empty you could cry, your breasts tighten under your sweatshirt, and when you imagine how the cold air would feel on them paired with the contrast of his hot, wet mouth, you pull tight with your release, your hand tightening in its hold on his wrist.

“It’s –,” you beg him, “I’m so close.”

Your mouth slack as his thick, calloused fingers work, work, work, he dips his head, his mouth resting just beside your ear.

“Come on, honey. Just give it to me. I know you want to.”

The rough rasp of his voice is deep enough to pierce through the fog he’s built in your brain, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt to hold onto something as you start to tip over the edge. Right when you’re on the cusp, he slides his fingers lower and fills you swifty with three and the startled cry that breaks free from your throat doesn’t even hit the air before he covers your mouth with his.

He swallows every low moan, every hitch in your breathing, every hot puff of air you let out as he pumps his fingers to wring every last drop of release from your trembling body and even when he slides his fingers out, his mouth still doesn’t stop. Coated with your slick, his hand smears damp across your jaw as he presses you into place and takes, his tongue sliding hungrily against yours.

Your own taste is thick on your tongue when he pulls back, and breathless and spent, you’re finally blissfully pliant and loose beside him in the sleeping bag - but not for long.

Slipping his fingers into his mouth, you blink your damp eyelashes up at him as you watch him suck on them with a low, satisfied groan. The lewd action paired with the deep sound, his eyes are still on your face when he pulls them from his mouth to reach back down into the sleeping bag.

“Feel better?” he asks, and though you don’t even know how to begin to answer that question, you find yourself nodding anyway.

As if nothing happened, he grasps your jeans and gives them a perfunctory, swift tug, putting you back together. Lifting your hips in a daze, you let him.

Satisfied, he positions you on your side again, facing away from him and settling down behind you, he drags you tight to his chest with a thick arm banded around your waist.

A thick, solid heft is felt between the two of you, pressed against your ass and his usual gruff voice softens, but only just.

“Good. Now go to sleep.”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut

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natalievoncatte · 3 months

Text

Lena was waking up, and not in her own bed. She was somewhere warm, swaddled in a heavy blanket. Her head was pounding and she didn’t want to open her eyes. A soft mewling sound tumbled from her lips, and she made as if to blink. Her eyes felt gummy and stuck shut.

“Shhhh,” a small, soft voice murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

“Wuh?”

“Just rest,” Kara said.

It was easy to rest. He head fell against the wall of muscle that was Kara’s chest and pillowed on her breast and Lena let out a soft sigh, shifting a bit as she came around and grew more wakeful. She was sitting in Kara’s lap as Kara leaned back against a wall, and Kara had unclasped her cape and wrapped it around her in an impenetrable blanket.

As Lena opened her eyes, she saw that Kara was carding her fingers through Lena’s hair, so gently she barely felt it.

“Your hair is really pretty.”

“Thanks,” said Lena.

A kind of confusion swept through her. Weren’t they fighting? Lena was mad. She was furious. She was world-endingly, life-burn-downingly mad at the woman in whose lap she currently sat. Kara had lied to her about the fundamental nature of who she was and… and…

Lena didn’t feel mad.

“They gave you some pretty heavy drugs when they kidnapped you.”

“Kidnapped me?”

Kara let out a little snort. “You probably don’t remember. These were the lamest kidnappers, Lena. They nabbed you and immediately called me out. I found you and bagged them before you even came around from the drugs.”

“Thanks.”

“You probably won’t remember any of this later,” Kara sighed. “I just want to tell you I’m sorry again. I’m sorry I lied. It was wrong and you deserved better. I should have given you my trust the way you gave it to me.”

Lena blinked a few times but said nothing.

“I’ll never stop saving you. I will always protect you. Even if you never forgive me.”

Lena shifted slightly, pressing a little into Kara, who was now lightly teasing the tips of her fingers across Lena’s scalp, sending light tingles through her sleepy body. Kara yawned and shrugged.

“You okay? You warm enough?”

Lena nodded.

“Alex is coming with a team, she’ll make sure you’re all right. Go back to sleep, baby.”

Baby. That word sent a shockwave through her.

Lena’s eyes drifted shut. She was very tired and it made sense to sleep, to just let it all go. She was safe in Kara’s arms.

As she tumbled towards the dark, she felt the soft press of warm lips to her forehead.

“There’s still so much I want to tell you.”

Lena sighed and nuzzled into Kara’s shoulder. She was soft and warm and smelled heavenly, not just her lavender perfume but the soft smell of her. Lena never told Kara that she wanted to smell her armpits after spin class.

“You want to smell my armpits?!” Kara choked out.

Oh. That was supposed to be inside voice.

“Mmmhmm,” said Lena.

“Can I tell you something, since you probably won’t remember this later?”

“Sure.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Lena started, jolting a little more awake.

“No, shhh,” Kara said, pulling her into a tighter hug. “I know it doesn’t change anything. You don’t owe me anything. I’m just scared. I need you to know of something happens, if…” her breath caught. “If not fast enough.”

“Kara,” said Lena.

“Shh,” Kara murmured, touching a soft kiss to her forehead again that sent a jolt rippling through her.

“I don’t even know if you like girls. It’s just that was the real reason why I was so shitty and hid who I was. I was scared you’d leave if I told you and… and it happened anyway. I’m so sorry.”

Kara sighed.

“Sometimes I wish I could be human so there’d be no secret. I don’t know of Human Kara would have been brave enough to say anything to you but I’m a coward. It would be so easy if there was no lie.”

Lena opened her eyes and looked up. Hot tears glittered on Kara’s cheeks.

“And you know, if you lived with me, and not in that big fancy penthouse, nobody would kidnap you. I’d keep you safe and get you breakfast and make sure you eat before work and take care of you because you don’t take care of yourself.”

“Mmhm, and what do you get out of this arrangement?”

“Well,” said Kara, “I’d get to kiss the prettiest girl in the world.”

“Is that all?”

Kara’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Well. I could do more than kiss. I never have with another woman so I’m not sure how… but I want to…”

She brushed bright scarlet.

“I could teach you,” Lena whispered.

“Don’t do that,” said Kara. “Don’t dangle that in front of me, if there’s no chance.”

“Kara,” Lena murmured, her drugged brain grinding its gears a little, “you don’t fill someone’s office with flowers as a friendly gesture. One does not buy an entire billion dollar media empire to hang out with one person as a platonic exercise.”

“Oh,” said Kara.

“I thought you were straight,” said Lena. “It boggles my mind that you thought I was. Me? Really? Have you seen me?”

“Yes,” Kara was looking at her intently now. “I have seen you since the first day. When I saw you for the first time I felt something I’ve never felt before or since.”

“This fight we’re having,” said Lena. “It doesn’t really feel important right now.”

“I know, but you’re on drugs.”

“Will you kiss me?”

“No.”

Kara’s lips were trembling. She dipped slightly as if she’d changed her mind, then pulled back and pursed her lips, pressing her eyes tightly closed.

“You might not feel this way later. It would be wrong.”

Alex chose that exact moment to kick the door in, sending a shower of splinters across the room. Kara pivoted in anticipation, shielding Lena but twisting around so they were even closer, Kara’s stunning blue eyes filling Lena’s vision.

“If you still feel this way later, call me.”

From then it became a blur. Kara placed Lena gently on a stretcher and reclaimed her cap, then trudged a safe distance away and flew off.

Alex was curt and short with her as usual, fussing over unnecessary risks and complaining sharply that Lena got into too much trouble, before sharply cutting off the conversation when it got too friendly and storming off.

Lena ended up back in her penthouse by six, all in all a fairly convenient kidnapping and rescue. She trundled inside and sat down on the couch, staring straight ahead for a while before she went to pour a glass of scotch, then thought better of it.

The night was chilly. National City never really got cold, but on a January night it could be brisk. Lena leaned on her railing and stared out at the bright lights of the city, the flow of traffic beneath and the distant sounds of life and joy.

Suddenly she felt very cold.

“Kara,” she sighed.

In an instant she was there, appearing in a faint gust. Her cape billowed out majestically behind her, hair aloft on the wind currents like clouds of spun gold. Kara didn’t look like an angel; angels looked like Kara.

“Come inside.”

Lena turned and walked back into the warmer confines, hearing the gentle thud of Kara’s boots on the balcony and her soft footsteps walking over.

“Haven’t been here in a while.”

“I used to dream of you moving in with me,” Lena admitted.

Kara stood silently behind her, shifting on her feet.

“I used to think about pampering you every time you mentioned that your rent was high or joked about a reporter’s salary. I wanted to take care of you, treat you, give you fine things.”

“You don’t have to give me anything.”

Lena turned around and crossed the distance between them. With Lena barefoot and Kara in heels, she towered over her. Lena stepped aggressively into her space and Kara didn’t flinch as Lena curled her fingers in the collar of her suit and pulled her down.

She didn’t hesitate. She gently bracketed Lena’s hips in her hands and pulled her in, bending over her to bring their lips together, Kara’s every move soft and gentle, the utmost care in every tiny gesture.

Kara was a good kisser. Lena let it deepen, feeling the heat flush in her chest and elsewhere, as Kara swept her cape around the both of them in a grand, silly, absurdly romantic gesture that made Lena’s knees go all wobbly and her belly flare with warmth.

“I could give you another chance,” Lena whispered into Kara’s lips.

“I’d like that.”

“Want to fly me home?”

“You are home,” said Kara, sounding a little confused.

Lena looked around the apartment, then rested her head on Kara’s chest. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh,” said Lena.

“Take me back to your loft. We can kiss and do the other things and then you can go get me breakfast.”

Kara slid her arm under Lena’s legs and back and picked her up, tucking Lena gently against her chest, stepped up onto the balcony railing and then off, into space. Lena’s breath caught and she tensed as she always did. She really didn’t like heights.

“I won’t drop you.”

Flying back through Kara’s window was a little awkward with the two of them, but they managed. Inside, Kara deposited her on the couch and the fussing began.

First, she made Lena put on a hoodie at the first sign of a shiver. It was old and threadbare and smelled like Kara, and when she wasn’t looking Lena buried her face in the sleeve and breathed it in.

Kara placed an order at a local restaurant and rather than wait for delivery, zipped out and got it herself.

“Do the people at the potsticker place not freak out when Supergirl pops in?”

“Actually, they give me a discount.”

She put the food in front of Lena and disappeared briefly, emerging in a tank top and running shorts, and Lena almost dropped the potsticker she was about to bite into.

Kara sat down beside her, and Lena stared at her. She wasn’t wearing her glasses and her hair was in a loose ponytail, leaving her in a kind of halfway state between Kara and Supergirl. Despite the display of her blocky shoulders and the ribbed fabric tight on her bunching abs, she looked so warm and soft.

Kara speared the potsticker and popped it into her own mouth.

“Hey!” Lena chirped.

“You were just staring at it.”

“Kara!”

“Fine, here.”

Kara gently took another dumpling in her chopsticks and offered it. Lena looked at her askance, then leaned forward and took it in her mouth, eyes never leaving Kara.

Slowly, they shifted together until they were side by side on the sofa, Lena sort of falling onto Kara as she sank into the cushions. They were less eating and more feeding each other, which turned into Lena feeding Kara as they watched whatever came on the TV.

Kara slowly worked an arm around Lena’s waist and Lena turned, throwing her legs across Kara’s thighs.

“I’m tired,” said Lena.

“You’ve had a long day.”

“Want to go to bed?” Lena said. She tried to put her best husk into her voice but it cracked a little and betrayed her.

Kara said nothing. She smiled and lifted Lena up with ease and carried her to the bed.

Lena shimmied out of her leggings, letting them fall around her ankles, all while covered by the oversized hoodie, and her heart was pounding as Kara lifted the covers with an exaggerated gesture and beckoned her into the bed. Lena climbed aboard.

Kara crawled in after her and embraced her like she was trying to pull Lena inside her body.

“You must be tired,” Kara murmured. “It’s okay if you just want to sleep.”

“I am,” Lena whispered back.

Kara started to pull back, but Lena held on. “Can you hold me for a while.”

“Nothing is gonna get you.”

Lena closed her eyes and curled up against her, sighing.

Two weeks later, she put the penthouse on the market.

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meowjuyo · 12 days

Text

anton as your affectionate bf: headcanons

this is so long help + it’s organized in sections 😁😁

💭 anton x fem!reader

💭 texts in pink: oc, texts in blue: anton

💭 fluff fluff fluff (and crack)

physical touch

- anton might be the humanized version of ‘physical touch.’

- hand always on ur back or around ur hips

- top of the head kisses

- fixing ur necklace or hair while you’re talking

- as long as you’re in the same room, anton can’t last a minute without physical contact.

- anton’s hand will always be on ur hip or around ur waist.

- he’s backhugging u like 30% of the day

- morning kisses. barely awake kisses.

- tracing anton’s nose while he’s sleeping (he’s actually awake so he’s giggling w his eyes closed)

- “TON I LOVE U BUT IT’S SO HOT. STOP HUGGING ME” “are we breaking up”

- waking up w his leg on you, his face nuzzled on ur neck, and his hand placed light on ur head — it’s a heavy morning.

- “can i bite you?” */stares at anton for 5mins* “is that a yes”

- imagine being against pda while dating a guy who'd tear up if you sit on the other side of the table at dinner? yea, anton.

- fav kissing spot: anton’s nose

- his fav kissing spot: */his nose bled while trying to answer the question

- you guys would last for 5hrs on the couch in silence as long as anton’s wrapped around you

down bad anton

- when he’s talking about his day but you’re rlly focused on what he’s saying so he got flustered all of a sudden “stop staring at me, you’re making me nervous” — “YOU’RE telling a story, where else am i supposed to look at?”

- suddenly smiling from ear to ear during breakfast because “1 year ago, i just thought you’re really nice to me and now i’m eating breakfast with you in our shared apartment” */insert anton giggles (and grumpy you ‘coz u js woke up & he’s talking non sense)

- smiling from ear to ear whenever he hears ur name in his group of friends. (would result to 1hr of anton yapping about how cute you were yesterday and the day before that, and two weeks ago)

- anton buying matching EVERYTHING. and giving them to you with a shy smile.

- matching rings, matching trinkets, matching bracelets, matching phone cases— told u, everything.

- “why are you hugging me all of a sudden?” “you’re the cutest i adore you so much” (you’re just eating bread)

- “hi, can we date with the intention of marrying you & having pets as many as you want”, “anton, we’ve been together for almost two years”, “oh, i thought i was being delusional”

- even on casual days, anton would send his newly made playlists for you.

- "i'm gonna take a nap" "okay, me too" "are you sleepy?" "no" "then why..?" "i wanna take a nap with you"

- anton taking care of you when you're sick. and you always feel bad. "baby, sleep somewhere elsee. you'll catch my fever" "i can't sleep without you next to me"

- "have i told you that i love you?" - anton says while eating dinner.

- anton having five story highlights with just you

- anton using a photo of the two of you as his profile photo in every social media platform.

- has two pouches of things that you MIGHT need in his everyday bag (thats why his bags r always gigantic)

- anton's really expressive. he's expressive but would get shy right after saying that he loves you.

cute stuff

- "they're cute, they're just like us" - anton w every single couple in a romance movie

- anton learning how to cook your favorite foods & baking ur fav pastries at home

- would always be on a facetime w u even in social events (he can’t function w/o seeing u)

- anton massaging u after a long week !!!

- handwritten notes :(

- anton writing post-its and sticking it on ur forehead while you’re sleeping whenever he has to leave early in the morning

- anton writing DETAILED handwritten letters for you every monthsary to tell u his favorite moments w u that month, to tell u that he’s proud of u for every single thing that u’ve done that month. he’s such a words of affirmation guy.

- anton not ordering a lot because he knows that u get full easily so he’ll get to eat ur leftovers anyway

- but anton would always make sure that you’ll eat A LOT. that’s why he’ll research a lot about the restaurant menus that you’ll eat in.

- anton brushing your hair every night

- anton letting you style his hair (once went to work w pigtails)

- reading together (and anton falling asleep on ur shoulder right after one chapter)

- SUNDAY RESET IS ANTON’S FAVORITE DAY !!! the everything shower, doing each other’s nails, cooking together, eating a homemade fancy dinner with candles, talking about your week, and ending the day with wearing couple face masks while watching a 2000s romcom movie.

- anton going with you to ur nail appointment and him sitting next to you for 2 hours.

- anton’s closet is basicslly your closet, and your closet is basically anton’s.

- you wearing anton’s clothes & anton wearing your watches and accessories in a daily basis

- gazing at each other in the midst of the crowd, exchanging warmest smiles

- anton running to you to carry you in a hug

- you mentioning that you like this specific cake ONCE in a casual conversation and anton buying it for you every night.

- “did you hear something?” “BABY STOP SCARING ME”

- when you wanna wear something revealing but you asked anton first so now he doesn’t know if he’ll be mesmerized with you or he’ll be offended that you think he won’t let you wear that

- anton waiting for you to come home til midnight because he wants to have dinner with you (it’s 12am)

- anton carrying your handbag / shoulder bag as if it’s his bag.

soft spots

- arguments w antons barely happen but when it does, it often ends almost immediately.

- anton’s always the one to apologize first. even though you’re at fault, anton makes sure to talk to you without making you feel invalidated.

- anton’s definitely a date to marry guy. which is why during deep talks, he’s always talking about the future with you.

- anton finding you crying. he won’t ask why, he’ll just hug you warmly til you feel better. once you’re feeling better, he’ll buy u guys pints of ice cream and watch your comfort movie in silence and in each other’s arms.

- imagine anton’s soft voice welcoming you home after a tiring day. "how was your day, my love?" anton asks, carrying your bag, gently pulling you to the couch so he can massage your shoulders while you spend 2 hours talking about your day.

- mornings with anton are always so warm. you're cooking your breakfast while anton's just hugging you from the back. his face buried at the side of your neck, while talking casually about your plans for that day.

429 notes · View notes

01zfan · 7 months

Text

hello anton | l. at

boyfriend!anton x fem. reader | 7.6k words

i recommend listening to n side by steve lacy when reading this! a mix of two requests that i felt were kinda the same :3

contains: anton gets a lil messy! protected sex (yassss), nothing else i can really think of.

“oh my god.” anton said breathlessly.

anton can barely take in the sight of you underneath him. anton sees your body that’s shiny from sweat move in tandem with his thrusts amd he watches your mouth slightly open while you moan. anton sees you take all of him, and he can feel it too. anton can see the way your chest heaves, each shaking breath in brings your boobs closer to his face and each time you exhale it ends with a tiny whine. your shy eyes flicker between where anton slides into you to his flushed face. anton gets high off the fact that you can only focus on his eyes for a moment before looking away, letting your head lean over the edge of the bed as you try to gather yourself.

the view you and anton make is mesmerizing. he just wishes it wasn’t so blurry.

anton blames it on his lack of preparation for the night. you two meticulously planned every aspect of the day, determined to finally be alone. there were some surprises along the way, like you showing up to anton’s door with hello kitty pajamas and your plushies in an extra bag. that was a minor bump in the road, anton knew it came with the territory of dating someone so cute. neither of you could deny that the plushies were a bit egregious, but it was something you said you couldn’t sleep without. anton wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, so he helped you take out all your plushies to lay them on his bed. it wasn’t an inconvenience to anton at all. what truly inconvenienced anton was the fact that he ran out of contacts and completely forgot to replenish his supply. it was unlike him to forget something so important; it was fair to say you distracted him.

so now anton had no choice but to look at your naked body through the fogging lenses of his glasses. he could’ve taken them off—they were half way down his nose threatening to slip off anyway. but anton had to have a clear view of you for your first time together. after you guys spent all week making sure everything fell in place for you to be together alone in his apartment he wouldn’t settle for anything less.

your planning started on saturday. usually early morning was when you guys were alone so you two knew you didn’t have time to waste. the moment you heard the door close you wasted no time getting on top of your boyfriend to straddle his hips. while you felt his body anton’s hands roamed frantically, lifting your shirt and cupping your chest over your bra.

you moaned into anton’s mouth each time he gave you a gentle squeeze. you let your head fall back with a sigh, catching a glimpse of the show on anton’s macbook before bringing your focus back to him. in moments like these you couldn’t get many words out, anything in your mind being replaced with the thought of someone coming in and interrupting you guys. you spoke to anton through actions and the way you pressed your hips close to his told him you needed more.

anton took the initiative to guide your back to his couch, slotting himself between your legs as he continued to kiss you. his grip on your chest only tightened when you wrapped your leg around his waist to pull his legs closer. anton left your lips to focus on your neck, breathing so heavy the sound of his huffs crackled in your ears. anton sucked and nibbled on the skin of your neck and your hand moved to the armrest of the couch to steady yourself. your other hand went to the back of anton’s head to press him deeper into your neck. you let him suck harder and you could feel his teeth indent your skin. when he bit down slightly you pulled away from him to see his glossy lips and blown out eyes.

“take your shirt off anton.” you whimpered.

immediately anton heeded your request, leaning back to lift his shirt over his head.

before he could even put his hands on the bottom hem of his shirt, the door opened. you let out a sound of surprise and so did anton, his body whipping around to see who came through the door. you quickly got up from the couch too, pulling yourself from under anton to peer over the top of the sofa.

sohee stood in the doorway, only frozen for a second before realizing the scene before him. after seeing you and anton’s position on the couch he rolled his eyes before walking fully into the room.

“you two are disgusting.” sohee murmured.

sohee set his bag on his desk next to the door as he went to get on his computer. you and anton fixed your appearances and you cleared your throat.

“we weren’t doing anything.” anton said shyly.

“yeah okay.” sohee scoffed while putting on his gaming headset.

“also you couldn’t knock?” anton said.

“it’s like eight in the morning. i thought you two would be asleep still.” sohee said.

this was a common occurrence when coming to the dorms. it was almost impossible to get a moment alone with anton, always getting interrupted right as things started to get really interesting. more times than you could count you and anton would be in the heat of the moment and have someone come through the door, or a guilty conscious would stop you from taking things further.

there was a day when the two of you were locked away in anton’s room while sohee was in some classroom taking a test. making out was your favorite thing to do with anton when sohee wasn’t there, but sungchan being in the shared space of the apartment stopped you guys from going any further. you can’t say you didn’t try, but when you let your hand drift downwards anton held your wrist.

“i can’t focus while sungchan is right outside.” anton said quietly.

“he’s probably back in his room.” you whispered to him.

you made a feeble attempt to fight against his grip, smiling at the fact that anton was barely exerted any strength. despite anton having a hold on you and the upper hand in the situation, he became a blushing mess purely at the thought of being walked in on. even when you took off your shirt to entice him he would only look entranced for a moment before bashfully shaking his head.

“you look amazing, but i can’t. i’m sorry.” anton said, blush creeping across his face.

you understood anton’s reservations, but you wanted nothing more than to go all the way. it seemed like you two were destined for a relationship filled with heavy petting and interrupted make out sessions. it seemed like this situation had happened too much, with both of you hot and bothered on the couch while sohee was sitting on his computer.

“there’s food outside by the way.” sohee said.

you and anton left the room while sohee had his headset on. you shot sohee your meanest glare, sohee only rolled his eyes before focusing on the game.

it was embarrassing being caught by sohee, but it was not nearly as bad as anton’s other roommates in the kitchen. they pulled themselves away from their food solely to tease you guys as you emerged from anton’s room. anton’s face was beet red by the time they were done asking their prodding questions and making jokes.

“what were you two doing in there with the door closed?” eunseok asked obnoxiously.

anton had to just lower his head while you laughed all of the comments off. it wasn’t until seunghan said something about making a big car fit into a small garage that you were stunned into silence. you were able to get out of the situation after that, saying you had a class to go to. anton nodded his head a little too quickly when you asked him to take you, extremely happy to get out of his current situation.

on the walk to your class you guys started planning how to be alone in his apartment. it worked out perfectly, convincing sungchan to throw a party at the place he shared with shotaro. all you had to bring up was an important game on campus and the rest was like clockwork. the hardest part of the plan was trying to get sohee to go. after anton groveled and promised to help him with his composing assignment he folded.

the planning and devising led to the moment of you knocking on anton’s door, overnight bag and duffle in hand. you smiled big when anton opened the door, nodding to show you your grand scheme worked. you hugged and jumped into his arms. anton smiled from ear to ear at your excitement, closing your door while you were jumping.

anton took your bags and kissed your forehead, walking over to his room. you followed behind anton buzzing with every emotion, excited for what the night had in store for you both.

it hit anton a little differently, he was suddenly nervous at what could potentially happen tonight. what if someone came in while you two were together? what if anton wasn’t good enough for you? anton turns around and looks at you, stuffing his hands nervously in his sweatpants. he sees you look him up and down, pointing at your duffle bag. anton hands it to you and you squat to the floor to open it.

“i have something for you. well for us.” you laugh.

anton peaks into your bag and sees all of your plushies, then anton sees you reach into the depths and pull out a matching pajama set for the two of you.

anton sighed heavily at the matching hello kitty pajama set just to see your reaction. you still had a big smile on your face when you handed anton his set. when he looked a little hesitant all you had to do was slightly pout your lips and look crestfallen before he took the pajamas from your hands wordlessly. he changed into his set quickly, feeling ridiculous in the cute pajamas until he saw your large smile. anton almost thought it was embarrassing how willingly he’d do anything for you just to see you happy. anton followed your smile all the way to his bedroom, trailing behind you with your overnight bag and duffle bag.

you and anton set up your plushies on his bed, turning them away from your body so you could change. anton sat on the edge of his bed watching you too, not even trying to hide it. he debated on holding one of your hello kitty plushies in his lap to cover her eyes like he did when he was at your apartment. but when you took off your shirt anton forgot what he was thinking about completely. his hands instinctively went to his eyes like he hasn’t seen you naked countless times. when anton peaked at you through open cracks in his fingers you both laughed.

when you were all dressed anton put his hands down, a light blush started to spread across his cheeks. you imagined you felt the same as him in this moment, your face becoming so warm it was almost uncomfortable. you gave anton a little twirl, laughing about how the pajama set was just a size too big. the sleeves hung past your hands and the waistband was loose on your waist. anton’s ears started to become a light red when you lifted your hand to let the loose sleeve drop to your elbow. anton gives you a big smile, one that lifts his glasses slightly on his face.

“you look cute.” anton said.

anton held out his hand to you and you came closer to him. you let anton put his hand on your waist, acting as your impromptu human belt. he doesn’t know why his hand gravitates to the dip on your body, resting there whenever he gets the chance. you like it though, because anton’s neck was like a magnet for your hands. on the rare occasion you got the chance to clasp your hands behind anton’s neck you took it. so you come closer to your boyfriend as he sits on the edge of his bed and put your hands on the base of his neck. anton has to tilt his head upwards to look at you, his large frames helps him take you all in.

“we look cute,” you bend down to kiss anton’s forehead. “we look super cute actually.” you say.

you started messing with the stitching of anton’s shirt. it as soft underneath your fingertips, and felt just textured enough to distract yourself from looking at anton for too long. standing above him in between his legs makes you feel jittery. anton pushed his glasses up his nose bridge with the hand that wasn’t on your hips and sighed contently. when he leaned his head against your hand, you had no choice but to look at him.

“how many times have we been able to be alone?” anton asked.

he spoke to you but his mind seemed like it was somewhere else. his thumb mindlessly rubbed your waist, causing the extra fabric of your shirt to fold underneath his finger. you tried to recall the times you two have been completely alone and it was a struggle. even at your own apartment you lived with roommates and the apartment’s dog. the only time you could think was on a date, but even then it wasn’t completely private. study dates were in the public library and movie dates were always in packed theaters.

“less than what i can count on my hand.” you answered.

maybe that’s why you were so nervous. it was hard to imagine what it would be like being truly alone with anton, if he would change knowing that you two couldn’t be interrupted.

anton sighed and you understood why. maybe you two would eventually move out soon so you could spend the rest of your days together. but that was a conversation for later. right now you wanted to focus on the finite amount of alone time you had with your boyfriend. almost instantly it was like a switch had been flipped, the unresolved tension between you two filled the room. anton’s other hand came to your hip and he held you there in place. his words bobbed in his throat like his adam’s apple and you saw anton swallow twice before you made your own move.

you looked at anton with your most unassuming expression when you clasped your hands behind his neck and moved to sit on his lap. you couldn’t bare to say what you were doing out loud so you were happy anton got the hint. he opened his legs enough for your legs to rest between them. anton clasped his hands on your waist and smiled as you sat on his thigh.

anton looked up at you with shining eyes and you unclasped your hands to move some hair from his face. you let your hand rest on his shoulder, using the socket joint like a stress ball. when anton looked at you a certain way you subconsciously squeezed him.

“are you nervous?” anton asked.

you wish you were nervous. you have always been nervous, to the point that you knew how to handle it. when you felt the nerves building up and got so bad to the point where you couldn’t think, you knew what to do. you learned breathing exercises and counting things until your breathing steadied and you stopped shaking. but this was something you didn’t know how to manage. it started wherever you touched anton and blossomed around your whole body, feeling like a million ants were on you. it was going to consume you whole if you didn’t do something about it soon.

anton’s hand that was on your waist had found a way to sneak underneath your shirt and rest on your bare stomach. seeing your boyfriend in glasses was arguably an even bigger distraction. the way he kept constantly pushing the glasses up his nose bridge had you thinking things that left your whole body feeling hot. anton was no better, lifting the fabric of your shirt as an excuse to clean his lenses. you settled further on anton’s lap and enjoyed feeling him get tense underneath you. you liked teasing him the same way he teased you, trying to get a rise out of him.

it was a challenge for anton to not be tense, especially with you on him like this. he had a perfect view of your whole body and he could see you practically swimming in your oversized pajamas. he wonders if you purposely bought your sets to be the same size just so you both could revel in the difference. anton’s eyes kept going to his hand that was pressed against your stomach, a faint outline showing through your shirt. he tried to be subtle when let his hand drift a little lower to the waistband of your pants. anton’s middle and ring finger finds their way underneath the elastic, the rest of his fingers rest on the outside of your pants.

you looked up at anton from underneath his chin, smiling at him trying to be inconspicuous. you bring anton in for a kiss and he reciprocates. the hand that isn’t drifting further into your pajama pants wraps around your body to give you stability. feeling anton’s hand on your shoulder makes you desperate, you push your face further into his with your quick kisses, and anton takes it all. with each push he pushes back and you think he might be just as desperate as you are.

all of your plushies watch as you kiss anton all the way down to the bed, pushing up from him to stand up. anton gets on his elbows to watch you take off your ridiculously large pajama shirt, throwing it on the ground. anton follows your lead and takes off his shirt with one hand. he sets it on the bed next to him over a cluster of your hello kitty memorabilia.

anton fully gets on the bed and you get on after, maneuvering until you hover over him. it’s almost awkward, not knowing what to do next. you two have spent so much time trying to get to this moment you never stopped to think what comes after. you look at his eyes past his frames, how he pushes them up and lets his hand go to your waist. you kiss his lips again, and you can feel the cool frames of his glasses press against your nose.

you both find your rhythm again together. like when you were sitting on his lap, anton cups your heat again. you straddle anton’s legs to give his hand that’s in your pants more room to work with and he presses two fingers against your covered slit experimentally. you nod your head and pause kissing him, too distracted by the sudden feeling. anton loves being the reason why you lose your train of thought and he loves being able to see it in real time. he presses his fingers harder, feeling the fabric stick to your folds.

“can i—” anton asks.

“yes please.” you answer.

anton puts his hand into your panties teasing your clit with his index and middle finger. you continue to kiss anton as he runs his finger through your folds. anton runs his fingers up and down repeatedly, letting your slick gather on his fingers. you start taking the lead on kissing, tilting anton’s face with your hands to put your tongue into his mouth. he moans and opens his mouth wider. you occasionally let your eyes open for a split second, to see anton’s glasses fog up and the way his lips move with yours.

when anton puts two fingers inside of you, you lose the beat of kissing anton. you two had been in this position many times before, with anton finger fucking you while you squirmed above him and each time it was the same. you would go into it determined to keep up with his speed, and not lose your mind while kissing him. but it was no use—you were kissing him back a beat too late, and interrupting his tongue in your mouth with little whines. you were so distracted by the feeling of him inside of you that you had to abandon kissing him completely. you retreated from anton’s lips and put your face in the crook of his neck, panting right into his ear. he loved hearing you get desperate and feeling you push your hips back to meet his hand.

anton’s arm across your back kept you in place and his legs kept yours spread. anton knew you had a habit of closing in on yourself like a supernova when you were close, evident in the countless times he’s fingered you before. he’s had to keep a hand on your thighs many times using gentle force to keep you from locking his hand in place. but anton had to admit he had gotten a little carried away in this position. when anton lifted his head to look down he saw that part you were spread the farthest he’s ever seen you. even as you were straddling him, anton had spread his own legs to keep yours even further apart. anton felt no resistance as he plunged his fingers in and out of you. it actually felt like your hole was pathetically trying to keep his fingers inside of you, pulsing around his digits like a heartbeat. anton saw it all, the way your legs bent and twitched as you got closer. anton could barely make out where your legs ended and his began, the matching pajama set throwing him off in the best way possible.

when you pressed your hips to anton’s straining dick he groaned. you looked up from his neck to see his adam’s apple bob in his throat and how he pressed his head into his mattress. you pressed your hips against his again to try and illicit the same reaction. anton looked at your through his big frames. they were falling down his nose and you used a shaky hand to push them back up. anton smiled and stuck his fingers into you deeper, bending them at the knuckle. your head went back into your boyfriend’s neck and he cranes his neck to kiss your temple.

“thank you baby.” anton said.

you tried to say you’re welcome but it turned into a whimper. anton didn’t stop, his hand drifting down to grab a handful of your ass. you whimpered again feeling anton knead your supple skin. you couldn’t stop yourself from digging your fingers into the skin of his shoulder. the same way he was leaving a handprint on your ass you were leaving crescent moons on anton’s shoulder. he picked up the pace of his fingers and you couldn’t stop squirming. you felt the you started slowly losing your mind, trying to parts of anton to hold on to.

“you’re close, right?” anton asked.

you pick your head up from the crook of anton’s neck to look at his face. you nod your head like anton didn’t already know. your heart thuds in your ribcage and you’re certain anton can feel the beat against his sweaty chest. you nod your head pitifully when anton increases his pace.

“yeah” you whined.

“hold onto my arm.” anton said.

instantly you reached your hand behind you back to grab anton’s arm. you flail a couple times, grasping at nothing until you put your hand over anton’s the rests on your ass. anton lets go of your ass to grab your hand, pushing down so your stomach presses into his hard dick. you try your best to push your body down on your own accord but you can’t control yourself. all you can focus on is the way anton’s fingers bend and pump in and out of you. you let anton use his strength to press your body against him, loving the feeling of him twitching against your stomach.

you clench around anton’s three fingers and hold his hand tightly. the orgasm is white and hot and you take it out on anton’s neck, biting and sucking his skin in effort to bring anton pleasure too. he notices your attempt and sighs contently feeling your tongue on his skin.

“just like that.” you whine in between kisses.

anton nods and keeps thrusting his fingers into you. the sound fills your room, even anton makes sounds of surprise as he feels how wet your are. he doesn’t stop until you are a shaking mess on top of him. you use the last of your strength to pull yourself from anton’s neck to see his face. he looks down at you over the top rim of his glasses. your body turns to jelly on top of him, resting your head on his while he slows down his fingers. your moans become high pitched and airy.

by the time anton pulls his fingers from your heat you drooled onto his chest and your body almost feels numb. anton kisses the top of your head and you sigh, chest still heaving. you rest your head over anton’s heart and hear that his beat matches yours. it reverbs in your ear as you steady your breathing, and anton rubs you back in an effort to bring you back to earth.

you roll off of anton towards the edge of the bed when your breathing finally settles. you’re right next to the cluster f your plushies that anton covered with his shirt. anton turns to face you, propped up on his elbow as he places a hand on your stomach. he rubs the skin there and he can feel the muscles in your stomach tense. you’re so sensitive and nearly jumpy from his touches but anton can still see that hungry look in your eye. he pushes his frames up one more time and darts out his tongue to wet his lips.

“are you okay?” anton asks.

“yeah.” you answer.

anton’s fingers trace shapes over your abdomen. he only adds a little pressure behind his touches occasionally, just to gauge your sensitivity. your body doesn’t let you calm down. when you remember you’re truly alone in this apartment the same antsy feeling returns over your body. anticipation builds underneath your skin and in between your legs. the anticipation makes you put your hands over anton’s that rests on your stomach. you nod and pull his body towards you, trying to silently show anton you want him to get on top of you. he obliges, clambering over your body to hover over yours.

anton goes from his elbow to his palm to get a better view of you. he liked this angle better, this way he would be able to see your expressions quickly and see what you were looking at. he could see clearly from up here that you couldn’t really manage to look at him to too long, your eyes drifting to his nose or shoulder every so often.

“is this okay?” anton asked.

you nod and moved your legs, giving space for anton to slot himself between your legs. he watches your expression behind his glasses as he experimentally presses his bulge into your clothed heat. you sigh and nod your head vigorously.

“i need you so bad anton.” you whine.

it’s frustrating how many layers of clothes separate you from anton. you pull down your pajama pants and ruined panties in one go. you don’t bother taking them off all the way before lifting your feet to push anton’s waistband down. you have never been this impatient in your life, but you feel like you may burst into flames if you don’t quell the fire that has been building up to this moment.

anton goes back on his haunches, putting a hand on your bent knee.

“i’ll be right back.” anton says before getting off the bed completely.

you watch him walk over to his dresser and you finish taking off your bottoms, leaving you completely naked on his bed. the air in anton’s room is cold and you let your knees come together to hide your bare center.

anton comes back to the side of the bed quickly, holding two condoms and a completely full bottle of lube. it makes your face a little hot, knowing the condoms and lube you two bought together was about to be put to use. anton feels it too, his face already dusted with blush. he awkwardly bends down to put the things in the crater of his sweater that still lays on his bed.

you start thinking about your plushies that lay underneath anton’s sweater only for a moment before you see anton pull his pajama pants down. he’s left in just his boxers, standing on the edge of the bed looking down at you. you sit up and let your legs drape over the edge of the bed. you look up at anton and let your shaky hands go to his waistband. before you can pull his boxers down, he puts his hand over yours.

“are you sure?” anton asks.

“yes,” you nod your head. “are you?” you ask.

anton nods and puts his hands on his waistband next to yours. you two work together to take off his boxers together, his dick springing free. it bobs in the air, so close to your face if you stuck out your tongue you’re sure you be able to taste him. you reach out your hand and wrap it around the base of anton’s dick. it never ceases to amaze you how it’s so heavy and big but still sticks straight forward. you are also driven by the light sighs and gasps of anton when you drag your hand down his length. it glides easily, from all the precum that beads at his tip. you stick out your tongue and anton puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“i won’t last,” anton gently pushes your shoulders back until you lay down on the bed. he positions himself between you and the wall once you’re down. “and i’ve waited so long.” he says.

you nod and put your body at an angle to try and give anton more room. his body is large and awkward as he figures out the best position for both of your bodies. you two end up laying diagonally on the bed, with anton on his haunches slotted between your legs. you reach behind you blindly to feel around for the foil packet. when it’s in your hands you give it to anton, propping yourself on your elbows to watch him.

anton is gentle ripping the foil packet, putting the trash on top of his pile of clothes. you feel lightheaded seeing anton put the condom on himself. you can see his abs flexing and his dick twitching from the stimulation. you think about how anton touches himself when you aren’t around, if he throws his head back the same way he does when you give him a handjob. you have to stop yourself from asking him to touch himself and you bend your legs, spreading them more for anton. he pinches the tip of the condom to make sure it’s secure before coming to you.

one of his hands is beside your head when comes down to kiss your lips. you reciprocate, reaching a hand between your two bodies to stroke his dick. he sighs against your lips before replacing his hand with yours. you both look down, the weight of what is about to happen starts sinking in. you start to realize how big anton truly is as he hovers above you. you wonder if he’ll be able to fit when he lets his tip prod at your slit. anton kisses your cheek when he looks down at you again.

“tell me if it’s too much, okay?” anton says, pushing up his glasses.

anton intertwines his fingers with yours and kisses your knuckles as he lines himself up. he’s so big above you and the position you’re currently in only makes you feel smaller. your nose touches his adam’s apple as he kisses your forehead and slowly pushes himself in.

you both gasp when anton puts his tip in. you feel the stretch and anton feels your walls clenching around him as he slides further in. you clench around him in uneven intervals, your pussy desperately trying to get use to the stretch. your squeeze anton’s hand as he sinks further in, and it’s his turn to go into the crook of your neck as he tries to compose himself. he curses into your soft and sweaty skin, kissing the skin there to try and soothe you.

“you’re so big.” you whine.

anton doesn’t know if you meant to say it out loud, your thoughts coming out without a filter. regardless, he can feel his dick twitch from you words and the way you whimper while taking him. he’s happy he was able to finger you and the extra lubrication of your previous orgasm helps anton fit inside of you snuggly. each time anton curses in your ear or gives you praise he can feel your walls closing in on him. you become a mess underneath him when he bottoms out, feeling like a heartbeat around his length. you finally open your eyes and move a hand to his shoulder, lifting him from the crook of your neck. you have to readjust his glasses for him, and there’s fog from the hot air radiating from your skin.

“keep going anton.” you say.

anton looks down at you then to your plushies that are covered up by his shirt. he pulls out all the way before sliding back in just as slow. he giggles a little bit and your eyebrows furrow in confusion, mind partially occupied by the feeling of anton easing back into you.

“good thing they’re not watching.” anton said quietly.

you wanted to retort but you couldn’t when you felt his hips kiss yours as he bottoms out inside of you again.

the same way anton’s hips were slowly bringing you over the edge of the bed anton was crossing over the edge of something himself. he was actively abandoning the meek version of himself that could only huff and whimper at the feeling of you wrapped around him. he was becoming someone more dominant, someone that pressed his hand to your lower stomach before he pulled out of you all the way and pushed inside of you again.

“can you feel me here?” anton asked.

he was close to your ear when he asked his question. anton’s breath stuck to your sweaty skin and the humidity between your two bodies fogged his glasses.

“so big.” you said nodding your head.

“so small. and tight too.” anton replied.

when you dug your fingernails into his skin it gave anton the confidence to continue.

he raises up from your body to look down at you. this gives a whole different angle, and it feels like anton might split you down the middle.

anton knew he didn’t have a dominant personality. he didn’t hate it, he felt like the label of gentle giant suited him well. if his voice was any indication he didn’t know how to be the domineering type. he stuck with being the soft-spoken and calm one, even in your relationship. anton left his friends wondering how he even got the bravery to approach you or ask you on a date. honestly, anton didn’t really know either. he knew it was all your doing.

but when anton looked down at the sight below him through his low hanging glasses he felt different. anton could see you struggle to take all of him and he could feel your nails digging into his arms to steady yourself. he saw your eyebrows crease and your mouth open as you struggled to get anything besides tiny whimpers and moans out. anton could feel himself needing more, and he decided he would be the one to get it out of you.

anton came to a complete stop inside of you. he loved the way your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and how expressive your eyes were when you looked up at him.

“what’s wrong?” you asked.

anton physically shivered seeing the tears in the corner of your eyes and the way your voice was still shaky and pitched high from your whining. anton bends his body close to yours, so close that your nose pushes his glasses up. anton puts his arm underneath your knee to hike it up slightly and he lets his lips ghost over yours.

before you can repeat your question anton quickly pulls himself out of you all the way and thrusts back inside of you. it’s the roughest he’s ever been with you, the force pushes your body slightly over the edge of anton’s bed. anton’s lips still ghost over yours, his eyes scan parts of your face that he can see. he sees the way your eyes close and the way your lips part. anton stills inside of you again, waiting for you to open your eyes.

you keep eye contact with him, pupils blown out from lust when anton pulls all the way out of you again. you brace yourself for it, feeling his hand press deep into your lower stomach. anton thrusts into you again with the same force and you let your moan rip through the room, letting your head lean over the foot of anton’s bed. this is when anton pulls away from you guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. you do so immediately, loving the way anton manhandles you. you’re happy he spares you from hearing his commanding voice. if anton told you to do something right now you think you would finish on the spot.

you can barely recover before anton starts fucking you again. he doesn’t pull out all the way like he did before, but thrusts into you with a force that’ll push you completely off the bed soon. you have to hold onto his arm to stay in place.

anton lets your small hand wrap around his bicep, he flexes to give you something steady to hold onto. he folds back over, putting a hand on the top of your head to try and push your body ever closer to his. the way you look constantly has him changing positions. anton can’t control his mind from telling him to give you everything he has. and anton watches you take it all.

“i just can’t get enough of you.” anton sucks on the lobe of your ear.

he ruts into you now, the momentum causing your chest to move. anton wishes he had more hands to touch you with, so he could tweak your nipples and press deeply into you stomach and stimulate your clit all at the same time. but anton makes the sacrifice of feeling himself in your stomach to move to your chest. he revels in the fact that you fit so easily in his hand and he can’t stop himself from taking your tit into his mouth, sucking up and looking at you.

anton can barely see your through his sweaty bangs that fall past the rim of his glasses and blocks his view. he knows you like it by the way you moan his name and arch your back. your hand goes to rub anton’s head, like you’re petting him for being a good boy. this only makes anton pick up the speed and push you further over the edge of his bed. you head leans completely over and you can hear the sound of his creaking metal frame and the dull thud of your plushies falling off the bed.

you think you hear something else, but it’s forgotten when anton pulls your upper body to meet his like you weigh nothing. before you can comprehend anything anton plants his foot on the ground next to the bed so he can fuck you sitting up. you put your foot on the edge of the bed beside him to get closer. anton laughs and kisses your face at your fucked out expression.

“not too much, right?” anton asks.

you shake your head and kiss anton back.

“it feels so good.” you whine

“good. i just want you to feel good.” anton says.

his words come out a little rough, cut short by how determined he is to fuck you. when you see anton look at your chest again you arch your back up to him to give him access. he doesn’t suck on your chest, only runs his wet tongue whenever he can reach. he has to look at you over the rim of his glasses now, and he sees your blurry lips suck on his fingers when he presses them on your tongue. he can see shine coming from the corners of your lips and spit covers your chest. you are a complete mess and it’s all for anton to partially see.

“you close?” anton asks.

you nod pitifully, words failing to get out as you nearly gag on anton’s fingers.

anton looks down to where your two bodies meet. he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth and he misses landing it on your clit. it falls on your abdomen and mixes with your sweat to glide down your body. anton takes his hand that was wrapped around your body to gather the spit and circle your clit. you start clenching around him uncontrollably the same way you did when he first slid in. anton hisses and works through the nearly blinding pleasure, continuing his motions.

“so tight i can barely move.” anton groans.

you can barely keep your body upright anymore. your leg that was bent behind anton slid on his sheets and your thigh rests on his leg that’s planted to the floor. anton sits taller than you on the bed, and he kisses your forehead because he knows your close. you being so close makes anton desperate. he continues to hit the spot that he knows drives you crazy as he talks to you.

“i need to see you cum baby.” anton cooes.

you can only nod your head weakly before it hits you. you pull anton into you by his shoulders, your hands digging into the skin on his back. you’re the loudest you’ve ever been in your life, nearly crying out anton’s name with curse words wedged in between. anton continues to look down at you and kiss your face as squeeze around his length. anton waits for you to open your eyes to see the determined look you get. anton notices that you try to move your hips to meet his.

when anton cums he lays you down back to your original position. he forgets he’s wearing a condom when he stills inside of you after going as deep as possible. he ruts into you like you are taking every last drop and it ignites something inside of anton that he didn’t know existed.

“fucking take it.” anton says quietly into your neck.

you lift your hips in response, and you milk anton as he empties into the condom. something was just ignited inside of you too.

when both of you come down from your high, anton settles his weight on top of you. you can only let him stay like that for a moment before tapping his shoulder. he looks up from your chest and is genuinely lost for a second like he forgot how big he is.

“oh shit. i’m sorry.” anton says.

the sweet innocent boyfriend is back in the blink of an eye. he pulls out of you to tie off his condom, looking back at your naked body as you roll on his bed. anton he picks up your plushies off the ground while you try and fight sleep away, slipping back into his hello kitty pajamas. anton gives you your clothes back before leaving the room.

you can hear a faucet running, far off somewhere in another room before anton returns. he sits you up on the bed and wipes down the areas where he was the messiest. he gets the corner of your mouth and your chest, and he wipes down your thighs and core. you are still sensitive and preen from his touch. when you groan sleepily anton puts your head gently.

“you were amazing.” anton says.

you open your eyes and pinch your boyfriend’s cheek, smiling at how cute he is.

“you were too.” you say.

anton kisses your cheek and helps you back into your clothes. you both settle in bed, exerted and ready to sleep. you grab a hello kitty plushie and put it in between your two bodies. both of you kiss the stuffed animal’s head like it’s your baby.

you fall asleep on anton’s chest as he rubs your back, both of you finding a million different ways to say i love you

#requestz #01zfan: anton #anton smut #riize smut

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superblysubpar · 5 months

Text

thank you so much for requesting anon, and thanks for your patience in waiting for this. Hope you like where I took it 😅 Is it a hushed conversation between kisses? Idk. Do they kiss? Kind of. Do they need to be quiet? yes?

1164 words

warnings: SMUT (finger sucking| PIV intercourse - creampie | technically you're camping & have to be quiet for this reason, but it's not really explicitly stated) | my blog is 18+

Despite the hot breath at your temple dotted with sweat, goosebumps rose on your skin. It seemed only Steve Harrington could pull them from you, the sort of primal reactions and sounds your body couldn’t deny.

He had a knack for it - a useless talent to some, an addiction if you asked him, a weapon he absolutely knew how to wield in your opinion.

Maybe it’s the way his hand curled on your hip. The way the rough pads of his fingertips soothed against heated skin. How they skated over elastic and snapped it against your body, accompanied by his mouth opening against the hinge of your jaw he’d traveled down to.

Not kissing you. Not licking or sucking. Just opening his mouth and breathing.

You hated that you whined.

Steve smiled against your neck, he couldn’t help it. And if he wasn’t painfully hard against your ass, he’d do this all night long.

He let his nose drag lower, then back up, indulging in the scent of you - mixed with the lake and bonfire, something sweet and smoky - addicting, like a freaking smore. Like he could have twenty of you and never be full or sick from such a sweet treat. He paused just behind your ear as his fingers slipped over the wet cotton in front of you and he felt your body go rigid against him, like you were holding your breath.

Everything was louder - your heartbeat in your ears, the crickets, the faint crackle of the dying fire now popping and hissing loudly as you waited. Your bare legs slipped against the cool sleeping bag, fingers digging into the flannel pillowcase as your teeth did the same to your bottom lip.

When Steve finally brushed a finger over cotton, giving the part of you throbbing and aching for attention, you gasped, hips wiggled quickly, searching for more, and he pulled away as soon as they did.

You groaned, loudly, and his hand was quick to jump over your mouth, which only had your eyes rolling back.

“Honey,” he spoke directly into your ear and his cheek pulled between his teeth when he saw how the press of his lips there had your eyelashes fluttering. “If you can’t be quiet…” He started to pull his body away, and your hands caught his wrist, keeping him locked around you.

Steve swallowed, watching from over your shoulder how your chest heaved, glistening with sweat. Your shirt and little sleep shorts guilty of this whole scenario he finds himself in, discarded and crumpled in the corner of the tent. He could have removed those from you an hour ago, his brain’s a little fuzzy - senses in overdrive wanting to get every sigh and whimper and twitch of your body he could get out.

“Please,” you begged in a hoarse whisper, turning your head as his hand fell from your lips, but not straying to far, fingers curled around your chin, thumb soothing over your jaw. Your nose drags over his before lips pressed a wet and desperate kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be good, please.”

You watched him under heavy lids, taking in the pink flush of his cheeks, blown out pupils quickly replacing the honey in his eyes, so you took his hand and pressed two fingers to your lips, and waited.

Steve’s throat bobbed as your tongue licked the pad of one, running up the seam of the digits pressed together until you were taking both tips into your mouth and sucking.

He wasn’t the only one who had a weapon to wield, who had an addiction to getting those same primal reactions out of him.

Your cheeks hollowed, his eyelids grew heavy, fluttering as his cock twitched against you and a rumble of something in his chest pressed into your spine.

“Fuck,” he gasped, forehead knocking your temple as he rolled his hips against you.

He quickly pulled his fingers from where they were flattened over your tongue, wet fingers pushed down your black underwear and then his own. Steve’s length slipped between your legs, before his arm was wrapping around your waist and pulling you tight to him as his tip glided through your slick.

“So wet, baby,” he whined into your ear, fingers digging into your abdomen as you shivered when he pressed at your entrance. “Jus’ for me? Jus-just waiting for this all night?”

You nodded, warmth flooding your body at his words, the truth of them, and the way he pushed slowly inside of you.

Fingers gripped his forearm that only tightened around you, before his hand roamed down, over your thigh and back up to your hip, pulling you open so he could slip in deeper.

Steve made a sort of strangled noise against the back of your neck, pressed fully against your ass as your head fell back in a gasp, resting on his shoulder. He sat still, twitching inside of you until you were throbbing around him, fingers digging into the cool material beneath you and nodding, silently telling him to move.

It was all slow drags out and a forceful thrusts back in, each one picking up speed, making you both try to hold in your ragged and loud breaths. Steve pressed his nails into your thigh, nose and lips a ghost along your shoulder. Your walls sucking him in, yet coating him in slick in a way you hadn’t before had him quietly cursing, swearing and praising you in the same breath.

He scratched up your thigh when your hips rolled back against him, lips finding his neck and pressing kisses to any skin you could reach. His fingertips slipped over your clit, quietly swearing again at how wet you were and how you moaned when he made a second figure eight over the bundle of nerves.

“Steve,” you spoke into his jaw, fingers curled in the hair at the back of his neck, the other tugging at anything in front of you to hold on to as he pounded into you harder, but at the same consistent rhythm. As his tip hit that spot deep inside of you over and over again, the place only Steve Harrington had a knack for finding or being able to reach, white heat poured over you, heartbeat rushing in your ears as he took you higher.

He could feel you squeezing around him, feel the way your body shook against his, his own orgasm held off until you opened your mouth just below his ear.

You didn’t kiss him. You didn’t lick or suck or bite. You were just breathing.

A harder tug of his hair in your fingers, an arch of your back, eyelids fluttering, and a sort of hitched breath that warmed across his skin all made him fall over the edge he’d taken you both to. As goosebumps erupted down his arms, he spilled inside of you, both of you gripping the others body like it was your only way out alive.

He hated that he whined.

You smiled against his neck, you couldn’t help it.

#superbly subpar steve smut #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfiction

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chachued · 9 months

Note

I wanted to request lando x fem reader if possible when he’s leaving for a while and they’re extra affectionate the night before with longer hugs and more reassurance, it could even get emotional??

Thank you in advance🥰

omg, yes. absolutely adorable!!! such a cute idea, this is.

━━ NEVER LEAVING | LANDO NORRIS ⁴

He never left without you, but you couldn’t come with him this time. It wasn’t easy, to say the least, but this night made it all the better.

↳ lando norris x fem!reader

W/C 0.5k

CONTENTS fluff — so much fluff, best bf lando, clingy reader, a bit of attachment issues, half proofread, short imagine

TOMORROW WAS THE DAY. Even though you begged for a day off—just to spend time with your boyfriend—today was too far busy, said your boss.

It was already late at night, so you expected Lando to be asleep already. He had to leave tomorrow morning, so you let bygones be bygones.

You didn’t know work would last so long, there’s barely enough time to be with him. And most of it will be used sleeping beside him. Everything consumed the energy that usually sparked inside you — The one that was excited to go home to him.

The key was deep inside your bag while you shuffled for it, prolonging the wait outside your door, which was insufferable. All you wanted to do was lay in bed—preferably with his arms around you.

The door handle clicked, and then it opened. “You’re home!”

“You’re still awake?” You were relieved, but rightfully worried because it is twelve in the morning.

His hand took yours, dragging you inside. “Of course, I am.”

“What’s that — And that smell?”

“Well, that is your favourite movie, with your favourite food, and your favourite snacks, actually.”

Wow. He really did it all for you.

There were candles that were already half-melted, probably the ones that were hiding in an obscure area. The line of expensive meals and cheap takeout showed a variety of food. It’s like he knew you hadn't eaten yet.

Lando couldn’t help but notice the way the light hit your face, highlighting that pretty smile of yours—melting him from the inside. “There’s also a bunch of blankets to get you comfy. I’m sure you would’ve been tired when you got home.”

“I love you so much right now.”

“You didn’t love me before?”

“Maybe,” you said, smiling.

“I love you too.”

Anxiety piled up — That overwhelming feeling.

It finally hits you he’d be leaving tomorrow morning. All this effort and it didn’t even last long because, before you knew it, he’d be gone. It hurt, and you didn’t know why.

It wasn’t the fact that he was leaving. It’s because he motivated you throughout the day, promising kisses and goods—giving a reason to be excited about life. What could you do without him?

Lando was cuddled up next to you, lying on your chest, when he heard your sniffling. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“I’m here,” he said, and in all honesty, it made the tears harder to hold in.

But you stayed strong.

“It’s just… You’re leaving, and all that. I don’t know, I feel a bit silly.”

He held you tighter, not planning to ever let you go. His eyes were heavy, but he’d stay up all night to be with you.

No amount of sleep can replace you, he thought.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.” His hand slithered onto your cheek, wiping the loose tear. “I’m never ever leaving you.”

That was the promise he’d never dare to break.

It was insane. You felt insane. He was doing all this for you, and you felt like a burden. There was nothing you did to deserve this—

You felt his soft lips on yours—holding on for a second—and the warm embrace melted you in quick.

“Text me and I’ll fly back to you, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Alright?”

A giggle slipped out of your mouth. “Alright, yeah.”

This was home — Your home.

And it would never fall apart, not with him.

↳ bonus ; next morning ´ˎ˗

LOADING . . . ✎

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #fluff #mclaren #ln4 #ln4 x reader

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osarina · 7 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩 SNEAKIN' A PIC (ATTEMPT: FAILED)!

FEATURING: fyodor dostoevsky

SUMMARY: you never get to see him like this. is it really so awful that you want to capture the moment eternally? evidently to him, it is. (wordcount: 1.4k; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i'll never not make fun of that one panel of him sitting at his computers with his greasy ass hair even if he does look like a pretty princess in every other panel he has. my obsession with naps is being translated into my fics, i already posted a nikolai one posted and also have a dazai one in the drafts HAHA

When you wake up, you feel a weight on your bicep. Your brows furrow a bit in confusion, glancing to your right to where your arm is extended across the bed, but then your eyes fall upon Fyodor, fast asleep and using your arm as a pillow, and you can barely stop the small smile that rises to your lips.

Your arm is numb, but you don’t dare move in fear of waking him up—the clock on your nightstand reads nearly eight am, and you wonder when he finally came to bed last night. You know that he’s been pushing himself day and night to finalize the last parts of his plans, denying himself both sleep and food as he sits at his computers dealing with meetings and preparations 24/7.

He hadn’t even changed into a pair of pajamas before falling into bed with you, nor had he bothered to get beneath the covers. a part of you wonders if he even meant to sleep, or if he’d just pushed his body too far and only barely made it to the bed before it gave out on him.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

You bite back a sigh as your gaze traces over the stubborn man—he always looks delicate in his sleep, in a way that he never does when he’s awake with his eyes shut and his long, dark lashes brushing his cheeks. His expression is the picture of serenity rather than the cold and unapproachable face he wears when he’s awake.

You think that he’s pretty all the time, but there’s something special about being able to witness Fyodor Dostoevsky in his most vulnerable moments, knowing that you’re the only one he allows to be with him in them.

You’re half-tempted to reach over to your nightstand with your free hand to try to grab your phone and snap a picture of him. You look over, wondering if you can reach it without jostling your other arm around, but before you can even consider your chances, you hear: “Do not.”

Fyodor’s voice is still thick with sleep. you glance over at him, surprised, but his eyes are still shut, and he hasn’t budged an inch. You wonder if you imagined it, but then his eyes crack open, thin slivers of purple glaring at you.

“Just one for me?” you ask quietly. “No one else will see.”

“No.”

You pout softly but roll back to look at him. He still looks exhausted, the bags beneath his eyes are dark and heavy, and he can barely even hold his eyes open. You reach out, cupping his cheek gently and watching as his eyes slide back shut, a soft exhale spilling from his lips as he lets the side of his face sink back into your arm, dozing back off.

You smile lightly, shifting forward a bit to press your lips to his forehead, stroking his cheek lightly with your thumb.

“I need to get up,” he murmurs, but his eyes are still shut and his voice is thick with sleep. “I need to finish-“

“You will not finish anything adequately in this state,” you chide gently. “If you get proper sleep, you’ll be much more efficient and effective.”

Fyodor looks as if he wants to argue, brows furrowing at your words even with his eyes shut. You only jostle him a bit closer, watching as he shoots you an irate look, but then settles down when he realizes you’re only dragging him closer so that he can rest his head on your chest—a place far more comfortable than your arm.

“Wake me up in an hour,” he finally orders, and you agree absently, knowing that you absolutely will not.

You think, as Fyodor lets himself doze off on your chest, that it’s hard to remember he’s quite literally one of the most dangerous men on this planet. That if he so pleased, he could activate his ability and kill you without a moment’s warning. That he’s a man who is so terrifyingly intelligent that it sometimes comes across as prophetic, and you can’t help but wonder if he speaks the truth when he claims to be led by the Hand of God.

Your hand smoothes across his back in steady circles, tilting your face down to press your lips to the top of his head. His hair is a bit oily, as he usually lets it get when he deprives himself of basic necessities while he works. You’ll have to convince him to take a bath with you when he wakes up, but you figure it’ll be a battle because you already convinced him to sleep in a little longer, he’ll not want to waste any more time.

You almost want to pinch him, wondering why everything with him has to be a war when it comes to taking proper care of himself. He rarely even remembers to take his iron supplements on the daily without your prompting, and he knows if he doesn’t take them, he’ll be prone to dizziness and fatigue. For all of his intelligence, you feel like sometimes that you’re a mother dealing with a stubborn child, not your lover.

“Stop that,” Fyodor sighs, shifting a bit to get comfortable. “Dim your thoughts, dusha moya. I can feel you getting yourself wound up.”

You scowl. “You know, Fedya, maybe you should just drop the whole terrorist plot and become one of those preachers on the radio who pretend to be prophets. Build yourself a cult, make some money. You already seem to know everything, wouldn't be too hard."

Fyodor tilts his head up to look at you, expression so deadpan and unamused that it nearly makes you snort, but you only dip your head down to kiss between his eyes.

"Sleep,” you say, voice softer. “You need it.”

Fyodor doesn’t respond, and when you tilt your head to the side to look at him again, you find that he already dozed back off again, shoulders rising and falling steadily underneath the arm you have wrapped around him.

You smile lightly and you tighten your arms a bit as Fyodor lets out a puff of air in his sleep, turning his head to lay the side of his face on your chest. In this position, you can see the way his eyes flit beneath his eyelids rapidly, his brain still running rampant even in sleep.

You bring your fingers to his hair to card them through the dark locks, slow and soothing in the way you know he likes, watching as his eye movements slow and his body relaxes into yours.

Your smile widens a bit before it abruptly falls, laying your head back against the pillow as you finally begin your next challenge: drawing out a battle plan for convincing Fyodor to take a bath with you when he wakes up.

You sigh to yourself heavily, knowing well that you're about to be facing the most difficult argument of your life with the most stubborn man alive. You can already feel the headache, and you think that you deserve a new picture for your lock screen from how much trouble Fyodor gives you on the daily, but as you side eye your nightstand again and try to calculate whether or not you can reach your phone without waking him up, you feel fingers wrap around your free hand.

You gape in disbelief as you look down to see Fyodor grab your hand in his sleep, as if he knew what you were planning even when not conscious.

Unbelievable, you think bitterly, plan entirely thwarted, but your gaze softens at the sight of him fast asleep on your chest, clutching your hand with one of his.

Maybe you don't need a picture, you realize, because you think there's no way you'd ever allow this image to fade away from your mind.

Still, you think he should severely reconsider his line of work.

Even more so now, in fact, because there is something entirely abnormal about his seemingly perfect foresight, evidently flawless even in his sleep too.

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #fyodor x reader #fyodor fluff #fyodor x you #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs fluff #bungo stray dogs x you #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x you #fyodor dostoevsky fluff

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nadvs · 5 months

Note

okay so basically i was thinking that rafe and reader just had a kid and rafe has been neglecting them and reader for whatever reason and then topper or anyone comes over and since the kid hasn’t seen rafe in so long they end up calling them dad which rafe hears and gets mad at for a bit and then someone puts him in check and he apologizes to reader and starts putting more effort into the family🩷

🍓anon

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You don’t understand how Rafe can be so heartless.

Whenever your son smiles at you, dimples just like his father’s, you wonder how Rafe doesn’t miss him. How he can drift in and out of your home, hardly ever present.

Your relationship was once so joyful. You ran in the same social circles, eyes on each other at parties, when your mutual friend Topper finally introduced you to each other.

You hit it off and started dating and then, six months into your relationship, your life changed forever when you stood tense in your bathroom, a positive pregnancy test in your hand.

Rafe was shaken at first. He was shaken for a while. It wasn’t until he saw the screen at your first ultrasound that he could fully understand that you were bringing a human being into the world.

And then he settled into the role, feeling genuinely hopeful about the future for the first time in life. He found a beachfront condo for your growing family. He filled it with furniture. He started talking about all the things the three of you could do together.

But as your son grew, the stress got to the both of you, leading you into more and more arguments with each other. Rafe became cold and distant.

You tried to talk sense into him, tell him that if he was falling out of love with you, that was fine, but he had to love your child. Regardless, Rafe kept drifting away from both of you, your once solid family breaking apart and deteriorating.

One afternoon, you text Topper asking if he can buy and drop off diapers. Rafe was supposed to do it but he hasn’t been home in days. You don’t want to bother calling him, knowing he’ll just disappoint you.

When he comes by, you can see it in Topper’s expression that you look just as sad as you feel.

“You okay?” He’s standing outside the door, handing you the box of diapers.

“I’m so tired,” you admit, voice cracking. “He’s barely even home, Top. It’s like he’s checking out.”

Your son waddles towards you, arms spread out. You wipe away your tears and pick him up, forcing a smile for him.

When he looks at Topper and babbles dada, your heart shatters.

“That’s not dada,” you say, kissing your son on the cheek. You look to your friend. “Sorry. I’m kind of a mess right now. Thank you for dropping these off.”

Rafe is at the club, drinking a scotch and gazing out at the golf course, when his phone starts buzzing, Topper’s name on his screen. He answers with a tired drawl.

“Hey, man,” he hears on the other line. “You gotta get your shit together.”

“What?”

“Your girl’s not doing so good. And your kid thought I was his dad.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“She asked me to buy diapers,” Topper says. “Shouldn’t you be doing that?”

Rafe can only angrily hang up, his blood running hot. You’re calling other people for help? Really?

He finds your name in his phone and calls you. But you don’t answer.

It’s late when he finally comes home, carrying two big grocery bags.

You just got your son down to sleep and rush to the door, shushing Rafe as he walks in. He’s pissed off that the first thing you do when you see him is shush him.

“What’s all this?” you ask, looking at the full, heavy bags he’s carrying.

“Apparently, you got someone else to bring you diapers,” he says bitterly, “but I got everything else we need.”

“How would you know what we need?” you say tersely.

“Don’t give me shit right now,” Rafe mutters, placing the bags on the kitchen counter. He starts to put things away, loudly opening cupboards and drawers, when you grip his arm.

“You’ll wake him,” you scold. Rafe turns to look at you, his eyes narrowing.

“I did something good,” he says. “Can you show some goddamn appreciation?”

“Am I supposed to thank you for buying us food?” you snap. “It’s your job.”

Rafe hangs his head, sighing deeply as he rests his hands on the hard marble counter. You’re expecting him to keep arguing with you. But his next words come out strained.

“He thought Top was his dad?” he mumbles.

You cross your arms, feeling a sense of vindication.

“Yeah,” you say. “Can you blame him? He’s the only guy he’s seen around here in a long time.”

Rafe cracks his neck, pacing away from you as he breathes deeply, circling back towards you.

“Why’d you call him?” Rafe asks. He hates that another man provided for his family.

“What, and not you? Like you’re so reliable,” you mutter. “Where the hell have you been, Rafe?”

Rafe’s been living in a haze. He can’t forget your last argument when you screamed at him that if he didn’t love you, fine, but he had to love your son.

Fine. You’re fine if he doesn’t love you anymore.

Rafe has never cried in front of you. He always stifled it or left the room whenever he felt the thick threat of tears in his throat. He thought he had to be a man.

But at this point, he’s too weak to put up a front.

When Rafe starts sniffling, your heart drops. You’re in complete shock that he cares enough to cry about this.

You’re speechless. You stand across from him, just as still as you were the day you learned you were pregnant.

“Home,” he replies, voice thin. He’s been staying at the house, ignoring everyone. When he gets stir crazy, he goes to the club. Either way, he’s been a shell of himself, carrying his sorrow wherever he goes.

“This is home,” you say softly. You look down at the floor, your brows pinched. “What happened? We used to be…”

“What? In love?” he mutters.

“Happy.” You meet his glossy eyes. “Now all we do is fight.”

“And whose fucking fault is that?” he mutters. You scoff incredulously.

“It takes two, Rafe,” you snap. “Is that why you bailed? Because things got tough? Your baby needs you.”

“But do you need me?” he says. His words render you speechless. An even harder, colder tension grows between you.

“You said you’d be fine if I didn’t love you anymore,” he says lowly.

“I meant…” You take a deep breath. “Rafe, I’m… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t love me anymore,” he mutters. “You’ll leave. I’ll barely see him. What’s the point in delaying it?”

Your head is muddled. Normally, you’d put your hand on his when he spins out like this. Talk him down. But he has hurt you so much lately that touching him would feel unnatural.

“I’d never keep your son away from you,” you say.

“But you would break up me,” he says. You’re so angry at him that giving him any sort of reassurance feels like a betrayal to your pain. He doesn’t deserve the consoling.

But then you notice a tear roll down his cheek and your heart softens.

“Is that why you’ve been like this?” you ask.

Over the past few weeks, Rafe realized he was always scared of being abandoned. Under thick layers of anger and disdain, he fears inadequacy. And why not leave before he’s left?

He stares at you in silence, as if saying his fears out loud will make them come true.

“It’s not on me. You stopped loving me a long time ago,” you say, allowing him to see a crack in your armor.

“I never…” he begins resolutely. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

“And this is how you treat somebody you love? By giving up?” you say. “I’ve been doing everything alone. Do you have any idea how exhausted I am?”

Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose, the guilt he’s been repressing flooding him all at once. He knows he’s failing you. Failing your family.

He won’t say anything else. He can’t.

“If you’re sleeping here tonight, you can take the couch,” you say, pacing out of the kitchen. “I don’t want to even lie next to you.”

Rafe doesn’t give into the impulse to leave, even though his fears and anxieties are screaming at him to. He settles onto the couch. It takes him an hour to fall asleep.

When you wake up to your son’s crying from the nursery at dawn, you hear Rafe’s soft, tired voice consoling him. You drift back off into sleep, sure he’ll call you for help within minutes.

When consciousness slowly pulls you out of your slumber, you can tell by the brightness in your room that it’s well past sunrise. When you check your phone, you’re shocked to see that you slept until noon.

You head downstairs, your chest tightening when you see Rafe playing with your son, his smile bright.

Rafe’s blue eyes meet yours. He gave you the gift of rest, something you’ve been dying for.

“I’m not giving up,” Rafe says. “If you break up with me, I want to know that at least, I… I tried my hardest.”

“If you try your hardest, I won’t break up with you,” you tell him, still harboring hostility.

Instead of arguing with you, Rafe simply nods. You’re shocked he doesn’t have a nasty retort.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, planting a kiss on your son’s head, earning giggles from him. “Both of you.”

His tone and gaze are so sincere that you almost believe him. It’ll take a while for you to trust him again, but he’ll wait it out as long as he needs to.

#anon this prompt is so good and ANGSTY #i don’t usually write a mean rafe so i hope you like it 🤭#blurb #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #🍓 anon

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