#but yeah uh. if uh. if that little moment... continued... the way he wanted it to... um

[saturnzlv]

HELPING HAND

leon kennedy x gn!reader

notes: mature language, college au, suggestive content, re2r adjacent. wc: 1.1k | m.list

when life couldn’t get any worse, you want to fuck a blond guy.

he keeps his white reeboks pristine, his hair is always well-kept and brushed neatly, his lips never seem chapped, and his fingernails look better than your own. with the way he holds his pencil and drags the graphite along the paper, his handwriting looks more perfect than a teenage girls in her diary.

this guy is seriously starting to piss you off.

“you got that?” leon asks.

you snap out of your brief daydream, gaze lifting from his hand holding a pencil to those wide blue eyes that can pull you in like a tide. “uh, yeah,” you say, sitting up straighter in your chair. clearing your throat, you glance to your notebook that leon had written in.

“good,” he says. “i think we can finish up for today then.”

he lets you take a look at his notes on your paper. turns out this tutoring thing is seriously needed. his handwriting fills the page, correcting all your errors. how were you supposed to know how to properly use semicolons and em-dashes? you had fucked up so many of those damn symbols, it looked like hundreds of halves of winky-face emoticons were attacking your paper before leon edited your work.

a sigh falls from your lips, and you lean back in your chair for a second. “this shit is driving me insane,” you mutter.

as you stand from your chair and pack away your notebook, leon tilts his head up to look at you. it’s a pretty sight, but he ruins it when he opens his mouth.

“at least you’re not bored,” he jokes.

god, that horrible humor of his just makes you want to drop to your knees and unzip his pants to get him to shut up. however, the little smile he has makes up for the shitty joke. you can’t help the corners of your lips lifting in response, and you’re sure leon’s proud that he got you to react positively to his joke.

“whatever, blondie.” you wave your hand in dismissal of his words, pulling your bag’s strap over your shoulder. “same time thursday?”

he stands from his chair, gesturing to the door of his dorm room. “yeah.” he nods. “i’ll walk you out.”

that earns a slight laugh from you. “walk me out,” you repeat with a roll of your eyes. “you’re walking me, like, two feet to the door.”

“it’s still walking you out,” he counters. he opens the door for you, and you step out into the hall. you give a small wave before turning, and the door clicks shut behind you.

your next tutoring session comes by, and you quickly realize you can’t pay attention for the life of you. sure you get distracted during class, but your professor is the worst at explaining the damn language she speaks. it isn’t your fault you’re failing, and it isn’t your fault that your tutor is so distracting.

the tone of leon’s voice is always light; it’s softer than most boys you talk to. you notice how his brows briefly furrow when he re-reads a sentence, or when he makes a mistake and has to erase what he wrote. his tongue sometimes darts out to wet his lips, bringing his bottom lip in for just a moment.

he’s a pretty boy with cute habits. from hours of being tutored, there’s hours of staring. it’s almost laughable at how you’ve now memorized the little details of his. the beauty marks and light dusting of freckles littering his fair skin, the small indent at his chin, the soft curve and tiny bump along his nose—you’ve memorized it all.

and as he goes on and on, verbally editing your essay that’s due tomorrow, you just want to shut him up with a kiss. it’s nice of him to take time out of his day to tutor you. he won’t take cash payment, he’s said so numerous times, and you’re no good with your words. however, you know that the phrase ‘actions speak louder’ exists for a reason.

“i think if you were to move this sentence from here to the beginning, it’ll read more smoothly,” leon says.

his head lifts, baby blue eyes finding yours, and his lips part to continue speaking. you don’t allow him to continue when you lean in and cut him off with your lips pressing to his. he almost freezes as your lips meet and your palm cups his jaw, but his eyes quickly flutter shut and his lips purse against yours when he registers what the hell just happened.

it’s a little too short for his liking. when you pull back and lower your hand from his jaw, leon’s almost disappointed. he wants to reach out and bring you back in for another, but he’s damn near shell-shocked. not even a stupid quip can fall from his lips.

you, however, can make a stupid quip. “you talk too much,” you say. leon finally finds his footing and brings you in for another kiss.

one more thing you quickly realize is that, despite his awkwardness, leon actually knows what he’s doing. his hand skims along the muscle of your thigh before resting at your hip, drawing you closer to his body. it’s difficult, since you’re sitting in two different chairs, angled oddly, but you get the message and lift yourself from your seat.

with him manspread, your knee rests between his thighs against the wooden seat of the chair. both your palms cradle his face as you lean over him, kissing him over and over again. you’re kissing him like he’s oxygen and you’ve been deprived of breathing, yet he doesn’t complain about the desperation of it. in fact, he’s enjoying it more than you know.

you soon learn that leon’s an absolute sucker for kisses. when you pull away to fix your position, a borderline whine elicits from the back of his throat, the loss of your lips on his making him feel needy for more. his hands at your hips ever so slightly tightens its hold as you straddle his lap. your lips find his once more for a quick kiss or two, and you then forcibly (gently) tilt his head back to trail your kisses down the column of his neck.

a whispered prayer of your name falls from leon’s lips. his fingertips snake under the fabric of your shirt and along the bare expanse of your side. his begs are silent, yet who are you to deny him from his wants? besides, you know damn well you want it too.

[burningcheese-merchant]

In “I don’t find it funny right now” considering burning spice instantly fell for golden cheese cookie kissing back and was about to pull at her top, was he planning for them to just start going at it on the battlefield? 😭 what was his next step

[xoxojisu]

"WE'RE NOT DATING!"

synopsis: the 1a girls have a lot to say about you and katsuki's not-relationship.

a/n: hahahaha more pre-relationship just friends trope (do not tell me i do this trope too much it brings me joy) also a lot of people asked for a pt two to my unofficalbf!katsuki hcs and this isnt quiiiite that bc there's not a whole lotta interaction w katsuki but uhm its smth. i have more wips abt this tho so theres a LOTTT more where that came from!

"even if we don't talk about anything important, i want to force it to be about romance!" mina exclaimed as ochako floated off in embarrassment at being questioned about deku.

"oh! speaking of! how long have you and bakugo been dating, y/n?"

you froze. "huh?"

"i don't know how you handle him! you're so sweet and cute and he's all 'die! go to hell! i am the king explosion murder lord!' y'know?" she added.

"he's not really like that with her, though. he's always a lot quieter she's around. you can see the way his eyes soften." tsu commented thoughtfully.

they all stared at you expectantly, waiting for you to answer the question, and you could feel blood rushing to your cheeks. "uh.. katsuki and i.. aren't dating?"

a beat passed. then another.

"WHAT?!"

"no way! i thought you two were dating for sure! he's always holding your hand and grabbing at you and acting all soft with you! wait, i literally saw him carry you to his room! how are you not dating?" hagakure burst out.

"yeah! and during our movie night last week, you were laying your head on his shoulder and he had his arms around you!" mina chimed in. "we all just assumed you two were dating like a given! what do you mean, 'you're not dating?!'"

"i mean, we're not dating! we're close friends, sure, but katsuki's never, like, asked me to be his girlfriend or anything! we're just tight childhood friends, that's all! he probably thinks of me as a little sister with the way he looks out for me, or something." you explained, waving your hands in the air frantically.

"y/n, i love you, but you're being as stupid as kaminari! no boy, but especially not bakugo, would ever act like that with a girl he wasn't interested in." jirou sighed. "there really isn't such thing as 'platonic cuddling' or 'platonic handholding' between boys and girls."

"well, it's normal for kids, you know? and katsuki and i grew up together, so it just kinda stuck!" you said, making a noble attempt at justifying you and katsuki's we-are-definitely-not-just-friends behavior. they all looked at you unamused.

the girls continued to bombard you with questions, each one getting bolder than the last.

"seriously, though, y/n," mina said, her grin wide, "how do you keep it together around him? you two are always so… cozy."

"cozy?" you blinked, trying to avoid their intense stares. "what do you mean 'cozy'?"

"oh, come on," she teased, nudging you. "you hold hands, sit waaaay too close, and don’t even get me started on the whole ‘sleeping on and cuddling with him’ thing. also, i swear i saw him give you a kiss on the forehead!"

"i mean, that’s just how we are!" you said, exasperated. "we’ve been friends forever! it’s not a big deal!"

jirou raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "i don’t know, y/n. most guys don’t carry their girl friends to their rooms when they’re tired."

you froze. the memories flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. "i told you, he was just being—"

"overprotective?" yaomomo interrupted, practically reading your mind. "yeah, that’s what we thought, too. but i don’t know, seems a little… extra for a friend."

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “this is ridiculous. we’re not dating! he’s not like that with me.”

they all stared at you for a long moment, clearly unconvinced, when suddenly, the door to the room swung open.

katsuki stood in the doorway, his signature scowl immediately visible, with kirishima and kaminari not far behind. "..what the hell are you all looking like that at me for? you got a problem?"

the girls didn’t miss a beat. mina jumped up, eyes practically sparkling. "we were just discussing how you and a certain girl over here are totally a secret item!"

you froze. oh no.

katsuki's eyes widened then narrowed as he stared at her, his eyes a mixture of grumpiness and fluster. "the hell?" was all he said.

“you’re always carrying her, holding hands, and let’s not forget you cuddling with her sleeping on you during that movie last week. with how comfortable you guys were with it, i'll bet it was far from the first time you guys have done stuff like that, too! you two are practically made for each other!”

katsuki glared at her, his fists clenching. "i don’t give a shit what you idiots think." his voice was sharp, dismissive, and he turned his gaze toward you for a moment, his usual annoyance evident.

you let out a nervous laugh, relieved that he wasn’t actually acknowledging any of the weird feelings the group was pushing on you two.

the girls looked between you and katsuki, still skeptical, but he wasn’t having it. he gave a quick, sharp glare to the group before glancing back at you. you failed to see the way his sharp glare softened ever-so-slightly when he did so.

“you’re all so damn nosy,” he muttered, turning to leave. "get a life."

he marched off grumpily, kirishima and kaminari now excitedly talking to him about assumedly the same topic. he slammed the door in their faces, but they were quick to scramble after him.

you let out a sigh of relief once they left, but before you could even speak, mina burst into laughter. "there it is! classic bakugo. totally in denial!"

"totally!" ochako giggled.

"mhm!" hagakure agreed.

"ugh," you groaned, face in your hands. "please just drop it already!"

the girls kept their grins, but the teasing finally slowed down. "alright, alright," mina said with a wink. "we’ll let you off the hook for now."

you exhaled in relief as the group slowly started to branch off into different topics, the heat finally off of you. you excused yourself for some water so you could get some air, and began heading back to the dorm rooms.

to your surprise, katsuki was already waiting for you outside the common area. when he saw you, he gave you a gruff nod of acknowledgement.

"kats! i thought you were going to bed!" you chirped, unaware of how your demeanor instantly brightened when it was just the two of you.

"i am," was all he offered before grabbing your hand and dragging you to presumably his dorm room to cuddle and hangout.

as you rambled and chatted with katsuki, hand-in-hand, on your way to hang out in his dorm alone, the words of your friends came back to you, causing a pink hue to rise to your cheeks.

..yeah. you two were definitely not "just friends."

[b4tgirlz]

practice round

dick grayson x fem!reader

summary; when some guy takes an interest in you, your extremely thoughtful best friend dick convinces you that you need a little more… experience. and who better to help you practice, than himself?

warnings; 18+, manipulation, yandere-lite themes… best friends <3 nsfw, reader is inexperienced, but not a virgin, possessiveness, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill)

author’s note; felt depraved things writing this… if you enjoy then let me know!

You’re sat on your bed, curled up near the edge where Dick is sprawled out on the floor beside you, scrolling through his phone.

He noticed a slight shift in your behaviour about ten minutes ago when you’d received a notification on your phone. He wonders if you’re going to tell him about it — he supposes it doesn’t really matter if you don’t. He’ll just look through it later, but of course he wants you to be the one to share.

You look so nervous, knees drawn up to your chest like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. It’s adorable. It’s pathetic. It makes something sharp twist in Dick’s stomach.

Finally, you blurt it out. “So… this guy asked me out.”

Dick stills, his finger hovering over his phone screen as he freezes in place. “Yeah? Who?”

You say his name like you’re embarrassed and Dick smiles, slow and easy. But inside, he’s seething. It takes a lot to keep his expression carefully neutral. He’s heard you talk about this guy before, offhandedly calling him cute. He has no idea you may have possibly been forming a crush on him.

You hug your pillow against your chest and scrunch up your nose. “He’s so… popular. You know? Good looking. Everyone’s obsessed with him, so I don’t know…”

“Sure,” Dick mumbles, pretending to focus on his Instagram feed again. “He’s been with… what, half the senior class?”

You wince. Dick thanks the universe in this moment that the guy who has taken an interest in you is basically a manwhore. It’s going to make this so much easier.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I guess. He’s really, uh, experienced.”

Dick turns around to face you properly. He scans your face, assessing the way you bite at your lip and look down, your gaze faraway somewhere. “Wait, you’re nervous.”

He forces himself to sound surprised, but of course he knows you’re nervous. He’s banking on it, in fact.

You nod, sighing as you lean back on your bed. “What if I’m not enough for him in… y’know, that area. He’s probably used to girls who know what they’re doing and I’ve barely even—”

“Hey, hey,” Dick cuts you off, getting up to take a seat next to you on the bed and reaching a hand out to lightly squeeze your knee. “You’re more than enough, sweetheart.”

He means that. You’re way more than that jackass deserves. Dick has heard how he’s talked about women before. Even if this guy wasn’t scum, there’s no way in hell Dick is going to let him have you. The gears in his mind are already turning and there’s a growing excitement in his lower belly that he can hardly contain.

“You just said that he’s been with so many people,” you point out, frowning at him.

Dick sighs, like it pains him to say it. “Yeah, well. Sure, he’s probably used to certain things. Stuff he’s probably expecting without even thinking about it. But that isn’t your fault.”

You stare at him, looking utterly crestfallen. He can practically hear your heart sinking and it only spurs him on as he shifts closer to you, dropping his voice into something more intimate and safe.

“Any guy would be lucky to have you. You know that right?”

“Thanks, Dick,” you mumble, trying to smile. But he’s not done.

“It’s just guys like him,” Dick continues slowly and deliberately, carefully choosing his words. “They get bored really fast. If something feels too new… too awkward…”

He trails off, allowing the implication to hang heavy between you. Dick is well aware that you’re not a virgin, but you may as well be. He’s talking bullshit, obviously. He knows that this guy would kill to have you in his bed and that your lack of experience would only make you more appealing to his sick mind. Dick would know, considering his mind is even sicker when it comes to you. The difference is that you actually mean something to Dick.

“Oh,” you whisper, dropping your gaze. You look disappointed and Dick knows exactly what to say next.

“Look, if you’re that worried,” he starts, sighing like you’ve presented him with a problem. “You could always practice.”

You blink at him, startled. “Practice?”

He smiles at you, all warm and encouraging like he’s offering you a life raft. “Yeah. To get comfortable. Figure out what you like, what feels good. What to do. So that when it matters, you’re not nervous.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hesitating. “I guess. But, with who?”

Dick shrugs, noncommittal. “Me, if you want.”

As expected, you whip your head up to gape at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “What?”

He rolls his eyes, as though what you’re saying is silly. “Don���t make it weird,” he chuckles under his breath, keeping his hand on your knee. “We’re best friends. You trust me, right?”

You open your mouth, like you’re about to argue but then you shut it. Because you do trust him — you always have. “Yeah, I do, but—”

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says, softening his voice even more. Every word coming out of his mouth is a lie, but they’re necessary, really. You don’t know what you want yet, which is exactly why he’s here to help. “And wouldn’t you want to practice with someone you’re comfortable with? Someone who only wants to make you feel good and confident. To teach you how to make someone happy.”

Lies, lies, lies. He has no intention of letting that happen.

Dick starts to stroke your wrist, thumb gliding lazy circles over your pulse like he’s trying to calm you down. Judging by the way it quickens, he’s doing the opposite and he has to fight to hide his grin.

Your voice cracks when you finally whisper back. “You really think it’ll help?”

“Yeah, but it’s totally up to you. You don’t have to decide right now,” he says lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and marvelling at how your gaze is tracking his every movement. “If you’re already this nervous…”

Your voice comes out impossibly small. “What would we even do?”

Dick’s mouth twitches as he tries not to smile triumphantly. He’s got you exactly where he wants and he’s elated.

“We can just kiss for now,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your lips, immediately making them part. Fuck, he’s going to have a hard time stopping if that’s all you want to do. “Whatever you want.”

After hesitating for a second and testing Dick’s patience, you finally nod. It’s shy, barely a movement of your head, but you’re smiling at him and Dick feels it go straight to his groin.

“Okay, then,” he murmurs, agreeable like you’ve coaxed him into it. “Do you want to set the pace, or should I?”

Your shoulders relax a little at the kindness in his voice and you swallow. “You… you can.”

He almost groans at your words. So submissive, so willing. You’re giving him permission to do what he wants and oh, he’s going to take it.

Dick gently positions you so that you’re facing him a little closer, sneaking his hand around to your back like he’s done a million times. Except this time, he gently lifts up your chin and offers you a reassuring smile and you can’t help returning it, albeit nervously. It’s Dick after all — your best friend in the whole world. And he’s such a good one for helping you out, right?

As if you’re getting impatient, you glance down at his lips and he decides that’s enough playing around.

Dick leans forward and brushes his lips against yours to test the waters. When you don’t move away, he presses his mouth to yours and your eyes flutter shut.

You’re a little stiff at first, hesitant and unsure as you allow Dick to lead. And he’s more than happy to show you.

He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss as his hand slips back to cradle the back of your neck. His fingers tangle in your hair, fully controlling your movements and you let out the tiniest, most helpless whimper he’s ever heard from you.

Dick nearly loses it there and then.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to speak, and his lips brush yours with every word. “You can kiss me back, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice coaxing and patient. He brushes his knuckles against your spine and swallows hard when you instinctively arch up into him. “Just… follow what I do.”

You nod, your expression dazed and faraway and when he leans in again, you press your mouth to his in a soft kiss.

Dick smiles against you, rewarding you by slanting his mouth more firmly against yours. This time he lets the kiss linger, letting you feel his warmth, the careful way he parts his lips to guide you how to breathe through it.

When you mimic him, he hums low in his throat, the noise vibrating against your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispers, barely pulling back, his voice rough with approval. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Your lips turn up, a shy smile gracing your face as you shiver slightly. “Thank you,” you mumble out, like you’re embarrassed.

Dick has manipulated you into kissing him and you’re thanking him. He’s so giddy he could burst.

Instead he settles for kissing you again, even deeper as his hands slide down to your hips where they lightly squeeze. The action makes you gasp softly against the kiss and he uses it, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip.

You stiffen, unsure and he immediately soothes you, hand against the side of your thigh. Your nerves are so cute. Almost as cute as the strawberry lipgloss that he’s tasting, which he knows is your favourite.

“Open up for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice dripping with patience. “Just a little. Let me in.”

You part your lips, all hesitant and sweet and Dick rewards you immediately by slipping his tongue in your mouth. You melt against him some more and he takes it as a sign to go further until he’s licking into your mouth, kissing you like he’s trying to eat you alive.

He’s borderline devouring you, getting hungrier when he feels you start to move with him, gasping into his mouth and making soft, pleased noises.

Dick can feel how overwhelmed you already are when you helplessly reach out to grab the fabric of his t-shirt, clutching him like a lifeline. He needs more.

Pulling back far enough to speak, he tries to control his own breathing. It’s just so hard when he’s this excited. “When a guy really likes a girl…” he says lowly. “He won’t wanna stop at just kissing. You wanna make sure you’re ready for all of that?”

You stiffen for a second and Dick decides to change his tune, gently kissing your forehead like he always does and begins to shift back a little.

“I mean, we don’t have to,” he relents, trying to sound as flippant as he possibly can when his hard on is painfully straining against his jeans. He begins to slide his hands away from your body as though he’s unaffected. As though his jaw isn’t clenched from the restraint of not touching you. “We can stop.”

“No!” Your hands shoot out to hold his own in place where they grip your waist and your eyes don’t leave his mouth for a second. Your’e panting softly, lips swollen and bitten — courtesy of Dick — and your eyes are glassy. “I— we don’t have to stop… I want to keep going. Please.”

Who is he to deny you when you ask so sweetly?

“Whatever you want,” he agrees, voice calm as ever. But his blood is hot and he’s trying so hard not to rip off your clothes and fuck you into the mattress until your bed is broken in half. All in good time, he tells himself as he guides you further back. “Lie down for me?”

You rest your head against your pillows obediently and Dick runs his hands up your sides, slowly and teasingly. “I’m going to take off your shirt now.”

Nodding, you lift up your arms when he begins to peel away your oversized t-shirt, shrugging it over your head to toss it to the ground. Dick’s eyes don’t leave your chest and it’s like he’s a man possessed when he immediately leans down to drop kisses to your neck and down your chest, grazing the swell of your breasts.

“So, so pretty,” he mumbles against your skin, his hands sliding behind your back to fumble with your bra clasp. You don’t stiffen this time and he takes it as permission to unclasp it before sliding your straps down your arms and leaning back to stare at you. “Fuck…”

You shrink under his gaze, trying to place your hands over your chest when he doesn’t move, and the action snaps him out of it.

“Don’t cover up,” he instructs, impatiently brushing your hands away before looking directly into your eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

A little laugh leaves you, like you don’t believe him and he decides it’s high time to convince you. Ducking his head down, Dick immediately swipes his tongue across your hardened nipple and you hiss, hand flying up to muffle your gasps as he starts to suck. Everywhere. He’s biting and licking at your chest, purposely leaving marks. If you try and do this with anyone else, they’ll know he was here first with all the blossoming bruises he’s sucking onto your skin.

Your gasps are coming out too quietly for his liking.

“No, don’t cover your mouth,” he says firmly, circling your wrists with his much larger hands to guide them away and pin them to your sides. “Guys like it when you’re noisy.”

Translation: Dick wants to hear you scream.

He returns his mouth to your body, this time venturing lower as he peppers kisses to your stomach. Lower and lower until he’s at the waistband of your shorts. He kisses around your belly button, nipping at your skin to distract you from your nerves as he slides the shorts down your legs.

You’re not even protesting anymore. In fact, you’re eager as you kick the item of clothing off your body. Dick huffs out a laugh against your belly when he sees your pink cherry-print panties. He recognises them from all the times he’s rifled through your underwear draw — it’s his favourite pair.

“Stop laughing,” you say breathlessly as you playfully tug on a strand of Dick’s hair. “It’s laundry day.”

“No, it’s cute,” he says, completely serious as you roll your eyes. The attitude you give him makes him want to fuck it out of you and so he swipes his thumb across the centre of your panties, right where your clit is, pulling a breathless sound from you. “So, so cute.”

You’re already soaked through the pink and red fabric, your wetness forming a damp spot visible through your panties and he grins. Shit, he’s barely touched you.

Dick props up your legs for better access and tugs at your panties, sliding them down to your ankles and then he groans.

He sounds like you’ve just sucker-punched him and before you have the time to process it, Dick sinks a finger into you easily and without any friction.

You’re so wet that it slides right in and the sounds that leave your lips make Dick’s mouth water. You’re gasping on choked breaths as he moves in and out of you, dragging his digit against your walls.

“So responsive,” he exhales, keeping a slow pace as not to overwhelm you. It only lasts a second though, as he can’t help wondering what other noises he can get out of you. His other hand comes up to start circling at your clit and your hand flys up to grab at his inky black locks.

“Oh, sh…shit. Dick, oh my God,” you whimper as the double stimulation makes your body twitch. You’re so consumed by pleasure that you probably don’t realise how hard you’re pulling on his hair — it’s a good thing he likes it. “Oh, please…”

He thinks he could die right now, hearing you beg him. For what, you don’t sound sure, but he obliges you with something. That something being a second finger which slides in almost as easily as the first.

The whine that leaves you is music to his ears and he pumps his fingers in and out, stretching you open in preparation. “Good?”

His question is teasing, since he can tell from the way your eyes are screwed shut that you do think it’s good. You nod nonetheless, whimpering out a “Yeah, so good. S-so good, Dick.”

Dick hums, increasing his pace absentmindedly as his erection brushes against your sheets. He’s practically humping your duvet, it’s pathetic. But he can’t bring himself to feel shameful about it when you’re looking so fucked out before him and he’s barely even done anything.

Fuck, he’s nearly drooling and so he decides the only thing to do is remove his hand from your clit. Your eyes flutter open at the loss of contact, despite his fingers still moving inside of you.

“Wait, what are you— Nngh.”

Dick flattens his tongue against your cunt and drags it up over your clit. You cry out, tangling your fingers further in his hair and keeping his head between your legs. Not that you need to when he’s eating you out like a man starved.

His tongue is moving against you like you’re his last meal while his fingers curl upwards into your pussy, making your eyes prick with tears. The second he starts sucking at your clit, you arch off the bed and helplessly grind against his face, covering his chin in your slick.

Dick moans into your cunt, pulling away a little to ask you in between licks. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

When he doesn’t hear an answer, his fingers pause in their movements and he lifts his head up to look at you.

“I— I don’t know,” you whisper, breathing heavily. “I’ve never… y’know, I haven’t—”

You’ve never had an orgasm

It feels like Dick’s luckiest day alive, he thinks to himself and he can’t help the wicked grin that splits across his face. His slides his fingers out of you, making you whine and his grin widens as he climbs over you, swiping a hand over his mouth before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he says soothingly, starting to pepper kisses over your cheek and jaw. “We still have more practicing. You’re going to cum on my cock for the first time, okay?”

“Okay.” Your response is almost immediate and he huffs out a laugh at how willing you are now. Any hesitation has since left you and Dick doesn’t have to convince you to do anything.

Not when you’re tugging at his shirt to take it off, which he happily obliges, reaching behind his back with one hand to shrug it over his head.

You exhale shakily, reaching out tentatively to trail your fingers over the sculpted lines of his chest, the hard ridges of muscle and the soft scattering of dark hair trailing down to disappear into his jeans.

“You’re beautiful too,” you say under your breath with a shy smile and he lets out a broken laugh, rough and shaky, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss at your pulse point.

He’s going to absolutely ruin you.

When your hand drags down his abdomen and further down to his waistband, Dick shudders — a harsh tremor wracking through his body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “Take off my jeans.”

Your fingers fumble to unbutton them and before he knows it, he’s tugging them off and you’re looking down at his cock straining impossibly hard against his boxers.

Dick doesn’t need to instruct you this time, and you’re hastily undressing him, allowing his achingly hard cock to spring free. You let out a breath at the sight of him, his leaking tip practically sore from neglect.

Your hands come up to hesitantly wrap around him, dragging his precum down his length to better stroke him. You do it painfully slow and he hisses through gritted teeth, jerking his hips into your hand which is so, so tiny compared to him.

“Am I doing this right?”

Your quizzical voice nearly makes him buckle, and he decides he’s had enough of not being inside of you.

“You’re perfect,” he promises, sliding a hand up the expanse of your thigh to squeeze your ass. “You’re more than perfect, but if you keep going, I’m going to cum all over your hand and that’s not what we’re practising today.”

You give him a sheepish smile, removing your warm hand and letting it rest by your side while he hovers over you.

Dick glances over your naked frame and nearly sighs aloud at the sight, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” you say, nodding at him to continue.

Dick brings his length to your cunt and drags it up and down once to cover the tip in your slick, marvelling at the natural lubricant. He’s not going to need anything else to slip right in and when your body twitches at the feeling of his head dragging against your clit, he smirks.

And then he slips the tip right into you, slowly working you through the delicious burn as you gasp. In the back of his mind, he’s a little bit concerned that you haven’t bothered to ask him to wear a condom (not that he was going to — he knows exactly what birth control you’re on, it’s fine), but your compliance is so naive. He’s glad it’s just for him.

“Ohhh, fuck. You’re doing so well, you can take it,” he grunts out, trying to go further in as slow as possible. His hands are clenched around your sheets as he slowly pushes and pushes deeper into you. “You were made for this, weren’t you? Huh? You gonna take all of me?”

“Yes, please, please, please,” you mutter, voice hoarse and nearly inaudible.

“Please what?” Dick stills, not moving another inch as he freezes halfway inside of you. “What do you want me to do, baby? Use your words.”

“Dick,” you rasp out, trying to buck your hips up for more, but Dick grabs your waist and pins you down. You can’t move an inch when he does this. “Please, please, I want more!”

He leans down to chuckle in your ear before he buries himself into you, sinking all the way down to the hilt.

He only gives you a few seconds to adjust before he’s pulling out and slamming back into you. The cry that leaves you is so beautiful and Dick wants to hear it again and again and so, all of a sudden, he’s driving his hips right into you with a desperation.

His cock is stretching you out more than his fingers ever could and you’re so wonderfully tight that Dick can feel every last inch of your velvety walls wrapped around him, sucking him in like something vicious and needy.

You’re practically incoherent now, the whimpers that leave you are basically sobs as Dick fucks into you hard and fast.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grits out, sweaty curls falling into his eyes as he doesn’t falter in his thrusts. He leans down to press his body against yours as he continues to pound your hot, weeping cunt. “You’re a fucking natural, you know that? You don’t need the practice, you’re perfect. He doesn’t even deserve you. Fuck, he doesn’t deserve to look at you, let alone fuck you.”

Dick’s control and flippant attitude is slipping as he mumbles the words against your skin, but what else can you expect when you’re scraping your nails down his back and pressing your tits against his chest? He doesn’t even care about fucking you under the guise of practice anymore and instead he’s whispering cruelly into your ear.

“You’re so fucking gone for my cock, I bet you can’t even remember his name,” he chuckles against the shell of your ear and you let out another sob, shaking your head frantically. “What is it, baby? What’s his name?”

“I don’t…” you trail off, jaw going slack and eyes rolling back into your head when Dick lifts up your leg to position it over his shoulder, hitting a brand new angle that makes your whole body tense and writhe. He repeats the question and you whine, arching your back even more as you clutch his bicep. “Fuck! I— I don’t know, oh my God, I don’t remember. Oh, Dick, please, it’s so good! You’re so fucking good, I can’t—”

Dick smirks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he pants. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

He leans back and brings your other leg over his other shoulder to drive his length into you impossibly deep and you scream his name so loudly that there’s no way your neighbours could miss it.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours are so obscene in the otherwise quiet of your bedroom that he wishes he could record it to listen to the audio later. He makes a mental note for next time.

As soon as Dick feels your cunt begin to clench around him, he knows you’re close and fuck if he isn’t too. Sweat is coating his back and he feels out of control — you don’t look any better as there are tears of pleasure running down your cheeks, your tits bouncing with every thrust, the sheen of sweat over them catching in the light.

Fuck, he groans out a guttural noise as he picks up the pace to piston into you like a fucking machine. Reaching over in between your legs, he starts to rub quick circles into your clit with his thumb, leaning down to spit on it.

He watches with awe as his thumb rubs his spit into your cunt and the more he circles your clit, the harder he slams into you. Soon, you’re coming so hard that your body trembles with a high pitched whine and your nails are drawing blood down Dick’s back.

The way your cunt is clutching his cock through your orgasm makes him follow quickly and he’s as much of a wreck as you are, burying his face in your neck and sliding his arms under you to pull you close to him as his hips begin to falter. Before he knows it, Dick is shooting hot ropes of cum all over your walls with a choked groan.

It feels never ending, the way you’re milking him for all he’s worth and he decides he never wants to separate from you, keeping himself buried inside of you as he collapses onto you.

He leans most of his weight on his arms beside you, but he’s close enough to feel your racing heartbeat against his chest as you catch your breath.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he pants, one of his hands coming over to rest on your belly where he traces his fingers. “So fucking good…”

Your lips curve up into a smile and although it’s tired, he can tell you’re pleased.

He presses soft kisses into your temple, still buried deep inside of you. Your legs stay wrapped around him and your arms encircle his broadness in a bear hug, not eager to let go any time soon.

Dick is such a good best friend, after all.

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: First Years (-Ortho)

Other parts: Housewardens ; Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Ace Trappola

The argument wasn’t loud—no yelling, no dramatic walkouts—just tense words exchanged with a little too much bite. Ace had been his usual smug self, which, unsurprisingly, only made you more pissed off.

So, rather than continue arguing, you grabbed a blanket, stomped off to the couch, and flopped down with a huff. If he wanted to be insufferable, fine. He could enjoy the bed all to himself.

You had just started arranging the cushions when you heard footsteps.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, a pillow dropped onto the couch beside yours, and Ace casually sprawled out like he had been invited.

You blinked. “Ace??”

He glanced at you, completely at ease. “What? We’re sleeping here tonight, right?”

You stared at him, then at the couch, then back at him. “We?”

Ace, the menace that he was, patted the tiny sliver of space beside him like he hadn’t just hijacked your whole plan.

You gawked at him. “You have an entire bed.”

“Yeah, but you’re here.”

“That’s the point, Ace!”

He had the audacity to grin. “Exactly. So, obviously, I’m here too.”

You gaped at him, absolutely stunned at the sheer level of his nonsense. Meanwhile, he just folded his arms behind his head, getting even more comfortable.

You glared. He grinned wider.

Then, after a long moment, he scratched his cheek, his bravado slipping just a little. “...Okay, maybe I should’ve asked first.” He glanced at you, a little sheepish. “But, uh. I don’t like going to bed when you’re mad at me. So… can I stay?”

The worst part? He actually looked kind of earnest. Like he meant it. Like this wasn’t just another one of his schemes to get his way, but something real.

Your irritation wavered. Damn it.

With a dramatic sigh, you gave in, flopping down beside him.

Ace, the absolute menace, beamed like he had just won the lottery. Then, without missing a beat, he threw an arm around you and pulled you right into his chest.

“You’re insufferable,” you grumbled against his hoodie.

“Mm. But cuddly, right?”

“…Shut up.”

He snickered, pressing a quick, lazy kiss to your forehead. “Love you too.”

And, annoyingly enough, you found yourself smiling as you drifted off—because, as much as he drove you insane, Ace Trappola was impossible to stay mad at.

Deuce Spade

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no dramatic exits—just an exchange of clipped words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Deuce had been tense, his frustration clear in the way he crossed his arms, in the tightness of his jaw. You weren’t much better, snapping back at him until the conversation hit a dead end, leaving you both too stubborn to fix it in the moment.

So, rather than risk making it worse, you grabbed a blanket and went to the couch, throwing yourself onto it with the kind of determination that came from being just annoyed enough to stick to your decision. You adjusted the pillows, tucked the blanket around yourself, and ignored the way the room felt too quiet now.

Behind you, there was a pause. A shuffle of feet. Deuce lingered, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, trying to get comfortable. It didn’t work. The couch was fine, but it wasn’t your bed. And the silence—the weight of the unspoken apology hanging between you—only made it worse.

You half-expected Deuce to just go to bed, to let you sleep off your irritation. But then—soft footsteps. Hesitant, careful. He stopped just behind the couch, lingering for a moment before speaking.

“…Can you come back?”

His voice was quieter now, no longer laced with frustration, just uncertainty.

You didn’t move.

A longer pause. Then, softer, “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, already halfway to turning around, ready to tell him that you were sorry too, that this was stupid, that you just wanted to sleep—

Then you heard it. A quiet sniffle.

Your heart lurched.

You shot up, turning so fast the blanket nearly slipped off. Deuce was standing there, head slightly bowed, arms tense at his sides. He wasn’t crying, not really, but his eyes were red-rimmed, his breathing unsteady, his lips pressed together like he was trying to keep everything in.

Oh.

Your frustration vanished instantly.

“Deuce,” you breathed, already reaching for him.

He stiffened for a moment when your fingers brushed his wrist, but then, slowly, he let you pull him toward the bed. He didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. The second you both reached the mattress, you wrapped your arms around him, tugging him close, feeling the way his shoulders finally relaxed under your touch.

His breath shuddered against your skin. He held onto you tightly, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. You squeezed him in return, as he pressed his face into your neck, letting the warmth between you say what words couldn’t.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured after a long moment, his voice quieter, steadier.

You ran your hand down his back, a slow, soothing motion. “Me too.”

His breathing evened out, his grip loosening just slightly. Neither of you spoke after that. There wasn’t a need to. You just held him, letting the warmth settle, letting the tension fade.

Jack Howl

The argument had been sharper than usual—words exchanged with too much heat, frustration lacing every syllable. Jack’s ears had flattened, his tail flicking sharply behind him, while your own patience had worn thin.

Neither of you had raised your voice, but the weight of it had been enough. Enough that when silence finally fell between you, it felt like standing on the edge of something unsteady.

So, in an act of pure pettiness, you had grabbed a blanket and stormed off to the couch, settling in with all the stubborn determination of someone who refused to be the first to cave. You curled up, pulling the blanket tight around yourself, pointedly ignoring the way the room still felt charged with unresolved tension.

For a while, there was nothing. No footsteps following, no hushed words attempting to fix things. Just silence. You shifted, adjusting the pillow beneath your head, exhaling sharply. Fine. If Jack wanted to sleep alone tonight, so be it.

Then—the faintest creak of the floorboards.

You blinked, turning over just enough to peer into the dim light of the living room. Jack was there, sitting stiffly on the couch opposite you, his arms crossed, tail curled loosely around the edge of the cushion. He didn’t look at you directly, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, expression unreadable.

You furrowed your brows. “…What are you doing?”

His ears twitched. A beat of hesitation. Then, a quiet, gruff reply.

“Go to sleep. I’m just keeping watch.”

Something in your chest ached at that. Even after the argument, after the sharp words exchanged, he was still looking out for you. He always did.

You sighed, sitting up, the tension in your body already loosening. “Jack.”

He glanced at you then, ears flicking back slightly, wary.

Without another word, you stood, dragging the blanket with you as you crossed the room. Jack stiffened slightly when you reached for his wrist, but he didn’t pull away. You tugged, gentle but firm.

“Come back to bed.”

He hesitated. Then, slowly, he let himself be pulled up, following you without resistance.

The moment you both settled back onto the mattress, his tail curled around you instinctively, pulling you just that much closer. The warmth of it, of him, seeped into your skin, comforting in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

A quiet exhale. Then, low, barely above a whisper—

“…I’m sorry.”

You pressed closer, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt. “I'm sorry too.”

Neither of you said anything after that. There was no need to. The steady rise and fall of his breath, the solid weight of his arm draped over you, the way his tail tightened slightly before finally relaxing—everything else could wait.

For now, this was enough.

Epel Felmier

The argument had spiraled out of control so fast that you barely remembered how it even started. One second, it was just a disagreement—sharp words exchanged, but nothing too serious. And then, all at once, it was a mess, voices raised, frustration bleeding into every syllable.

You had hit your limit first. Not because you didn’t have more to say, but because you were just too tired. Too tired to keep fighting, too tired to keep letting the hurt simmer in your chest. So, without another word, you had grabbed a blanket and settled on the couch, turning your back to the bedroom.

The anger still sat heavy in your stomach, but beneath it, sadness gnawed at the edges. You hated arguing with him. Hated the way silence felt like a wall between you now. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to just sleep through it, to let the exhaustion pull you under.

It worked—for a while.

Then, the sharp clatter of pans yanked you back into consciousness.

You blinked blearily, registering the soft muttering, the sound of something nearly toppling over, the distinct smell of something cooking. Still wrapped in your blanket, you dragged yourself off the couch, stumbling toward the kitchen.

Epel was standing at the stove, back turned to you, gripping a pan with slightly unsteady hands. His hair was still messy from sleep, and even though his voice was quiet, you could hear the edge of frustration in the low curses under his breath.

You hesitated in the doorway, taking in the scene. The counter was a mess, a dish towel discarded haphazardly, the remnants of a nearly-spilled carton of eggs sitting precariously close to the edge.

At the sound of your footsteps, he stiffened slightly. Then, without turning, he muttered, “Go back to bed. I’ll bring it to you.”

His voice was rough, but not unkind. Just strained.

You stepped closer, noticing the way his shoulders were set too tight, the way his fingers clenched the pan handle like he was trying to steady himself. And when he finally turned just enough that you could see his face—he still wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Your heart clenched.

Without thinking, you reached forward, gently prying his fingers from the pan. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. The moment his hands were free, they hovered awkwardly at his sides—until, in one swift motion, he grabbed you and held on tight.

His arms wrapped around you, his grip desperate, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, breath warm against your skin as he exhaled shakily.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with something heavy. “I shouldn’t’ve pushed you that hard. Shouldn’t’ve let it get that bad.”

You softened instantly, guilt pressing at the edges of your own frustration. You wrapped your arms around him just as tightly, hands smoothing over his back. “I’m sorry too.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just holding onto each other, letting the warmth settle between you.

Then, after a pause, you murmured, “C’mon. You’re gonna burn the eggs.”

Epel let out a small laugh against your shoulder before finally pulling back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, alright.”

You nudged him toward the stove, settling beside him. Together, you finished making breakfast, the quiet weight between you easing with every passing second.

Sebek Zigvolt

The argument had been bad. Worse than usual. Sebek had always been intense, but tonight had been different—his voice sharper, his stance rigid with frustration, his words carrying the weight of something neither of you had been willing to back down from.

So you had done the only thing you could think of before either of you said something you’d truly regret. You left.

Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off to the couch, body still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. You barely managed to settle in before you heard heavy footsteps marching straight toward you.

Then, a firm voice cut through the quiet.

“Take the bed.”

You cracked an eye open, already exhausted. Sebek stood at the edge of the couch, arms crossed, expression unyielding. His stance was as rigid as ever, but there was something beneath the surface—something uncertain, something hesitant.

You exhaled through your nose and turned over, pulling the blanket higher. “Go to sleep, Sebek.”

“I will. Once you’re in the bed where you belong.”

You groaned, but before you could snap at him, he was suddenly kneeling beside the couch, eyes burning with unshaken resolve. His voice dropped lower, quieter, the sharpness softened at the edges.

“A knight cannot allow their beloved to sleep on the couch. It is unbecoming. Please.” His jaw tightened for a moment before he exhaled and added, “I… I should not have let it get this far. I should not have raised my voice at you.” His head bowed slightly, shoulders stiff. “I am sorry.”

You blinked, caught off guard. Sebek was loud. He was brash. He was stubborn beyond reason. But kneeling there, humbled in the quiet glow of the moonlight, his apology raw and unguarded—you felt your own frustration ebb.

Slowly, you sat up, watching the way his hands clenched against his knees. And then, instead of answering, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

Sebek froze.

Then, before he could react, you grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged.

He let out a startled noise as you dragged him onto the couch, his balance thrown as he landed beside you. The couch was too small—he was too tall, too broad, and neither of you fit properly. But you didn’t care.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, pressing against his chest, letting his warmth ease the last remnants of your anger.

Sebek let out a strangled sound, arms hovering as if unsure whether to hold you or allow you to push him away. When you didn’t, when you simply curled closer, his hesitation melted.

With a deep exhale, he shifted, adjusting his position so he could wrap his arms around you. His hold was steady, protective, his warmth seeping into your bones.

“…This couch is entirely unsuitable for sleeping,” he grumbled, but his voice had lost its earlier edge.

You huffed a quiet laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder. “Then go to bed.”

A pause.

“…No.”

You smiled against the fabric of his shirt, and he squeezed you a little tighter. The couch was too small, the position awkward, but as long as he was holding you, it was enough.

Masterlist

[arminsumi]

. . . Satoru, who doesn't shut up during s★x

► '... yeah, talk like that, all up in my ear when he want that wax, can't even hear when I moan like that!'

+ Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT/18+ ONLY, (primarily) dirty talk, namecalling (baby, sl★t, and one playful instance of 'loser'), br★★ding kink, unprotected s★x, pwp, eludes to facesitting

+ Author's note: been a while since I made some pwp, but I just had a vision of a very verbal Satoru that I needed to express ✌️😗

Satoru's behind you, easing his hips against yours, hands tight on your waist, those blue eyes intently watching the sight of his hard cock disappearing into your tight cunt, savoring the feeling of gliding past your plush lips and pushing up into your guts inch by inch by inch by inch by inch by inch by inch. He's got a cocky, lopsided, downright slappable smile that contorts into an erotic o-shape as he moans in relief — he sounds like he's needed this all day.

And after his first few slutty moans roll out, his mouth doesn't close. He's got a big ego, a big cock and a big mouth and he just doesn't shut up during sex.

He's foul, unfiltered, and unashamed; ".... that greedy little pussy's just swallowing my cock today — yeah, look at you takin' it like you're my personal porn star — huh? Nooo, it's a compliment!" he tops this all off with a smitten kiss, a little bite on your bottom lip, and a sweet "You're just so fucking pretty, makes me curious..." but he trails off, like he just realized now that he can bite his tongue, show a little restraint.

Yeah, that restraint only exists for a short while.

Sweat running down the back of your thighs, Satoru's heavy-hitting thrusts make a sloppy, wet mess between your thighs. While he ruins you like this, he also starts running his mouth, making your head spin deeper into the heat of his intense sex, "Oh baby, take me deeper — fucking take it, yeah, you take that fucking dick... take that nasty fucking dick. J-just let me fuck — your — cunt — dumb — babyyy!" his vocals strain at the end as if your pussy just sucked the breath out of his lungs. He packs his cock as deep into you as he possibly can, cockhead nudging almost too deep inside, only to quickly ease out when you whimper, "Fuck, you good? Sorry, you just feel so fucking good, 'think I'm obsessed with this slutty little hole, 's the only one that can make me this hard. 'Don't stop'? Aw, don't worry... I'm not gonna stop for a while. Yeah, hold your legs back just like that, let me all in, baby."

Honestly, you learned about his breeding kink simply because of Satoru's tendency to blurt things out when he gets too blissed out on sex; "... yeahhh I fucking love you. Keep telling me you love me, 's gonna make me cum so fucking hard — fuck I'm so close, I-I'm so close, I'm gonna cum inside you baby — I'm gonna cum inside you and knock you up — uh-huh, 'gonna nut so fucking deep inside you, you're gonna get pregnant — g-gonna have my babies — oh fuck me, 'm cumming...! Ugh, stay right there and take this fucking nut, baby... fuck... fuck you fucking drained me." he takes a moment to steady his breaths, planting a slap on your ass and staring in silence for a while before he continues, voice softer-toned than earlier, "Hey, still with me, baby? Perk your ass up a little, I wanna watch my cum dribble out. What? That's not perverted... this is art. What are you sighing for? Nah, don't you laugh at me or I'm gonna — fuck you, get on my face, loser, I'm gonna make you cry."

Even outside of the bedroom he still has a nasty word or two just waiting to spill out his mouth — especially the morning after a long, hard night.

His eyes catch on the curve of your hips, he smirks, and he comes up behind you while you're in the kitchen, leans way down and mutters something nasty in your ear just to hear your naughty giggles. "Hey sweet thing, you got a boyfriend? Nah, relax, he doesn't have to know a damn thing..." he asks jokingly, massaging your tiny pussy in his big hands, middle finger dividing your plush lips and rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties — but it all only lasts for a split second of course, he intentionally leaves you wanting more. He'll act dumb if you call him a tease, "Huh? What do you mean 'do something about this'? Did I turn you on? I was just saying good morning, baby, you've got such a dirty little imagination."

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

I do not allow the copying/plagiarizing/reposting/translation (etc) of my works. Please don't steal what I've worked hard to create.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Mr. Oblivious

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x F!Reader

Summary: Bob is sometimes oblivious to the fact that people find him attractive and/or like him. One of those people includes you.

Warning: a little bit of angst

Marvel Masterlist

You thought you were being obvious, but, turns out, Bob is just oblivious. You're not sure how else you can show him that you like him, other than spell it out in big, bold letters "I LIKE YOU!"

Even then, there's a chance he might interpret that as you liking him as a friend. So, you just kind of settle in your puddle of frustration.

But you can't be mad at Bob. No way. It seems like he's not used to garnering any positive attention to himself. You can tell from the way he blushes and shies away from any compliment you give him, or how he brushes off nice comments about him and counteracts with a self-deprecating comment.

It kind of pains you that he feels unworthy of such adoration and attention, like it seems ridiculous for someone to genuinely like him.

But you try your best. You give him well-meaning and thought out compliments, ones you know to be true in your heart.

And how does he responds, with a shrug and a blush.

It is sometimes cute how oblivious he can be.

You and he ran errands together while the others were on a mission. John wasn't assigned on the mission, but he wanted to stay at the tower and sulk. So it was just you and Bob.

You were checking out at the grocery store when the cashier looked at Bob and said, "Your hair looks so soft. Can I touch it?"

Bob was like a deer in headlights for a moment until he responded with, "Oh, um, sure."

He awkwardly leaned in and the girl ran her fingers through his hair. She giggled and proceeded to ask Bob his hair care routine. You weren't a jealous person, but also Bob wasn't technically yours so you had no right to be jealous in the first place. But also, you found the interaction a little amusing. The girl clearly found Bob attractive and, honestly, you couldn't fault her for her forwardness.

"I don't know, I just shampoo and dry it with a towel." He gave a shrug and a polite smile.

"What kind of shampoo?" the girl leaned in and batted her eyes at Bob.

He leaned back, confused why she was getting closer, "Oh, uh, I forget. Y/N?" he asked.

"Head and shoulders, I think," you answered with a smirk.

"Yeah. Head and shoulders." Bob replied back with a nod.

"Guess I'll try it out sometime," she gave Bob a wink as you paid, trying to hold back a laugh.

After grabbing the receipt and your groceries, you both exited the store. Bob smiled, "She was nice."

You chuckled, "She was flirting with you."

He paused in his step and looked at you confused, "She was?"

You nodded and hummed, "Mhm. It was cute though. She was cute. Did..you wanna ask for her number?"

Bob looked back into the store and looked back at you, "I'm okay." He continued his trek back to your car.

"Not your type?" you asked jokingly, but also you were curious.

"Ah, I'm-I don't know if I have a type. When I was younger, I sorta just dated anyone who was interested in me...don't know if anyone would be interested in me now."

You pursed your lips at the last bit and you wanted to shake him and yell in his face, "I'M INTERESTED YOU, DUMMY!" But you didn't want to overwhelm him, so you continued to keep your feelings to yourself.

It all came to a head when it was post a successful mission. Alexei ordered pizzas and you all were lounging around the living room of the residential floor. People sipping on their respective alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks.

The random conversations and constant bickering and bantering eventually led to a conversation about each other's love lives.

Seemingly, the only one as close to a love life was John, but it's still iffy.

"What about you, Bob?" Yelena asks. Everyone's eyes turn to him and he's frozen for a moment.

"Uh, what about me?" he asks.

"What are your views on love?" Ava asks before taking a swig from her beer bottle.

"Oh, uh, I don't think I've ever been in love or truly experienced it. Never found anyone who, uh, really loved me, I guess."

"Well, we love you," Yelena says, patting his knee, "In a familial sense."

John snorts, "All of us, but one."

You glare at John and he shrugs, "What? It's not like he knows!"

"Knows what?" Bob looks at you, to John, and back to you.

"Walker," Bucky says his name in a warning tone, "Don't."

"The kid's oblivious! He obviously doesn't know that Y/N is in love with him!"

The world seemed to pause in that moment. People held their breaths as they all turned to you. Seething, you stand up and dump the rest of your drink on John's head.

"What the fuck!"

"Deserved," Ava said.

Yelena shakes her head, "Always have to be such an asshole."

You place your glass onto the coffee table and, without another word, headed upstairs.

Once you're gone, everyone turns their heads back to Bob. He gulps, "Y/N's in love with me?" He starts fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, "I-" he looks at his found family, "What do I do?"

"Confess your love."

"Give her some space."

"Fuck, if I care."

"Talk to her."

"Walker, shut the hell up!"

Bob abruptly stands, overwhelmed with the various answers he's receiving. That's when they all go quiet.

Bucky clears his throats, "Do you have feelings for her?"

"I-Yeah. I do."

"Then tell her."

"Okay," he replies and then heads upstairs to find you.

He checks your room, which is across from his, but you're not there. Then he hears a curse from John's room. He pushes the door open to find you kneeling at John's bedside table.

"Y/N?" you freeze and look over your should.

"Uh...hi?"

Bob can't help but smile. He crosses his arms over his chest, leans against the doorframe, and asks, "What're you doing?"

"John's a dick so I left his tv on to play Cocomelon videos on repeat and I'm gluing his tv remote to the bedside facing down so he can't turn it off."

Bob chuckles, "That's...fun."

"Yup," you murmur and go back to adding more glue onto John's remote, "You don't have to say anything to me. We can just pretend that never happened."

Bob walks further into the room, "Why?"

"Don't want it to ruin our friendship, so we'll just pretend it's not true."

"But is it?" You stay silent and Bob continues, "Is it true you're in love with me?"

You shrug, avoiding his gaze, "Does it matter?"

"Well...yeah. The one person who means the most to me, loves me back. So yeah, it matters."

You take in what he's just said and your heart beat quickens. You slowly stand and look at him, "You feel the same way?"

He shrugs so nonchalantly, "How could I not?"

You can't help but laugh in disbelief, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Probably the same reason you didn't. Scared and didn't want things to change. Also...I don't feel like I deserve you. I mean, I'm not the best person. I have a shitty past and still kind of a mess and-" his words get stuck as you rush forward and press your lips to his.

He's taken by surprise so by the time he starts to kiss you back, you pull away, "Please don't talk about yourself like that. You're not a bad person, Robby. It's okay if you have a shitty pass, because, newflash, we all do and now we're all fucking Avengers! Also, it's okay if you're a mess. You're working on yourself and that's a good thing." you swoop away a curl that got into his face, "I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if I didn't see something in you that's worth loving."

He nods, "Okay."

"I love you."

"I..I love you too."

You lean in and he rests his forehead against yours, "I do have something to request of you."

"Yeah? What?"

"You need to be more situationally more aware because I was so obvious I had feelings for you."

He pulls back with furrowed brows, "What? No, you weren't."

"I was! So painfully obvious!"

"She was," John says as he appears in the doorway, "Also, why're you in my room?"

You pull away from Bob and shrug, "Thought I saw a mouse go into your room. Good night!" you tug on Bob's arm, leading him out of John's room.

You two go into yours, locking the door behind you.

Down the hall, you hear John yell, "DID YOU GLUE MY REMOTE TO THE TABLE?!"

[ms-spkhd]

It's not like there's anything inherently wrong with Steve. Just...weird. Odd. A wealth of other various synonyms to describe his decidedly bizarre behavior.

Well, Bizarre's a strong word.

But Eddie's point still stands! Steve's a little to the left and it makes Eddie feel endlessly awkward for noticing. The fact that he's uncomfortable about it compounds his unease over it.

"Wanna talk about it, then?" Jeff asks, riffling idly through the record crate. Of course, the one day off they spend window-shopping in Indianapolis results in Eddie getting the fucking 'let's discuss our feelings about things' talk from Jeff. He wonders how the man isn't green with sickness from therapizing all the goddamn time.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I'd look like an idiot."

"Would the idiot keep running or confront his problems head-on?"

"This feels like a trap."

"Oh yeah," Jeff says simply.

"Like the ones with the cardboard box and the stick."

"Pre-cisely."

Eddie's shoulders slump in defeat. Better the idiot who speaks, he supposes. "He's very smiley about me being gay."

"Smiley."

"Smiley. As in he's acting like I vomit flowers and shit rainbows." Eddie shakes his head in frustration. "I'm not opposed to the support and everything...it's just that. He's like an octave higher than usual about it."

Jeff purses his lips in thought. "Like, his voice?"

"No--like...like, he's very enthusiastic about my sexuality."

Eddie leans back against the shelf behind him. Steve's a nice guy, really, but the way he goes about his support of Eddie feels like he's trying to compensate for something. A lack of empathy when he was younger, perhaps.

"He always asks if I have a boyfriend, or if I've been hooking up with any guys lately--which, hello, does he not know that queer metalhead nerd isn't a very hot item here?"

Jeff pulls a face but nods in understanding.

"And when I tell him obviously no, he says he can hook me up with his, what? Fucking father's brother's cousin's former roommate? It's like he's begging for a double date with him and his new squeeze, it's goddamn ridiculous." "New squeeze?"

"I'm hyperbolizing." Eddie blows a raspberry and shrugs. "He says it's sad that I don't have someone for how good-looking I am. You're making the face again."'

Jeff snaps out of whatever trance he's in, his drawn eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in surprise. After his gawking mouth clacks shut, he cautiously gestures at Eddie to continue.

"It's stupid," Eddie concedes, "but I really don't understand what changed, y'know? He used to be this cool, confident guy with a dorky side, but now he's just so...I don't know."

Jeff smiles lightly and knocks Eddie's shoulder with his. "I have a theory."

"Go on."

"I think Steve isn't being supportive."

"Uh-huh."

"Far from it, actually."

"Yeah. Whatever you say, chief."

"He isn't smothering you," Jeff points out. "He wants to fuck you."

Eddie blinks. Takes a moment to access and really take in what Jeff just said. "What?"

"Or at least, he wants you in an entirely non-friendly and possibly even carnal way."

"Excuse me?"

"Biblically."

"Dude," Eddie insists. "What. The. Fuck."

Jeff raises his hands placatingly. "Steve clearly likes you. A lot. He probably sees you being gay as an in for him."

"Okay, well, I don't understand. He tries to set me up with randos he knows all the time."

"He called you good-looking."

"While he was trying to set me up with said rando!"

"Guys like him have a really backward way of doing things." Eddie crosses his arms sternly. "Or he's straight," he says.

"Again," Jeff asserts. "Good. Looking. Dude, he's fucking obsessed with you! You said he's an octave higher around you now, right?"

"Because he's a well-meaning friend?"

"Eddie, remember when he crashed band practice last week?"

Oh yeah, Eddie remembers that. The man of the hour randomly parked in Gareth's driveway, leaned against his Beemer with his arms crossed, and watched Eddie play like he fucking hung the moon. Afterward, he'd sung his praises for the band and gave Eddie a yellow guitar pick attached to a sparkling silver chain. "Found the pick a couple of towns south with Robin the other day. Reminded me of you," he said softly. "Since you lost your last one."

It went unspoken where Eddie lost 'the last one'.

Eddie remembers smiling back at Steve with the force of a thousand supernovas, and thinking later in the night that it felt like a scene from a romance movie. Steve's favorite color is yellow, isn't it? It was like he wanted a piece of himself with Eddie at all times, right next to his heart.

Eddie didn't want to give himself that stupid hope. That Steve Harrington wanted in on his heart.

It doesn't feel so stupid anymore.

He looks back at Jeff and says, "Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

Part two

[hans-wh0re]

DEVOTION |

Pairing: Bf! Chan x gf afab reader C.W: Established Relationship, Soft Dom Chan, Fingering, Mild Daddy Kink, Penetrative Sex, Overstimulation, Brief Mention of Bite Marks, Some good aftercare (i hope)….. A.N: Just was in the mood for something soft (?). M so bad at writing soft things lmao. Again, don't have high expectations!

"...that's it," Chan breathes, the words a rough prayer against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His voice is low, guttural, thick with the reverence he only shows when he has you like this – utterly vulnerable, utterly his to care for, to pleasure, to break down. You're sprawled back against a mountain of pillows on the bed, legs spread wide for him, hips slightly elevated by the cushion he meticulously placed beneath you moments ago. Every nerve ending is alive, singing under the anticipation, under the weight of his intense, worshipful gaze.

He kneels between your legs, not touching you yet, just looking. His eyes, usually warm and crinkled with laughter, are dark now, almost black, pupils blown wide with focused adoration and simmering control. He takes his time, deliberately cataloging every detail – the flush high on your thighs, the way your breath hitches in your chest, the glistening dew already beading at your entrance, offered up just for him. This slow, visual consumption is part of the ritual, part of his service, making you hyper-aware, making you ache.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, finally reaching out. Not with his hands, not yet. He leans forward, his hair brushing against your inner thigh as he presses a soft, reverent kiss high up, near the juncture of your leg and hip. Then another, slightly lower. He works his way down, slow, deliberate kisses punctuating his progress, leaving trails of tingling heat in their wake. He noses at the damp curls protecting your mound, inhaling deeply, possessively. "Smell so fucking good," he groans, the sound vibrating against your skin. "So sweet. "

His tongue darts out, finally, tracing the outer lips with painstaking slowness, mapping your folds, tasting your readiness. You gasp, fingers fisting in the sheets beside you, already starting to tremble. He ignores your reaction for a moment, continuing his worshipful exploration, lapping gently, deliberately avoiding the most sensitive spot, drawing out the torture and building the need.

"Open for me, baby," he whispers against your slick flesh. "Show me how wet you are. Show me how much you want this." It’s a command disguised as a plea, and you obey instantly, letting your legs fall wider, offering yourself up completely to his ministrations.

He rewards you with a low hum of approval before finally focusing his attention where you ache for it most. His tongue flicks out, finding your clit. Not hard, not demanding, but with an exquisite, almost unbearable precision. He swirls around it, laves it gently, uses the flat of his tongue to apply broad, wet strokes that make your hips lift instinctively off the pillow.

"Mmmm, yeah," he breathes, pressing his face closer, deeper between your thighs. "Taste so good. Like mine." He flicks harder now, faster, finding a rhythm that syncs perfectly with the frantic pounding of your heart. He uses his lips too, creating a gentle suction around the swollen nub, pulling, tugging, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure radiating through your entire body.

You're panting now, incoherent little whimpers falling from your lips. Your hands reach down, tangling in his soft hair, not to push him away, but to hold him there, closer, needing more. He allows it, leaning into your touch, but his hands come up, gently but firmly capturing your wrists, pinning them to the pillows beside your head.

"Uh-uh, baby girl," he murmurs against your clit, his voice thick with control now, the earlier reverence giving way to delicious dominance. "Hands stay right here. Can't have you distracting me from my work, can I?" He punctuates the words by sucking harder, pulling your entire clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue relentlessly around the ultra-sensitive peak.

A sharp cry rips from your throat. It’s too much, unbearably good. Your vision whites out for a second. He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows precisely how to push you right to the edge with just his mouth, his tongue, his meticulous, worshipful attention that somehow feels more controlling than any rough demand.

He feels you starting to build towards release, feels the subtle clenching of your inner muscles and the way your breath hitches and quickens. He pulls back slightly, just enough to break the intense suction, leaving you whining, suspended in agonizing anticipation.

“Not yet,” he whispers, licking a slow, deliberate path from your clit down towards your entrance. He noses at your slick folds, inhaling deeply again. “Haven’t even tasted how deep you get for me.”

Before you even can protest, his tongue plunges inside you. Thick, strong and surprisingly long. He explores your inner walls with shocking intimacy, tasting your slickness, learning the tight channel that usually only his cock gets to know. He swirls, presses upwards against your G-spot drawing lazy circles. You gasp, hips bucking wildly now, straining against the phantom pressure, utterly helpless.

He moves back to your clit, tongue flicking rapidly, expertly, while simultaneously—fuck—he slides two fingers deep inside you. Stretching you, filling you, pumping in a steady rhythm that perfectly complements the frantic work his tongue is doing. The dual stimulation is insane. Overload. You feel the orgasm rushing towards you like a freight train, unstoppable.

“That’s it,” Chan breathes against your skin, his voice rough with his own barely contained arousal. He can feel you trembling violently, feel the way your cunt is clenching desperately around his fingers. “Let go for me, baby. Cum all over my face. Show me how good I make you feel.”

His fingers pump faster, harder inside you, while his tongue becomes a merciless blur against your clit. You scream, a raw, broken sound this time, as the orgasm finally crashes over you, hot and shattering. Your body convulses uncontrollably, inner walls milking his fingers, hot slickness flooding out, coating his chin and his cheeks. You feel utterly undone, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, lost in the consuming intensity of the release he so expertly orchestrated.

He doesn’t stop immediately. He keeps his fingers moving inside you, keeps his tongue pressed firmly against your still-pulsing clit, riding out the aftershocks with you, ensuring you feel every last tremor. Only when your frantic whimpers subside into soft, exhausted sighs does he finally withdraw, pulling his fingers out with a wet, sucking sound.

He lifts his head, pushing his damp hair back from his forehead. His face is flushed, lips slightly swollen, eyes dark and hooded with sated desire. Your slickness glistens on his chin, maybe even a smear near his temple. He looks utterly debauched. Utterly beautiful.

He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your quivering inner thigh, right beside the evidence of your release. Then he looks up at you, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face.

“See?” he whispers, his voice thick with possessive tenderness. “Told you I’d take care of you.” He reaches up, gently wiping a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Always taste best when you’re completely falling apart for me.” He pauses, letting his gaze drift down to his own lap, where his cock strains visibly against the fabric of his sweatpants, thick and undeniably hard. “Ready for me to return the favor?”

You're still trembling in the aftermath, muscles quivering, skin hypersensitive, cunt throbbing with a residual ache that’s more pleasure than pain. You stare up at him through hazy, blissed-out eyes, watching the blatant evidence of his arousal tenting the front of his grey sweatpants. The sight sends another wave of heat, less frantic now, more of a deep, pooling warmth, through your belly. You can only manage a weak, shaky nod in response to his question. Ready? You feel like you might liquefy if he touches you again, but god, yes. You're ready. You need it.

He smiles that slow, knowing smile again, the one that makes your insides melt. "Good girl," he murmurs. He doesn't rush. He reaches over to the nightstand, retrieving a small bottle of lube – not because you need it, fuck no, you're practically dripping for him – but because he likes the ritual, likes the feel of the cool slickness on his fingers before he touches you again.

He pumps a generous amount onto his hand, rubbing his palms together, warming it slightly. Then, those warm, slick fingers return to you. He spreads your folds gently, deliberately exposing your swollen, pink entrance, still glistening from your earlier orgasm. He circles the opening with one slick finger, teasingly, making you squirm and whine softly beneath his touch.

"So wet," he praises quietly, his voice thick with appreciation. "Always so ready for me." He slides one finger inside, easily finding the slick channel his previous ministrations prepared. Then a second, stretching you slightly, moving slowly, deliberately reacquainting himself with your inner contours. "Feels so fucking good, baby. So tight."

He adds a third finger, pushing deeper now, knuckles pressing firmly against your clit with each inward stroke. You gasp, hips lifting off the pillows again, chasing the sensation. He curls his fingers inside you, finding that sensitive spot high on your front wall, and applies steady, rhythmic pressure.

"Right there?" he asks, already knowing the answer from the way your breath hitches and the way your inner muscles clench around his invading digits. "You like it when Daddy presses right there?"

This time the title doesn't feel cringy. It feels... right. Earned. Acknowledging the power dynamic, the absolute control he has over your pleasure right now. "Yes," you choke out, voice trembling. "Please... Chan... Daddy... yes..."

Hearing you say it, hearing the desperation, the surrender in your voice, makes his own cock give a hard jump beneath his sweatpants. A low groan escapes him. He works his fingers faster now, pumping in and out, using his thumb to mercilessly rub your clit in frantic circles. He brings you up quickly, efficiently, building the pressure again until you're writhing beneath him, whimpering his name, begging.

"Almost there again, aren't you?" he whispers, leaning down, his forehead pressing against yours. Sweat beads on his upper lip. "So easy for me to make you come apart." He slows his fingers slightly, dragging out the torture. "But you want my cock now, don't you? Want to feel me stretching you open? Filling you up completely?"

"Yes! Please, yes!" you sob, utterly desperate now.

"Good," he breathes against your lips. He pulls his slick fingers out, leaving you aching and empty for only a heartbeat. He quickly shucks off his sweatpants and briefs, revealing his cock fully. Thick, long, vein-ridden, head glistening pink and weeping pre-cum. It’s beautiful. Intimidating. Perfect.

He positions himself between your spread thighs again, the head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. He doesn't thrust in immediately. He pushes just the tip inside, stretching you slightly, letting you feel the blunt pressure. He watches your face intently, watches your eyes flutter shut, watches your lips part on a shaky sigh.

"Take me," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. He places his hands flat on your stomach, pressing down slightly, holding you in place. Then, slowly, deliberately, inch by agonizing inch, he pushes himself inside you.

It's an incredible feeling. Stretching, filling, a satisfying pressure that borders on pain but tips entirely into overwhelming pleasure. You gasp, eyes flying open, fingers digging into the sheets as he sinks deeper, and deeper, until he's buried completely to the hilt, stretching you fuller than his fingers ever could. He holds himself there, perfectly still for a long moment, letting you adjust, letting you both savor the feeling of absolute connection, of him completely possessing you.

"Fuck," he groans, dropping his head back, eyes closed now, a look of pure bliss mixed with intense concentration on his face. "Feels... incredible, baby. Always."

Then, he starts to move. Slow, deep, deliberate thrusts. Pulling out almost completely, feeling the drag of your inner walls clinging to him, before sinking back in with exquisite slowness, ensuring you feel every inch, every ridge, every vein. It’s not rushed. It's sensual. Controlled. Each movement is precise, aimed at maximizing the friction, the deep pressure against your cervix and the stimulation of your G-spot.

He whispers praises constantly now against your ear. "That's it... take my cock... feel how deep I am inside you... such a good girl... gripping me so tight... fuck, you feel perfect..." His words, combined with the slow, deep fucking, are driving you insane. The pleasure builds again, slower this time, deeper, coiling heavily in your core.

He senses it. He always does. He quickens his pace slightly, thrusts becoming deeper, harder, hitting that perfect spot again and again. His hands find your hips, gripping tight, tilting you just right, angling himself for maximum impact. His breath comes in harsh pants now, the control slipping slightly as his own pleasure builds.

"Chan... Daddy... I'm..." you gasp, feeling the familiar signs, the tightening low in your belly, the trembling in your thighs.

"Yeah, baby, F-uckkk, I know," he pants back, his forehead slick with sweat, pressing against yours again. "Cum for me again. Let me feel you break around my cock." He pounds into you, faster now, harder, abandoning the slow control for raw, driving need. He watches your face crumple, hears your breath shatter into ragged cries as the orgasm rips through you, even more intense this time, fueled by the sheer fullness of him inside you, milking him shamelessly.

Your climax triggers his. And with a final, guttural roar, he drives deep one last time, burying himself as far as he can possibly go, and floods you with his release. Hot, thick spurts pump inside you, coating your inner walls, filling you completely. He groans your name, shuddering violently, collapsing onto you, pinning you beneath his spent weight, his heart hammering against yours.

He stays buried inside you for long, languid moments, letting the echoes of both your orgasms fade, feeling the gentle pulse of your cunt settling around him. His breathing slowly evens out, the harsh pants softening into deep, steady breaths against your ear. He doesn't pull out immediately; there’s a possessive comfort in just being there, connected, filling you.

Finally, with exquisite slowness that makes your muscles clench weakly one last time, he withdraws, leaving you feeling hollowed out but strangely complete. He doesn't just roll away. No, Chan’s aftercare is as meticulous and focused as his fucking.

He props himself up on one elbow, his other hand immediately coming up to gently cup your cheek. His thumb strokes softly across your damp skin, wiping away a lingering tear track you hadn’t even realized was there. His eyes, still dark but no longer holding that fierce intensity, are incredibly soft now, filled with a profound tenderness that makes your heart ache in a completely different way.

"Hey," he whispers, his voice low and gentle, still slightly rough from exertion but stripped of all command. "You with me, baby girl?"

You manage a weak nod, blinking up at him through heavy lids, feeling utterly boneless, utterly cared for.

He smiles, a soft, genuine curve of his lips. "Good," he murmurs leaning down, and pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead, then your temple, then the corner of your eye where the tear was. Each touch is impossibly gentle, worshipful. "You were incredible," he whispers against your skin. "Absolutely perfect for me. Took everything I gave you like a fucking dream."

The praise, so different in tone from the filthy demands earlier, still sends a warm flutter through you. He pulls back slightly, his gaze drifting down your body, taking in the flushed skin, the faint bite mark already purpling on your shoulder from before, and the slickness still glistening on your inner thighs. There's no judgment in his eyes, only appreciation. Adoration, even.

"So beautiful," he breathes. "All messy and mine." He reaches for the rumpled duvet, pulling it gently over your lower body, tucking it around your hips with careful hands, cocooning you in warmth.

He slips off the bed, padding quietly towards the ensuite. You hear the sound of water running. He returns moments later with a warm, damp washcloth, smelling faintly of the gentle soap he uses. He kneels beside the bed again, his movements unhurried, focused entirely on you.

"Lift up a little for me, sweetheart," he murmurs. He helps you shift slightly, then begins to gently clean you. His touch is reverent as he wipes away the mingled fluids from your inner thighs, the slickness from your stomach, the drying come from his own body that might have transferred onto you. He's careful around your still-sensitive clit, his touch light, respectful, a silent apology for the earlier intensity. There's no shame in his actions, only care. It feels incredibly intimate, profoundly soothing.

Once he's finished, he tosses the cloth aside and retrieves a soft towel, drying you with the same gentle care. His fingers linger on the angry red bite mark on your shoulder. Before he leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss right onto the mark. "Mine," he whispers again, the word now purely possessive tenderness.

He pulls a clean, oversized t-shirt – his t-shirt – from his drawer and helps you sit up, sliding it carefully over your head. It smells like him, clean and comforting, engulfing you in his scent, before he guides your arms through the sleeves, his fingers brushing softly against your skin.

He disappears again, returning with a glass of water. "Drink," he urges softly, holding it to your lips, helping you take small sips, and watches you intently, making sure you're okay, his brow furrowed slightly with concern now, the dominant edge completely replaced by gentle solicitude.

Finally, he slides back into bed beside you, pulling you carefully against his side. He wraps his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin, his body still warm and solid against yours. He doesn't initiate anything more, just holds you, his hand stroking slowly, rhythmically, up and down your back.

"Just rest now, baby," he murmurs into your hair. "You earned it." He presses a final kiss to the top of your head. "Did so good for me. Always do."

And wrapped in his arms, surrounded by his scent, lulled by the steady beat of his heart against your ear and the soft cadence of his quiet praise, you finally drift off, feeling utterly cherished, utterly safe, utterly his.

A.N: This was unexpectedly long, sorry. M not 100% satisfied by how this turned out (i told u m so bad at writing soft things bye i wanna cry), but yeah posting it is better than letting it rot in my drafts. Anyways, plz be nice in the comments 🥹🥹

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

MILLION REASONS

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe cameron’s fear of love/commitment pushes y/n away—until he realises losing her is far worse. desperate, he finally confesses his feelings and gives her a reason to stay.

based on this ask !! this was so cute but so sad and angsty and i love it :’) thank you for requesting anon and i hope it’s what you asked for <3

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: angst w/ a fluffy ending, cursing, arguing, rafe & reader crying, rafe literally begging on his knees, angsty love confessions, fears of commitment/love, rafe’s insecurities :((, sad!rafe, mentions of ward (bitch ass). (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

THIRD PERSON +

The soft hum of the cicadas filled the thick summer air as Y/N leaned against Rafe’s porch railing, watching the way the sun melted into the ocean. The evening was warm, carrying the scent of salt and bonfires, but an undeniable chill sat in her chest. She swirled the condensation on her glass of whiskey with her fingertip, gaze drifting toward the open door behind her.

Rafe was inside, slouched on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, but she knew his mind was elsewhere; like it always was.

It had been like this for weeks now. No labels. No real conversations about the future. Just a limbo of stolen moments, soft touches, and nights tangled up together, pretending like nothing outside their little world existed. But that wasn’t enough, not anymore.

Y/N took a deep breath and turned back toward him, stepping inside. “Hey,” she said softly, standing by the couch.

Rafe glanced up, his blue eyes flickering with something unreadable before he set his phone down. “Hey.”

She hesitated for a second, then sat beside him, close enough that their knees brushed. “I got a call today,” she started, her voice carefully neutral. “About a job.”

Rafe nodded, waiting for her to continue, but there was something stiff in his posture, something defensive.

“It’s the one I told you about. The uh, the one in Florida,” she continued, watching him closely. “They offered it to me.”

There it was. The slight shift in his expression. It was subtle—just a flicker of something in his eyes, the faintest tightening of his jaw—but she caught it.

“That’s… great,” he said after a moment, voice measured. “You worked your ass off for that.”

A part of her deflated at the way he said it. Like it was any other piece of news. Like it didn’t affect him at all. She fought the urge to look away, to retreat. Instead, she pushed forward, just a little.

“Yeah,” she murmured, fingers tracing the hem of her shorts. “It’s just… if I take it, I’d have to move.” She glanced up at him, searching for something—anything—in his expression. “I don’t know if I want to leave the Outer Banks. Not if I have a reason to stay.”

Rafe’s stomach twisted violently. His grip on his thigh tightened as his breathing shallowed. This was it—the moment he should tell her that he was her reason. That the thought of her leaving made his chest ache in a way he didn’t understand. That he had never let anyone in before, but he wanted to try for her.

But instead, panic took hold.

“Then you should take it,” he said too quickly, too flatly.

Y/N stilled. Her heart dropped to her stomach, fingers curling into her palm as she forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat.

“Right,” she said quietly, nodding. “Yeah. I guess I should.”

Rafe saw it—the way her expression flickered with something broken before she schooled it into indifference. He wanted to reach for her, to take it back, but the words caught in his throat like razor blades.

She stood abruptly, brushing imaginary dust from her jeans. “I should go.”

His pulse hammered. Say something. Tell her to stay. Tell her she’s the only thing that makes you feel sane.

But his lips stayed sealed.

Y/N lingered for just a second, almost like she was waiting for him to stop her. When he didn’t, she nodded to herself, jaw clenching.

“See you around, Rafe,” she murmured before turning on her heel.

He didn’t move. He just sat there, listening to the sound of the front door opening and closing behind her.

—

The second Y/N slid into her car, the first tear fell. She gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles went white, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

She had been stupid to hope.

She wiped at her cheeks angrily, but the tears kept coming. She had given him the chance—the opportunity to prove he cared, to show her that this thing between them meant something to him.

And he let her go.

The sob broke free before she could swallow it down, her forehead dropping against the steering wheel as her whole body shook. She had been so sure there was something real there, but maybe it had all been in her head. Maybe Rafe Cameron would never let anyone truly see him.

And maybe, she thought bitterly, she had just been another passing moment in his life.

With a shaky breath, she turned the key in the ignition.

She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew one thing for sure.

She wasn’t staying.

—

The days that followed Y/N’s departure from his house were nothing short of agonizing for Rafe. Every second that passed was filled with an unbearable weight pressing against his chest, suffocating him with regret.

He couldn’t eat. Could barely sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her walking away, saw the way her face crumbled right before she masked it with indifference.

It killed him.

He had been a coward.

Instead of telling her what she meant to him, he had let fear make the decision for him. He had let her leave, had given her permission to move on, all because he was terrified of what it meant to let her in—to truly let her see him.

The thought of her leaving the Outer Banks, of being in a different state, living a life where he wasn’t by her side, was unbearable.

And yet, he had told her to go.

Rafe’s hands shook as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the floor. He could feel the panic creeping up again, clawing at his throat. The same panic he had felt when she told him about the job offer, when he realised he could lose her.

Only now, it wasn’t just a fear. It was a reality.

She was leaving.

And it was all his fault.

—

Y/N wiped at her cheek in frustration as she stacked another empty box against the wall of her bedroom.

Packing up her life in the Outer Banks wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

She had spent the last few days trying to distract herself—throwing herself into preparations, making lists, telling herself that this was an exciting new chapter.

But no matter what she did, her thoughts always drifted back to him.

To Rafe.

To the way he had just let her walk away.

To the way he hadn’t fought for her.

To the way she had given him the chance to stop her, and he hadn’t taken it.

He’d given her a million reasons to walk away, but all she needed was just one good one to stay—him.

A shaky breath left her lips as she sat on the floor, knees tucked to her chest as her eyes scanned the boxes scattered around her living room. She was so tired of crying over him, but her heart had other plans.

A loud knock at the door startled her.

Her brows furrowed as she stood, wiping at her face before making her way toward the front entrance. It was late. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

When she opened the door, the breath in her lungs vanished.

Rafe.

Standing in the pouring rain, his hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, his clothes drenched, his chest heaving.

But it wasn’t just that.

It was his expression.

He looked… broken.

His blue eyes, usually sharp and filled with some sort of cocky confidence, were desperate. Red-rimmed and filled with emotions she had never seen so plainly on him before.

“Don’t go,” Rafe rasped. His voice was raw, like he had been screaming, like he had been drowning.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening against the doorknob.

“What?” she whispered.

“Don’t go,” he repeated, stepping forward, eyes pleading. “Please.”

Confusion and frustration twisted inside her. “Rafe, you told me to take the job.”

“I know,” he choked out. His jaw clenched, his hands trembling at his sides. “I know, and it was the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever done.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to change your mind now that it’s too late.”

“It’s not too late,” Rafe said quickly, stepping closer. “Not if you stay.”

Y/N stared at him, anger bubbling beneath her skin. “Why, Rafe?” she challenged. “Why should I stay?”

He exhaled sharply, his fingers running through his wet hair. He was shaking, the rain dripping from his clothes, but he didn’t care.

“Because,” his voice cracked, “I love you.”

Y/N’s heart stopped.

He sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly as more words spilled from his lips.

“I love you, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that scares the absolute shit out of me.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Rafe let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Do you know how fucked up I am?” he asked, eyes glistening. “I don’t know how to love someone. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. My father never showed me how. After my mom died, everything just—” He exhaled sharply, clenching his jaw. “I’ve spent my whole life thinking that letting someone in was just setting myself up for disappointment.”

He took another step toward her, voice thick with emotion.

“But then you came along,” he whispered, his eyes softening. “And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I had to hide. For the first time, I had something good—someone good.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away.

“And I was too much of a coward to tell you.”

Y/N’s own vision blurred as she stared at him, her whole body trembling.

Rafe sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ll get on my knees and beg if I have to,” he said desperately, his voice cracking. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Just please don’t leave me.”

And then he did it.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands gripping the fabric of her sweatshirt like a man grasping onto the only thing keeping him from drowning.

“Please,” he begged, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t lose you. You’re the only thing in my life that makes sense. You’re the only thing that’s ever felt real.”

Y/N let out a quiet sob, her hands coming up to cup his face.

“You are not your father, Rafe,” she whispered through her own tears. “You are capable of love. It doesn’t have to be scary. It can be—beautiful.”

Rafe sucked in a sharp breath, his hands tightening around her like she might disappear at any second.

Y/N swallowed, her thumb brushing over his cheek. “I love you too.”

A quiet, broken sob left his lips as he pressed his forehead against her stomach, gripping onto her like she was his lifeline.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “I was so fucking scared.”

Y/N cradled him, running her fingers through his soaked hair. “I know,” she murmured. “But I’m here. I’m right here.”

And for the first time in his life, Rafe Cameron let himself believe that he was worthy of love.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a cute one :’) i’m a sucker for angst with happy endings !! also soft!rafe is my absolute favourite, like him LITERALLY begging on his knees for a girl is so attractive😫

anyways i’m editing all the fics i’ve roughly written from requests that are like two weeks old, hence why i’m pumping out so many fics atm !! one request was like a month old and i felt HORRIBLE but i’m getting them all out now and i appreciate everyone’s patience <3

[mostly-imagines]

Damian was unwilling to even consider accepting your presence. He’d been sure that you were a passing source of entertainment for his older brother, who couldn’t possibly hold positive regard towards anyone other than himself.

Jason had brought you to the manor with him while he dropped in to discuss some things with the old man. You’d told him you’d be fine to hang out with Damian until he was done, to which he scoffed and wished you luck.

So you approach the couch tentatively and smile despite the lack of attention on you, “Hi Damian.”

He merely side eyes you and says nothing.

Having expected this from him, you continue, “What are you watching?”

“The Discovery channel.” He says shortly.

You frown, furrowing your eyebrows.

He glances at you, unamused. “What?”

“Why are you watching the Discovery channel?” you ask him.

“It’s educational.” He tells you, like it’s obvious.

You nod slowly, “Yes, but…what else do you watch?”

“The Discovery channel has many different series’,” he tells you with discernable disinterest.

You tilt your head at him, “Don’t you watch shows for kids?”

He glowers hearing that, “Why would I do that?”

“…Because you’re a kid.”

He shakes his head, basically waving you off. “I wouldn’t waste my time.”

You’re not really sure why Damian is the way he is just yet. You know he only came to live with Bruce relatively recently and before that lived with his mother somewhere far. Jason’s mentioned in passing that his upbringing was a bit unorthodox and his mother is a sore subject. You don’t know Bruce well but you can take a guess that his parenting priorities don’t necessarily lie with letting kids be kids.

You shake your head, “It’s not a waste of time. Not if you enjoy it.” You pause. “It’s okay for you to be a kid, Damian.”

He looks at you like he has no idea what you’re talking about.

You sit up more, turning to face him completely. “I can’t imagine pushing yourself so hard all the time is good for your brain. Or your body.”

That gets his attention. “…What do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, “I mean a part of normal human development involves fostering happiness through recreation and leisure. Entertainment like that functions as a stress reliever which is necessary for you to operate at your highest capacity. It’s like recharging your body and it’s important to do, especially when you’re young and can burn out quickly.”

He frowns deeply, furrowing his eyebrows, “Oh.”

You nod, thinking. “I can’t imagine your diet is any different than your dads, then.”

His posture straightens, “I eat to make me stronger. That is good for my body.” He says it like it has to be.

Your brow furrows at that as you nod, “Yeah, it is, but do you like it?”

He grimaces, “What does that matter?”

You pull back a bit, blinking at him. “Do you eat snacks, Damian?”

“Snacks are for—” he cuts himself off. “No I do not.”

“What if we watched a movie and made popcorn or something?”

He considers this with an obvious great hesitance, looking you up and down like he’s expecting you to pull out a knife any second.

“You could be wrong,” he says eventually, quiet.

You nod for a moment. “But what if I’m not?”

He eyes the rug on the floor, chin still held up. “What…do you suggest?”

You pucker your lower lip and shake your head, grabbing the remote. “Anything you want,” You flip the screen to the children’s movies, scrolling through the options. “You might like The Rescuers. Or Robin Hood. It’s about someone who steals from the rich and gives the money to the poor.”

You hand him the remote and he slowly moves through the list. You watch him look over the selection, eyes slightly wider than usual.

“What about “Bambi”? It has small animals in the picture.” He points to the little icon on the left of the screen displaying the baby deer and friends.

Your movements stutter. “Oh, uh…I don’t think that’s the movie for you.”

He tilts his head at you, “Why not?”

You take a deep breath and turn your head over your shoulder towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make popcorn, yeah?”

“Okay.”

You smile and nod encouragingly and stand before making your way to the kitchen.

Damian watches you go before thoughtlessly standing himself and trailing slowly after you. By the time he gets to the kitchen door frame you’ve already opened up a packet and are placing it into the microwave. You don’t stop at that, opening up the fridge to pour out a small glass of coke.

The popcorn is nearly done when Jason approaches from the hall, stopping next to Damian and peering into the doorway to see what’s so interesting.

He’s surprised to find that the thing Damian had been staring wide-eyed at was you, making snacks.

He looks again at his little brother, heeding how his gaze was somehow closer to fear than skepticism. But he’d seen that look before, when he’d first come to live at the manor it was the only expression he conveyed for at least two months. That look of shock that he was being treated so kindly, with such thought behind it. Jason hadn’t seen that look in a while, but couldn’t find it in him to be surprised that it was you who brought it back out.

For someone as trained as he is, it takes Damian an embarrassingly long time to register his brother's presence. He tries to play it off as though he’d always known, adjusting his posture to stand taller, chin up. He turns to face Jason, suddenly somber. “She is an adequate choice of a partner.”

Jason’s face contorts, looking him up and down, “…Thanks?”

[dollfacefantasy]

Ooh how about vibrator play w frank castle? Maybe sitting w your back to his chest as he just gets you off over n over bc you got all needy/bratty?

Absolutly love the way you write btw 🫶🫶

frank castle x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, vibrator use, overstimulation, age gap (20s/40s) a/n: thank you so much! i think i saw heaven when i read this request <3

"hold still, baby," his deep voice rumbled against your jaw, "gotta hold still for me. can't make you feel good if you're running away."

your entire body shuddered in his lap. you almost missed the words. they ran together when your mind felt soft and hazy with pleasure like this. they also sounded distant when the buzz of the toy whirred down below. that strong, consistent vibration made everything else fade away.

it wouldn't have really mattered if you spaced what he said anyways. the words were empty. meant to tease you more than anything else. you couldn't get away right now if you wanted to. not with the way he had your thighs pinned open. one of his thick arms wrapped around your waist while his free hand held the small, thrumming cylinder between your legs.

he kept it still for the most part, letting the toy do its job. every so often he would move it. he'd draw small circles on your bundle of nerves or slide it downward like he planned on stuffing it inside your dripping hole.

the sensation caused your hips to buck. your heels dug into his thighs, sliding on the denim covering them as you fruitlessly tried to squirm to nowhere. your back pressed against his chest while raucous whines erupted from you.

but despite the signs of you getting overwhelmed, he didn't take the toy off. he kept your little vibrator buzzing right up against you and planted a few kisses along your jawline.

"you gettin' close? that why you're all squirmy? cause you're gonna cum again?" he murmured.

your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you nodded wildly.

he smirked, though your eyes were too droopy to see that.

"so needy. you weren't lying about how bad you wanted me, huh?" he crooned.

your head shook back and forth now.

"well let it happen, honey. stop trying to run from it. let yourself feel good. that's what you were after," he said, subtly taunting towards the end.

his mocking tone did nothing to deter you. your release crashed into you with enough force to black out your vision. every muscle in your body quivered, contracting and relaxing as you hit the high for the third time in a row.

a moan seeped from your lips so loud that his hand flew up from your waist to clamp over your mouth.

"shh, shh, shh, sweet girl. can't have you waking up the whole floor, yeah?" he mumbled in your ear.

you didn't respond. your body continued to roll into the bliss before settling. there was a brief moment of reprieve following that - probably because your nerves were approaching numbness down there - but before you could catch your breath, that small toy was back on the most delicate part of your cunt. your eyes rolled back, your mind blanking in response to yet another round of white hot bliss starting up.

"no- mmph- no more, frank," you whined as his hand fell from your mouth to grope at one of your breasts.

"no, you're not done yet. i know you. i turn this thing off now, and in fifteen minutes you'll be pawing at my shorts," he teased.

"i won't," you begged, lip wobbling, "i won't. promise. it's too much."

"too much? you gettin' tired? that cute little pussy ready to tap out for me?" he cooed.

"uh huh," you moaned.

"yeah? s'funny cause when i came home and told you i was tired, you didn't wanna stop, did you?" he said.

you groaned already knowing where this was going. "frankie-" you started to plead, but he cut your cry short.

"yeah. told you my muscles were aching, my back's all stiff-"

"thought you were just being an old man," you pouted, cutting him off right back.

as soon as the words exited your mouth, his thumb on the vibe tapped the button to crank up the speed. the buzzing grew louder and the tiny rod shook in his grasp with more force. you yelped, your body jerking and then melting on top of him.

"don't be a smartass or we'll be here for a while," he muttered, kissing your cheekbone, "you knew what you were doing, begging like that even when i told you to quit it. this is exactly what you wanted."

you turned your head, nuzzling your face against his throat as if the crook of his neck could provide you some form of escape. your body trembled on his lap, though it was totally motionless otherwise. your limbs felt like jelly, and your mind didn't fare much better. whimpers oozed from your lips without restraint.

"that's better," he praised, "just cum again for me, baby. one more time. give me a good one and it might be the last."

ragged breaths puffed from your lips. your chest heaved with the exertion. you knew your next release was coming whether you wanted it or not. it bordered on painful, but the all-consuming sensation overtook you just the same.

this time you reacted with less intensity. you weren't as loud, most of your noises remaining breathy and drawn out. your body didn't jerk. instead you spasmed with the euphoria flooding your senses.

he worked you through it, swiveling the point of the vibrator over your clit with precision. his hand guided it through your slick. it stayed on you until the last of your tremors melted into bursts in the aftershock.

finally then, when you were wriggling and whining, grabbing at his wrist without any semblance of a coherent word coming from you, he pulled it away. that same button he used to up the speed, he hit again and turned it off.

he dropped it to the side. it could be cleaned up later. right now, his attention stayed on you. his strong arms squeezed you before shifting your body around to sit more comfortably against his chest.

a couple kisses landed on your forehead. his fingers massaged the nape of your neck, coaxing your mind out from the slush of post-release and back to lucidity with him. you blinked slowly while gazing up at him with your glazed eyes.

"you gonna be able to walk to bed, or do i gotta help you?" he mocked.

you pouted with annoyance this time, lightly jabbing him with your elbow. "i got it," you whimpered before slowly rising and taking a few uncertain steps.

he huffed out a laugh at the display, patting your ass as he stood up to follow your lead.

[xoxojisu]

"YOU'RE PREGNANT?!"

synopsis: you're pregnant with osamu's baby! you need to break the news to atsumu, but he somehow spoils it.. for himself?

notes: afab reader if that wasn't obvious

you and osamu had rehearsed this like three times on the drive over.

well, you rehearsed it. osamu just kept nodding and saying, “he’s gonna be loud either way,” which… yeah, fair. but this was a big deal! atsumu may have been chaos incarnate, but he was still osamu's twin brother, and you both wanted him to be one of the first to know!

so here you were, sitting in a booth at a quiet ramen place, the twins across from each other like always, bickering over toppings like they weren’t in their thirties.

“who the hell puts corn in ramen?” atsumu griped, making a face.

“people with good taste,” osamu muttered, not bothering to even look up from his bowl in favor of continuing eating. "corn in ramen's tasty. it's sweet and crunchy and buttery. yer just not refined enough to get it. got the taste buds of a toddler."

"it's actually pretty good! osamu put me on." you chimed in.

“he look like he is the corn in ramen,” atsumu grumbled. “fuckin' fatass. what, ya pregnant?”

you froze.

osamu froze.

atsumu… kept eating.

you and osamu turned to each other in perfect sync, wide-eyed, identical expressions of did he just..? before you could even stop yourself, you blurted:

“how’d you know?!”

atsumu blinked. “huh?”

osamu reached over to hit atsumu on the head with his chopsticks, not saying anything, just staring at him in disbelief.

"wait, what?" atsumu said, "hold on-"

"is twin telepathy actually real?! holy shit! samu, why didn't you tell me that he could fucking read your mind?"

“i- huh? what? wait,” atsumu stuttered, eyes darting between you two, hands raised in shock. “you thought i meant you-” he pointed at you. “you’re pregnant?!”

you nodded slowly, still stunned. “we were literally about to tell you.”

atsumu opened his mouth. closed it. opened it again. “what the hell, i.. i was callin’ him fat!”

“i’m not fat,” osamu hissed. “i’m-”

“i was makin’ fun of him! i didn’t think i had mind-readin’ powers! holy shit!”

“well clearly you do!” you exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “you just predicted a whole pregnancy announcement! twin telepathy is real!”

atsumu leaned back in the booth, looking like he just got hit with a volleyball straight to the face.

“yer seriously- like, for real- like- like, actually pregnant?”

you nodded again, this time with a soft smile. “yeah. just a couple months.”

atsumu stared for another beat before his face completely split into the biggest, brightest grin you’d ever seen.

“no freakin’ way! i’m gonna be a uncle?!” he launched halfway across the table, practically knocking over a bowl in the process. “holy shit, i was jokin’! samu, ya really did it, ya old sap!”

osamu groaned as atsumu pulled him into a squeeze. “let go of me.”

“never! i’m gonna tell everyone!”

“you’re not.”

you laughed, the moment finally settling into the warm, chaotic joy you’d expected from the start.

atsumu finally let go, eyes still sparkling. “i can’t believe i called it. like—psychic level. maybe i should open a side hustle. chicks would pay big money for a hot guy to read their fortune.”

osamu looked at you. “i told ya he’d be loud.”

you grinned. “he was also kinda perfect.”

“damn right i was,” atsumu said, already pulling out his phone. “now what’s the name gonna be? ‘tsumu’ is a gender-neutral option, just sayin’-”

osamu reached across the table and finally flicked him on the forehead.

later, after the chaos had simmered down and the three of you stepped out into the evening air, atsumu was quiet in that rare way that made you glance over to make sure he was okay.

you were halfway to your cars when he slowed beside you. “so,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “you, uh… got any pictures yet? like, baby ones?”

you smiled and pulled out your phone. “only one so far. first ultrasound.”

you handed it over and he took it a little too carefully, like he was afraid to drop it. the black-and-white image flickered faintly on the screen, and he just… stared.

he didn’t smile. didn’t joke. he looked at that tiny shape like it was the most real thing in the world. like it had just hit him, really hit him what this meant.

“that’s… them?” he asked, voice quiet.

you nodded. “yeah. that’s your niece or nephew.”

atsumu blinked. “they’re so small.”

you and osamu glanced at each other—your heart a little full, his eyes a little softer than usual.

then atsumu looked up, meeting your gaze. “thanks for tellin’ me. first, i mean. that you wanted me to know first.” he cleared his throat, suddenly awkward. “i’m… real happy for you guys. both of ya.”

“you’re gonna be an amazing uncle,” you said, nudging him gently.

he gave a little laugh. “yeah? little corn junior?”

“no,” osamu said flatly. “absolutely not.”

but you were smiling, and so was atsumu, and osamu had that small, quiet look he only ever got when he was really, truly happy.

atsumu looked back at the photo one more time. then, without a word, he stepped forward and hugged you. not a joking one. not a one-arm squeeze. a real one.

“i’m proud of you,” he mumbled. "this is crazy."

you hugged him back. “we love you, ‘tsumu.”

osamu snorted beside you. “gettin’ soft in your old age.”

“shut it, old man. i’m still prettier.”

they started bickering again as you all walked down the street—arguing over who had better genes and whether the baby would inherit osamu’s cooking or atsumu’s hair.

you stayed a step behind for just a moment. hand resting over your stomach. heart full.

this little one was already so loved.

..and also so doomed to a life of chaos.

but mostly? so, so loved.

masterlist

[cheol-e-kat]

𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐟𝐭. 𝐜.𝐬𝐜

the unknown sender one

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕

summary: seungcheol keeps getting nudes and he hasn't a clue from who, but maybe you do

genre: rivals to lovers, college au

word count: 1.8k

He loved that you pretended to hate him. Every time you had given him side eye in class or avoided him at a party - all fake. Every time he watched you pointedly flirt with someone else in front of him - it was just an act.

He wasn’t jealous, though. Because no matter what you did, no matter what the little performance was for the day, he knew exactly who you really wanted.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

It had started with dirty messages. 

At first he had no idea who was texting him, but they were fun. 

How could he be mad at someone who told him in detail all the ways they wanted him to fuck them - all the random moments in a day when they would rather be sucking his cock than doing whatever they were doing. 

He didn’t think it would last very long, maybe a few days or a week at most. 

But he was surprised when they continued. There were the normal dirty texts, but then there was a photo early one morning. First one photo and then a second one. 

The first was of panties, blue mesh with little white polka dots. 

He had chewed his lip lightly before messaging back. 

[seungcheol]

v cute

Then there was the second photo that had made his cock stiffen. 

He didn’t know what to say because this time whoever it was sending the texts and photos was sitting, wearing the cute panties. Her gorgeous thighs open, and her fingers dipping down between her legs, pushing the crotch of her panties to the side to reveal her very wet pussy lips. 

[unknown]

just for you

His mouth was like cotton. His brain was mush. He could barely think of his own name, much less a message to respond. 

He had jammed his phone in his pocket and left for class. In all reality, he had no idea how he even made it to the right class. 

He barely took notes. You were sitting next to him, thanks to assigned seating and no other reason. 

He was surprised when you even glanced his way during break. 

“No notes today?“ You quipped. 

He shrugged. “Uh, I don’t know.”

You watched him for a moment. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” he mumbled, still thinking about whoever was wearing those blue panties. 

You bit your lip gently. “Do you want to borrow my notes later?”

It was the second unexpected thing to happen to him. You - his rival in almost every class who made no secret of how you couldn’t stand him. You were offering to share your precious notes. 

He glanced at you then. “What?” He asked softly in surprise. 

You sighed. “Do you want to borrow my notes?” You repeated yourself slowly, dragging out every syllable. 

He didn’t care - he just nodded. 

“Okay, but it’s only because you look like someone broke your brain or something,” you muttered with a small smile. 

He nodded because that was accurate. Someone had broken his brain. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

And they seemed to enjoy it because it became like a morning ritual. Two photos. 

Until one Saturday morning it changed. 

There was just one photo. 

No panties for him to imagine. 

Just her naked pussy. And her fingers shoved inside herself. 

He replied almost immediately. 

[seungcheol]

that’s not fair

He watched the little dots on his screen. 

[unknown]

what’s unfair is that u never show me anything in return 

He scoffed. “What the fuck?” He muttered. It wasn’t that his dick wasn’t hard - it definitely was. 

[seungcheol]

ur asking to see my dick??

He waited again. 

[unknown]

yae cheol show me ur gorgeous cock i know it’s better irl than anything i can imagine

She sent another photo, her breasts, her pussy, everything, like she was waiting to be fucked. 

He bit his lip gently, reading the message over again and staring at the photo. 

[seungcheol]

fuck ur beautiful […]

how do you imagine it?

[unknown]

srsly

[seungcheol]

ya srsly […]

tell me

[unknown]

big and thick […]

perfect pink head that i want to lick and suck and tease 

He groaned as he slid his hand under the waistband of his underwear, pumping his cock roughly.

He was used to a few messages here and there, but not an actual conversation. 

[seungcheol]

i want you swallowing me

[unknown]

mhm i’d love you to fuck my mouth […]

nice and rough

He bit his lip, knowing he was on the edge. 

[seungcheol]

want to fuck your pussy too […]

cum inside you […]

fill you up

[unknown]

knew you were nasty […]

so fuckin perf

He was so close to coming. He shoved his underwear off and sat up to snap a photo of himself. Whoever it was, she wasn’t wrong about him. The only thing she missed was the way precum was dripping down his shaft. 

He hit ‘send’ and finished himself off. He took a photo of that too - his still hard cock standing stiff and his cum covered stomach. 

He sent it. 

[unknown]

fuck ur still hard […]

i want u inside me […]

want you fucking me full bby

He grinned as he used his tshirt to wipe his clean up his cum. 

[seungcheol]

i’d have to know who u are first

[unknown]

u do kno me tho

He chewed his lip lightly. 

[seungcheol]

yea but not really

[unknown]

you’ve seen my pussy 

He grinned. 

[seungcheol]

so i should go around looking for the pussy that matches the photos??

[unknown]

no. you should not 

He had never asked who it was. He kind of liked not knowing, or at least knowing it could be almost anyone. 

[unknown]

maybe we could meet

It had been going on for weeks. 

[seungcheol]

you really want to meet?

He waited for an answer, wondering if she was serious. 

[unknown]

maybe […]

see you later cheollie 

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine what that meant. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

He met you later that day. For whatever reason you’d decided that working together was smarter than competing, so you’d been meeting for the last few weeks to share notes and practice exams. 

He sat in the normal spot where you met, north campus library, fifth floor, near the windows. 

You were a few minutes late, apologizing as you sat down. He smiled, wondering why you cared about being a few minutes late on a Saturday. 

“Good morning?” You asked as you opened your laptop. 

He nodded. “Yeah, you?”

You nodded, smiling. “Really good,” you murmured. 

He blushed slightly - there was something about the way you said it was a really good morning that made his dick twitch. It felt familiar somehow. 

You sighed softly, typing away. He yawned, waiting for you to tell him which exam you wanted to review. 

You glanced at him. “Cute.”

“I was up late.” He shrugged. 

“Oh yeah? What’s her name?”

He snorted. “Her name is beer pong.”

You glanced up, smirking. “So you’re good?”

He nodded. “Pretty good, yeah.”

You smiled. “Hmm, just pretty good or actually good?”

“Actually good.”

You nodded. “Would you maybe want to come to a party with me then?”

You continued to surprise him. Since when had you ever wanted to be seen anywhere with him. 

“Why?”

“Because there’s someone more annoying than you who I really want to beat,” you said with a smile. 

He rolled his eyes. 

You sighed and looked at him. “Okay, look, please, Seungcheol? I just need a partner for like a few rounds, and if we win, I’ll owe you,” you said, your voice was just the tiniest bit whiny. 

It was cute.

He chewed his lip lightly. “Owe me how?”

“One social favor of equal or lesser value,” you said sweetly. 

It was bizarre, but so was everything else. So he agreed.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

He had seen you out before, and he had maybe been stupid enough when he first met you to try to talk to you, thinking that being competitive over grades didn’t extend to social things. And you shot him down blindingly fast.

But tonight was different. 

You invited him over to pre-game before the party. He had stopped questioning anything you did by then.

After a few shots, of course, he followed you into your bedroom. And when you were straddling his lap, kissing him, your hands tangling in his hair, all he could think was that you were on the cusp of fucking.

Until you leaned back, grabbing his hands and guiding them to your thighs, pushing up your skirt. He swallowed hard when he saw.

No underwear. He looked up at you, biting his lip. “Fuck,” he whispered. 

You smiled, leaning close, lips brushing his cheek. “You wanted to meet, right?”

He squeezed your thighs gently. “You?”

“Mmmh, me,” you whispered.

He hummed. “And I thought you hated me.” He fell back on your bed. 

You traced your hands down his chest. “No, you’re just annoying - smart and so annoying.”

He grinned softly, his hands tracing high on your hip and down lower, his fingers skimming just above your pussy. “How’d you even get my number?”

You sighed softly. “You gave it to me first year.” Your hands covered his, pulling them up to your breasts.

He moaned. “Come here,” he whispered, pulling your hips towards him, wanting to eat you from below. He’d been thinking about your pussy all day, not even knowing it was yours, now he wanted to drown in you. 

He licked up into you, tasting you. 

You moaned. “Fuck, don’t stop,” you whined.

He grinned, adding his fingers, like he had any plans to stop what he was doing to you. 

He loved the sounds you made, all the soft whines and the way you whispered his name. Every word was needy and sweet.

And then you came - you leaned forward, bracing yourself against the wall, mewling his name. “Oh fuck, please - please don’t stop.” You were gasping. 

He grabbed your thighs harder, holding you in place, wanting to taste every drop. And when he let you go, he pushed you back onto the bed, pulling off his shirt and yours. He kissed and licked your tits, sucking them roughly, wanting to leave marks.

When he leaned up, he kissed you and felt the way your legs went around his waist. It was the most perfect feeling. 

He leaned up, looking at you, tracing his fingers along your cheek and jaw. “So perfect,” he whispered. 

You smiled. “You too.” He felt the way your hands traced along his pecs and down his stomach. 

He ducked back down, kissing you more, loving how sloppy and messy it was. 

And when you were both finally naked and his cock was buried in your pussy, he couldn’t help the way he snapped his hips. Or the rough contact his pelvis made with yours. You sounded so wet, he couldn’t help himself. The way you came was so good. So fucking good. 

And when he was finally spent, he felt like he melted against you, pulling you close. He needed to feel your skin against his, even while he slept. 

You were definitely his now.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

a/n: because cheol is always on my mind ^^

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒌𝒂𝒕

♡ my [master list] if you want to read more

♡ if you want to be tagged in my posts, go [here]

𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥

angst - [ a ] || fluff - [ f ] || smut - [ s ]

teasers: all but break your heart |୨୧| tonight tonight |୨୧| cold fire (cheol only - attorney au)

|୨୧| drabbles:

co-worker & spanking [ s ] |୨୧| gamer boy [ s ] |୨୧| professor one [ s ] | valentine's day [ f ] |୨୧| 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝. 𝚌.𝚜𝚌 [ s ] #kat_drabbles

|୨୧| fluff:

profound, not sudden [ f ]

|୨୧| oneshots:

bisou bisou request #001 [ s ] ||

|୨୧| series:

obvious affection [ pt. 1 f ] [ pt. 2 f & s ]

𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ]

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇. 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊 [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ]

𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 [ master list ] [ pt. 1 s ] [ pt. 2 s ] [ pt. 3 f & s ] [ pt. 4 f ]

|୨୧| seungcheol bingo [ all s] :

knotting + marking |

professor (prof. choi, pt. 1) |

monster |

spanking (neighbor seungcheol) |

big dick + hate sex |

forced masturbastion (prof. choi, pt ii) |

voyeurism + punishment |

coffee shop au + forbidden relationship (never let you go pt. 1) |

bodyguard + drunk confession |

anon sex + hair pulling + mask wearing (all up to you part i) |

big dick!cheol + hate sex (choose your own adventure) |

sexual frustration + ex sex |

|୨୧| omegaverse (a/b/o):

alpha seungcheol [pt. 1] [pt. 2] ||

never let you go [master list] [part 1 f & s] [part 2 f ] ||

[ taglist ]

☁︎ @syluslittlecrows [e] ☁︎ @gyuguys [e] ☁︎ @tinyelfperson [e] ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite [e] ☁︎ @livelaughloveseventeen [e] ☁︎ @codeinebelle [e] ☁︎ @ateez-atiny380 [e] ☁︎ @mingcouper [e] ☁︎ @hanniebub [e] ☁︎ @perfectiondazesworld [e] ☁︎ @scoupshawty [e] ☁︎ @peachytokki [e] ☁︎ @coupsbestleader [e] ☁︎ @fleurloovin [e] ☁︎ @babybae-shisui [e] ☁︎ @asyre [e] ☁︎ @dcrlingyou [e] ☁︎ @yeosayang [e] ☁︎ @nanabananananabatman ☁︎

☁︎ @haik-chu [e - one/multi] ☁︎ @gigglensnort [e - one/multi/priv] ☁︎ @thepoopdokyeomtouched [e - multi/priv] ☁︎ @tokitosun [ e - one/multi ] ☁︎ @stupendouschildnerd [ e - drabbles/one/multi/master list ] ☁︎

☁︎ @living0livia [c.sc - e ] ☁︎

[ihatefrvits]

practice makes perfect

bestfriend jisung x reader

genre: smut 18+, fluff (if you squint)

wc: 6.05k

synopsis: you have a crush on jaehyun whos a year above you in college, but you’re so inexperienced it makes you think that he will never look at you. so who will help you if not your best friend?

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

you didn’t want to ask jisung for help. in fact, you were avoiding it, trying to find other ways, because it was insane and he was your best friend since childhood.

and asking your best friend to help you learn how to kiss so you didn’t screw it up with your silly little crush? yeah, that was the craziest thing you ever were about to do.

“hey, sung,” you start, trying to sound casual but failing as your voice cracks mid sentence.

jisung glances up briefly, raising an eyebrow. “what’s up?”

you hesitate, chewing on your hoodie string as your palms grow sweaty. why is this so hard? you can’t even ask him a simple question?

“uh, so…” you trail off, your voice dropping as you struggle to get the words out. “hypothetically speaking… if someone wanted to, like… learn how to do something… how would they, uh, go about it?”

jisung stares at you for a moment, blinking in confusion. “you gotta narrow that down for me, y/n. what are we talking about? gaming? cooking? math?”

“oh my god, no,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. this was already so much worse than you imagined.

“relax, relax,” he says, setting his phone down, which made you peek at him through your fingers. “what’s going on?”

you take a deep breath, you kept reminding yourself, if you didn’t just say it, you would never going to get through this.

“i… kind of have a crush on jaehyun.” you admit quickly, the words tumbling out as if you were rushing.

jisungs brows shoot up, and for a split second, something unreadable flickers across his face before his expression turns into something neutral. “uh, okay. and?”

“and… i want him to notice me,” you continue, heat rising to your face. “but i don’t know what i’m doing. i mean, he’s cool, and experienced, and i’m just…” you trail off, gesturing vaguely at yourself.

jisung tilts his head, his lips pressing into a slight frown. “you’re just what?”

“a loser, jisung,” you groan, slumping forward dramatically. “i’ve never even kissed anyone, and what if he finds out and thinks i’m, like, a lost cause?”

jisung opens his mouth, probably to argue against the whole “loser” thing, but you cut him off, too embarrassed.

“so, i was thinking…” you pause, glancing at him nervously. “maybe you could, um, help me.”

“help you?” he repeats, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“yeah. like, practice?” you wave your hands vaguely, trying to look like you haven’t been agonizing over this for days. “y’know… kissing.”

jisung stares at you like you’ve just sprouted a second head.

you don't think you ever were this embarrassed before. you had always hung out in your best friends room, but the reason behind this visit had made you want the ground to swallow you whole.

your voice felt shaky as it cut through the silence of jisungs bedroom. "i just think it'd be better if i... y'know... knew what i was doing. i can't ask jaehyun to... y'know, like—" you swallowed as you tried to not repeat the words again. your face heated up at the thought of finishing the sentence, "to teach me how to kiss if we ever do it."

jisung, sitting on his gaming chair, nervously fiddled with his hoodie string. he moved his head in a way that made his messy black hair flop into his eyes to avoid looking directly at you. "are you, like, actually being serious right now?"

"very serious." you said with a poor attempt of trying to sound confident, but the way your voice was wobbly instantly gave you away, which only made him blink in irritation. "i-i mean, i can't... i don't want to fuck up if he–"

you closed your mouth, hesitating as you clutched one of his pillows tighter to your chest, sitting on the edge of his bed. talking to him was always easy for you, since he understood you in ways no one else could. but sometimes his ability to read you made things worse, as he was making you aware of how much of a loser you actually were.

after he sensed that you weren't completing your sentence, he tilted his head and exhaled hard. "so, if i understand correctly," he rested his chin on the back of his hand. “you want me to help you practice… for some guy? jeong jaehyun specifically?”

you squirmed. his delivery made it sound as stupid as it was. in fact, this made no sense. who asks their best friend for— gosh.

you were already too deep in to start laughing and tell him it was a joke and he was silly for falling for it, and his slightly wide eyes made it seem like he wasn’t totally opposed to this idea (which mattered way more than it should’ve).

“um… yeah,” you croaked. jisung ran a hand through his hair like he was suddenly going to come up with an excuse, but something in his eyes, the awkward confidence, tipped you off. he never really refused your offer.

“i know you never make good decisions, but this is seriously the worst idea you have ever had in your life,” he muttered, though you could tell the amusement in his tone. before you processed his reaction, he leaned forward, clasped his hands, and finished his sentence, “but okay.”

your heart skipped a beat, “okay?” you almost stuttered, “like… okay okay?”

“yeah, okay okay.” he huffed and scratched the back of his neck as though he couldn’t believe what he was saying, “i’ll help, but just practice,” his tone was serious, “if it gets weird, we stop. alright?”

you nodded quickly, “alright.”

“and don’t tell anyone about this.” he said, holding up a finger like you were a toddler.

“obviously,” you answered, which only earned you a smirk from him. a smirk that made your stomach flip. why is he suddenly smirking at you?

there is a beat of silence before jisung slides off his chair, kneeling awkwardly in front of you, where you’re perched on his bed. his height still towers over you a bit, but the soft flush creeping up his neck made you realise you weren’t the only one that was nervous.

“um… you want to start now?” he asked quietly, as if he was shy. you nodded again, your mouth running faster than your brain, “unless you’re scared of me or something.”

“y/n,” he groaned like he wanted to pull his hair out, “why are you making things harder than they should be?”

despite his words, his laugh was gentle, and maybe even fond. you bite your lip as he carefully shifts closer until your knees bump against him.

“you’re sure about this, right?” he whispers, and when you nod, he leans forward slowly, like he’s scared to startle you.

his plump lips brush yours gently at first, as if he’s giving you time to back out. his hand awkwardly lingers in the air near your shoulder, before settling there. you can barely think straight, you would’ve never thought that jisung, nerdy and awkward, would’ve been this careful and soft. you clutch onto him and his breath hitches which only makes your face burn ever more.

“just practice,” he whispers as his lips meet yours in hesitation. as you deepen the kiss, it doesn’t really feel like practicing.

he pulls back and rests his forehead on yours. you could feel his warm breath against your lips. he quickly opens his eyes, nervously trying to read you, as if he was trying to figure out if you regret it, or if he should stop.

you don’t say a word, you’re too shocked from the fact that you’re enjoying this, considering that heat was pooling in your lower stomach.

“y/n,” he whispers so quietly that it almost got swallowed by the tense air in the room. it took all your courage to swallow and look back up at him, “was that okay?” you whisper, and you feel your cheeks get red because of how nervous you sounded.

his lips twitched, which you realised was an effort to give you a reassuring smile, “yeah” he says, then he lets out a small laugh, glancing to the side to avoid eye contact, “it was more than okay.”

you blink in surprise, and then open your mouth to say something, but you can’t form words, “really?” you finally blurt something out.

you noticed his ears turn red as he retreated. “i mean, not that i do this often, i just— um… you’re—“ his voice disappears into thin air as he slides his hand up to scratch his head in embarrassment.

you would’ve chuckled and called him cute if it didn’t plant a fucked up idea in your head, the type of idea that you’re half shy to say out loud.

but once again, your mouth works faster than your brain, “should we keep going?” you blurt it out, and before you process what you said, jisung freezes.

his mouth opens and closes, but there’s no words coming out of him. “it’s not fair if i practice once,” your voice is trembling, “i mean, i have to— i should get used to, like, more….i need— i’m gonna mess up with jaehyun if i—“

“okay, stop.” jisung cuts you off suddenly, his hands coming up as he was surrendering, “i get it.”

your stomach drops at the look on his face until he settles back on his knees, leaning forward again. “we will go slow, and if you feel too overwhelmed,” his voice is so low and serious that it makes your throat tighten. “we will stop immediately, no questions.”

you nod nervously. his thumb brushes across your jaw, leaning in closer until his lips meet yours again. his lips part slightly, guiding yours open, which sends a shiver down your spine. you gasp quietly, and the sound might have gotten a reaction out of him, because he slides his hand up your hoodie, not that you don’t enjoy it.

jisungs tongue flickers against your lip in such hesitant and sweet manner that it made you instinctively arch closer and let your knees drift apart slightly. you didn’t think that this tiny shift would change anything.

the hand bracing your cheek falters and before you know it, both of you sink onto his bed, almost deliberately. as the soft mattress hugs your back, he positions himself above you, his eyes darkened.

his lips hover over yours again, “still okay?” he asks, his voice painted in roughness.

“y-yeah,” you whisper, your heart racing so loud that you’re pretty sure he hears it too.

when he kisses you again for the third time, it must be something about the pressure, the position you two are in, or the way he worries so much about you, that unlocks something in you that you never knew existed.

you feel his hand slide down, his fingers trembling as they graze the hem of your hoodie. his hesitation makes your brain almost shut down, and maybe that’s why you let your hand find his wrist and grab it, guiding him beneath the fabric of your clothes.

“y/n,” he groans softly against your lips, his voice being desperate, a sound that you had never expected to hear from… him.

his breath grows unsteady as his fingers slide higher, slightly trembling as they run over the bare skin beneath your hoodie. as this is unfamiliar to you, you wonder if you should say something, maybe a joke to ease the tension, but the moment feels so.. raw. you never felt this close w him before. so you don’t.

instead, you shift your hips slightly, just enough to send a signal to him. the movement makes jisungs face scrunch, as if he was struggling to keep himself together. his forehead dips against your shoulder as his breath brushes ovee your collarbone.

“y/n…” he says in a tone that sends a shiver down your spine. your hand searches for his wrist again, and when you find him, you guide it lower, past your waistband. you feel him freeze, his fingers stiffen up against the elastic, which makes you think that he’s going to pull away.

the bubble of disappointment forming in your mind was popped when you felt him exhale. his touch inches lower, “i don’t…” his voice is barely audible, “i don’t want to mess this up.” you look away, hiding your face from him, “you won’t. just… please?”

that must be enough for him because his fingers immediately slip beneath your underwear, sliding hesitantly across the slick and sensitive skin. the first touch makes you gasp, clutching his hoodie.

“is this okay?” he asks as his fingers explore you in slow and cautious movements.

“yeah,” you answer, your hips slightly jerking at the sensation, “jisung, it’s— yeah.”

his lips graze the side of your neck as his hand continues. his thumb circles around your most sensitive spot, which draws a soft whimper from you. for a second, you feel him freeze, as if he’s stunned by the sound, but he quickly gets back to doing what he was doing.

he shifts slightly, his free hand bracing beside your head as he adjusts his weight. you notice that he somehow got more confident, as his fingers gets braver, now slipping inside you carefully. the stretch is new to you, but it’s comfortable, and it makes your breath hitch.

jisung immediately slows, “is it too much?” he asks, his voice low, but you can feel his hand twitch where it rests against your waist.

you shake your head, pulling him close by the collar of his hoodie. “no, it’s… it feels—“ your words dissolve into a moan as his fingers curl into you, brushing against a spot that makes your whole body tense.

“oh,” jisung breathes, his movements pausing for a second before he adjusts his angle, pressing into that spot again with tentative strokes. “is that— does that feel good?”

“yeah,” you gasp, nodding helplessly. you’re clinging to him as you feel your mind turn foggy, not being able to form a thought, the only thing you can process is the way his fingers feel inside of you.

now that he figured out what you like, his lips brush against yours slowly again as his fingers pick up a rhythm. your legs tremble as the pressure builds. you don’t even notice the desperate noises spilling from your lips until jisung mutters, “baby, you’re so—“

he’s not able to finish his sentence, because your hips arched against his hand instead, he swallows the rest of the sentence in a kiss.

his fingers press deeper, curling just right, and it makes you overwhelmed by the pleasure. the way his face is so close to you, his lips brushing yours, giving you small kisses, it’s almost too romantic.

though, you can tell he’s still hesitating, but the heat pooling low in your stomach makes you want to beg for more. each movement makes you tremble beneath him, clutching on his hoodie like it helps you regain composure, but it still felt like everything else was blurring.

“tell me if i’m… if it’s too much,” he says, his voice soft. his free hand shifts to your waist, his thumb brushing against your cold skin.

“it’s not,” you manage to answer, your mind still foggy. you watch as his brows furrow and his lips part, unsure of what he said.

he shifts his angle slightly, trying something new again, and it feels so good that you bite your lip to stifle a whimper (unsuccessfully). it’s almost like he’s surprised at the way you react, but it doesn’t make him stop. he picks up a faster pace, which draws sounds that you never knew you were capable of making. you can barely think, or even form any thoughts. all you know is how jisung feels, how patient, careful, and focused he is.

he’s watching you attentively, like your every reaction is fascinating, like he wants to memorise what makes you squirm and shake beneath him. “does this feel good?” he stammered.

you nod desperately, gripping his clothes tighter, your body curling as that tight and burning pressure inside you slowly starts building up. “it does,” you gasp, unable to stop the way your hips shift, almost matching his rhythm. “jisung, it— i—“ your eyes roll back in pleasure as you moan his name out.

you don’t realise how close you are until you feel the heat overtaking you completely, the sharp pull in your stomach snapping. you tremble under him, the rush of release washing over you in waves. the way you cry out makes jisung freeze before he slows down, guiding you through it, he somehow knows exactly what to do.

when you finally come down, he stops, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, his face is flushed, his pupils blown wide, but there’s something behind his expression, it’s so soft that it makes your chest ache. you don’t even want to imagine how you look like right now.

you blink up at him, still catching your breath, somehow still managing to smile. “that…” your words trail off, and your face burns hotter than before.

jisung looks down at you his fingers still lightly resting against your skin, “did i do okay?” he asks timidly, as though he’s genuinely unsure, despite the way your body feels like it’s still floating.

you let out a small laugh, nodding as you reach up to cup his cheek. your voice is quieter than you expect when you reply, "yeah, jisung. you did... really okay."

the blush that overtakes his face is so red that it makes you laugh again. he collapses onto the bed next to you with a groan, flopping onto his back. his arm is draped lightly over your stomach, like he can’t quite bring himself to let go completely.

for a minute, neither of you says anything, the only sound in the room being your breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner. your cheeks still feel hot, no, your entire body feels hot, but you can’t stop the small, breathless laugh that bubbles out of you. jisung turns his head, “what’s so funny?”

you glance at him, catching the faint pink on his ears and the way his messy hair sticks up at odd angles. he looks so much like his usual dorky self that you almost forget what just happened. almost.

“i just…” you trail off, biting your lip to hide another laugh before finally giving in. “i can’t believe you used to help me with building sandcastles, but this is what we’re doing now.”

jisung stares at you for a beat, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh too, but then he snorts loudly, the sound bursting out of him before he can stop it.

“oh my god, y/n.” he covers his face with one hand, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “why would you say that?”

“because it’s true!” you answer, grinning now, the tension in your chest unraveling as the laughter overtakes you both. “like… think about it. you used to help me build those stupid towers with the little flags, and now you’ve got your fingers, like—”

“stop, stop, stop,” his voice cracks as he rolls over, burying his face in his pillow. “don’t finish that sentence.”

you’re both laughing so hard now that tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you don’t even care how ridiculous you sound. it’s stupid and awkward and so perfectly the two of you.

jisung finally lifts his head, still grinning like an idiot, and nudges you lightly with his elbow. “okay, but really, sandcastles were way easier. i didn’t have to worry about… ruining anything.” his voice dips at the end, quieter, and you blink at the sudden shift, your laughter fading just a bit.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” you say softly, bumping your shoulder against his. “i mean… i think you were so amazing, actually.”

jisung’s ears turn red again, and he scrambles to sit up, looking everywhere but at you. “don’t say stuff like that,” he mutters, tugging on the strings of his hoodie like they might save him from combusting. “you’re gonna make this weird.”

“weirder than it already is?” you tease, tilting your head with a smirk.

he groans, hiding his face in his hands. “god, i hate you.”

but there’s no edge to his words, and when you sit up too, nudging your knee against his, he glances at you through his fingers with a shy smile.

“i’m serious,” you say quietly. “thank you. for, y’know… helping me.”

jisung drops his hands, his gaze softening. “yeah. of course.” then he grins, all nervous energy again. “but i am never going to be able to look at a sandcastle without losing it now.”

you shove him lightly, laughing again, and he catches your hand before you can pull away, holding onto it. he shifts closer on the bed, his hand still holding yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “so…” his voice is low and nervous, “did the practice, like, actually help?”

you look at him, your cheeks flushing when you realised just how much ‘practice’ you had gone through. “um… yeah” you say nervously while intertwining your fingers with his, “it definitely helped me,”

he smiles a little at your response, but his gaze was flickering on your lips. the way he looks at you makes your heart flutter in ways it shouldn’t.

“…this isn’t practice anymore, is it?” he says quietly as his lips brush yours.

this isn’t about jaehyun anymore. actually, it hasn’t been for a while now. you were fully aware of that, and judging by his words, and actions, he knows it too. “no,” you whisper back, tilting your face up to him, “it’s not.”

the kiss that follows up is different. it’s not hesitant like before, but it perfectly conveys the desperation of you. jisungs hand cups your face as his lips move against yours and he pulls you closer to him. you softly sigh into the kiss and let your hands slide up and tangle in his hair.

his weight shifts, gently easing you down onto the mattress, “baby,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you with his flushed face, “is this okay? like, are you sure about it?”

“yes,” you reply, though your voice was trembling a bit. “it’s okay.”

as you answer, his lips find yours again, his hands start smoothing over your sides and he settles between your thighs. you arch into him as he shifts his hips against yours, the pressure sending pleasure through your entire body.

jisung hesitates for a moment before reaching down to tug at the hem of his hoodie. his hands fumbled slightly as the fabric caught on his wrists, but you didn’t care. all you could do was watch as his pale skin was revealed inch by inch until he pulled the hoodie over his head and let it drop to the floor beside him.

you don’t realise you’re tugging at your own hoodie until his hands shift closer to you to help you with it. as the hoodie slips off your shoulders, he tosses it to the side. he glances at you like he’s about to say something but isn’t sure if he should.

“stop staring at me like that,” your face was burning, you couldn’t even look at him.

“sorry, it’s just…” he pauses, his hand brushing your waist as his hands were slightly trembling, “you’re so… pretty.”

the vulnerability in his voice makes your heartbeat faster than it already was. you’re not even sure how to respond, so instead you reach for him, sliding your hands over his skin.

you arch up slightly, your lips meeting his again in a kiss, and his hands rest on your waist. your hands slide down his chest before moving to the waistband of his sweatpants. you hesitate for a moment, biting your lips as you look up at him for permission. jisung swallows hard, his blush more prominent as he nods. “i mean, if you’re sure,” he says quickly, his voice almost cracking. “i’m sure,” you reassure him.

tugging down at the fabric of his sweatpants was so messy, both of you were fumbling with nervous hands, a quiet giggle breaking through the tension when the elastic got stuck on his knee. “this is nothing like it seems in movies,” jisung says with your laugh following up soon after.

“you’re fine,” you answered, pushing him onto his back so you could help slide the fabric off completely. his boxers remain, for now.

your clothes follow soon after, first your jeans, which jisung awkwardly helped you get out of, and then, with his encouragement, your panties.

there’s a moment of silence as you lay back beneath him. he hovers above you, his lips slightly parted as his eyes undress you once again.

“you’re so… beautiful, y/n,” he says while his gaze stays fixed on you.

“stop,” you mumble, looking away, you don’t want him to see how red your cheeks are.

“i mean it,” he insists, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your collarbone. he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, glancing down at you as if he’s making sure you’re ready.

when you nod, his hands move carefully as he slides the last barrier away. your heart skips a beat when you realise what is about to happen.

he hovers over you again, his hand slipping down to your waist as he shifts closer, positioning himself. “if i, um… if something feels wrong, just tell me,” he whispers, his face not leaving yours, “i don’t want to hurt you.”

you nod, your heart softening at his caring tone, “i will, ji, don’t worry.”

he smiles, leaning down to kiss you again, it’s so slow and sweet, there’s so much affection in it. after letting nervous giggles out, he finally presses in you. he pauses immediately, his face scanning yours as his brows furrow.

“does it hurt?” he asks, his voice containing worry.

it does, a little, but it’s not unbearable, you shake your head quickly, forcing a small smile, “it’s fine, just… go slow?”

he exhales, nodding as he leans in again to press a kiss to your temple, “yeah, slow, okay,” the way he’s so patient and gentle almost breaks you. his hands find yours and laces your fingers together as he moves slowly, giving you time to adjust. every time you tense, or your breath changes, he stops immediately, waiting for your breath to settle before continuing.

"you're doing so good," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "just tell me what you need, okay?"

it's overwhelming in the best way. the soft way he speaks to you, the warmth of his hand squeezing yours when he feels you clench around him, the way his kisses linger against your neck like he's trying to reassure you without words.

"jisung," you say, your voice shaky yet enough to cut through his concentration.

he glances down at you quickly, "what? am i hurting you?”

"no," you say quickly, tightening your grip on his hand. “you’re just… so attractive.”

his face flushes immediately, and he lets out a soft, nervous laugh, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder. "oh my god, don't say that, i’ll mess it all up if you keep saying stuff like that."

"you're not gonna mess anything up," you reply, your free hand sliding into his hair. "you're perfect."

his movements falter for just a moment before he lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours. for a second, he just stares at you, his expression unknown. then, he leans down and kisses you again, but harder this time.

everything about the moment feels impossibly close, his warmth, his voice murmuring your name, the way he doesn't let go of your hand even for a second.

your bodies move together, you're still holding jisungs hand, your fingers gripping his. "you're doing so good," he murmurs again, his voice uneven as he dips his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

the sincerity in his tone makes your chest feel too tight, and you're sure he can feel the way your heartbeat thuds erratically under his touch.

"jisung," you breathe, his name slipping past your lips.

he looks at you, his eyes wide, "i'm here," he whispers, his free hand brushing softly against your waist. "i've got you."

every shift, every deepening stroke sends another wave of heat through you, drawing you closer and closer to a breaking point you didn't realise you were this close to.

his movements grow shakier, his breaths coming in sharp, unsteady bursts against your neck. you can tell he's right there too, holding on just as tightly as you are.

"i can't—“ your voice cuts off into a soft gasp as your body tenses beneath him, your grip on his hand tightening. “jisung, i—“

"it's okay," he says quickly, his words coming out quiet as his own body trembles. "i've got you. just... let go, baby. i'm right here."

his voice is all it takes for you to finish. your whole body tenses, the heat unfurling in an overwhelming wave that leaves you breathless, trembling beneath him. the sounds that escape your lips are ones you've never heard before, they’re so soft and broken.

jisungs movements become less controlled as the tension in his body builds. the little sounds he's making, soft gasps and quiet groans are etched into your memory already, the closeness of it all making your chest tighten.

his lips are on your neck, brushing against your skin in a way that feels comforting, as though he's using you to keep himself grounded. his free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his touch delicate.

"y/n," he whispers, his voice shaking as he presses deeper, his breath hot against your ear. "i’m— god, i can't— where—“

you understand immediately, the frantic edge in his voice mirroring the way your own body still feels like it's vibrating from release.

"it's okay," you whimper, your hands clutching at his shoulders, "you can—“ you pause, your words catching in your throat before you nod softly, pulling him even closer. "inside, jisung. it's okay."

his whole body shudders at your words, and he lets out a soft, broken moan as his rhythm stutters. his grip on your hip tightens slightly, his fingers trembling as his forehead drops to your shoulder.

"are you— are you sure?" he asks, his voice is tight, strained with the effort it's taking him to hold on just a moment longer.

"i'm sure," you whisper, your breath catching as his hips press flush against yours. "it's okay. i want you to."

it must be his breaking point. with one last deep thrust, jisung lets go completely, his body collapsing against yours as he spills inside you. the sounds he makes are low and muffled against your shoulder, his breathing uneven and shallow as his fingers curl into your waist like he's clinging to you for dear life.

you can feel the heat of him inside you, and the realization sends another wave of warmth through your body, leaving you breathless.

for a moment, neither of you move. he’s still holding you, still pressing kisses to your shoulder, and your hand reaches up to run your hand through his messy hair. jisung hasn’t moved much, still pressed close against you as both of you work to catch your breath. his hand rests gently on your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.

“you good?” he asks softly, tilting his head to glance at you. his cheeks are still flushed, a faint pink lingering on the tips of his ears, and his hair is a mess, but his expression is serious.

“yeah,” you reply, your voice a little hoarse. you manage a small smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “are you good?”

he huffs out a laugh, his lips curling into a grin. “i mean… i think so? unless i, like, accidentally broke you or something.”

you snort, swatting his shoulder lightly. “you didn’t break me, dumbass.”

“just making sure,” he says, grinning a little wider now.

he sits up then, careful not to disturb you too much as he grabs a spare hoodie from his chair and offers it to you without a word. you tug it on, your cheeks heating at how impossibly jisung it smells. he pulls on his own clothes clumsily, his movements shaky, but he recovers quickly, turning back to you as he rubs a hand through his hair.

“do you, uh, need anything?” he asks, looking slightly nervous as his gaze flickers around the room, like he’s wondering if he’s supposed to have some plan.

“water might be nice?” you suggest, smiling faintly.

“got it,” he says quickly, almost tripping over his own feet as he heads to the kitchen. you bite your lip, fighting back a giggle at how adorably confused he still looks.

when he returns with a water bottle in hand, you sit up and take it from him, mumbling a quiet “thanks” as you sip. he flops down beside you again, a sigh leaving his lips as he rests his head against the headboard.

the silence is nice, comforting even, but it doesn’t last long before jisung shifts, glancing at you with a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“so,” he starts, drawing out the word in that dramatic way he always does when he’s trying to annoy you. “you think jaehyun could’ve done it better?”

you nearly choke on your water, whacking him in the chest as he laughs. “shut up!”

“i’m just saying!” he protests, holding up his hands in surrender. “if this was, like, a whole competition, i think i deserve at least a nine out of ten. maybe a ten, if you’re feeling generous.”

“oh my god.” you roll your eyes, but you’re laughing too now, clutching at your sides as his dramatic pout melts into his usual grin. “you’re so full of yourself.”

“i’m practical,” jisung corrects, poking your cheek lightly.

“and annoying,” you shoot back, though the love in your voice is impossible to hide.

you both get lost in giggles again, the ease of your friendship slipping back into place.

it isn’t until the laughter fades that the unspoken feelings creep back in, settling between you. jisung clears his throat softly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“so, uh… are we still…” he hesitates, his voice faltering slightly. “you know. best friends? after, uh… this?” your heart tightens at the vulnerability in his voice, and you reach over, squeezing his hand.

“yeah,” you say, smiling at him even as your cheeks heat up again. “we’re still best friends.”

jisung visibly relaxes at your words, his lips quirking into a relieved smile.

“okay,” he says softly, then after a second, “but, uh… does this mean we’re, like, best friends who, y’know…” he gestures vaguely, his ears turning bright red. “do this stuff now?”

you blink at him, then burst out laughing, the sound spilling out before you can stop it. jisung groans, hiding his face in the pillow again.

“stop laughing! i’m being serious!”

“you’re not real,” you manage between breaths, leaning over to press a light, teasing kiss to his temple. “but yeah… i think we’ll figure it out.”

jisung laughs again, the sound is so warm, so yours.

“i love you, y/n,” he says softly, his voice quiet.

your breath catches, and for a second, all you can do is stare at him, your heart feeling like it’s about to burst.

“i love you too, you’re everything to me.” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his lips.

in this moment, nothing else matters but him, jisung, your best friend, or should i say your boyfriend, and how stupid you were for not realising how in love you were with him.

and the way he looks at you now? you know your feelings are reciprocated.

[captainpriceslilwife]

clearing out my drafts so uh....Simon Riley x reader who thinks she needs plastic surgery :P

CW: uhhhhh plastic surgery, insecurities, simon only knowing how to solve emotions through caveman means, i think that's it

He really hadn't meant to see it.

It's not like he was snooping, or anything. You had told him to look something up on your phone while you were busy cleaning the kitchen, and you were so focused that you didn't notice how still he had grown still as he stared down at those little black words already typed in the search bar.

Breast augmentation before and after

His eyes darted across the screen as he took in the various images that you had been meticulously studying the night before. Hundreds of women with breasts that he couldn't see a problem with, right beside a photo of them looking bright, happy, and pumped up like a little barbie doll.

Clearly you had forgotten to close out the tab. Or clear your history.

Which he couldn't stop himself from scrolling through.

How to increase breast size naturally? Supplements for bigger breasts? Exercises for bigger boobs reddit...How much do boob jobs cost? A trail of insecurity that led you to the final page that he's now staring at.

He feels like he's going to throw up.

Did he say something wrong? Did he not show you how much he loved you? Did someone else say something to you? Did he make you feel undesirable? Maybe he had zoned out and stared at some poor woman's tits without even realizing and you thought he wanted you to-

"Si?" Your voice breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts as you peek your head around the corner, completely unaware of the inner turmoil that's ripping him apart as he stands there like an idiot. "Are they open?"

He blinks slowly at you - his mind is spinning around so fast that all he can manage is a blank stare. "What?"

"Marco's." You say with a huff of amusement, but when he just continues to stare, your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you enunciate your words slowly. "The pizza place. Are they open?"

"I dunno." His tone is gruff, and he's trying to figure out how to say the million thoughts that are swirling around in his mind as you make your way over to him with an amused smile. "Si, what have you been doing this whole-"

"Why are you lookin' at this shit?" He had wanted it to come out a bit more...tactful that that, but he couldn't hold it in any longer. It's in that moment that you realize how tense he looks, and your smile immediately falters as you pause in front of him.

"...the pizza place?" You ask in a small voice, growing more uncertain by the second as he lets out a quiet scoff. It's only when he turns the phone back to you that you see what he's talking about - and your heart drops into your stomach.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"I was just-" Your hand extends out to take the phone, but he moves it just out of your reach as his eyes continue to stare into yours. "I was just looking. I'm not actually going to do it." You mumble awkwardly, suddenly feeling too vulnerable to keep looking up at him. You let out a tight little laugh, trying to brush it off like a joke even though you know it's too late for that. "Plus, it's a bit out of my price range, so-"

"I'm not playin' with you, love." And it's true. You've never seen him look so unimpressed and disappointed in your entire relationship. "What even made you look this up, huh? Someone say somethin' to you?"

"No." You feel like you're shrinking under his scrutinizing gaze, but he doesn't let up any - just keeps scrolling through the pictures as he looks between you and the phone.

Another tense sigh. Then, he's murmuring a quiet, "Did I say somethin'?"

"No, Si. Of course not." Your voice grows even more quiet as you reach for his free hand, twiddling with his fingers in some subconscious attempt to soothe him. It seems to work slightly - and he lets out a huff as he drops your phone onto the table to pull you closer.

Your head hits his chest as he wraps his arms around you, and his hand automatically comes up to run through your hair - something he usually does to soothe you, though now it seems to be more for his sake. He presses a couple of kisses to the top of your head as he holds you in silence, trying to gather his thoughts well enough to express his feelings. Words have never been his strong suit. Maybe that's what got him into this mess.

"Gorgeous girl." He murmurs softly against your hair before bringing his hands to your cheeks to tilt your head up to face him. His thumbs brush over the soft skin as his eyes trail over your face so reverently in nearly takes your breath away. "I don't tell you tha' enough, do I? How beautiful I think you are."

"You don't have to tell me, Si...I know you think I'm beautiful." He's never once made you feel bad about your appearance, but it doesn't change all the years you spent hating what you saw in the mirror because you compared yourself to everyone else. "It's not your fault I don't like the way I look-"

"'Course it fuckin' is." He doesn't even let you finish before he's adamantly shaking his head, guilt flooding his features as he looks down at you. "Can't even make my girlfriend see how stunnin' she is. Wha' kind of a man am I, huh? A pathetic fuckin' excuse of one."

A lump begins to form in your throat at the thought of him taking the blame for your insecurities - ones that had bloomed long before you had ever met him. But you were at a loss for words now. He had never seemed so adamant about anything before, and it made your heart thud heavily against your ribs at the realization of just how much he loved you. "Simon..."

"I should be lovin' you so much that this shit doesn' even cross your mind. That's my job, yeah?" His jaw clenches tight as he looks over your face, and you can see a strange look settle over his features - a quiet acceptance of what he's about to do. "And I'm clockin' in. Right now."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but before you can open your mouth to question what on earth he means, he's already bending over to grab you and haul you over his shoulder.

"Simon!" You let out a squeal of surprise as you're suddenly faced upside-down against his back, but you can't help the giggles that burst out of your mouth as he carries you down the hallway towards the bedroom. "What are you doing? Marco's is gonna close!"

"Fuck Marco's. I'm eatin' you for dinner, love."