#i like him soooooo much i can’t breathe

[pzycho]

.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

ima need to see some Theodore Nott x fem!reader smut where he finds out he likes being sub for only his girlfriend, please and thanks. this is so bad but make him gag on her fingers, i beg of you.

So Needy

Theodore Nott x F!Reader

Warnings: Sub!Theo, Dom!Reader, oral(both male and female), I guess a tad of orgasm control, cussing.

18+ Minors DNI!

You have no idea just how much I love this ask. I was about to put the finger gagging thing in a sub Draco one, but decided against it. I have soooooo many thoughts on sub Theo. But for now, I’ll just do the first time he lets you dom him.

He was a little hesitant to let you take control, but his reason was that he didn’t want you to think any less of him. He didn’t want you thinking he was weak or pathetic.

But he was just so tired. And you were so so needy. And he likes taking care of you.

He was lying on his bed with you straddling him, grinding down on him for a little friction, a little relief. He had to admit, the sight of you on top of him was something he always loved. But you were a little hesitant to ride him before now. Now you were craving his dick in you. But you knew he was tired. He had just gotten back from a grueling quidditch practice. But he also just showered and smelled so good. And the way you felt his dick strain against his sweatpants as you were grinding on him felt so good.

“You know I wanna take care of you, mi amore.” He said, rubbing his hands on your thighs, your bare thighs, under your skirt.

“I wanna ride you.” You said, putting your palms on his chest for more leverage to keep grinding on him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, but he could see your blown out pupils and the way you were breathing.

“Yes.” You answer quickly.

“Alright, principessa, if you really want to.” He nodded slightly and you scrambled to get off of him quickly.

You quickly tugged off his sweatpants and underwear, and kneeled between his legs. He was already so hard from your grinding. You took his cock in your hand and leaned down, spitting on his cock and using your hand to spread it down the length of his dick. You teased his tip and he let out a soft groan. That groan went straight to your core and you moaned in return. You took him in your mouth now, slowly, oh so slowly and he threw his head back into the pillows.

“Your mouth is so perfect.” He said before looking back at you. He really did want to grip your hair and guide you, but he also loved the way you teased him. It drove him crazy. So he grabbed at the sheets instead. You looked up at him and it nearly killed him. He watched as you trailed your tongue along the bottom of his shaft and that sight alone could make him cum. He’s definitely remembering that the next time you can’t help him out. He was biting at his lip as he watched you, moaning desperately as you took him back into your mouth.

But that only lasted a few more moments before you had an idea and stood up, pulling off your panties. He watched you as you climbed back onto the bed, only this time you moved to straddle his face. His face was covered by your skirt, but he didn’t care. His mouth was on your pussy instantly, moving his hands to hold your hips. You moaned as you left him lapping at your pussy desperately. Almost like he was the one who started this all.

“God, Theo, you’re so good for me.” You said, holding onto the headboard. He moaned into you in response. He seemed to like that. A lot. “You’re such a good boy for me.” You said before reaching down and moving your skirt a bit to hold onto his hair. You started riding his face, moving your hips to rub your pussy on his tongue. He was moaning and groaning so loud now, even louder than you, like this is what he lived for. “That’s it, baby, just keep doing that for me.” You said, throwing your head back as you moaned. His face was still hidden by your skirt, but if you could see him, you could see just how fucked out and pussy drunk he was.

Your orgasm came faster than expected. You trembled and cried out above him and he just stayed there, holding you up as he helped you ride out your high. 

You moved off of his face and now you could see just how fucked out he was. Face red, pupils blown, lips and chin all wet from you, chest heaving as he watched you strip fully before coming back to the bed, kneeling beside him.

“You wanna cum now, baby?” You asked him, running a hand through his hair as he nodded. “No. I need your words. What do you want?” You asked and reached your hand to stroke at his cock.

He closed his eyes for a second, groaning softly before looking at you again. “I wanna cum in you, cara mia.” He said, and you could feel him trying to thrust into your hand for more friction.

“Beg.” It was a simple command. But you had no idea where this came from. You’d never done this before. But it was amazing. Seeing your hot, strong, and desperate boyfriend begging for you and letting you do whatever you wanted with him. He was hesitating, so you moved your hand from his cock and he whimpered. That fucking whimper.

“I need to cum in you so bad, principessa, please. Please fuck me.” He said, he looked so embarrassed. But it seemed his neediness outweighed it.

“So fucking needy.” You said and moved to straddle him, positioning him at your entrance. “And here you were, complaining about how tired you were.” You teased him before starting to sink down on him, moaning at the feeling. He moaned as well, grabbing at the sheets again so he wouldn’t touch you. He just wanted to see you ride him, take care of him, more than anything else in the world at this moment. You both moaned once he was fully inside you, taking a moment to adjust to his cock.

Once you started to move, he really didn’t hold back any sounds. All the moans, groans, whimpers, whines, curses, compliments. They all came out of his mouth as he watched your pussy taking his cock over and over. He couldn’t look away.

“You’re talking so much, mi amore. What’s got you so loud?” You said in a bit of a teasing tone.

“You feel so good, so tight, so warm.” He said, moaning again as you put your hands on his chest to start grinding, making his dick hit that spot inside you that could make you cum so hard you’ll scream.

“How about we put that mouth to use then.” You said and brought one hand up to his mouth, shoving two fingers in it. He was moaning around them now, licking and sucking away. “That’s my good boy.” You said and he rolled his eyes back, groaning. “You love being so good for me, don’t you?” You ask him and he moaned in response with the smallest nod. “You wanna be a good boy and fill me up?” He moaned and nodded again in response. “Ask me for it then.” You said and he groaned against your fingers. “You gotta ask.” He opened his mouth and was moaning, you could tell he was trying to talk, but your fingers were stopping him. “You’re trying so hard. You’re doing such a good job.” He whined and you smiled. “I wanna feel you cum inside, baby.” You said and he nodded slightly again, going back to wrapping his pretty lips around your fingers. 

You kept grinding on him, curses and praises leaving your mouth as his cock fit that spot over and over until you came again, trembling and cursing. He was right behind you, the feeling of your pussy cumming on him sending him over the edge, and he was filling you with his cum until it was spilling out of you.

As you both caught your breath, he leaned his head back onto the pillows, pulling off your fingers as he stared up at you.

“That was so fucking hot, cara mia.” He said, rubbing his hands soothingly on your hips and thighs. “You’re so hot when you’re in charge like that.”

“I have no idea what came over me.” You admit, still breathing heavily.

“I hope it comes over you more.”

[laiiaaa]

THANK YOU VERY MUCH — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary You pay Carmen a visit after a busy night to give your thanks...with a little extra love.

length 3.1k

contents MINORS DNI, smut, lots of kissing, some heavy petting, oral sex (m!receiving), semi-public sex sorry Richie, soooooo much praise, teasing, a glimpse of subby Carm make brain go brrrrrr, fluffy ending bc he’s a cutie pie, imma be fr...he splooges in your mouth…in his office…after hours…don’t look at me ik it’s FILTHY!!!…apologies to the church it’s not my fault he’s a SLUT

Carmen’s sitting hunched over his desk in a mess of paperwork when Richie barges in.

“Your girl’s here,” he almost sighs, holding the door open as you walk in, all smiles and a Thanks, Richie slipping past your lips before he nods, shooting Carmen a look emphasized with a pointed finger: “No funny business back here, alright? ‘Cause I’ll fuckin’ know.”

When he walks away, you shut the door and lock it. Stupid fuckin’ lock, Carmen thinks, knowing that it’s mostly for show. He can’t remember the last time it actually worked. But he smiles back at you, turning his chair around when you peek over your shoulder after the fact anyway, his skin tingling with anticipation of feeling you in his arms again.

You carefully drop your bag on the floor and leave your jacket on the desk as you walk over to him, standing between his spread legs as he sits up. Your fingers tangle in his hair, voice syrupy sweet when his hands wrap around your thighs just below the hem of your skirt. “Hi, Bear.”

He looks up at you with his chin resting below your navel. An after hours haze comes over him, muscles sore and eyes heavy, and he swears you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Hey, baby,” he drawls, letting you play with his hair a moment longer before bringing one hand to gently lift your top just a few inches, pressing gentle kisses to the exposed skin, trailing right to your waistband to leave heated butterflies frenzied in your stomach. “Missed you a lot today…”

“Yeah?” You tug at his strands to get his attention again and lower yourself to straddle his hips. “Stressful day?”

His palms slide from your waist to your hips, pawing at your ass while he presses kisses to your jaw. “Yeah, just busy…‘n T was in a mood, so…” He trails off, too occupied with soaking in your perfume, your heavy breaths when he drags his teeth against your pulse.

“Carm?” you start, massaging his shoulders and moving to squeeze at his biceps—fuck, his arms, you just wanna…mm. You pry a groan from his throat and it only makes you want him more. “Lemme help you unwind, hm?…” 

One hand urges him to lift his gaze before you take his lips in a kiss, his hands making their way beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel skin to skin. It’s sweet, and it’s sultry, the way you kiss him, like you want him to unravel between your fingertips as you thumb at the knots in his shoulders. He’s not so sure he’d mind, what with the way you’re already turning his brain to mush with just a few cants of your hips against his. 

“Baby,” he breathes, “You don’t—you don’t have to…”

“I want to, though…” You’re nearly whining into his mouth. “You do so much for me, Carmy…”

“I, uh—” he laughs sheepishly, neck and face flushed and breath turning shallow— “I dunno ‘bout that—”

“C’mon, Bear—” you quiet your voice, leaning down close by his ear while a hand cups the opposite side of his face— “You cook for me all the time…” His fingers tease at the hem of your top again, and you peck his jaw. “You never let me lift a finger, and you always hold me…”

He sighs when your nails scratch at the tuft of hair behind his ear, head lolling into the back of the chair, eyes shut as his hands wander up your shirt dangerously close to your breasts. 

“And you make me feel so—” you drag your teeth along the shell of his ear, and put more weight against his hips, and he’s barely keeping himself calm— “so good—”

“Shhhhit—” he squeezes you tight to keep you from grinding against him again— “Richie’s just outside, baby, gotta be careful…”

“I don’t care…” Putting him in a trance, you carefully remove your top and let it fall to the floor, a pleased breath escaping when he grabs at you. “I’ve been missing you all day, y’know?”

“Yeah?” His chest is already heaving in anticipation, and it’s like he’s a virgin, cock half hard and throbbing just at the sight of bare skin he craves to kiss. “Me too, baby…”

You snake a hand down his stomach to palm him through his jeans while smiling like a minx. “And I miss your cock, Carmy—”

“Shhhhit—” he plants his hand on your mouth, and it’s painfully hard to ignore how he just twitched in his jeans— “The fuck’re you doin’?” 

You pout when he hesitantly uncovers your mouth. Feeling up his arms again, biting at your lip, you sigh. “Just showin’ my appreciation…”

He huffs, runs a hand through his hair with his eyes closed. “O-Okay, fuck…” 

How is he supposed to say no when you’re sat all pretty and topless in his lap? That wouldn’t be fair, now, would it? 

“Fuck, okay—” he looks you in the eye, brows furrowed and desperate for you like you always know he is— “We gotta be quiet, though, baby, alright?” A sweet kiss, slow and with his hands holding your face. “Gotta be quiet.”

You giggle into one last smooch. “Fine by me.” You shrug and shuffle out of his lap, sat on your heels in front of spread knees, mouth watering and eyes blown with lust as you brush your hands along his thighs.

He watches you carefully as you undress him: unbuttoning his jeans, opening his fly, looking up at him all sweet when you need him to lift his hips. By the time the denim pools around his ankles his cock is weeping pre and soaking through his briefs. 

“Oh, Carm,” you coo, kissing up and along his inner thighs past a tattoo of your name, leaving him reeling, “Why didn’t you tell me you’re so worked up?” You trail your fingers beneath the hem while lending hot kisses over the fabric, and he groans a little too loud for someone who was just worried about being caught. “I would’ve helped you.”

“F-Fuck you,” he laughs, leaning back into the chair with an arm cast over his forehead to try and calm himself the best he can when you’re breathing on his cock and peeling sticky briefs down his legs.

His dick is throbbing by the time you free it, threatening to stain his white tee, and you’re practically drooling into his lap as you wrap your hand around the base of it. It’s thick, it has your thighs pressing together and tongue going slick, and you can hardly connect your middle finger and thumb.

A breath hisses through his teeth and you hum to yourself. “Mmmm, you’re so big, Carmy.” But you notice he’s not looking at you, and you pause. “C’mon, you gotta watch.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. 

“If you want me to suck it—” wet, slobbery kisses trail from his base up toward his cherry red tip as you pump him slowww, spreading pre down his shaft— “You could at least open your eyes a little, hm?”

And oh, what a sight he is when he obliges: cheeks flushed, brows drawn tight together, golden brown curls made a mess, bottom lip barred behind teeth, preening over the look of your lips glossy with spit. He thinks he could come in record time. 

You smile up at him sweetly. “There he is…” And before he can blink you’re taking him into your mouth, down far enough to touch your lips to your hand, down far enough to have him groaning. 

“Holy shit, baby—” he moans, a sound that makes you dizzy, “Oh, fuck…” His head lolls back again, exposing a bobbing Adam’s apple as he gulps down a breath, a hand of his brushing low and past dark thick curls before squeezing the fabric of his tee and revealing his happy trail. 

You pull your mouth up on his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip to hear him whimper—whimper, all drawn out and whiny like he can’t get enough—before you let go completely, holding him by the base and watching a trail of spit and pre connect his slit to your tongue. 

“Jesus fuck—…” He bites into his fist, a pained look on his face but with lust-blown eyes. What’d he do to deserve you? “So fuckin’ sexy, baby…”

You smile and kiss his tip. “ ‘Cause I love having you in my mouth…”

A heady breath accompanies another rush of blood beneath your hands. “Yeah?”

“Mmmmm ‘f course, Carmy…” You drag your lips back down to his base and flatten your tongue to lick a stripe to the top, prodding his tip past your plush lips before smooching it again. “You have the prettiest cock…” You gather a glob of spit and Carmen can’t peel his eyes off of it as it drips…down from your glossy lips…down onto the beating head…before the words “Thank you for letting me suck it…” fall breathlessly off your tongue.

That makes his hips buck up and a moan slip past stifled by a hand over his mouth. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me come—”

You squeeze the soaked base of him, taunting with a feigned frown. “But I just got started…”

“Y-Yeah,” he heaves, “That’s the problem…”

You pump his cock slow with a tight fist how he likes it, grinning as your free hand snakes up his thigh; his breath hitches, and he starts to think he’s dreaming when you grab for the hand by his navel and bring it atop your head. He smooths it over your hair a few times as he releases choppy breaths, makes a face to ask Are you sure? He doesn’t expect you to hum against his tip, sending a vibration down his cock to make him choke on nothing before you murmur, “Do whatever you want…” kissing and licking along his shaft as your hand twists around his tip, “Wanna make you feel good…”

“You are, baby…” He tugs gently on your hair and guides your mouth back to where he needs you. “Like a—” you wrap your lips around him again, and even with his hands in your hair his head rears back— “Fuck, yeah, just like that—like a fuckin’ angel—”

It’s filthy, and it’s messy and wet and dirty, the way you let him fuck into your mouth, his feet planted on the ground and pushing the back of the chair against the desk, your hands pressing into the sinew of his thighs to keep steady. “God, you’re so fuckin’ good—so fuckin’ good for me, baby—”

And you’re practically dripping in your panties, doing as best you can to relieve some of that pulse between your thighs by grinding your cunt into your heels, too caught up in Carmen’s moans to think too much about the fact you’re in his office choking on his dick because it feels so good, and he looks beautifully euphoric, eyes squeezing shut every few seconds, neck flushed crimson above a gasping chest. 

You hollow your cheeks around him and he thrusts only halfway, the added suction too much to take all the way down to your throat. “Shhhit, suckin’ me so nice—so fuckin’ gorgeous—makin’ me wanna—” but you push away from his dick, drool-smeared lips curling into a smile. He wets his lips as his chest rises and falls at the loss of release. He thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen like this, all messy and covered in spit and pre with tears marring the makeup around your eyes. “Fuck me,” he groans, exasperated as he leans back into the chair and brings his hands up to his forehead. 

You sit up a bit and put more weight into your knees. You keep one hand languidly stroking his cock while the other grips his tee and pulls him forward, crashing into your lips so he can taste himself. His hands quickly take up your jaw, holding you firm against his lips to let him dip his tongue into your mouth and deepen the kiss. Your neck is craned, and his back is hunched over, but with the way you keep your hand away from his throbbing tip has him groaning for more. 

“You gotta be quiet, Carm,” you murmur before he just kisses you again anyway. 

“Can’t—” you squeeze his dick when you near his head at that— “hah, fuck—can’t be quiet when your mouth ‘s on me like that—”

You push against his sternum to send him leaning back into the chair, and his head starts spinning with want. “Figure it out then—” another kiss to his weeping cock, just as sexy as the last ten times as you thumb at his slit— “or I’m not gonna fuck you when we get home.”

“Shit,” he hisses to himself, lifting his hips to move them closer to your mouth. He likes this side of you, knowing what you want and a little demanding, a smirk poking at the corners of your mouth when you command things of him you’ll make sure he can’t fulfill. Maybe he should fuck you in the office more often. 

He doesn’t get to ponder it too long, though, because you’ve already taken him into your mouth again, both hands now gripping at the base while your tongue laps at his slit like you’re begging for him to spill into your mouth. His knuckles turn white as he grips the arm rests of the chair, and he bites down hard into his bottom lip to stifle a moan loud enough to be heard all the way at the front door. 

“I needa come, baby—” you leave your hands on his thighs as you take him all the way in, his tip prodding at the back of your throat— “Fuck—!” He thrusts up into your mouth and realizes too late how fucking loud he is—how loud all of it is, what with you gagging and moaning as you try to get some sense of release while milking his dick for all he’s worth, the sighs of pleasure that slip off his tongue no matter how hard he tries, the wet sounds from your mouth every time he bucks his hips out of the chair. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” he groans, a hand coming to the top of your head again to slow you so as not to let him finish too quick. “Baby—ah, fuckmmmmfuck baby, please—” He feels it churning in his gut all the way to his cock: that band stretching and stretching and threatening to snap, growing tighter and tighter every time your lips smooth over his head and your tongue laps at the frenulum. “Baby lemme—shit, lemme come down your throat please, baby—”

As soon as he begs it of you you’re moaning an affirmation, locking eyes with him for a split second before they shut again with ecstasy. He snaps with a stuttered thrust into your mouth, palms pressed hard into the arm rests as he chokes out your name as hushed as he can manage. “Fuck, pretty—” his release, bitter and salty, shoots into your mouth with a groan so guttural you feel it in your cunt.

The shift of his hips slows from a thrust to a meager cant, overstimulation crawling up his spine as you continue milking him. “Shit,” he huffs, arms going limp and jaw going slack. “Slow down, baby…needa—needa calm down…f-fffuck…” He watches as you slowly drag your lips up to the tip of his cock to clean him of his cum, another groan easing by at the sight. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby—” You’re giggling and pressing soft kisses to his thighs, and all he can do is tilt his head back and shut his eyes to try and recover. 

You wait less than a minute before you’re hounding on him again, thrumming with success and the thought of him fucking you when he brings you home. “How was it?” You ask the question sheepishly, smiling up at him and wiping spit from your lips like you don’t know how much you’ve just wrecked him.

He wills himself to sit back up again. “How was it?” He smiles back, heart warm. “Baby—” he cups your face all sweet how he is after sex, muscles pliant and brain dizzy with aftershocks of pleasure— “You’re fuckin’ incredible, y’know that right?”

You shrug despite your daze. “Obviously. You came in my mouth like a virgin.”

“Shut up,” he sighs, lips perking up into a reluctant smile. His thumbs brush along your cheekbones with adoration. “Your fault for bein’ so sexy.”

A precious kiss to your forehead, one that has your eyes slipping closed before his nose nudges past yours and he seizes your mouth in a searing kiss, one that’s built on passion and lust and appreciation and awe. Your palms sit beneath his elbows and he smiles into it, flushing when he tastes himself on your tongue but kissing you that much deeper when he does. 

There’s one last sweet peck before he says, “You’re perfect. Thank you.” Another between your brows and to each cheek before he grabs your shirt, crumpled beside the chair, and hands it to you. He lets you dress yourself while he fits his half-hard dick back into his briefs and stands to pull his jeans over his hips, wiping tacky hands down on the denim. It’ll do. 

He helps you get back up and ease your sore knees back into working condition before the door knob rattles. Both of you freeze. 

“Cousin!” A hand bangs hard on the door.

You and Carmen lock eyes. “Shit,” he hisses, looking down and fumbling with his fly. You panic only half-heartedly, the other half laughing at Carmen’s struggle. 

“Cousin!” Richie calls again, shaking the door, “You fuckers better not’ve been doin’ what—” 

Just like Carmen should’ve seen coming, the lock stops working and the door swings open as he’s buttoning his pants. 

Richie catches him and his expression drops. “Oh, you son ‘f a—” he seems to catch your smudged mascara and lip gloss— “Oh, God—” He grimaces and steps away from the doorway with his hands on his head. “In the fuckin’ office, Cousin? Are you kiddin’ me?”

Carmen figures you don’t care enough to bother with the complaints, because you’re shooting him a smile and tugging on his arm to lead him right past Richie. And he’s more than happy to follow behind, a stupidly lovedrunk smile on his face. What he’s got in mind for you when you get home—perhaps a polite thank you of his own���will be worth the headache tomorrow morning.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hello!

Could I request some hc's for platonic Alastor and Reader where he treats Reader like a little sister?

Y E S! LET’S GOOOOOO! I LOVE ALASTOR! MY DEEREST— sorry. Sorry… I am so excited to finally have a Hazbin Hotel request. Thank you soooooo much, infinite amount of love and support to you, darling! Thank you!

Platonic! Alastor- Hopping Little Heart

“Al… can you just stop it”

You grumble out loud enough to be heard with sharp eyes glaring over your shoulder, annoyed by the constant babying and half-condescending treatment the Radio Demon himself gives you

Alastor, ever since he met you and managed to trick you into giving up your soul to him, treats you like you’re a child under his care. Like you’re an incompetent incapable little girl that he has to take care of as your older brother. It’s annoying, you’re 25 and been in Hell since 1985. Yeah, he’s 33 and been in Hell since 1933 but still. These whole behaviours of his is driving you more crazy than you already are

“Hmm… Let me think over it… I don’t think I will stop brushing your hair, my dear” Alastor hums out in a snarky yet dapper fashion, his transatlantic-accented voice echoey and menacing with the usual radio lace as he continues to brush your hair humming out a old-timey tune under his breath, long sharp fingers holding nice silky strands over his palm. You’re getting ready for a special party Princess Charlie Morningstar is arranging as a celebration for the first client, Sir Pentious, being redeemed. Here is Alastor behaving like you can’t doll yourself up on your own

Sometimes, you seriously think Alastor views you as an eight year old and he’s adopted you as to act like your surrogate older brother-caretaker. He’s overprotective, he shoves you away from arguments as to ‘protect your little ears’, he is quite favouritistic over you that it’s obvious, he gives you all kinds of cute gifts, he lets you touch him when nobody else can. As compared to how he treats Husk and Niffty, the overpowered Overlord treats you much more civil. He does act like a clingy loving boundary-stepping brother, it’s weird…

Even Charlie notices it but nobody really wants to point out, other than Vaggie, how weird it is to see Alastor baby and babytalk you in the Hotel Lobby, with no shame, like you’re five years old. Who would ever think a narcissistic, violent but yet charismatic demon like Alastor could express genuine affection to anybody else? Alastor, in a rather impressively fast pace, ties up your hair in a cute fluffy bun for this upcoming party. As if he’s tied up women’s hair many times over

How about himself? Will he attend this party? No but he’ll go to watch over you, that’s it. He isn’t going to participate in the event, he isn’t on the side of redemption. He’s here for his own amusement and he especially isn’t a fan of get-togethers, even if he behaves and dresses like he attends the most lavish rich parties all the time. He isn’t much of a party man and he just wants to make sure his surrogate little sister isn’t being creeped on

“Look at that, darling. Simple magnificent” You can’t help but roll your eyes at Alastor’s half-praise whilst putting in a nice pair of diamond earrings, himself readjusting your dress so it’s comfortably hugging your body. Hearing the Radio Demon speak in usual half-talking down, babying manner to you, he always does it. On his end, he was admiring how pretty you look when he finished fixing you up. You’re the most pretty girl in this shitty Hotel and he’d love to rub into Vaggie’s face, he is still very annoyed at the Hotel Manager insulting his relationship with you. However, this is too risky, getting into a fight with Vaggie at the party will cause his murderous itch bubble over

And he doesn’t want to be violent or monstrous around his little sister

“Thank you, Al… you know, you can go now. I can walk to the Lobby on my own, I am not five” You’re not very good at expressing your desire for space with this demon, nobody has the confidence to tell Alastor what to do or to fuck off, and Alastor himself has absolutely no grasp on personal space so even when you spell it out for him, he just ignores it. Picking you up from your chair in front of the makeup mirror with zero effort and placing you down before him

All ready, pampered and sparkly to a degree he thought you were outshining the Hotel room’s light, Alastor’s wide sharp toothy grin almost feels less of power and dominance, and more genuine and prideful over… what? Over you?

“My dear. I can’t just let such a precious princess go out there all on her own. Allow me to escort you, as a family member. It’s the least a brother can do” Your suspicions over this Overlord’s intentions towards his brotherly-like affections to you has been confirmed. He does view you as a little sister and whilst his treatment of you, though trying his best to be affectionate and caring that comes off as belittling and bothersome, he doesn’t just view you as another soul to be exploited as to serve him and the Hotel he’s investing in

It’s kinda flattering and you just think for a bit whilst Alastor offers out his arm for you with patient silence and his grin never dying out, blood red eyes still locked on you like a proud older brother. Maybe, you’ve been a bit too harsh to this possibly really lonely deer-featured sinner. Maybe, you can just give him a chance and let this whole surrogate older brother-younger sister bond he is trying to develop with you actually blossom

“Careful of your heels. Don’t want you slipping on the floor. Niffty just waxed them”

A/N: Lmao. Fuck, didn’t read the HCs until after I finished writing. Sorry, hope this is okay!

[meadowscarlet]

being in a secret relationship with jj maybank.

pairings: jj maybank x fem!cameron!reader.

warnings: nsfw under the cut and inappropriate language used.

author’s note: last post for now i’m going to be busy this week and the next week so i’ll take a break from writing atm and hopefully i’ll get inspo to finish my james fic soon. do not copy, post on another site, translate or claim any of my works as your own or you will be reported! nav.

the forbidden relationship

• he always considered himself lucky to have you as his girlfriend—you were literally the embodiment of perfection, something that he clearly wasn’t and you were someone who is way out of his league

• but he wanted to fucking show everyone that you were his and he was yours

• unfortunately he can’t. you and he both know the risks associated with being together, which is why you persisted in keeping this relationship a secret although jj doesn't want to, he goddam knew you were worth every risk but because of the way you pleaded with him, telling him that your family wouldn't want this, he relented

• only sarah knew in your family about your relationship with jj but thankfully your sister swore not to tell anyone, especially to rafe and though jj doesn’t give a single fuck about that snobby asshole, he knew rafe was still your brother (though sometimes he had a difficult time comprehending that—you were an angel and rafe was... rafe)

in the relationship

• a literal golden retriever boyfriend

• super!!!! duper!!!! obsessed with you

• the pogues, whenever they are at john b’s shack (especially pope, bless his poor soul) has to put up with jj constantly rambling about how much he loves you

• like he never shuts up about you and the pogues were convinced that the lovesick fool was so fucking whipped that they weren't sure whether to be concerned or amused

• “like i just can’t even explain it, man, i love my girl so fucking much.” he would say with a goofy grin, head already filled with everything about you

• pope, looking exasperated, would grumble. “you literally just gave millions of reasons why you love her, we get it, jj.”

• will always give you compliments and shower you with praises

• “you’re so beautiful,” “have i ever told you today how hot you look?” “jesus christ, you’re unreal, love.”

• calls you “my girl” “babe” and “love”

• always. demands. your. attention.

• he’s literally soooooo clingy!!!!!

• and easily jealous

• “he was literally eye fucking you.”

• whenever a guy approaches you and openly flirts with you, he would scowl. sometimes, even though jj wants to approach you, punch the asshole, and drag you along with him, he can't because it would be obvious to people that there’s something going on between you two when he promised you he would keep it lowkey but it was just so hard

• you always reassure him by pecking his lips and saying that he’s the only guy you love

nsfw

• a total fucking tease

• when no one was looking, he would slyly palm your ass or place his hands inside your skirt, delicately caressing the fabric of your underwear where his finger brushes your covered pussy

• “my god, babe, you’re soaking already and i haven’t even touched you yet.”

• you can practically hear the smirk in his words

• so horny. you would literally just breathe and he would get turned on

• he would sometimes sneak into your room (which was beside rafe’s) and would fuck you there

• jj maybank is a fucking sex god. he knew exactly where to put his mouth on every part of your body, including your cunt, your lips, and your sweet spot in your neck and he also grasped how much of an impact his thrust would have once he was fully inside of you, given how you struggled to contain your whimpers and clung to him as he rocked into you

• “i wonder what your brother is going to think when he sees his precious sister drunk on my cock.”

• “as much as i love hearing your sweet moans, love, you don’t want to get caught, do you?”

• gives the best orgasms and he knows it

• aftercare!!!!!

• would pull your naked body to him, lay your head on his chest as he hug you close to him, whispering how good you were and reassuring you while pulling your hair in one shoulder as he kisses the other bare shoulder softly

• “soon we can do all this without hiding from everyone. i’ll make sure of it.”

[doc-pickles]

watching him with those eyes | mat barzal x reader x anthony beauvillier

summary: after you wear tito's jersey mat decides you need to be punished

warnings: mat is a little bit of an asshole, smut (spanking, fingering, p in v unprotected, degradation, threesome, voyeurism), brief blackh*wks mention

a/n: soooooo I wanted to do 12 days of smutmas but my brain no work so this is my last smutmas fic HAHA unless I somehow regain inspiration before christmas. but I really love this one so uhhhhh have fun and enjoy!

xoxo

nina

You knew it was a risky move, knew you’d piss Mat off. But you couldn’t help yourself, slipping on the #18 jersey before you left your apartment. The Islanders were facing the Blackhawks tonight and despite Mat being your boyfriend Tito was your best friend that you hadn’t seen in months. 

Tito’s face had absolutely lit up when he saw you during warm-ups, skating over to you with a grin. You’d wished him good luck and he’d skated off. 

Then Mat had seen you. And he was not happy. 

Mat wasn’t an overly jealous person but he’d always envied the bond that you and Tito had formed over decades of friendship. You assured Mat that he had nothing to worry about, Tito had introduced you two after all. But you knew that Mat was still on edge. 

After the game you waited for Mat, your feet tapping anxiously against the linoleum as more and more players trickled out of the locker room. When you finally spotted him you plastered on a smile but Mat didn’t return the sentiment to you. He accepted your chaste kiss before tightly gripping your waist and leading you down to the parking garage. 

“Mat-“

“Don’t,” he growls as he presses you into the side of his car. “You think you’re so cute running around with his number on, huh?”

You gasp as Mat’s fingers wrap around your throat, the pressure making you blink back tears. 

“You’ve been naughty baby. Do you remember what happens to naughty girls,” Mat asks as he squeezes just a bit tighter, your eyes rolling up to meet his. 

“They get punished,” you choke out just as Mat lets go of your throat. 

“Get in the fucking car,” Mat spits out as he gets into the driver's seat. You obey, silently following and buckling up as he pulls out of the parking garage. 

The entire drive is silent and seems to take twice as long as usual. There’s no casual conversation or music, just you and Mat as he drives you to his apartment.

You bolt from the car as soon as Mat puts it into park. When he catches up with you his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest. 

“Oh baby… You can’t fucking run from me,” Mat coos in your ear, his breath fanning across your skin. “You want me to take you over my knee?”

“Mat…” you groan as he slides his hand down to cup your heat over your leggings. “We’re in the hallway, anyone could walk by.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Someone watching me take this sweet pussy,” Mat growls and bites into your shoulder making you gasp. “Mmm, that’s my girl. C’mon baby, time for your punishment.”

Mat drags you down the hallway and makes quick work of unlocking his door. As soon as you’re inside he’s got you up against the wall, pressing his hips into yours as his hand finds your throat again. 

“My baby wants to be watched? Want someone to know how much of a whore you are,” you moan against Mat as he brushes his lips against yours. You can feel his fingers ghosting across your leggings, coming closer to the apex of your thighs. “Yeah, you’re a little slut, aren’t you? Wearing my best friend’s jersey? You want Tito to watch me fuck you so he knows you’re mine?”

“Holy shit Mat,” you cry out as he finally cups your pussy through your leggings and squeezes your throat tighter. “Fuck! Yes, I want it! Please, baby!”

A dark chuckle leaves Mat as he lets you go, your chest heaving as you stare up at him with wide-blown pupils. 

“Careful what you ask for baby,” he whispers against your lips before throwing you over his shoulder and walking you down the hallway to his bedroom. 

Mat sits on the bed, not giving you a chance to acclimate before he throws you over his knee. Your heart is racing as he harshly tugs your leggings and panties down, exposing your ass to him. 

“You’re so fucking wet baby,” Mat groans as he runs his fingers through your slick folds. “God, is this all for me?”

The only thing you can do is moan, savoring the feeling of his fingers teasing your entrance and the fact that you’re completely exposed as you lay across his lap. 

“Or is it all for Tito?” Mat asks as he shoves two fingers into your dripping cunt. “God I bet you’d love to be watched by him. Let him hear how fucking wet you are?”

“Mat,” you cry as he plunges into you again, his other hand coming down to slap your ass. Your body is already overstimulated and the night has just started. “Oh my god!”

Mat delivers two more smacks, his fingers still inside of you as he doles out your punishment. Your breath comes out in whimpers as he holds you in place, his hand continuously smacking your ass and sending electric jolts through your body. He pauses his slaps, instead moving his fingers in and out of your cunt making the most lewd sounds.

“So loud, so wet. You’re doing so good” Mat chuckles as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. A pathetic moan leaves you as you thrash around on his lap. “Putting on such a good show, showing Tito how wet you are for him, how you’re a slut for him. God baby he looks like he wants to eat you up.”

Your head immediately pops up at Mat’s words, stilling when you meet Anthony’s eyes from across the room. He’s standing in the doorway of Mat’s bedroom, eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. You flung over Mat’s lap, your dripping cunt on full display, and his name on your back.

“Tito-”

Mat shoves your head back down before either you or Anthony can say anything. His hand comes down on your ass and you can’t help the whine you let out, “Love it when you’re loud, baby. Show Tito how good you are for me.”

The thought of Mat’s best friend watching you has you on full alert, your body thrumming with excited energy as your boyfriend continues to spank you. His fingers come back to your cunt, pushing in roughly and catching your breath on a gasp.

“So close, Mat,” you cry out, clenching around his fingers as he continued to mercilessly fuck you. “Please, baby!”

“Come for me baby, let Tito see how pretty you look when you coat my fingers with your cum,” Mat’s words trigger your orgasm, a series of moans and gasps falling from your lips as your hips jerk against him. “That’s it, baby. Doing so good for me. Fuck Tito, she’s so tight. Squeezing the life out of my fingers.”

A low groan escapes Tito and the sound makes your pussy clench against Mat. He lets a chuckle out before pulling his fingers out of you and giving you one more slap to your already red ass. Without warning he throws you onto the bed and you scramble to your knees before he can sit up.

“All fours baby,” Mat commands as he pushes your shoulders down. “Want Tito to see your face when I fuck you.”

Falling onto your hands you look up and meet Tito’s eyes. He’s sitting in the chair Mat has positioned in the corner of the room now, eyes never leaving you as Mat rips off your panties and leggings. His erection is straining in his dress pants, the sight fueling your aroused state.

“You eye fucking my best friend over here?” Mat whispers in your ear, his body encasing you as his hard cock ruts against your core. “Knew you were a fucking slut. You want him to fuck you instead of me, don’t you?”

“Mat, baby-,” you gasp as he pulls back, his hands gripping your waist tightly. His dick is prodding at your entrance and you thrust your hips back into him, eyes still locked with Tito’s. “Want him to watch you fuck me. Please, baby.”

At your words Tito groans loudly, hand coming to palm his erection as his head lolls backward in lust. Mat pushes his cock into you with a rough thrust and you’re crying out in pleasure. Your hips buck back into him as he bottoms out, his hands on your waist squeezing hard enough that you know you’ll have bruises in the morning. 

“So fucking tight, so perfect for me,” Mat groans as he thrusts into you, one of his hands slapping your ass again. “Look so pretty taking my cock with his number on your back.”

You realize that you’re still wearing Tito’s jersey and you let out a breathy moan of pleasure, your hips thrusting back into Mat. When you look up to meet Tito’s eyes you nearly collapse at the sight of him watching you and Mat with his hard dick in his hand. He’s not as thick as Mat, but his length makes up for it. Tito meets your gaze and you groan at the connection there.

“Beau, oh fuck,” you cry out as Mat slaps your ass again. “Oh my god, so good baby. Fucking me so good for Beau.”

Both men loudly groan at your words, Mat’s thrusts speeding up as Tito jerks his cock harder. The sight and feeling of both of them has you reeling, your overstimulated body bowing to Mat’s hold on you. Your eyes are locked on Tito’s as he watches the two of you fuck with reckless abandon.

“So close Matty,” you gasp out as Mat’s hand wraps around you to shove roughly at your clit. “Baby, I n-need Tito. Please Mat. Fuck! Want you both to cum on me.”

Carefully you watch as Tito meets Mat’s gaze. You can’t see your boyfriend from this angle but you know they’re silently deliberating something as Mat continues to fuck you. Without a word Tito stands and comes to the edge of the bed, hard cock still out as he jerks it roughly just inches from your face.

“I knew my little slut would want this,” Mat breathes out as he pulls your hips up, tugging at your hair with one hand so you’re face to face with Tito. “You want him so bad, you take him. Show him what I get every fucking night.”

There’s only a moment of hesitation between the two of you before you lean forward and lock your lips with Tito’s, one hand coming up to wrap in your hair while the other continues to jerk his cock. You moan into his mouth, reveling in the feel of him on your lips and Mathew pounding away at your pussy.

“Fuck,” you gasp against Tito’s lips. “So close… So… Fuck baby please!”

Mat works your clit furiously as you cry out your release into Tito’s mouth, his hand in your hair pulling your head back so you were facing him head-on. Suddenly he drops your hair right as Mat pulls out of you and both of their cries of pleasure fill the room. With a pleased smile, you realize that they’d both dirtied the back of your jersey with their releases, your knees giving way so you can collapse on the bed as they both finish themselves off.

You’re dazed for a few minutes until you feel a warm washcloth between your legs just as Tito crouches in front of you, wiping your hair away from your face, “Let me take this off of you, yeah?”

Tito pulls the jersey off of you, throwing it into the laundry basket as Mat finishes wiping you up. You reach up for Tito but he brushes you off, kissing your forehead instead of holding you like you had implied, “Early flight, I have to head back to the hotel.”

With a slow grin you watch as Mat and Tito say goodbye to each other, not an ounce of awkwardness between them despite what they’d just shared. After the front door closes Mat crawls into bed next to you and pulls your naked body against his.

“How you feeling baby,” Mat asks into your shoulder, lips brushing your skin. “Like your surprise?”

“Mmmm yes thank you,” you grin as you lean up to kiss him, one hand tangling in his hair. “But I like just having you here, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Mat whispers as he strokes a hand across your cheek. “Should I just block off the whole weekend next time Tito is in town then?”

“Mathew!”

[comethead]

hi hi hello! never made a request before i’m kinda new to tumblr lol

ANYWAYS.

jason x fem!reader and reader broke her ankle and ofc jason is being super sweet and gentle and eventually reader really wants to fuck him but he’s hesitant bc broken ankle but like super sweet gently sex?? (also pretty pet names please i’d actually melt)

- 🦚 (can that be my anon?)

omg hiii, yes! 🦚 anon I hope you're still around cuz haha school got in the way but here is your request! hope you enjoy >u<

Care for You

MDNI // smut // Jason Todd x Reader

(afab reader, creampie, praise, gentle sex, pussy eating, no use of y/n)

Ao3 Link

“Hey, hey, settle down, I’ll grab that for you.”

You huff, sitting back down on the bed as Jason reaches for the magazine you were eyeing. They sat at a pile at the foot of your bed, which you’ve been confined to for as long as Jason was around. That being, always, as he hasn’t left your side since you broke your ankle, with the exception of going on patrol (but not without telling you a hundred times over to give him a call for absolutely anything). 

You give your boyfriend a peck on the cheek once he closes the distance between you two to hand you your magazine. “Thank you Jay, though I will say I’m not that fragile you know,” you pout, flipping open the booklet to the first couple of pages. He snuggles up to you, resting his head on your shoulder as he murmurs, “I know, but I’m gonna take care of you regardless. Can’t have my baby going and breaking her other ankle.” You smack him lightly on the arm for the last comment as he chuckled. You puff out your cheeks in mock anger and turn your head swiftly away from him. Gently, he places a hand on your chin to turn you to look back at him. “C’mon, you can’t stay mad at me for long, can you sweetheart?” You melt under his gaze, and flush as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. You press your lips against his when he draws back, and he gladly returns your passion by deepening the kiss. Before long, the two of you are making out, breaking apart for air before locking lips again. 

You tug at his shirt, beckoning him to take it off. You’re incredibly turned on, the way his lips are wet and red from making out, watching his broad chest rise and fall as he pants. “Hey,” he breathes, “I don’t think we should…your ankle-”. You shush him, and whip out that magazine from earlier. You flip to a page and show him a little diagram with a small paragraph describing it. “Look, it's a sex position that won't strain or jostle my ankle too much,” you say proudly, grinning at the way Jason’s eyes widen. “Jeez, my pretty baby is doing her research, huh?”, he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You smile back at him, tossing the magazine aside. “Soooooo..?” you ask, running your hands down his chest and to his stomach, noting the way his breath hitches. “Mmm, I really think you shouldn’t risk it babe,” he groans, catching your hands and holding them in place.

“Oh Jay, I promise I’ll say something if it hurts at all and we’ll stop immediately. Pretty please?”, you whine, gazing hopefully into his eyes. Jason sighs, releasing your hands and moving his to your breasts as he massages them. You whimper, placing your hands on top of his as he whispers, “Alright, you better keep that promise though.” The low notes of his voice sends tingles down to your tummy and you can barely contain your arousal as you moan, his fingers pinching your sensitive nipples. Moving down, he pulls your shorts down slowly, making sure not to move your ankle too much. Kissing your bare thighs, you suppress another moan when you feel his hot breath against your cunt. Jason moves your panties aside as he licks a broad stripe on your folds, feeling your wetness on his tongue. You nearly clamp your legs around his head in pleasure, your head thrown back and mouth open in a silent plea for more. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he holds you gently yet firmly in place as he continues eating you out. Circling his tongue around your clit, you let out a breathy moan from the stimulation as he works at bringing you to your climax. Adjusting your legs with the slightest of movements and with great care, Jason pulls back from your soaked cunt, your pleasure evident on his chin. “Fuck baby, you look so damn pretty,” he breathes, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes. You flush, covering your face. “Hey, don’t get all shy on me alright?” he gently pushes your hand away from your face as he cups your cheek in one hand. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he says, kissing you softly. You return the gesture, and the taste of yourself has your pussy clenching around nothing. “Oh Jay, please-” 

“Mhm, I got you baby.” He’s pulling his boxers down now, his hard cock bumping against your sensitive clit. Slowly, he begins to push his length in, whispering praises and groaning at the way you squeeze around him. Thrusting gently so as to not jostle your legs too much, you feel another orgasm build up. His steady pace keeps you moaning and crying out his name as you feel his dick fill you up. “Oh fuck,” he pants, leaning down to press little kisses to your neck up to your face. As much as you’re able to, you rock your hips onto his cock, feeling the stretch of your pussy accommodating his girth when he bottoms out. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m- ngh- I’m close,” he moans, thrusting faster. You whimper as you feel your own orgasm approaching, finally cumming when your sweet Jason cums deep into your cunt, filling you up. The two of you stay like that for a while, with him in you and the both of you breathing heavily. He finally pulls out and carefully lays down next to you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Told you I’d take care of you,” he smirks, and you roll your eyes in false annoyance, happy to have had sex with your favorite boy.

[dearharriet]

Congrats on 150!! For your celebration I was thinking Bad idea right? Is soooooo Sirius black.

you are sooo right, my love, that’s exactly who i had in mind haha. thank u sm for the request! (wc: 765) (cw: pg-13 smut)

There’s nothing hotter than a secret meetup, which makes your circumstances all the more unfortunate. It’s hard to hear anything above the thumping bass of the club, but the crackling phone line meets your ear like a challenge. Sirius is on the other end, working like a dog to persuade you to meet him, and you can’t hold out much longer.

“Darling,” he begs, tugging at your heart with his old nickname. “I miss you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have dumped me, then.”

He sucks a breath in like you’ve actually wounded him. Feeling the conversation run long, you glance around the corner to make sure your friends are still where you left them, dancing obliviously.

“I know it, love. Only a raging idiot would let you go. I’m a jealous prick, and I don’t deserve you.”

He’s really groveling, you think, lips curling into a smirk. You could probably say anything now and he’d agree with you.

“For once, I think you’re right. You don’t deserve me. If anything, I should go home with one of the guys here,” you breathe, your voice pitching down. “Let him have his way with me, and then send you a scanty photo to cry about.”

Sirius’ breath catches. “You’d have every right.”

The pit in your stomach grows, and you know some stranger would never satiate it. Sirius is wrapped around your finger, and you’re so tempted to take him up on his offer.

“But,” continues Sirius when you leave the line dead, “you know they’d never make you feel the way I can.”

That’s the final straw.

“Send me your address,” you murmur hurriedly, already assembling a plan to escape your friends. Sirius halts it in its tracks.

“Stay there, I’ll come get you,” he says instead, his voice husky and dark. I’m so in for it, you think.

Twenty minutes later, Sirius finds you loitering a block away from the club, mace in hand. He leans across the center console to open his passenger door, and you poke your head in.

“Hey,” you breathe.

Sirius jerks his head up as a means of greeting.

“Get in.”

You do as he says, sliding into the familiar seat beside him. It’s been months since you’ve seen him, but he looks exactly the same; still the hottest man you’ve ever met.

Sirius is watching you, too, taking in your skimpy top and short skirt with hungry eyes. If you had any doubts about the chemistry still standing between you two, they’re immediately banished.

“C’mere,” Sirius grunts, patting his lap. You can’t get there fast enough.

He feels so good under you, familiar and warm. His hands don’t hesitate the way that strangers’ do, they just grip the meat of your thighs with abandon. Similarly, you don’t hesitate to plant your mouth on his, weaving into the song and dance you two have performed a thousand times.

“I meant what I said, doll,” Sirius groans as you pull back to attend to his spotless throat. “I really have missed you.”

“You have me on your lap, Sirius, you don’t have to convince me anymore.”

He chuckles at that, grabbing meanly at your ass.

“You always were too sharp for me.”

Pulling away from his bobbing throat, you scoot yourself closer to his pelvis, finding him hot and ready beneath you. You don’t feel sharp. If anything, you’re more convinced you’re not thinking at all.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, and that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. Lust is fine, but everything else has to stay off the table.

“Sirius.” You suck harshly at a spot under his jaw and he hums, in pleasure and in question. “Shut up,” you say, and then cover his mouth with yours again, tugging at his silky hair. He smiles into your mouth and you lick behind those wicked teeth, knowing them as well as your own.

“Take your pants off,” you suddenly demand, and Sirius looks at you like you’re crazy. “What?”

“We’re not having car sex on a well-lit street, babe.”

You frown. “It sure seems like we are.”

Sirius laughs, a touch hysterical. “Uh-uh. No way.” His hands come up to untangle yours from his hair. “My place or yours?”

With a huff, you pull yourself off of him, dizzy and warm with desire. Without a word, you buckle yourself in, silently relenting to his terms. As he sets a big hand on your flushed thigh, you glance over at him, and you know you’ve made a terrible mistake. Still, you’re not about to turn back now.

“Your place,” you say, “baby.”

+

thank u for reading! <3

masterlist

join the celebration!

[succcession]

Could you do some Roman Roy smut headcannons?

Roman Roy ♡ Smut Headcanons

Ah little Romey…We ALL know Roman is the type to catch feelings for someone after they’ve been friends for a while. Slowly increasing the amount of sexual jokes he makes towards them

One day he would call you one day while you were at work, joking about how hard his dick was. You would respond something like “Eww gross Rome, why are you telling me this?” and instantly hear him gulp on the other end

He was speechless, your harsh reaction turning him on. That's when he would really start to see you as more than a friend

You know that scene from Wolf of Wall Street, when Margot Robbie spreads her legs and puts her heel on his head to stop him from getting closer. That's the kind of thing Roman would fantasize about, eventually letting it slip out

So of course once you finally put the pieces together of his little kink, you had to take advantage…

He showed up at your apartment to find you in bed with your legs spread playing with your clit, you were shocked he actually tried to make a move. But when you stopped him and instead told him he could only watch, he was hooked. Now he had to have you

He's had so much in his life handed to him, he liked that you made him work for you

Things would start with mutual masturbation, he loved watching you touch yourself while he jerked off. Teasing him the whole time “Are you going to cum for me already? God so needy for my pussy”

Obviously this boy wants you to degrade him pretty intensely. He doesn’t know why he likes it but when you make him get on his knees for you, and taunt him about how he can’t fuck you, his pants instantly get tighter

Would try to fix any fights, arguments or even little disagreements with sex. 

“Will you just sit on my fucking face!” Wants you grinding down on him while you pull his hair, moving his head where you want him. Suffocate him a little…

But I think he would also loveeeee if you were really gentle with him. Calling him a “good boy” and holding his head stroking his hair while he sucks your nipples eeeee

Okayy I think Roman would be super anxious at the thought of accidentally cumming in you and getting you pregnant. Usually pulling out to cum all over your stomach or face

But one day while he was fucking you harder then usual you couldn’t stop yourself from wrapping your legs around him, trapping him in deeper. Instantly he would be whining into your ear, repeating “fuck” under his breath as he came harder then ever

From that moment he would be obsessed with cumming inside you. Still terrified, but it was that thrill that turned him. Especially when it felt like you almost made him do it. By wrapping your legs around him, or not stopping when you're riding him

I think you could get some gooood praise out of Roman while teasing him

You had been straddling his waist, grinding your wet fold along his dick, stopping every time he got close. Eventually he would be panting “Please let me have your pussy, ugh need to be inside of you” and “You’re so good to me, I love you, I love you”

Don't think he would be a fan of wanting to take baths or showers together however, would want to watch you take a bath. Sometimes making it sexual, jerking off while he watches you lather soap everywhere. But most of the time just wanted to vent and ramble to you about whatever’s on his mind

Hes soooooo 😡 i love him

[kquil]

🍪: cookie with james who surprises reader by coming over at their work to pick them up and he's very touchy and wants hugs and all the cute stuff but reader tries (and fails) to pry him off them bc they're sweaty and gross from working all day if that makes sense hehe tysm and congrats on 1k <3

A/N : this was super cute darling! thank you for the request and celebrating my 1k milestone with me, i'm sorry this took so long for me to write, nevertheless, i hope you enjoy how it turned out ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

“James?” you call with uncertainty, cautiously eyeing the familiar figure standing before you. His charming grin, complete with adorable dimples, greets you and you’re immediately assured of who’s standing before you. It was probably the setting around him that somehow warped his appearance enough to seem unfamiliar. It wasn’t common for James to come to your workplace as the two of you got off work at the same time and found it more efficient to make the journey home separately; it was to your complete surprise that he was standing before you, just in time as you got off work, “What are you doing here?” Despite the question, a happy grin couldn’t escape your features. 

“To pick you up, of course,” the curly haired brunette regards you with a fond stare but rolls his eyes playfully, his tone just as tongue-in-cheek. Your loving boyfriend quickly approaches you with arms outstretched and a mischievous sparkle in his pretty hazel eyes. 

“Uhhh…” it was then that you noticed his state of hard labour. Having worked all day, he was covered in sweat and grime and you’re sure he wasn’t the cleanest either, “James!” you squeal in protest when he shows no mercy and pulls you into his arms with an evil laugh. 

“What?~” he feigns innocence, having successfully captured you in a tight embrace before peppering your face with kisses and squeezing you in his strong, muscular and sweaty arms, “I’m just kissing you~” he teases, his attack of kisses unrelenting until he succumbs to nuzzling his face into your hair and taking a big breath in through his nose, “you smell soooooo pretty~” 

“James!” you protest again, struggling against his hold but can’t help the laugh that escapes you, the merriment shaking your limbs and weakening your grapple for freedom. 

“If you just keep calling my name, I won’t know what’s wrong so I won’t do anything~” he sings, maintaining his playful tone of voice. Now he’s kissing the crown of your head and slowly making his way back to your face again, eventually reaching your temple, where he proceeds to trail a sloppy path down to the pudge of your cheek.

“James?” you call once more, pulling your face away and meeting his eyes, his hazel pools reflecting so much love and tenderness in the mix of his shamelessness. 

“Yes, love?”

“Thank you for picking me up,” his eyes soften considerably and he leans down, loving words forming on his tongue but is caught completely off guard when you take the opportunity to push him away, laughing, “but stay away from me!” your playful words matches his earlier one in both pitch and tone, “you stink~” 

“Wha-?!” he makes a face of mock offence before coming at you like a game of prey and predator, “that’s just the smell of my abundant love for you!”

“Yeah right!” you roll your eyes as easily as the sarcastic comment rolls off your tongue and laugh when he begins to chase you, “Abundant in sweat and grime, more like!” 

“Why you-! Get back here!” you both laugh as he chases you to his car where you giggle with one another, share a kiss and settle in his car before he finally drives you both home for a much needed shower and rest.

1K MILESTONE EVENT : CLOSED | NAVI.

[mha-cuties-pls]

Incel!Shigaraki x reader Headcannons

Pairing: Shigaraki x Reader | Rating: M | Words: n/a | genre: smut

A/N: Soooooo, writing these actually gave me the best idea for a scenario 🥴 just in love with the idea of touch starved and incredibly horny Incel!Shigaraki fixating on a girl and attempting to force her into submission, only to find out she had been craving him just as much as he was

Incel!Shigaraki that notices you in public one day when he was out at the mall buying a new video game, unable to tear his eyes away from your suggestively lewd outfit, deciding that a beautiful girl dressed like that in public wanted, no needed, his greedy eyes to objectify you. Shigaraki couldn’t usually have cared less about other people when he went out in public. They didnt share the same intelligence level or tenacity he did, and besides, they would all submit to The League of Villains in due time anyways; there was no point in trying to converse with any of them. That was, at least, until he stopped by the mall one day to pick up the newest edition of a game that had just been released, and his eyes couldn’t help but lock onto your voluptuous figure. It’s not like it was his fault he was staring, in that short skirt and tight tank top you were practically naked. He could even tell you weren’t wearing a bra as his eyes followed each bounce and jiggle of your chest as you walked over to the Nintendo Switch games. Still mesmerized, he watched you from across the store, and his heart began to pick up when you bent down to retrieve Cooking Mama on the bottom row, allowing him to catch a quick glimpse of your underwear. Feeling the twitch in his pants, he was unable to tear his eyes away from you- even when your gaze met his. What really sealed your fate, however, was the fact that upon meeting his eyes, you had the audacity to smirk at his actions. It was then that Tomura decided you needed to be taught a lesson.

Incel!Shigaraki who begins to stalk you in his free time, watching with distain every time he saw you talking to another guy he had never seen before Watching you giggle and playfully hit the male companion who sat next to you at the food court made Shigarakis skin boil. He knew that there was no way you were actually laughing that hard at anything that guy had to say; You were just being the slutty little girl that you were, probably craving and aching between your legs in ways that you should only be doing for him. Shigarakis grimace continued as he fumed from the corner where he sat watching, scratching at his neck and trying not to let his explosive anger get in the way of his careful planning.

Incel!Shigaraki who finally, after observing you for weeks, makes his move when he sees you alone one day buying bubble tea, and despite his inexperience, actually does a phenomenal job playing the part of a charmer. “Why don’t you come back with me for a bite to eat?” He says, voice laced with something that you can’t quite put your finger on. “I know this great hole in the wall and besides,” pulling his hood back a bit so you can more clearly see his features, you saw the ghost of a smile that was almost sinister tugging at his scarred lips, “we’ll be able to talk more privately there.”

Incel!Shigaraki who has never had sex, but wastes no time fulfilling his darkest and roughest desires, living out fantasies he had only ever seen on porn, never imaging he would be blessed with such a beautiful, obedient little whore of his own He stared down with an almost incredulous look on his face as he watched you slink down in front of him with your beautiful ass perched high in the air, your slick entrance shining in the low light of the room just begging for him to finally enter. He shoved himself inside clumsily and with force you weren’t expecting, making you cry out as he filled your aching cunt. You heard him breathing heavily, and he declined to move at first. Looking back over your shoulder, you saw his eyes basking in the sight before him. His hands were gripping your ass and shaking it, even giving small slaps watching your fat jiggle in a way more delectable than he ever could have imagined. When he watched porn he always imagined what it would actually be like to have a beautiful woman under him, complacent and begging for his touch; But the reality proved to be so much better than he ever could have thought. Seemingly coming back to reality after his quick daydream, he pulled out ever so slowly, before slamming into you with even more force than before. “____,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, “scream my name.”

Incel!Shigaraki who stares almost too intently at your stark naked form, just drinking in the erotic sight of your curves and soft skin, making you blush a bit and serving to make you feel sexy and a little more confident than you usually would

Incel!Shigaraki who talks a big game, but ends up inevitably going too hard too fast after he finally stuck it in, involuntarily cumming inside you with delicious whimpers of his own Shigarakis ferocious and sporadic thrusts culminated suddenly with an almost violent stop, and he laid his body across your back as you stayed on your hands and knees on the bed. Feeling his dry lips brush your neck with a sloppy kiss caused you to relax, and you felt his length beginning to soften inside you. “Fuck, ____.” His whispers danced lightly across the sensitive skin behind your ear, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the proximity between you two at the moment. “Your pretty pussy was squeezing my dick so good I came faster than I expected.” Then, he snaked his arms around your waist, grabbing your hips, and flipping you two so you both lay on your backs with you cuddled up to his side snuggly. Though just as you were about to let the aftermath haziness of your release lull you into a deep sleep in Tomouras arms, he brushed some of your messy locks behind your ear as he whispered, “I hope you’re ready for round 2.”

[jesterwriting]

Any chance you’d be willing to do some femdom with Sanji? Lots of mixing pain and praise pls? I’ll love you forever

pairing: sanji x reader

contents: dom!reader, sub!sanji, reader calls sanji good boy and pretty boy, sanji calls reader mademoiselle, leg humping, femdom, dacryphillia, reader slaps sanji and pulls his hair, sanji gets praised AND humiliated, sanji is naked, reader is fully clothed, there's like two mentions of feet and toes but its not foot fetish territory imo, reader kicks sanji in the balls once but hes into it so its fine

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!

word count: 1.2k words

note: okay so. i went a little crazy with this one. i think being dommed within an inch of his life would fix sanji and i had soooooo much fun with this request. thank you so much for sending it in <3

Lacing your fingers with Sanji’s blond locks, you carded your fingers through the soft strands with a small smile. His breathing was heavy, naked chest heaving under the force of it. Sanji’s eyes fluttered closed, leaning into your grasp with a content hum. You allowed him to enjoy your ministrations for a moment more before your grip tightened and you yanked him upward so that his face was inches from yours. He let out a gasp, thighs pressed tightly together at the rough handling.

“My pretty boy,” You crooned. Sanji was beautiful like this: completely naked and at your mercy. He was on his knees in front of you while you sat on his bed, clothed and wearing an expression of complete adoration. Even as tears made his blue eyes glassy, you didn’t let up your harsh treatment. Instead, you gave him a little shake. He let out the barest whimper. You fought the urge to give in and let him fuck you then and there, the only thing keeping you determined was the promise of a show you’d rather die than miss. “You can take it, can’t you? You’re always so good for me.”

Sanji nodded, a moan spilling from his lips when your fingers tightened and sharp, manicured nails dug into his scalp.

“Use your words, love.”

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing as he wet his dry lips. “Anything for you, mademoiselle.”

“Good boy.” With that, you lowered him back down to his knees. To an untrained ear, Sanji’s sigh would have sounded like relief, no longer being held by his hair and finally back on the ground after a minute of suspension. You, however, knew better. Your sweet boy was disappointed.

You couldn’t have that.

Without missing a beat, you reared back and smacked him hard across the face. The sound of your palm against his skin reverberated through the room, nearly drowned out by Sanji’s groan of pleasure. His hips flexed, weeping cock bobbing as he thrusted into thin air. A puddle of precum had formed at your feet. You dipped your toe into the sticky fluid and wiped it on your boyfriend’s thigh, admiring the sheen of slick against his pale skin. He shivered under your touch.

“Did that feel good?” You traced his bottom lip with your thumb. “I love seeing you like this, all desperate and horny. It’s lovely. You’re lovely.”

Sanji whimpered in response. A purple bruise had started to form where you hit him. A beautiful bloom decorating him, proving that he was yours and yours alone. Your breathing hitched ever so slightly. Despite your act, you were not entirely unaffected. Your clit throbbed behind layers of clothes and your mouth watered at the thought of wrapping your lips around Sanji’s length. As if reading your thoughts, your boyfriend pawed at the buttons of your blouse.

“Let me see you, please. Your beauty is beyond compare, mademoiselle, don’t hide from me,” He begged. Though you both knew his nimble fingers could undress you in seconds, he was purposefully clumsy as he waited for your response.

With a small smile, you ground your foot into his crotch. Sanji doubled over with a gasp, his hands no longer preoccupied with your clothes, wound tight against your ankle.

“Why would I let a pervert like you see me naked?” Sanji whined when you leaned down to brush your lips against his forehead. Tears flowed down his cheeks, salty rivers you wanted to trace with your tongue. Instead, you wiped them away with your thumb. “You’re my boy, and I get to admire you as much as I like. You, on the other hand, have to wait. You can wait, can’t you?”

He sniffed thickly, nose clogged from crying. “I can wait, I can be good.”

With your nail, you pressed into the bruise on his cheek. Sanji squirmed, dick jumping, desperate for friction you hadn’t allowed yet. He looked so pitiful like this. The skin of his chest was stained a deep red from the chest up, with watery eyes, and plump, parted lips that screamed for you to capture them. You indulged yourself for a second, pressing yourself against him. Sanji met you, desperation coloring his every movement. The kiss was sloppy. Saliva, snot, and tears smeared your face as his tongue pressed against yours.

“You’ve been so good for me,” You praised when you pulled back, ignoring Sanji’s disappointed sob. He nodded in response and looked up at you from under his lashes. “Hands behind your back, pretty boy, I’ll give you something tonight, just like I promised.” You crossed one leg over the other, dangling your left leg off the bed until your toes touched the ground. “Go on. Hump my leg.”

The words barely left your mouth before Sanji was on you, trailing open mouth kisses along your clothed thigh as he dragged his cock along your shin. His whole body shook, his dick staining your jeans with precum as he rutted his hips against you.

You grinned. “You like that, don’t you? Humping my leg like a dog?”

Sanji let out a cry when you dragged your big toe down his heavy, cum-filled balls. “Yes, mademoiselle!”

“It’s so cute that you can cum from this.” His thrusts were sloppy and without rhythm. Blond hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his breath coming out in heady pants as he chased his release. “That’s it, how do you feel?”

Gasping, Sanji buried his face on your thigh. His words came out muffled. “S-So close, mademoiselle, I’m so close.”

You admired the curve of his ass, looking plump and delectable as he pistoned his hips against your leg. The entire scene was so pathetic, you were sure your panties were ruined. A part of you was surprised Sanji couldn’t see your slick staining the front of your pants, or maybe he was too preoccupied with himself that he hardly noticed. You loved seeing your boyfriend like this. He was always so attentive to you. Watching him lose himself to the bare minimum never failed to get you wet.

“Be a good boy and cum.”

Sanji threw his head back, his jaw hanging open and eyes clenched shut. Spurts of semen painted your shin as he ground against you, chasing the last, sensitive remains of his orgasm against your leg. The tip of his cock smeared cum into the fabric of your clothes.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” He repeated the words over and over again, even as his hips twitched and his body shook from the weight of his orgasm. Sanji’s body slumped to the ground. You caught his weightless body, dragging him into bed beside you so you could wrap your arms around him and rest his head on your chest.

“Feel better?”

Sanji laughed, boneless in your arms. “I’ll feel even better once I take care of you, my love.”

You laughed at his declaration. There was no way your boyfriend would be capable of moving for the next hour or so, unless a magic fairy came in and blessed him with the stamina of a workhorse. “What I want right now is to trace shapes into your back until you fall asleep.”

“But-”

“No buts, go to sleep.”

Too tired to argue anymore, Sanji snuggled deeper into your side. His only argument was a displeased sigh that you happily ignored.

“When I wake up,” He promised.

“When you wake up,” You conceded with a smile.

[renardiererin]

the great war -> I.iii: i know we cut all the ties but you never really listen

WRITTEN PORTION AHEAD !

going over to suna’s house was certainly going to be an experience. not one you necessarily wanted to have, but an experience nonetheless. you sat in your car for a solid 10 minutes before you could even get yourself to press the ignition button to turn the engine off, and another 5 before you bothered taking your seatbelt off.

you let your head fall back against the headrest and shut your eyes. breathe in breathe deep breathe through breathe out. it was going to be a long meeting.

you started to reach for the door handle to get out of your car, your heart racing a million miles per second when your ringtone started going off and startling you away from the handle.

incoming facetime: my kiyoomi 💋✨

[yes, the two of you both had very flirtatious names for one another in your phones. your name in his phone happens to be: “my lovely girl 💞” because— and no, this is not negotiable— having flirty nicknames for your friends in your phone is hella fucking funny idc]

clicking the little green button and slowing your heart rate, you held the phone up by your steering wheel and answered the call.

“what’s up, kiyoomi? i’m busy, yanno.”

“yes, yes, your meeting, i know. that’s why i’m calling. i was hoping i could catch you before you got there.”

“i’m about to go in. what’s happening?”

“i just really want to get it in your head and make sure you understand that rintarou suna is a dick. what he did to you wasn’t okay. i don’t want to hear any shit about him being nicer now or that he’s grown up or changed. he is such an absolute dickhead, name, and he doesn’t deserve any of the wonderful shit you have to offer. you’re my very best friend and i know that you can find someone better for you. what he did to you wasn’t okay, and i hate that you still hold a candle for that fuckface. you’re special, name. don’t forget that. if you weren’t special to him, that’s his problem. you’re special to me, and to kei, and to bo, and to keiji, and to tooru, and everybody else who loves and adores you. you’ll be okay. i’m sure he’s moved on, even if you haven’t. a wise man— my favorite british person, louis tomlinson— once said: ‘here are some words i know that you don’t wanna hear: i think she’s moved on mate, it’s almost been a year.’ even if you don’t want to let him go, i’m sure he’s let you go and you are so much better than pining over an asshole who left you stranded.”

“well if we’re referencing the music industry, my wife taylor once said: ‘please leave me stranded, it’s so romantic.’ so i think that explains that. check and mate.”

“be so fucking for real, name.”

“sorry, sorry. you’re right. i’ll try to keep my mind off of him. it’s just business.”

“that’s my girl.”

“if i didn’t know better i’d say you want me.”

“i want you?”

“damn right, kiyoomi sakusa. you want me soooooo bad. you think i’m just sooooo sexy and hot, don’t you?” you said, managing to hold back your giggles until you were done speaking.

“goodbye, name. i am done with your shenanigans.” he held his hand up to the camera, “talk to the hand.”

“bye bff, mwah”

“bye bye name”

shutting your eyes once more and taking yet another deep breath, you shut off your phone, pocketed it, and stepped out of your car.

“i can do this, i have massive balls. bigger than rintarou’s, tbh. my balls are so big i can do this and not even look like i care. i bet he’ll even think i forgot who he is.” you spoke to yourself as you walked up the driveway to the front door.

mere seconds after you rang the doorbell, yelling encroached from inside the house and you heard somebody running towards the door.

the front door swung open.

“NAME!!!! HI HELLO HI HEY!!! IM SO GLAD YOU MADE IT!!! COME IN!!”

“hi atsumu! what’s got you so energetic this early in the morning?”

“i’m just excited. what, can’t i be excited to see my favorite singer ever?”

“HE HAD THREE STRAWBERRY FANTAS AND WE COULDN’T STOP HIM. RED DYE FUCKS WITH HIS BRAIN.” osamu called from the other room.

“SHUT UP YOU IDIOT I DID NOT EVEN.”

“DID TOO!!”

“WHATEVER, FUCK YOU SAMU! anyway, name, wanna come in?”

“uhhhh yes that would be great, please.” you hesitated a tiny bit when walking inside because it had been less than five minutes of your presence and there was already chaos encroaching.

you walked inside and took off your shoes, following atsumu to the living room.

“okay everyone, this is name!”

“okay well i’ve met samu cause i went to high school with both of you, but it’s very nice to meet you!” you turned and faced the redhead sprawled out on the chair. “satori, right?”

“yes! it’s lovely to finally meet you, sweetheart.”

“aww you’re too sweet. is this everyone?” no suna, and this is his house, so your question was more of a courtesy than anything.

“no, actually.” atsumu started, “we’ve got one more guy, but he went to go change just a second ago… im not actually sure where he-“

“hey, name.”

your posture stiffened as you straightened your back. your smile faltered, eyes riddled with fear, and all the hairs on your neck stood up straight.

you spun around stiffly.

“hi suna.”

—

masterlist - previous | next

misc.

- if any of you saw this before i edited it i accidentally put a screenshot as the first pic of my friends bf cheating on her im so sorry if that was confusing it was not supposed to be there idk how tf i didn’t notice 💀

the great war — a rockstar rintarou suna smau

you used to know rintarou. you knew him back before the world did. you used to know him better than you knew yourself. but nothing perfect ever lasts, does it? after awhile he just stopped responding. you tried to block out every headline you saw featuring his name, and focus on your own music career rather than his. but when one of his bandmates reaches out to you and asks you to open for their upcoming tour, you find yourself stuck traveling all around the world with the man whose inflicted pain inspired most of your first album.

<3

taglist 🏷️

@kiyoily @akumakitsune21 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @dani-shitting-around @alienvarmint @reverie-starlight @honeythebarbie @bootlegroach @tsukiran @xbl00dy-r0s3x @universal-s1ut @koushisbabie @breakmyheartlater @phoenix-eclipses @ris-krispie @coyloves @2baddies-1porsche @girlkissersco @ilovejujitsukaisen @dontmindtheevie

ps: raine (kiyoily), my love, when name mentioned a friend thinking kiyo’s hot it’s about you 🤭

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Injured HCs

The lovely @mattkinsella asked me to write more HCs about how the boys react when you’re injured! (And I included small thing about them being injured too tee hee)

Frank:

When he’s injured, he will hide it. Same with being sick. He’s worked through worse, there’s no reason to get upset about it. 

He trusts you to stitch him up tho, and that means a lot. 

Matt

Doesn’t necessarily try to hide it, but will not stop to rest. Might ask you for help meditating. Accepts coddling, but will get defensive if you ask him to rest. 

Mikey

Not a drama queen, but much less averse to resting than the other two. Like in my illness HCs, I think he would be perfectly content letting you take the reigns and leaning into his time off. Adores that he has someone there to help him. 

Frank

If you’re injured? Oh boy. 

Very demanding. Leaves no room for argument. (Just hands you stuff, doesn’t even ask.)

“Frank, I’m—“ “Take the damn pills, doll.” 

Trusts himself and Curtis ONLY to stitch you up, 

Definitely not happy that you’re injured/comfortable with it, but he’s the most chill of the 3. (This is not saying much.)

If someone intentionally harmed you, they’ve sealed their fate. He will wait until you’re sleeping peacefully to take care of the problem tho. 

If your injury is because of an accident (clumsiness, general misfortune, etc) rather than a person intentionally hurting you, he’s a bit less intense. 

Once the initial shock of your injury has worn off, he will tease you about it, if it makes you laugh. 

“Careful, babygirl. Ya sure you’re ready to handle those evil stairs again?”

Relatively realistic about the severity of injuries, depending on the reaction of his partner. 

Like he won’t freak out over a paper cut if you don’t want him to. He’s perfectly willing to kiss it better if you ask tho. 

Matt:

The LEAST chill of the three. 

Treats a paper cut with the same severity as a broken limb. 

Though, I can’t imagine how scary it would be to smell your partner bleeding or hurt. Like that has to set off alarm bells regardless. 

Soooooo protective. Glued to your side immediately, practically snarling at anyone who gets too close. 

Won't let you lift so much as a FINGER if you don’t have to. 

Panics a little and offers you all of the options until you help him calm down. 

“Do you need painkillers? Or an ice pack? Or something to eat? Why don’t we take a nap or—“ “Matty, breathe. It’s just a pulled muscle.  I’m ok, love.” 

Will absolutely kiss it better and would prefer to do so. 

Tries to teach you to meditate to heal faster, but you keep giggling and turning to press kisses to his cheeks and neck, so he gives up. 

I think he would want to take time off from both his day job and deviling, but would ultimately compromise by splitting his time between all three of you, unless you really needed his company. 

Mikey:

So soft, the softest guy. 

More concerned with what you want than what he thinks you need. 

“How can I help ya, pet? Tell me whatcha need me to do.” 

Unlike Frank, he does NOT trust himself to assist and would much rather take you to a medical professional. 

Asks so many follow up questions after the doctor examines you to make sure to get everything right. 

I feel like he’d take notes on his phone or in a physical notebook even. He’s SO worried he’s going to fuck it up. 

Very hesitant to leave you alone, in case you need something. 

Regularly checks in on how you’re feeling, willing to help however he can. If you need cuddles, he’s wrapped around you before you can even finish the request. Looking for company on your walk to work or while running errands? He’s there with a smile on his face. 

Tbh this doesn’t only happen when you’re injured, I think he would take every available opportunity to spend time with you, but he will prioritize you to a higher degree when you’re sick or injured. 

Will tease you if you ask him to kiss something better, but only because he thinks it’s adorable to make you squirm. 🥹

[our-marvel-universe]

Confessions

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Prompt: truth serum but with drunk married

Warnings: drunk confessions, drunk shenanigans

WC: 473

Summary: You drunkenly admit to Steve that you want to fuck Bucky

A/N: This is a quick drabble for @the-slumberparty week 3 writers challenge. if y'all like it and the muse cooperates maybe there can be a part 2? and a part 3?

I imagined this Steve as Biker!Steve but that might change as I delve deeper into this story.

You drunkenly admit to Steve that you want to fuck Bucky - Biker bro’s just for fun. Can i combine this with Malibu rising hot tub scene idea?

“God Dot was so lucky” You mumble under your breath

“Ohh yeah why’s that?”

“Cause, she got to fuck Bucky. Lucky bitch..” You say before grabbing your drink. After multiple attempts you finally get the straw in your mouth and suck down the last of it..

“He’s always so grumpy” you say, placing your glass down with a thunk. In all your drunken rambling you never take your eyes off the man in question, “all I want to do is get on my knees and just suck his dick till he smiles ya know?” 

“Ohh, Ohh!! Maybe I should let him take his anger out on my pussy!  Yeah that's a good idea.” You slur once again reaching for you drink before a massive hand grabs it from you

You turn ready to curse out whoever thinks they can take what’s rightfully yours, but instead of a stranger you find your fiance. 

“Steve!” You are shocked to see him. In your inebriated state you didn’t realize he was the one you were confessing all these fantasies too.

“Stevie!” You say throwing your arms around his neck and climbing into his lap “I missed you soooooo much.” 

You start to loudly plant kisses all over his face. He chuckles at your antics. Grabbing Wanda’s attention he mouths water before turning his focus back on you.

You’ve started kissing and sucking along Steve’s neck. You can’t help it, he just tastes so good. 

“Love you so, so much Stevie” You mumble against his neck. You don’t even realize when you start to grind your hips into his.

“I love you too sweetheart”

At his confession you sit up and gasp, you’ve just had the most brilliant idea!

“We should have sex!” 

“Sure sweetheart”

“Yay!” You squeal  “let’s do it right now!” You say as you start to tug at his shirt.

“Or how about we head home first, yeah?” Steve says as he grabs your hands in his. 

You purse your lips in thought as you consider his proposal before eventually agreeing.

“Ok. You’ll carry me to the car right?”

Steve plants a quick kiss on your nose before gingerly standing with you in his arms. You squeak, wrapping your arms and legs around him nice and tight cause you don’t want to fall off.

Steve grabs the bottle of water from Wanda and heads out. He’s able to get you into the car pretty easily despite your drunken state. 5 min later you’re completely asleep. Knowing you, you won’t even wake up as he carries you inside. 

He knows you’re going to have a nasty hangover tomorrow so he’ll wait a day or two before bringing up Bucky. Besides, he wants to see how much you remember.

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to reblog and leave a comment it would absolutely make my day! And let me know if you want to see more of these 2 lovelies!

Have an awesome day. <3

[infernaleikon]

oooh, what about The Moment in the fashion au where Anakin gets his makeover and obi is just. stunned speechless. bonus points for padme in that au!

soooooo, this has taken me an age and a half. it's not really a "makeover" tbh but i hope you like it anyway!!

this is also my first fill for my obikin bingo card, for the "office au" @obikin-events.

*********************************************

editor-in-chief obi-wan and assistant anakin | (4.2k)

Obi-Wan scowls at his watch as he makes his way through the office space. He swallows down the groan that’s been building up in his chest, refusing to let his growing irritation and impatience echo around him. There is no need to involve any of the staff in his souring mood. It’s not like any of them can do anything about it, anyway. The only who can is, incidentally, also the one who brought it on.

Anakin was supposed to go over the budget report with him thirty minutes ago. Obi-Wan is used to Anakin being a bit liberal in interpreting set appointments between them but he’s never actually been this late to any of them before. And whenever something had come up, he’d notified Obi-Wan in time, and vice versa.

Now, Obi-Wan can’t even reach him because Anakin—uncharacteristically—left both his tablet and phone, and his headset at his desk. He’s not answering his personal phone either. And he’s nowhere to be found.

Obi-Wan exhales deeply. It’s been a long day and the cursed budget report is the last thing he wants to do, but it’s also the last thing he has to do today before he can go home. The thing remains the bane of his existence and the only thing—the only one—who gets him through it is Anakin.

It’s not like Obi-Wan can’t go through the report alone. He has plenty of times until—

He smooths out his cuff.

—until one day Anakin had noticed how tedious Obi-Wan found it and joined him to get through it faster, presumably. Since then, it’s become something like a ritual, a pocket of time just for them: Anakin always blocks off more time than they would really need if they worked through it diligently. Except their conversations always drift off to other topics, growing into discussions about this thing or that, before they’d return to the task at hand.

It’s Obi-Wan’s guilty pleasure. He rather selfishly has not yet told Anakin that it’s not part of his job to—well, to basically hold Obi-Wan’s hand while he’s suffering through the budget report. For all that they see each other every day and spend so much time together, it’s rarely just the two of them and even rarer still a conversation that doesn’t revolve around some issue concerning the magazine.

Obi-Wan has quickly learned that he quite likes having Anakin’s undivided attention. And their budget report meetings give him just that.

So it’s not that he can’t do it by himself. It’s that he doesn’t want to.

It’s also that Anakin was supposed to grab the report.

Obi-Wan is just about to resign himself to a long night at the office when he hears Anakin’s laughter as he passes the Closet. The sound skitters down his spine in a pleasant tingle. A woman’s answering laugh joins Anakin’s.

Irritation bubbles in Obi-Wan’s gut. Anakin was supposed to meet him a half hour ago. Instead, he’s in the Closet doing—something. With someone.

At least he’s not in the utility closet, a treacherous little voice in his head soothes.

Taking a deep breath in, Obi-Wan pushes through the glass doors of the Closet.

The admonishment dies on his tongue the second he rounds one of the clothes racks and spots Anakin standing in the middle of the dressing area.

“No, no, no,” the petite woman standing right in front of him is saying, words catching on a laugh. She reaches up and undoes the first few buttons of the pale blue dress shirt Anakin’s donning. Her fingers graze the skin of Anakin’s throat and the bob of his Adam’s apple is visible even from where Obi-Wan is standing. “You don’t want to look like a stuck up econ major.”

Anakin laughs. “Maybe stuck up econ major is exactly my style,” he says as he tips his head down to look at her.

A snort makes Obi-Wan turn his head. Aayla is stretching on one of the chaise lounges. “No self-respecting econ major would be caught dead wearing what you usually wear.”

“She’s right,” the woman in front of Anakin says as he starts rolling up one of his sleeves.

Obi-Wan recognizes her. Padmé Amidala, a young, rapidly rising politician, who’s the subject of their coming issue’s editorial. Obi-Wan had met with her a few days ago to talk about some details, and she’d been slated for a dress rehearsal today. It would explain why she’s here.

And why Anakin got distracted and forgot about the budget report. He’s been mooning over her since the first time she stepped foot in the building.

Obi-Wan ignores the tight-cold-hot feeling behind his ribs.

“Fine, okay,” Anakin huffs with a small head shake and a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He rolls the other sleeve up to his elbow, exposing the sinewy stretch of his forearm. Obi-Wan’s mouth is suddenly dry. “It’s definitely not my style. I could do stuck up econ major, though. Stuck up econ majors couldn’t do me.”

Obi-Wan clears his throat and decidedly does not think about anyone doing Anakin.

Anakin’s eyes flicker up to meet his, and Obi-Wan can see the exact moment he realizes.

“Oh, shit,” Anakin says empathetically. “The budget report—”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows. “I’m glad you have not forgotten about it entirely. Though I suppose this…” Obi-Wan tips his head to indicate their surroundings, “is more entertaining.” It comes out more sardonic than he means it but Anakin’s slight wince, the way he ducks his head and passes a hand over the back of his neck, feels oddly satisfying.

“It’s my fault, actually,” Padmé interjects.

I’m sure it is.

She smiles apologetically at Obi-Wan. Her hand is on Anakin’s biceps as if to soothe him and she’s standing half in front of him, like she’s shielding Anakin from Obi-Wan. It’s a ridiculous thought, of course, but their proximity to one another grates on Obi-Wan’s nerves like few other things do.

He’s being irrational. It’s become an odd pattern.

“Please.” Obi-Wan waves her words away with a smile that feels fake. “You are far lovelier company than I am, I’m sure. It’s no wonder Anakin got sidetracked.”

Anakin scowls lightly, eyes darting from him to Padmé, and then to his feet, as if he’d been caught in something. A beautiful, rosy pink flush rises to his cheeks, the way it always does when Anakin is embarrassed or caught off guard.

Obi-Wan almost feels bad.

Almost.

Padmé steps away from Anakin then, revealing his full outfit. The pale blue button down is tucked into a perfectly fitting pair of black dress pants. Black suspenders with silver clasps run along his torso, emphasizing the lines of Anakin’s upper body. The clothes show off his trim waist and the width of his shoulders. The open collar that allows tantalizing glimpses of his clavicle and throat, and the rolled up sleeves make him look casual with an almost understated, effortless elegance, similar to and yet wildly different from Anakin’s usual style.

Obi-Wan’s mouth is suddenly as dry as the Tatooine deserts.

Anakin spreads his arms a little. When he meets Obi-Wan’s gaze there’s something akin to a challenge in the upward tilt of his chin, but his eyes keep fluttering away and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, the dusky blush still faint on his cheeks.

“Doesn’t he look fantastic?” Padmé asks with a little, excited clap of her hands.

Obi-Wan tries to gather spit in his mouth to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “You look―”

A few things cross his mind none of which he can utter in a professional environment without getting slammed with a sexual harassment case, rightfully so.

“Dashing,” he finishes, rather lamely, he supposes. Dashing doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Anakin rolls his eyes at him but his flush darkens a bit. “Please rein in the compliments.”

“I can hardly contain myself,” Obi-Wan returns with a wry smile. His mouth still feels dry.

“It is quite a glow-up,” Aayla chimes in as she sits up, crossing her legs at the ankles. She grins at Anakin good-naturedly before propping her chin on her palm. “You don’t look like a dumpster racoon anymore.”

“Yeah?” Anakin says and raises his brows at her. “What do I look like now, then?”

Aayla tilts her head from side to side as if to ponder. “Like a regular racoon,” she decides with a shit-eating smirk. “Still a pest.”

Obi-Wan sees Anakin bristle and Aayla’s smirk widen. They squabble like siblings, and Anakin always rises so easily to her bait. It’s as entertaining as it is exasperating, at times.

“May I ask what brought this… makeover on?” he asks before the two of them can really get into it.

“Oh, I asked about Anakin’s wardrobe choices and when he said that he’s embarrassed about working here, I asked him to show me how he’d dress otherwise,” Padmé answers. She’s made her way over to the shoe rack, probably to pick out a fitting pair for Anakin’s outfit.

Obi-Wan barely registers it, though. He glances at Anakin. “You’re embarrassed working here?”

“No!” Anakin says hastily. His gaze skitters away as he turns and slips on his sneakers.

“Oh,” Padmé says again. “No, that’s not―”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to hear Padmé’s explanation, though. He wants to hear Anakin’s. But Anakin is busy bustling around to collect his own clothes. He grabs the binder with the budget report before straightening. His eyes don’t meet Obi-Wan’s eyes once.

“I’ll bring back the clothes later,” Anakin says over his shoulder to Aayla. He nods at Padmé and then beelines for the door as if someone was chasing him.

“He’s not―” Padmé starts again when Obi-Wan turns to say his goodbyes but stops, wincing. He smiles at her, and it feels just as fake as before.

“Have a nice evening,” he says instead of waiting for a more detailed explanation, and leaves.

Anakin is already in his office when Obi-Wan gets there. He’s moving around the room as if hounded by something, all jerky motions and hasty gestures while he gathers pens, colored sticky notes, and other stationary they might need.

Obi-Wan gives himself a moment to watch him, take him in with the changed clothes, and how he looks in this space now.

Anakin is striking. He’s always been―Obi-Wan knew that boy was trouble from the first moment they met. The clothes have never taken anything away from Anakin’s odd charisma, have never made him less beautiful. And yet, there’s a subtle change to him now, in this new attire. Obi-Wan is certain he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t worked closely with Anakin every day, and even so it’s hard to pin down exactly.

He looks, inexplicably, as if part of him has been revealed.

A number of questions rattle around in Obi-Wan’s skull, one more pressing than the other, and all just as desperate and anxious. Something in him wildly roars at the thought that Anakin is embarrassed working at Jedi, and it begs him to ask, to implore, to find a way to make Anakin comfortable. Because, that part of him says, if he’s embarrassed, it’s only a matter of time before he leaves.

Obi-Wan swallows every question that threatens to fall off the tip of his tongue. It’s not his place to pry into something that’s clearly personal and private. Especially as Anakin’s boss.

“Anakin,” he says gently.

Anakin barely glances up before his gaze skitters away again. “I’ll order some food from Dex’s and then we can get started on the report.”

“It’s late,” Obi-Wan reminds him. Outside, the approaching evening casts the facades of the highrise buildings in the first blue hues of the night. “There’s no need for you to stay. Go home.”

“No. I know you’re going to sit here and go through this thing until it’s done,” Anakin says, dropping the collected items on the low table in front of the couch.

“Well, yes―”

“Yes, and it’s my fault that you have to stay late, so I’ll help you get it done faster,” Anakin argues as he moves back to Obi-Wan’s desk.

Obi-Wan smooths a hand over his beard. Anakin always works doggedly to fix mistakes he thinks he’s made, often with such obstinate insistence that he runs himself ragged in an attempt to prove―something. It has blown up in his face on occasion and created―not a problem, per se, rather―a…situation that Obi-Wan has needed to fix. Anakin’s red face and clenched jaw has always set his teeth on edge in these moments but he still doesn’t understand how to help him…or what even makes Anakin react to perceived mistakes the way he does.

“That’s very kind of you,” Obi-Wan starts. “But I can’t ask you to stay late to do this. It’s not part of your job.”

He sees Anakin’s jaw work as he stares at a point between his hands on the desk. With a deep inhale, Anakin says, “I’m your assistant. It’s right there in my job title that I’m here to assist you.” Anakin meets his eyes now with a stubborn set to his mouth.

Obi-Wan barely manages to bite back a groan.

“Besides,” Anakin adds and grabs the phone, already dialing, “I wouldn’t get free food if I went home now.”

Before Obi-Wan can say anything, the person on the other end picks up and Anakin gives them the order. He rattles it off smoothly, getting everything Obi-Wan would order from Dex’s for himself, and it makes something hot pour through Obi-Wan’s ribcage. Obi-Wan allows himself a moment to enjoy the feeling of its warmth spreading through his body.

“Just don’t leave stains on the pages or Jocasta will have my head,” he huffs after Anakin’s hung up the phone.

Anakin grins at him like he’s going to attempt just that.

An hour later they’re—uncharacteristically—almost done with the task at hand and in a—more or less surprising—turn of events, it’s not the report that has Obi-Wan clinging to the last, gossamer-thin shred of his sanity.

Anakin is walking up and down in front of the couch table and gesturing as he talks, and Obi-Wan has found himself practically on eye-level with his ass. And for the first time since Obi-Wan has known Anakin, his ass is not covered by a plaid shirt or lost in shapeless, baggy pants.

The black dress pants fit Anakin like a glove, accentuating his waist and hugging his ass and thighs nicely. Obi-Wan definitely doesn’t think about how firm and biteable they look.

The sleeves of the dress shirt wrap neatly around his biceps and the fabric stretches across his shoulders whenever Anakin gestures wildly. It’s not tight by any measure but it’s perfectly fitted to the planes of his torso. Obi-Wan hasn’t thought of Anakin as lanky, really, but his usual wardrobe does a good job at hiding his frame, his build, and while Obi-Wan can’t say he’s surprised by Anakin’s actual physique, he’s…enticed. Inappropriately so.

It doesn’t help that the pale blue of the shirt brings out his eyes and the warm tones of his skin.

It’s impossible to look away from him.

So, really, it’s all of Anakin that has Obi-Wan keeping a white-knuckled grip on his composure.

“Okay—what?” Anakin snaps. He halts his pacing and crosses his arms over his chest defensively. Obi-Wan tries—and fails—not to notice how the sleeves stretch around the flex of his biceps.

Obi-Wan lifts his gaze from Anakin’s arms to meet his eyes. Smoothing his face into a mask of mild confusion, he says, “Pardon?”

Anakin looks at him like he’s calling bullshit. “You’ve been staring at me the way you stare at—at models or mockups or―or photoshoots that you don’t like,” he accuses, shoulders rising minisculely. The furrow between his eyebrows deepens with his frown but the line of his mouth looks―unhappy. “So, what is it? Do you not like the outfit?”

“Apologies,” Obi-Wan says. Anakin scowls and drops his gaze to stare at the low table. His arms remain crossed, however, in a manner that appears significantly like he’s trying to shield himself. Obi-Wan winces inwardly and tries again. “I apologize, Anakin. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Anakin quirks a brow and shrugs. “You didn’t,” he says, full of false bravado, as he raises his eyes again without meeting Obi-Wan’s, instead letting his gaze drift to look outside the windows.

Obi-Wan takes in his profile: the barely perceptible downwards slant of the corner of his mouth, the tension in jaw, the slight furrow of his brows. Anakin rarely shows discomfort or soft vulnerability, though he’s open with his other—loud, bold, deep—emotions.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan implores softly. He waits until Anakin, with some reluctant hesitance, turns to meet his eyes. “I do like the outfit. I was looking―or staring, I suppose―because you look―”

“Like a fraud?” The tone of his words drips mocking self-deprecation.

Obi-Wan bites back a sharp rebuke. “Comfortable,” he finishes, ignoring Anakin’s mocking words. “Like you’re comfortable in your own skin. In a way you haven’t been before.”

Anakin blinks at him.

“It suits you,” Obi-Wan adds, and then, “Both the outfit and the look.”

Anakin dips his head but it barely hides the soft pink dusting his cheeks. When he looks back up, there’s a stubborn little tilt to his chin. “You should really work on your facial expressions,” he huffs half-heartedly.

“Apologies,” Obi-Wan says again, trying to stifle the grin tugging at his mouth. “Would it help if I told you that whatever it is you saw on my face was awe?”

Anakin’s arms drop from their defensive position across his chest as he turns to fully face Obi-Wan, the color on his cheeks turning into a rich, dusky pink. He looks so wonderfully flabbergasted and so beautifully pleased at the same time that Obi-Wan very nearly coos.

(Gods, he’s such a sucker.)

For a moment, Anakin dips his eyes down with a proud little smile. He shakes himself out of it when he looks up again. “Guess I have to pay more attention to your face, then,” he muses and his brows crinkle as his gaze sweeps over Obi-Wan.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan’s stomach, stupidly, flips.

Anakin’s shoulders rise lightly. “Well, I do have to know what you think, and I thought I was on top of your face already—” He stops abruptly and his flush extends all the way down his throat now, past his collarbones, and disappears under the fabric of the shirt. “Facial expressions! On top of your facial expressions! Because I’ve been watching you so closely—” Anakin stops again, face scrunching, before he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes for a brief moment.

He could probably illuminate the office all by himself if the lights weren’t already turned on.

Obi-Wan’s stomach has gone from a flip to somersaults even though he knows Anakin is talking about being observant and attentive. It’s one of the things Anakin had told him on Obi-Wan’s first day: that he needed to know what he was thinking so he could help Obi-Wan in the best possible way.

Obi-Wan’s stomach just hasn’t gotten the message yet.

Obi-Wan clears his throat lightly. “I appreciate your dedication…to my face,” he says, trying for teasing, and breathes a sigh of relief when his voice doesn’t come out strangled.

Anakin makes high-pitched noise. He’s still steadily glowing crimson but he rolls his eyes. “You suck,” he says, with feeling, but there’s a slight wheeze in his tone.

“Can’t say that I don’t.” It falls from his mouth before he even realizes what he’s saying, but his own mortification and Anakin’s utterly gobsmacked face drive regret through him like a lance. “I’m sorry, Anakin,” he quickly adds, just as heat rises into his own cheeks. “That was inappropriate. I apologize.”

“Okay.” Anakin’s voice comes out like a croak and he clears his throat once, twice. “Thanks. I mean—” He rubs his palms over his thighs. “Yeah. It’s—okay.”

There’s a beat of silence during which Obi-Wan feels pinpricks of anxiety prattling along his skin, regret and discomfort twisting in his gut.

A thought strikes him then, and suddenly, he needs to know. “Is this why you’re uncomfortable working here?”

“What?” Anakin seems adorably confused before his expression morphs into one of alarm. “No. I’m not—” He sucks in a breath. “I’m not uncomfortable or embarrassed working here.”

Obi-Wan frowns, unconvinced, but something within him unspools nevertheless. Anakin sits back down on the couch, half turned towards him, with one leg tucked under himself. He sighs and runs a hand through his messy curls, tangling his fingers in the soft-looking strands, and then scrubs it, almost furiously, over the back of his head for a second.

Regret lances through Obi-Wan once again. “I’m sorry, Anakin, you don’t have to answer it. It’s not my place to ask.”

“I like working here,” Anakin says, so fiercely that it freezes Obi-Wan to the spot. “I like working with you.”

Oh, what a siren song.

Anakin drags in a deep breath and releases it in a long exhale. “A lot of people make fun of people who work in fashion and lifestyle. It’s still seen as—I don’t know—silly and unimportant, and people who work in this industry are regarded as airheads or vain, unless it’s someone really high up the food chain, like you.”

Obi-Wan turns towards him and sinks his shoulder against the backrest as he watches Anakin rub the pads of his fingers over the seam of his pants.

“There are enough people who just don’t take you seriously when they clock you as someone working in fashion or when you dress…differently. When you use fashion as a—a way of being who you are.” Anakin lifts a shoulder as he frowns at his hands. “So, I just, um, say I don’t care about it.”

It, Obi-Wan realizes, means more than one thing.

“People make assumptions all day long and I can’t stop anyone from doing that but—well, I guess, I can. Not play into their hands at least,” Anakin continues. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “And besides, you know, there’s more pressing stuff like housing and food and since I don’t like sharing either, fashion is—it’s—just a non-issue by necessity. Also, I am firmly against fast fashion, as you can see.” He begins motioning down himself but aborts not even mid-way through. “Well, not right now but tomorrow for sure.”

Anakin sucks in a breath through his teeth and lets his shoulders slump before he looks up to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze. There’s something akin to a challenge in his eyes, defiant and defensive and ready to strike, as if he’s waiting for Obi-Wan to pass judgment on him. But that soft, vulnerable part of him remains exposed: a glimpse of a part of Anakin that’s so delicate he rarely allows anyone to see.

And he trusts Obi-Wan with it.

The weight of it is—immeasurable.

Obi-Wan hums. “I do have to say I am quite surprised that someone as brazen as you pays any mind to the opinions of others,” he points out with a wry smile, keeping his tone jovial. “May I advise finding new friends if yours are judging you for expressing yourself?”

“How have I ever not thought of that before?” Anakin scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Guess I am too brazen.”

Ah. Wrong approach, then.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, softening his voice, “you’re exceptional at what you do. I wouldn’t get half of the things done in a day if it weren’t for you covering my back. Do you know how many people have envied me for my ‘feisty assistant’?”

Anakin scowls at his hands. “How many?” He sounds as if he can’t help himself but ask.

Obi-Wan curls his lips in a smile. “I’ve lost track, to be quite honest, but I wager you do come up in conversation at least once a week.”

“Oh.” It’s a soft little thing, full of surprise and pride. Anakin snaps his eyes up at him and purses his lips like he’s trying to keep from smiling. He rubs a hand over his neck.

“I know your value, Anakin,” Obi-Wan adds, imbuing his voice with conviction, with affection. “And it’s got absolutely nothing to do with what you wear, but I see the way you carry yourself in these clothes. Don’t let the ignorant assumptions of strangers dictate how you express yourself. Don’t make yourself smaller for anyone.”

Clearing his throat, Anakin ducks his head. His lashes fan over his cheeks as he blinks, casting long shadows along his skin.

He’s beautiful when he’s brash but there’s something inexplicably gorgeous about him when he’s bashful and flustered, a kind of unwitting vulnerability that speeds Obi-Wan’s heartbeat up and makes him curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to wrap a hand around the back of Anakin’s head to guide into the crook of his own neck.

Anakin clears his throat again. He smiles, small and happy. Obi-Wan answers with his own smile.

“I mean,” Anakin starts as he sits up a bit straighter and sharpens his edges, “duh.” He sounds insufferably cocky and though the softness has disappeared from his face, there’s a faint blush on his cheeks. “You would crash and burn without me.”

Obi-Wan sighs, faux put-upon, and Anakin grins.

Later, on his way out of the office, he makes a note to call HR in the morning.