#sip guide
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Discover how to choose the best SIP plans and maximize returns with expert insights from certified financial planners. Make smarter investment decisions today.
#Best SIP Plans#SIP Returns#SIP Guide#SIP Tips#SIP Strategy#SIP Insights#SIP Planner#SIP Options#SIP Advice#SIP Growth#SIP Plans 2025#SIP Review#SIP Ideas#Smart SIP#Top SIP Plans#SIP Returns Now#SIP Picks#SIP Expert Help#SIP Basics#SIP Plans Guide
0 notes
Text
I want to befriend Kaneki and meet with him and email him forever
#we should do everything together everything should be parallel play#and then when we go our separate ways at the end of the day I want to still email him things#like pictures of succulents and a glimpse under the amazon river#I want to email him pbs eons videos#I can show him coffee shop vlogs and ask “is this u”#in person I’d mostly let him do the talking and decide what to do#take me down the most intimidating alley on a whim after you said we were just buying lunch pls#I want to eat lunch with him so bad 😭😭😭🙏#it’d be kind of awkward though bc he wouldn’t be eating anything he’d just be sipping his coffee#being with Kaneki is the ultimate dream I wanna see his morning irritation I want to be pleasantly startled by him with his quiet footsteps#& get to ask him about what he’s reading#or how his training is going#or whatever he’s doing#I would ask him how he’d rate vacuuming out of 10 and if he gives it below a 5 will vacuum his house#I feel like he’d lie though and say he likes doing every kind of work just to stop others from doing it#unless he wasn’t in a state where he’s able to actively think about others like that#he should stop doing things and jsut relax imagine taking him on a nice tour trip up mount Fuji that would b nice#stay in a cabin make a snowman clap for him when he skis#he was so good at skiing in the TG calendar?!?? who taught him to ski#did he read “idiots guide to skiing” a day before and absorb all the knowledge like a sponge#he’s so smart. I wish I was smart. or at least smart in an applicable way#I want to try harder but I kind of can’t#or I get sort of frozen by something and can’t find a way forward unless I scurry around it (no one wants u to do this)#I love Kaneki he’s both literally and kind of metaphorically half human and I am too so if we combine we’ll have the power of one full human#we can be human if we stand close enough together#idk he might not want to stand next to me tho he has better options#kaneki time
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Aerial View of Saruni Samburu Game Lodge. Do you like the Views? ❤

View On WordPress
#Aerial View of Saruni Samburu Game Lodge. Do you like the Views? ❤#and deep community ties#and Homestays Eco-friendly hotels#blending seamlessly into its arid surroundings#gazing at elephants roaming the Ewaso Nyiro River below#Guesthouses#Hotels#Kalama Conservancy#Kenya 🇰🇪❤🔥#learning about ancient traditions like beadwork and pastoralism . Fair Trade Crafts: Purchase hand-beaded jewelry and woven baskets directly#proves that luxury and environmental responsibility can coexist. As travelers increasingly seek stays that align with their values#remember: your stay here helps ensure future generations inherit a world as wild and wondrous as this one. Book thoughtfully#Saruni Samburu#Saruni Samburu Game Lodge offers more than breathtaking aerial views of the Samburu wilderness—it’s a blueprint for sustainable hospitality.#support communities#sustainable accommodations#this guide reveals how to identify accommodations like Saruni Samburu that prioritize the planet#transparent practices#tread lightly#waste reduction#with profits funding school scholarships . Did You Know? The lodge’s design uses traditional Samburu building techniques#with training programs empowering women as guides and managers . Cultural Preservation: Guests join elders for storytelling sessions under a#you protect the vistas you came to admire. As you sip sundowners on your private deck
0 notes
Text
I slept in and just woke up, so here's what I've been able to figure out while sipping coffee:
Twitter has officially rebranded to X just a day or two after the move was announced.
The official branding is that a tweet is now called "an X", for which there are too many jokes to make.
The official account is still @twitter because someone else owns @X and they didn't reclaim the username first.
The logo is 𝕏 which is the Unicode character Unicode U+1D54F so the logo cannot be copyrighted and it is highly likely that it cannot be protected as a trademark.
Outside the visual logo, the trademark for the use of the name "X" in social media is held by Meta/Facebook, while the trademark for "X" in finance/commerce is owned by Microsoft.
The rebranding has been stopped in Japan as the term "X Japan" is trademarked by the band X JAPAN.
Elon had workers taking down the "Twitter" name from the side of the building. He did not have any permits to do this. The building owner called the cops who stopped the crew midway through so the sign just says "er".
He still plans to call his streaming and media hosting branch of the company as "Xvideo". Nobody tell him.
This man wants you to give him control over all of your financial information.
Edit to add further developments:
Yes, this is all real. Check the notes and people have pictures. I understand the skepticism because it feels like a joke, but to the best of my knowledge, everything in the above is accurate.
Microsoft also owns the trademark on X for chatting and gaming because, y'know, X-box.
The logo came from a random podcaster who tweeted it at Musk.
The act of sending a tweet is now known as "Xeet". They even added a guide for how to Xeet.
The branding change is inconsistent. Some icons have changed, some have not, and the words "tweet" and "Twitter" are still all over the place on the site.
TweetDeck is currently unaffected and I hope it's because they forgot that it exists again. The complete negligence toward that tool and just leaving it the hell alone is the only thing that makes the site usable (and some of us are stuck on there for work).
This is likely because Musk was forced out of PayPal due to a failed credit line project and because he wanted to rename the site to "X-Paypal" and eventually just to "X".
This became a big deal behind the scenes as Musk paid over $1 million for the domain X.com and wanted to rebrand the company that already had the brand awareness people were using it as a verb to "pay online" (as in "I'll paypal you the money")
X.com is not currently owned by Musk. It is held by a domain registrar (I believe GoDaddy but I'm not entirely sure). Meaning as long as he's hung onto this idea of making X Corp a thing, he couldn't be arsed to pay the $15/year domain renewal.
Bloomberg estimates the rebranding wiped between $4 to $20 billion from the valuation of Twitter due to the loss of brand awareness.
The company was already worth less than half of the $44 billion Musk paid for it in the first place, meaning this may end up a worse deal than when Yahoo bought Tumblr.
One estimation (though this is with a grain of salt) said that Twitter is three months from defaulting on its loans taken out to buy the site. Those loans were secured with Tesla stock. Meaning the bank will seize that stock and, since it won't be enough to pay the debt (since it's worth around 50-75% of what it was at the time of the loan), they can start seizing personal assets of Elon Musk including the Twitter company itself and his interest in SpaceX.
Sesame Street's official accounts mocked the rebranding.
158K notes
·
View notes
Text
tw: death, 18+ only: sukuna is very protective over his little wife.
“Woah, she’s hot!”
That was the first comment. SUKUNA knew then he wanted to kill this man.
“Shit, look at her.” The vulgar stranger whistled, his lustful eyes trailing the curves of your body. “I hope I can get five minutes alone with her in the bathroom.”
Sukuna swallowed a sip of his dark liquor.
He and this stranger were the only two individuals at the gathering sitting on the couches instead of mingling with the others. It was the perfect spot for him to keep an eye on you, his sweet little wife, but him alone. This man? Who dared to join Sukuna on the couch and pour himself a shot of whiskey?
He was going to die tonight. Sukuna was certain of it.
Sukuna turned to face one of the bodyguards standing beside the couch — not that Sukuna needed any protection. Silently, he gestured in your direction, and the bodyguard immediately understood Sukuna’s wordless command.
The stranger watched the interaction take place. He watched the guard approach you and guide you over to the sitting area, and he smiled wildly.
“You’re bringing her to me? You’re a good man,” he said.
Sukuna took another sip of his dark liquor.
When you arrived, a kind smile on your face, Sukuna put his glass down on a nearby table and patted his lap twice.
Happily, you took your seat, and his large hand rubbed your hip.
Oh, the man was stunned. Angry.
“Hey, I called dibs on that bitch first,” he spat.
Sukuna watched the corners of your lips fall as the man continued on, on, and on. During his ramble, Sukuna whispered in your ear, “Close your eyes and cover your ears, girl.”
You did as you were told, though it did little to muffle the sound of the gunshot that came seconds later.
The party guests were silent for a moment, but after observing you in Sukuna’s lap, a gun in his hand, and an unfamiliar dead body bleeding out on the couch, they were quick to return to their conversations.
After all, Sukuna owned this building. This party was his. And this wasn’t the first time he had to murder someone on his kindhearted wife’s behalf.
“Hey,” Sukuna, who was aggressive with every other soul except for you, spoke softly. “I’ll cheer you up when we get home, pretty girl.”
With him, that could have meant watching reruns of your favorite show with you, or him sloppily licking at your clit until you came repeatedly.
More than likely both.
#sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk sukuna smut#jjk sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader smut#tw sex mention#tw smut#cw sex mention#cw smut#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen
13K notes
·
View notes
Photo

Source: http://h-o-r-n-g-r-y.tumblr.com
0 notes
Text
Satoru thinks he might actually be going insane.
Not in a funny way. Not in a "haha I'm so in love” way, no, like actual, clinical insanity.
Because you’re curled up in his lap again, cheek pressed against his chest, humming happily to yourself while scrolling through your phone with your legs draped over his thighs and he’s just… sitting there. Letting it happen. Pretending to watch the movie while his brain is trying to process the weight of your affection.
He doesn’t move. Barely breathes. If he breathes too hard, you might remember he’s just your roommate and move.
His hands are hovering like he doesn’t know where to put them. He wants to hold you so bad it physically hurts, but what if that’s weird? What if you’re just cold and he reads too much into it? What if you get up and say “God, Toru, you’re so clingy,” and then never touch him again?
So he just lets his fingers twitch uselessly against the couch cushion while you hum something under your breath and burrow deeper into him.
He’s so. Pathetic.
He lets you steal bites of his food. Lets you nap on his chest. Lets you crawl into his bed in the middle of the night with sleepy eyes and say “Nightmare,” expecting that to just explain everything. (It does.) He always opens the blankets and pulls you in, holds you until your breathing slows, until his heart stops threatening to burst through his chest.
He thinks you might be dating. Maybe. Possibly.
But you’ve never said anything.
And he doesn’t just want to assume.
What if this is just… how you are? Sweet. Clingy. Affectionate with everyone. What if you’re just playing house and he’s the idiot who fell in love with the fantasy?
God, he’s so embarrassing.
And then, you go and do something stupid. Like kiss his cheek when you get up. Like pout and say “Toru, come cuddle me,” attempting to guide him back to your room. Ignoring him when he tells you to stop being cute.
He doesn't follow. He just wants to ask.
To clarify.
Yet, anytime the words start to form his mouth goes dry. He stares at you. You glance over your shoulder, sipping from your cup. Waiting.
He opens his mouth.
And then closes it.
Because if he asks… if he really asks…what you are.
What would you even say?
And, can he even handle your answer?
------
Next Part: Wait, we're dating?
#Slight angst#Mostly fluff#Roommates#I think Satoru wouldn't know what to do with himself with a clingy roommate#Gojo satoru#Jjk#Jujutsu kaisen#Gojo x reader#Gojo satoru x reader#Satoru x reader#Satoru gojo x reader
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
Bakugo, but his sex drive sky rocketed when you both got together and he doesn’t realize it.
“Here. Drink.”
“Mm.” Was all you were able to mumble out from your face being smooshed into the pillow.
Your body was already growing in soreness and your little blonde firecracker could tell, he rolls his eyes playfully at your starfish figure, littered in pre developed hickies and your decorative blanket covering only what’s between your legs
He takes a sip of the cold water bottle he took from your mini fridge to sit beside you back on the bed, “Y’ still with us or what. I wasn’t even that rough this time.”
“I know, but you have to count this morning too when you had me damn near do the splits on the wall.”
“You said you wanted to try that move next time I ate your pussy?!”
“Yeah well.” You groan rolling over, his hand touches your side while guiding you to sit up and take his water bottle, “Didn’t realize I’d be in that position for 4 minutes.”
“Yeah…you usually cum within like 2 and a half when I eat—“
You cover his dirty mouth and sip the drink, it felt like your body was already getting cooled down from the inside you gulped it for a few more seconds, “Shut up.”
It was a comfortable silence, you threw your head back on the headboard to focus your thoughts again. You knew Bakugo had stamina like a mad man but the way how he’s able to get so viscously pussy drunk and the moment he cums he’s able to just get up and walk around like it’s nobody’s business concerns you.
He just had you face down a few minutes ago, crying out and hollering his name and now he’s just staring at you with a soft look of love
….and possibly lust because his eyes wandered back down to your breast and back to your neck. You couldn’t see him do it, but you definitely could feel it.
He leans in to suckle your throat, peppering quiet kisses to pull you closer. You eventually felt his warm hand slide between the wet mess between your thighs, gliding against your clit to make you shriek and clench your legs as a reflex.
“Hey!” You giggle at his ministrations, but firmly grasp his hand, “Again?”
“Only if you want to. Figured you wasn’t sleep right after so….”
It was really a surprise to you Bakugo was more than willing to have sex back to back and so much with you once you both started doing it, it’s almost all you two do when you have free time together if you aren’t training or studying. You’re not complaining at all, but it definitely was something you giggle thinking about.
“What?”
Your thoughts resurfaced and he quirked his eyebrow up in confusion almost breaking into a laugh without you, but still curious, “What? Spit it out.”
“I don’t know…I just never pegged you for a guy that liked to have sex this much.”
Almost immediately his cheeks burned a tinge of red, eyes widening he sit back and crosses his arms in a pout, slightly embarrassed at the realization, “Just because I never fucked anybody, but you doesn’t mean I’m a fucking prude or something.”
“Of course you’re not. I just…assumed after we had sex the first time you’d only wanna do it like…once every two weeks or something.”
The look on his face was pure confusion and offense.
“Every t—- so you think I’m a fucking prude???!!”
“I don’t!”
“You do, —-TWICE EVERY MONTH ARE YOU INSANE?!”
His tone was annoyed and offended you couldn’t help but to laugh even more, but he seriously was confused as to why’d you think that. I mean have you seen yourself ? He can’t get enough??!!
“Well excuse me for wanting you. God forbid a man loves his girl.”
Hearing his voice gravel and wear down you stop your laughter to look at him, he tries looking the opposite way, but you knew from how he side eye’d you he was just being dramatic.
Using the bit of strength you had left you climb on top of him. For a moment you admire his scars and flushed body, the way his chest practically turns into a deep cleavage when he crosses his arms, his sharp jawline, the veins.
Hell, you was happy as fuck he loved to fuck you. Look at him.
“That’s not what I meant. Growing up you always were so focused on being a hero, that seeing you doing anything but is….fun to see. And im happy I’m the one to bring that fun side out of you.”
Still looking away you cup his chubby cheeks, thumb rubbing against them and you kiss his forehead, he looks up at you, “If you think I’m only with you for the sex you’re wrong, dumbass.”
“I know. Sex is just a plus. You remind me that everyday we are together.
Though he was still a little pissy about your twice a month comment he pulled you closer, chest to chest, “yeah? I feel the same way, and the whole reason why I started having consistent sex with you is to catch up.”
“Catch up?”
“Yeah….we dated for 2 years and never done it…gatta make up for it.”
“Baby we been having sex for 3 weeks straight, 5 days a week.”
“So.”
“We started having sex almost 4 months ago.”
“SO?! Jeez if you don’t like fucking then tell me.”
“Oh no…pfft I love when we do this. You make pretty faces when I ride you.”
“Fuck you!”
“Nah…but can I fuck you?”
You didn’t let him respond back, you just kissed him again, before adjusting your body to grind against his already growing erection again.
“Damn nympho.” Bakugo wanted to retort again, but it was broken up into a strained groan when you started stroking his dick.
“Takes one to know one.”
#mha#bakugo katuski#bakugou katsuki#bnha bakugo katsuki#bnha bakugou#katsuki bakugo mha#mha bakugou#bakugo x black reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x you#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo#bakugo headcanons#bakugo x black female#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n#bakugo x you#mha x black female reader#virgin bakugo
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
How to Choose the Best SIP Plans and Returns with Expert Certified Financial Planner Insights
What is a Systematic Investment Plan (SIP)?
Ever heard a person say, “Start small, develop huge”? That’s basically the spirit of a SIP. A Systematic Investment Plan lets you invest a fixed amount regularly—usually monthly—into a mutual fund. Instead of dumping a large chunk of money all at once, SIPs help you build wealth step by step. It’s like planting a money tree that grows over time with waterings every month.
Why SIPs Have Gained Popularity
SIP Planning is popular because they’re simple, accessible, and don't require a finance degree to understand. You don’t need to time the market or track stocks daily. Just set your SIP, automate it, and let it grow. With as little as ₹500 per month, even college students and new earners can start investing.
Factors That Define the Best SIP Plans
Risk Appetite and Investment Horizon
Not all SIPs are made equal. Some are aggressive (high risk, high reward), while others are conservative (low risk, lower reward). If your goal is 10 years away, you can take more risk. But if it’s just 2 years down the road, you’ll want something stable.
Financial Goals Mapping
Ask yourself: What’s this money for? Buying a house, retirement, or your kid’s college? Your SIP should match your financial timeline and purpose. This is where a Certified Financial Planner can really help—they help you see the big picture, not just isolated numbers.
Past Performance and Fund Consistency
While past performance isn’t a guarantee, it’s a clue. Look for funds that perform consistently well over 3, 5, and 10 years—not just one lucky year. Consistency is key.
Different Types of SIP Plans in the Market
Equity-Based SIPs
These are growth-oriented but come with volatility.
Large Cap, Mid Cap, Small Cap Funds
Large Cap: Stable, reliable companies (e.g., Infosys, HDFC).
Mid Cap: Moderate risk and return.
Small Cap: High growth potential, high risk.
Debt-Oriented SIPs
Ideal for conservative investors. These funds invest in government securities, corporate bonds, etc., and are relatively stable. Great for short-term goals or people who hate seeing red in their portfolio.
Hybrid SIP Plans
Can’t decide? Hybrid funds mix equity and debt. You get a bit of both worlds—growth and stability. Balanced Advantage Funds are a hot favorite in this category.
Role of a Certified Financial Planner in SIP Strategy
Personalized Financial Planning
Think of a Certified Financial Planner (CFP) as your investment coach. They don’t just pick funds; they build a roadmap tailored to your income, expenses, and future goals.
Risk Management and Tax Efficiency
A CFP helps structure your SIPs not just for maximum growth but also for minimum tax. ELSS funds, for example, let you save tax under Section 80C and grow your money.
Optimizing SIP Returns Over Time
Annual Increase in SIP Contributions
If you earn more, invest more. A ₹5,000 SIP growing by ₹500 every year will deliver significantly more than a flat ₹5,000 SIP. Many fund houses offer this feature—use it.
Tax-Saving with ELSS SIPs
Want to save tax and invest at the same time? ELSS funds (Equity Linked Savings Scheme) are your go-to. They offer tax deductions under Section 80C and have a lock-in of 3 years.
Monitoring and Rebalancing Portfolios
Check your portfolio once or twice a year. If one fund underperforms or your goals change, adjust accordingly. A Certified Financial Planner can help rebalance your investments without breaking your long-term plan.
Conclusion
Choosing the first-class SIP plans and returns isn’t approximately chasing tendencies or copying your buddy’s portfolio. It’s approximately understanding your desires, understanding your chance tolerance, and staying disciplined. SIPs praise consistency, endurance, and clever planning not flashy actions.
Expert guidance from a Certified Financial Planner can fine-tune your strategy, helping you avoid common mistakes and maximize returns. In the end, SIPs are not just investments—they’re financial habits that can change your future.
#Best SIP Plans#SIP Returns#SIP Guide#SIP Tips#SIP Strategy#SIP Insights#SIP Planner#SIP Options#SIP Advice#SIP Growth#SIP Plans 2025#SIP Review#SIP Ideas#Smart SIP#Top SIP Plans#SIP Returns Now#SIP Picks#SIP Expert Help#SIP Basics#SIP Plans Guide
0 notes
Text
I know that some people get very nervous around the idea of having sex while under the influence, but don’t worry, I’ll guide you.
You can come sit on my lap and I’ll hold your cup or can or whatever and help you drink it down, all while my other hand feels you over your underwear. We’ll go nice and slow, I won’t slip my fingers into them until you whisper in a drawl that you want it. If you really struggle with it, I can take the sip of your drink or take the shot for you and spit it into your mouth through a kiss. That way there’s less thinking work for you.
You can take an edible or something and I’ll slowly start to go down on you while you’re in a nice and hazey. If you’re comfortable with smoking, maybe I’d let you take a few hits off my joint, or again I can shotgun them to you, make even getting stoned something out of your responsibility. Just lay down and let me make you feel good.
I’ll tell you everything I’m doing and everything I’m going to do. I’ll make sure you’re as comfortable and care free as you can be while I work orgasm after orgasm out of you when you’re in your own little world.
#schools been taking up all my getting crossfaded and fucking time 😔#intox#intox k1nk#intox fantasy#weed intox#intox play#alcohol intox#intox kink#intoxication play#intoxication kink#t4t ns/fw#ftm t4t#t4t nsft#ftm nsft#t4t#t4t mlm#ftm dom#ftm ns/fw#ftm daddy#ftm switch#t4t dom#t4t kink#nsft t4t#ftm bear#ftm puppy
12K notes
·
View notes
Text
wasting your honor

synopsis: at akso hospital’s charity gala, you realize how smart zayne is. how much smarter he is than you.
tags: fluff to angst to fluff/comfort, reader is insecure about their intelligence, reader thinks zayne deserves better, references to socioeconomic differences, potentially inaccurate references to medical terminology and protocore stuff, misunderstanding, reader ghosts zayne for a week, he comes to find her, reader tears up, love confessions, happy ending pairing: zayne x fem!reader (referred to as “she” one time), reader doesn't have to be mc word count: 2.4k
a/n: i’m rly rly proud of this it may be my favorite thing i’ve written so far please read it
“Are you sure I should be going to this?” you ask, the hesitation clear in your voice.
“Why shouldn’t you? Plenty of other attendees will be bringing their partners as plus-ones,” Zayne says matter-of-factly. “Of course, if you’re feeling unwell, it’s best to stay behind and rest. I'm sure I'll be able to manage on my own.”
“No, no, I feel fine,” you reply, chewing your bottom lip nervously. “It’s just…I've never been surrounded by so many highly educated people. I’m afraid I'll slip up, or say something wrong, or embarrass you, or…”
Before you can ramble on, he walks up to you and squishes your cheeks between his large scarred hands. “Darling,” he begins, a soft smile on his face, “none of that matters. Just be yourself, and I’m sure you’ll be the most refined person there by a mile.”
Akso Hospital’s annual charity gala was the topic of his impromptu pep talk. Each year, the event made front-page news from drawing in hundreds of world-renowned physicians to support a pressing medical cause. Tonight’s gala would be hosted by a team of legendary neurologists, and the venue—a prestigious museum of anthropology—was equally celebrated.
Zayne, who usually struggled at such events, had invited you as his plus-one with youthful hope in his hazel eyes, and there was no way you could have rejected his offer. At first, you’d been thrilled at the prospect of making an official outing together—you rarely got the chance due to his busy schedule—but as the days passed by, the anxiety of being average in a room of geniuses had caught up to you.
So as you pace back and forth before the full-length mirror, fidgeting with your dress at every turn, you can only hope that he’s right.
As Zayne puts the car in park, your stomach lurches with dread.
In the few seconds you have to panic to yourself while he walks around to open your door, the way your mind formulates last-minute escape plans would put a supercomputer to shame. Maybe you could fake sick—no, you’d told him you felt fine—or maybe with enough pressure you could lightly sprain your ankle in your hee—
The door swings open.
Fuck.
He takes your hand and guides you out of the car, and as you walk toward the museum entrance, you’re too focused on trying not to trip over your flowing gown to take in the scenery. The lights twinkling in the foggy night, the verdant plants lining the entryway in carefully arranged rows, the opulent fountain flowing over small hills of bronze coins. It’s a lovely setup, really. If only your brain would allow you to enjoy it.
After passing through the lavish front hall, decorated with colorful displays of ancient artifacts, you’re greeted by a grand ballroom layout. Round banquet tables with crystal centerpieces are scattered throughout the space, and the upscale alcohol behind the bar could probably bankrupt you with one sip.
All around you, people clad in gold watches and diamond necklaces mingle with thinly veiled scrutiny, and you silently bless Zayne for personally sponsoring your event attire.
As you head further into the room, a striking brunette woman in her 40s saunters up to you. “Zayne!” she gushes, “It’s so nice to see you could make it! With how antisocial you are, I was afraid you’d find a reason not to come. Oh, and who’s this?” she asks, eyes passing over you dismissively. “I’ve never seen you working with Zayne before—perhaps you’re in nephrology or gastroenterology?”
You have no idea what either of those words mean.
Luckily, like always, Zayne saves the day. “Actually, this is my partner. She’s accompanying me tonight.”
“Partner,” the woman repeats, her voice raising an octave in disbelief. “…What a surprise! I didn’t realize the aloof Dr. Zayne was seeing someone. How lucky you are to have him,” she finishes with a stiff smile. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, then. Enjoy your evening!” she calls as she flags down a waiter and scoops up two glasses of wine.
“That was our chief of staff,” Zayne says flatly. “Surely you can understand how she scored the position with such a charming personality.”
You chat with—or Zayne chats with, while you stand off awkwardly to the side—a few more guests before the main portion of the event begins.
Dr. Greyson had roped him into a conversation about a thrilling surgery from the day before, and an intern who’d somehow managed to get on the invite list had bombarded him with questions while you watched with a blank smile.
When the lights gradually dim and you’re directed to your seats, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a moment to breathe, you think.
The hours pass. Speech after speech travels in and out of your ear, the jargon too advanced for you to process before the next utterly alien word comes along.
Flipping open your program in restlessness, you realize you��ve reached the final segment of the gala just as the next speaker takes the stage.
“Again, thank you all so much for your attendance tonight,” he starts. “I’m proud to announce that we’ve raised a record-breaking amount for medical research involving Protocores—what a historic feat. Each of you should be immensely proud of your contributions.”
Your claps seem too loud in the polite applause. Shifting your gaze to the guests around you, you match their enthusiasm—or lack thereof—with an inward grimace.
“Now, before the night ends, we do have one more achievement to celebrate. Dr. Zayne Li, who I believe is here with us tonight, has recently passed an extraordinary milestone—in his time with Akso, our chief cardiac surgeon has successfully completed over 800 surgeries. To show our gratitude, we’d like to present him with the Medical Impact Award. Dr. Li, if you’re in the audience, won’t you come up and celebrate this accomplishment?”
This time, you don’t hold back your applause. As Zayne rises from his seat, an endearing look of bewilderment on his face, your heart swells with admiration. Lucky, was what that woman had called you earlier. You suppose she’d been right.
As Zayne climbs up the steps, the presenter hands him a polished wooden plaque. Saying a brief thanks, he struts to the mic, a practiced look of confidence on his face now that the surprise has worn off.
“Thank you for this honor,” he begins steadily. “It’s with immense privilege that I can stand here before you today, but I’d like to take this time to commend our fundraising efforts tonight. The millions of dollars we’ve raised will be dedicated to investigating the nature of pathological conditions that originate in Protocore exposure. This will allow hundreds of medical personnel in and outside of Linkon to treat previously unsolvable cases. In regards to my own work, I’m particularly grateful—with the generosity you’ve all shown tonight, you’ve made me incredibly optimistic for the future of treating Cardiac Protocore Syndrome. I’ll keep that in mind every day—so the next 800 surgeries can go smoothly and with quick recoveries.”
As his speech ends, your look of admiration melts into a resigned, defeated smile.
For the first time that night, the room breaks out into thunderous applause. And for the hundredth time that night, you feel like you don’t deserve to stand by his side.
You’d hope that he’d chalked up your silence on the ride home to sleepiness. When he’d walked you to your apartment door and leaned in to kiss you goodnight, you’d merely stood there in indecision, afraid to taint his brilliance with your mediocrity. And then, with a strained smile, you’d shut the door in his face.
That was the last time you’d seen him for the rest of the week. And for half of the next.
For six days, you’d been completely ghosting him, too wrapped up in your insecurities to respond to his numerous messages.
Thank you for accompanying me last night. I had a wonderful time, he’d texted on the first day.
One of the nurses came up to me and gushed over your dress. She asked where you bought it from, but I told her we got it custom-ordered, he’d said on the second.
The fourth day. Would you like to join me for a meal later? We’ve had to reschedule a surgery. I’ll be getting home earlier than usual tonight.
Last night. Please respond to me when you get a chance.
And no matter how badly you wanted to, each time your fingers hovered over the keyboard, they froze in paralyzing shame.
You’d passed the time like you had before you met him—hiding from the sun, rewatching comfort movies, and wallowing in bed with gloomy ballads in the background.
But on the seventh day, your doorbell rings.
Thinking it’s the package of pastries you’d ordered from the bakery near Zayne’s house—you always got a box when you were sad—you hastily swing open the door.
And then fight the urge to shut it right back.
Because standing on your doorstep is a tired-looking Zayne, frowning in hurt and confusion.
“Hello. Is your phone broken?” he asks worriedly, checking your body for signs of illness.
“Um…no,” you mutter, suddenly fixated on your navy blue slippers. “Why don’t you come in? If you want to.”
With an infinitesimal squint, he crosses the threshold of your apartment. All things considered, it’s a good thing he’s here, given the way your heart is beating out of your chest.
“You haven’t been responding to my calls or messages since the gala,” he begins carefully. “I was afraid something was wrong. There were so many people present—maybe you’d caught a virus. But,” he continues, taking in your disheveled yet healthy appearance, “it seems I was incorrect.”
The guilt that’s been eating at you for days suddenly devours your insides whole, and your emotional dam bursts open.
“I-I’m glad you got to go, and that you got your award—your speech was great, by the way,” you sniffle. “But while we were there, the whole time I was thinking how much more successful you are than me. How much more intelligent. I mean, that lady asked me if I was an entomologist, or whatever, and I didn’t even know what she meant! At the end of it I just…thought you’d be better off without me. That you deserve better. Smarter. That’s why I’ve been quiet the last few days,” you finish, eyes downcast.
His puzzled frown deepens at your revelation.
“Why would I expect you to possess medical knowledge when that’s not your field of study?”
Oh.
Oh.
You really were stupid, weren’t you.
“You…don’t think I’m too…average for you?”
“No, have I ever indicated that I do? If so, I apologize for making you feel that way. It’s the complete opposite of how I view you,” he reveals, stepping closer. “I’m also terribly sorry I didn’t notice you were so uncomfortab—”
“No,” you interrupt him shakily. “I tried to hide it. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Zayne gives you a sympathetic grin before starting over. “Regardless, I regret not being able to take care of you like I should have. And as much as I wish you hadn’t, I understand why you took the time to process your feelings. But to make one thing clear,” he asserts, voice deepening in emphasis. “I’m the one who’s lucky to have you.”
As you look up at him through glassy eyes, your breath hitches. “What?” you croak, voice hoarse from built-up tears.
“Darling,” he begins gently. “Did you ever consider whether I like socializing with those types of people?”
Mouth parting in a small ‘o,’ you shake your head meekly.
He smiles wryly. “After every previous one of those events, I’ve gone home with an ear-splitting headache. Last week was the first time I’ve ever enjoyed going,” he chuckles. “Not because of that award—which was flattering but unnecessary considering I was only doing my job,” he quips, “but because you were there beside me.”
“No amount of medical knowledge can compare to the peace you make me feel. The comfort. I asked you to be my plus-one for one reason only: the person I love makes me happy.”
At the confession, your battered heart soars and your cheeks burn so hot you think they’ll melt off. Timidly, you inch closer to him, instinctually unsure if he’ll welcome you back into his arms.
He answers your unvoiced question almost immediately, pulling you to him by the waist before he speaks again. “Although,” he pauses, giving you a concerned once-over, “if you were truly in so much distress over attending, you could have just refused. At the expense of my own happiness, I would’ve preferred you had.”
“But you seemed so excited to go,” you groan, laying your head against his chest. You shiver at the contact—you must’ve missed him more than you realized. “I guess I was wrong.”
“Not entirely. I was excited to go with you.”
At his response, you bury yourself impossibly further into him, and he strokes your back tenderly. “Well, that was one reason I agreed—you looked so cute when you asked, I just couldn’t say no,” you grumble, lightly pinching his waist. “But the other part was…with all the hours you spend at the hospital—800 surgeries and all—we never really get to go to big events as a couple. I just wanted to take the opportunity, I guess. I thought it would feel nice.”
Zayne sighs deeply and presses a light kiss to your hair. “And it felt bad instead,” he surmises. “How can I make it up to you? I’ll ask Greyson to trade shifts with me if I need to, just say the word.”
“Well,” you start, peering up at him shyly. “There is an office party next week that I’ve been dreading going to. All alone,” you pout. “If he comes with me, the illustrious Dr. Zayne will get to see how we regular people socialize.”
Chuckling softly, he kisses your forehead. “He wouldn’t dare miss out on that. He’ll be there,” he promises, squeezing your hip in confirmation. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, I believe the bakery van just dropped something off at your door. Shall we open it?”
In an instant, you peel yourself off of him and sprint for the door before freezing in your tracks. You were forgetting something.
“Wait!” you exclaim, turning back around to face him. With a nervous gulp, you say the words you think you’ve known for a long time.
“I asked you to come with me, Zayne,” you breathe, “because the person I love makes me happy, too.”
#iris writes#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace zayne#zayne x reader#love and deepspace fluff#love and deepspace angst#zayne fluff#zayne angst#lads#lads zayne#lads x reader#lads fluff#lads angst#lnds#lnds zayne#lnds x reader#lnds fluff#lnds angst#love and deepspace comfort#lads comfort#lnds comfort#zayne comfort#zayne li#zayne
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
contrary to popular belief, osamu miya is not any better than his twin brother, especially when he’s with you.
this must be your fourth date this month, and it’s barely even two weeks in. so, in order to save money, osamu proposes a little life hack. a cheat code, if you will.
“baby, i got this ring at a pawn shop,” he takes a small, rusty ring from his pocket and presents it to you as he continues, “i’ll pretend i’m proposin’ to ya and all ya gotta say is yes, okay? free dinner, easy peasy.”
you sigh, holding back your laughter as you pinch your temple. “‘samu, that’s unethical.”
“whaaaat? no way, come on, baby. we’ll get to go on dates more often if we do this,” he says, and you know you shouldn’t say yes. you should be the angel in this scenario, guiding him towards the right path. the path of the just and the good.
...but then again, why would osamu date you if you weren’t at least a tiny bit similar in terms of thinking?
“fine.”
“hells yeah!” he celebrates, looking around and waiting for one of the staff members to enter your vicinity. luckily, it doesn’t take long until a blonde girl walks to the table next to yours and starts cleaning up the leftover dishes the previous party has left behind.
osamu looks at you, grinning before he gets off the chair and gets on his knee. you cup your mouth with both your hands, seemingly in shock; though in reality, you’re doing it to prevent yourself from laughing like a madman.
“my sweet, beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend. i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”
and the restaurants’ guests just eat. it. up. the crowd cheers, much like how they do in his games, and they chant “yes, yes, yes!”
“yes!” you burst out in laughter, jolting out of your seat and hugging him. he lifts you up slightly before putting you back to the ground and kissing you, lips soft and at your mercy.
osamu puts a ring on your finger as the crowd yells and howls, and later that night, the manager approaches the two of you and tells you not to worry about the bill.
atsumu’s been rubbing off on your boyfriend too much.
and so this becomes a ritual, though you’re both careful not to overuse it. you reserve it for anniversaries and small celebrations, like his team winning a big tournament or you getting a high score from a grumpy professor.
and though it doesn’t always work, you guys at least get a little dessert on the house.
until one day, when you’re a high end, fancy restaurant. you’re wearing a silk, red dress with so much jewelry, you’re practically shining. the chandelier lights reflect off of his rolex watch, and you both have just finished eating.
“this place is really good, osamu. we should come here more often.” you take a sip of the wine, drinking in delight.
“yeah... hey babe, what’s that?” he points behind you and you turn immediately in curiosity.
“...huh? ‘samu, i don’t see anything,” you turn back around to face him, but lo and behold, osamu miya is down on one knee.
your eyes look around in shock, clearly taken aback. “wha— babe, we didn’t plan this?!”
“i know,” he chuckles, pulling out a ring similar to the one he bought at the pawn shop, except brighter, cleaner. with more diamonds than you could ever even imagine. “my love, i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”
sure is a good thing osamu’s got practice.
@deardoelle mwah
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu osamu#osamu x reader#osamu x you#osamu x y/n#osamu fluff#osamu miya#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya x you#osamu miya fluff#miya twins#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#miya osamu fluff#inarizaki
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Feels Like Trouble
pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: You and Robby have been secretly dating for a while now. Most of the ER is clueless—except the five people who could probably write dissertations on your dynamic. Enter a frat boy med student with too much confidence and not enough self-awareness. Robby? Jealous. You? Oblivious. Everyone else? Watching the drama unfold like it's peak primetime television. warnings: cringe flirting, depiction of boundary-pushing behavior, mutual pining, protective!Robby genre: fluff, slow burn, banter, crack vibes, emotional constipation, robbie's love language is acts of service, strong!reader energy because women run the world word count: 6.3k a/n: robby in his protective, simmering, quietly feral era + men anticipating my needs without me having to ask is my roman empire. p.s. also check out my other Dr. Robby fics (Not Enough | And Through It All) if you're interested <3
It started at the nurses’ station.
You were finishing up notes from a back-to-back shift, hair a mess, sleeves rolled, running purely on caffeine and spite. You barely registered the med student who leaned in a little too close—Jackson, of course. Jackson, who everyone knew had barely scraped through med school with a transcript that looked like a cry for help and a reputation for quoting his frat days like gospel. Jackson, who thought calling women 'Doc' in a tone meant to charm was somehow endearing. So, yeah. Not a great dude, to say the absolute least.
"Hey, Dr. L/N," Jackson said with that ever-present grin, leaning just a little too close. "You, uh... ever take pity on exhausted interns and grab a drink after shift?"
You gave a polite smile. "I’m not really a spirits person, but thanks."
Jackson blinked. "Huh?"
"You said drink, right? I’m more of a coffee or tea girl. Caffeine over cocktails."
He opened his mouth like he was going to try again, but you were already turning back to your chart.
"Good luck today!" you said cheerfully, not noticing the groan from your colleagues. Just around the corner, Mateo muttered to Javadi, "That’s the fourth time this week. It’s painful, man."
Javadi sipped her carton of apple juice with focused precision, attention directed solely on your ability to brush off such obvious advances without it getting in the way of your work. "Seventh, actually. If you count the half-made attempt on Monday. She's bulletproof."
"Try Jackson-proof," Mateo scoffed.
Two beds down, King leaned over to Langdon with her gloved hands clasped and asked, "Why does Jackson keep hovering around Dr. L/N like a... rabid mosquito?"
Langdon just smiled knowingly, looking over to the nurses' station where the man of the hour sat. "Don’t worry. Robby'll take care of it. Eventually."
Unbeknownst to you, Robby had been watching the entire interaction—and every interaction before that. If any med student so much as breathed near you with less-than-pure intentions, he was up in arms, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.
There was that time Whitaker nearly took your eye out when a patient came in with a nail embedded in his femur; the force of pulling it out snapped Whitaker’s elbow backward—only for Robby's hand to catch it mid-swing before it could clock you in the face. Or when Santos nearly sliced your finger open as you gently guided her through her first incision—Robby had materialized behind her in the span of a gasp, steadying her hands with a calm correction that masked sheer panic. Or when Javadi passed out for the second time during a gnarly pelvic realignment and collapsed straight into you, nearly giving you a concussion from her deadweight—Robby had been there then, too, catching you both with lightning reflexes and barely concealed fury.
At this point, the only person in the hospital who hadn’t triggered Robby’s internal security system was Mel. And that was only because she kept a respectful three-foot radius and shared snacks with you during breaks. The two of you had a quiet little tradition—inviting her out to try the new cat café when it opened downtown, or attending weekend adoption events together like it was a team-building exercise. Langdon once joked that she was the third wheel in the most wholesome slow-burn romcom he'd ever seen. Mel's only response was two blinks and a single nod of acknowledgement.
Everyone in the ER noticed your dynamic—the way you and Robby worked together like a well-oiled machine, never needing to speak aloud to know what the other needed. It was intuitive. Rhythmic. Like watching a dance you’d been rehearsing for years.
Still, only a handful of people actually knew about your relationship. Abbot, Collins, McKay, Dana, Langdon, and Mel.
Abbot had been Robby’s sounding board from the very beginning. Back when Robby was still pacing around the break room, torn between professionalism and the undeniable, slow-burning pull he felt toward you, it was Abbot who told him to get over himself and ask you out. Life was too short for regrets.
Collins, McKay, and Dana didn’t know officially—but they knew. The meaningful glances, the subtle handoffs of coffee, the shared silences that were too loaded to be casual. They never said a word because they lived for the soap-opera-worthy drama of it all.
Langdon and Mel were on the same wavelength. They hadn’t caught you red-handed, but their spidey senses were borderline clairvoyant. They never probed, never asked. Just watched it unfold like a plotline they already knew the ending to.
Besides them, the rest of the department remained blissfully unaware—except for the way Robby’s entire demeanor shifted over a year ago. A quiet warmth started to replace his usual stoicism. People credited it to the anonymous private donation made to the ER around the same time.
But the truth was, it had nothing to do with money.
It was you.
You, of course, were oblivious to whatever other people thought or said—unless it had something to do with your patients. Robby sometimes joked that you were pathologically unbothered, something he made a mental note to ask you about, and he wasn’t wrong. The rumors from the nurses, the looks from the interns, the knowing smirks from Dana or Langdon? All of it flew over your head like air traffic.
Maybe you just didn’t see it. Didn’t see how Robby’s entire world seemed to tilt when you entered a room. How effortlessly the two of you moved in sync like second nature—side by side in trauma bays, tossing instruments, treatment plans, and glances back and forth like muscle memory. Everyone else could see it.
You were always focused on the next decision, the next step, the next person who needed your help. You didn’t think about what you needed until the shift was over—if ever. Your well-being came last, always.
But not to Robby. Never to Robby.
He noticed everything.
The slump in your shoulders. The faint crease in your forehead when a headache was starting to set in. He knew when you were on the verge of running on empty, when your patience was thinning, when you hadn’t eaten since sunrise. He never made a show of it. He just acted.
He didn’t wait for you to ask. He didn’t expect you to remember to need anything.
Because he already knew. He just... knew.
Your coffee, brewed and sweetened exactly how you liked it, would be waiting for you at the nurses’ station first thing in the morning. A second cup at lunch—always packed, always hot, even if you never had time to drink it. He’d drop it off like it was routine, like it was no big deal, because he knew the odds of you being pulled into another case mid-sip were astronomical.
Your favorite sandwich from the cafeteria, left quietly on your desk with a sticky note that said, “Eat this or I’m calling your mother.” You'd sooner pass out from hunger than remember to eat. He knew that. So he took the thinking out of it for you.
And after the longest days—those days where you'd made a thousand decisions, answered a hundred questions, led back-to-back codes—he’d cook dinner at his place. Quietly, without fanfare, and pieced together with the same kind of intention you gave your patients. He’d hand you a glass of water—because that was one other thing that you along with 80% of the population deprived yourself of—and steer you to the couch while he handled the rest. Just so you could turn your brain off.
You never asked, never had to, yet he always knew.
You’d just been snapped back to the present by the sound of an unwelcome familiar voice—again.
"Dr. L/N," he said, sidling up to you again with that same confident grin—clearly not deterred by every failed attempt before. "I’ve got a list of mocktails that might just change your mind. Pretty creative, right? I googled it during lunch. There’s this one with lychee and—"
You blinked at him slowly, like you were buffering.
"Jackson," you said, voice firmer this time, "I don’t even have time to finish a protein bar most days, let alone entertain another pitch for drinks. You’re taking time away from my patients, my patients. I sincerely hope you don’t treat them the same way—ignoring their boundaries and refusing to take no for an answer."
You didn’t say it harshly. Just plainly. Clearly and finite. Like a diagnosis that needed no follow-up.
Across the room, Robby pulled down his glasses as his lip quirked up into a slow, private smirk. Pride bloomed across his face so fast he had to duck his head behind a chart to hide it. He knew better than to coddle you. The mutual discomfort and stifled reactions from the staff were one thing. Watching you handle yourself like that? That was something else entirely.
From across the nurses’ station, the staff collectively cringed like someone had just dropped a post-op surgical tray. Santos and Mateo physically turned away to hide their budding laughter. Javadi buried her face in her sleeve, secondhand embarrassment blooming. Mohan took off at a brisk pace to see a patient. Whitaker closed his eyes and mouthed a silent prayer to the ceiling. Meanwhile, Dana, McKay, and Collins couldn’t look away if they tried, pressing down their grins and wishing they'd brought popcorn. Langdon sipped his coffee like it was a box-office premiere. King, ever diligent, kept her focus on irrigating her patient’s wound—Langdon would fill her in later with full commentary. Before you could continue—
"Dr. L/N," your savior called, tone light but cutting through the air like a scalpel—just loud enough to interrupt whatever nonsense Jackson was about to say next.
You turned and there he was.
Dr. Robby—your chaos compass, your caffeinated partner in crime, loyal boyfriend, favorite soon-to-be roommate, and at the moment, your very composed but unmistakably irritated attending—his expression perfectly calm to the untrained eye, but you could read the tension in every line of his face.
"Got a case," he said flatly. "Now. Come on."
You blinked, confused but relieved. "Okay."
You didn’t miss the way Jackson shrank a little at Robby’s tone, nor the way Langdon grinned over his coffee like he'd just won a bet. You caught up to him by the supply closet, where he all but dragged you inside and shut the door behind you.
"What's up?" you asked, eyebrow raised.
He stared at you, a little too intently, like he wasn’t sure whether to scold you or wrap you in bubble wrap. "Are you seriously asking me that after that guy just tried to chat you up in the middle of the ER like this is Grey’s Anatomy?"
You blinked, tilting your head. "Wait… was that flirting?"
Robby blinked back. "You’re joking."
You were. "I thought he just wanted to split an energy drink or something."
He huffed a quiet laugh, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as his hands came up to ruffle his hair. "Jesus."
You poked his chest lightly. "You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know that?"
His ears went red immediately. "I’m not flustered. I’m... professionally annoyed."
You blinked. "You’re jealous?"
"I’m not jealous," he said tightly. "I’m—concerned."
You grinned, stepping close. "Concerned is hot."
"He was twelve."
"He's definitely at least twenty-six."
Robby exhaled through his nose. "I’ve been very chill about this whole 'let’s not tell the hospital we’re dating' thing. But if I see him so much as come within two feet of you again, I’m submitting a formal notice that you are very much taken and a complaint with HR about his behavior. And if that doesn’t work—" he leaned in closer, voice dropping—"I’m dealing with him myself."
You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smirk. "What’s that going to look like—are you gonna slam your clipboard down and tag team him with Abbot? Because honestly, I wouldn’t hate that."
Your voice was teasing, but your cheeks were warm. Watching Robby get territorial from a respectful distance? Unexpectedly hot. And now, you couldn’t help but push his buttons to see how much more riled up he’d get.
He didn’t answer. Just leaned in slowly, deliberately, raising both of his arms to cage you in—palms flat against the wall on either side of your head. The move sent heat straight to your cheeks, blinking up at him as he leaned closer, so close his breath brushed your lips.
Then he kissed you—hard and fast and possessive, his hands sliding up into your hair, threading through it with the kind of reverence that made your knees go weak. You gasped softly into his mouth, one hand instinctively rising to cup his jaw, your fingers grazing the edge of his beard before curling into the softness of it. He leaned into your touch, like he’d been waiting for it all day.
Your other hand slid up into his hair, tugging gently at the strands at the nape of his neck, and you felt it—the way his pulse thrummed just beneath your fingertips, the way he shivered just slightly at your touch.
His thumbs caressed the line of your jaw, then drifted down to the curve of your neck, holding you like you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.
It was fire and softness, urgency wrapped in warmth. And you never wanted to stop.
When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. "Is that allowed in a supply closet?" you smirked.
"If they didn’t want people kissing in here, they wouldn’t make it this conveniently located."
You smacked his arm, giggling.
"I’m serious," he added, voice softening but maintaining a firm undertone. "I don't share."
You looped your arms around his neck. "Good. I wasn’t offering."
He grinned, still close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "That thing you said back there—about boundaries, about respect." He paused, eyes scanning yours. "That was... incredible. Seriously. You handled it perfectly."
Your brows furrowed for a moment, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.
"It was... commanding," he added a moment later, voice lower, more playful now. "Alluringly so."
You snorted. "You're ridiculous."
"Yeah," he agreed, pulling you closer to pepper your face with kisses. "Ridiculously in love with a woman who knows exactly how to shut down frat boys without breaking stride, resuscitate half the ER, deliver excellent patient care, and still make rounds on time."
His hand slid down your back, warm and steady. "You’re the whole damn package, you know that? It’s genuinely unfair."
You chuckled, burying your face briefly in his shoulder.
Somewhere down the hall, Dana's voice rang echoed through the PA, summoning you for the consult. Robby groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder.
"This is not over," he muttered.
You kissed the corner of his mouth, a smirk following soon after where your lips lingered. "Got any dinner plans?"
Robby raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Actually, yeah. I’ve got a date—with my incredibly beautiful, breathtaking, beyond intelligent, and painfully witty girlfriend."
You blinked at him, then laughed, delighted. "Wow. Sounds like a catch."
He leaned in and bumped his nose against yours, grinning. "She really is. And I think she’s about to say yes."
You didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled, so full of affection it made your cheeks ache. Then you nodded, brushing your thumb gently along his cheekbone.
"Yeah," you whispered, "she definitely is."
#the pitt#the pitt hbo#the pitt x reader#the pitt fanfiction#dr. robby#michael robinavitch#dr robby x reader#michael robinavitch x reader#noah wyle#dr robby imagine#the pitt spoilers#dr. robby x reader#dr robby x you#the pitt imagine#michael robinavitch imagine#mel king#samira mohan#melissa king#dennis whitaker#mateo diaz#victoria javadi#dr langdon#frank langdon#jack abbott#jack abbot#cassie mckay#heather collins#trinity santos
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Content: gender neutral reader, monster smut, NSFW!
I’m harping on that arranged marriage trope again, but imagine being kidnapped as a spouse for a monstrous demon lord who has a thing for humans. You’re not the first attempt, but the household servants have truly lost count on how many humans crossed their threshold. Some ran away, some were eaten alive: none of the poor, frail mortals could handle the grotesque creature and his equally terrifying temper.
They guide you to the sleeping chambers with a pitiful gaze. They expect to pick up your scattered body tomorrow morning and scrub the dried blood off the floors.
What no one took into consideration was that you’re a shameless monster fucker. One glance at the beastly husband, and you fumble to remove your clothes with trembling hands. This is going to be good, you tell yourself, face flushed in obvious arousal. His unholy majesty certainly didn’t expect you’d hop straight on his dick, no questions asked. Not that he’s complaining much; on the contrary, it takes mere seconds for him to become completely feral.
The next day, you peacefully sip on your tea, pretending not to notice the baffled stares of the servants. If that wasn’t shocking enough, their master walks in with a genuine smile on his face.
Who would’ve thought, all he needed was a good fuck.
[More Monsters] | [Part 2]
#monster imagine#monster x reader#monster x human#monster smut#monster fucker#terato#teratophillia#monster boyfriend
13K notes
·
View notes
Note
Obsessed with your Nanamin ♡ Also obsessed with the idea of our boy being a virgin before he meets his wife so she's his one and only. Wow I wish he was real.
four weeks into dating, and kento's barely even grazed your hand. it's not that he doesn't like you, because he does a little too much. you're all he thinks about -- all he pines and stews over when he's alone.
you two met in the odd space between high school and the thought of university where nanami was finally feeling the toll sorcery was taking on him, only going out once a week to drink his guilt away. it’s there, at dinner with co-workers that he meets you — a mutual friend of his desk mate who had a little too much to drink one night.
now, nineteen-year-old nanami was not the nicest. he drank and spent his sleepless nights staring at walls, begging for a reason, or just purpose.
he has terrible insomnia because he sees the ones he lost to curses every time he closes his eyes. it’s why he left sorcery in the first place. he’s not strong. he’s barely capable of keeping his own head up. call it teenage angst, but nanami will call it his burdensome state.
eighteen year old you was full-spirited and beautiful. you always had friends begging to go out drinking and partying. that year was a whirlwind of nasty hookups, terrible hangovers and love-lust. safe to say, you and kento were complete opposites.
all that to say — opposites do attract, and nanami's been obsessed with you ever since that fateful drunken night.
it was one particular morning date over two cups of strong coffee that you finally poke a little further than the stupid childhood stories and plans for the future. you want him to touch you.
"i won't lie, i've been waiting for you to touch me this whole time." it feels embarrassing to finally say out loud, but you didn't know how many more hints you had to give him.
he stills over his sip of coffee, vibrant hazel eyes going stagnant. you can tell you finally got him -- you sparked a reaction.
that day, as soon as he gets you home, he's pushing you on the bed. nanami's all heavy breaths as he crawls over you in the afternoon light, biting over his bottom lip as he meets your gaze.
"i'll try and be gentle..." he whispers before sliding down and tucking his head under your loose t-shirt. kento fits so perfectly there, purring against your warmth as he kisses up your stomach, lips finding their home against your lower sternum.
you're blushed down to your toes, rocking your knees together under kento's lanky frame. he's got you on lock, left hand finding your wrist against his sheets to hold you there.
you've never been this intimate. he's closer to your heart than you are.
"can you breathe down there?" you whisper, breathing harder when you feel him drag to your left nipple.
"mhm." he responds, vibrating the entirety of your body. he gives your nipple a little experimental lick, stopping to gauge your whining reaction. "breathin' you."
"fuck, kento."
he's blushing so fucking hard when he comes out from under your shirt, golden hair ruffled with static. it gives you something adjacent to cuteness aggression, you just want to kiss him already.
it's missionary that first time -- he hovers over you like a angel, pretty eyes screwed shut as the tip of his cock drags slowly through your slit. it's driving you crazy, all this build-up, but nanami can't stop. he fucking loves the way touching you like this felt, this was enough.
"you won't... it's not gonna hurt me, just do it. put it in." it's your final, desperate plea for more, but he's too caught in his head. he shakes it.
"i can't... i can't cause i'm gonna - I'll finish." he's tucking his cheek into his shoulder, whining low as he guides his tip across your entrance. it dips so perfectly there like it's meant to fit, but he just doesn't do it.
it's actually starting to get annoying.
deep down you have an inkling he doesn't really know what he's doing. but, it's okay because neither do you. you know that his lips on your sternum felt good, but the thought of his body inside of yours felt even better.
you just wanted him to take you. you've never wanted something more.
you whine. "nanami, what are you so afraid of?" you try, snaking hand up his naked back to the base of his neck. he shivers hard at your touch but he loves it.
"don't wanna... oh, baby..." he murmurs when your fingers find the tension knot just at the base, using strong fingers to massage over it. "just don't wanna hurt you."
"the only thing that'll hurt me is if you leave. just don't leave me," you pull him close, hugging both arms around the back of his neck.
"so, just put it in... please, please please."
#baby's first request!!#ofc i had to write virgin kento are u kidding meeeeeee#this is so shitty but i love him so much i had to post#.the wife guy!! <3#.nanami <3#eraserasks#.favs :o#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#jjk x reader#nanami jjk#nanami smut#nanami x reader#jjk nanami#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x reader#jjk x you
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
the many firsts

a/n: you have no idea how many times while writing this first instalment that i needed to take a break, if you know what i meaannn 🫠
summary: “alright, I’m sorry, geez,” Steve huffed with only a whisper of sincerity, “just come tonight, please? I mean, have you ever even been to a real party before? So how would you know that you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it? Just stop by for a second, and if it’s not for you, then you can just leave, simple as that.”
warnings: innocent!reader x stepbro!steve rogers, frat!bucky barnes, frat!ari levinson, smut, dark content, college au, move in day at university, frat party, alcohol consumption, kissing, virgin!reader, corruption kink, voyeurism, overstimulation, first orgasm, edging, dirty talk, size kink, masturbation, handjob
word count: 8043
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au
masterlist | join my taglist

“Thanks for the ride,” you uttered as Steve’s car finally rolled to a stop in the campus parking lot. Cracking open the passenger side door, you slipped out and trailed back to open up the trunk, “but I can do this on my own, you know,” as the lid floated up to reveal the Tetris-like stacks of both of your stuff, you glanced up at Steve as he rounded the corner of the vehicle as well, “you really don’t have to keep up your end of the deal, our parents aren’t here to see.”
“It’s alright,” his burly arm reached over you to fish out a laundry basket stuffed to the brim with your things, “I know it was just your mom babying you as usual and whispering in my dad’s ear to get him to make me watch after you.”
“She doesn’t baby me, she just cares, a lot…” you shot back defensively, “and I don’t need anyone to watch out for me. I’m eighteen, not seven.”
“Oh yeah?” he let out a faint scoff, “so you wanna just haul all this junk around campus, looking for your dorm, which you have no clue where is yet?”
Your eyes then slowly narrowed in his direction before you muttered, “…well, maybe you could give me just a bit of a hand… just in the name of saving time instead of wasting my first day getting lost.”
And as you filled your arms with as much stuff as you could carry, Steve noted, “hey, I'm not offering to be your fucking tour guide,” as he slammed the trunk shut behind you, “don’t worry, I won’t now try to make you suddenly like me,” he spoke of the ship that sailed away a long time ago.
Arms full, you crossed the crowded parking lot till you reached one of the open gates leading into a lush green area where little paths weaved across the lawns and connected all of the towering buildings.
“Welcome to Highridge University,” Steve breathed as you walked under the gateway, “best fucking years of your life.”
For so long, you had dreamt of this moment, finally being out on your own, away at college, meeting kindred spirits and sipping from the well of knowledge. Glancing around, your teeth clamped down on the smile that rapidly grew and faintly calmed the jittery nerves that still tensed up your abdomen in nauseating butterflies.
“Where are you gonna live, again?” his glance briefly drifted to you.
“Uh…” one-handed, you swiftly scrambled to get out the papers folded up in your pocket, “… Manning Hall, room eight,” you read out loud once you finally found the information on the crumbled piece of paper.
“Manning, alright,” he exhaled, “I started out in Lichfield myself, but I’ve, uh–, dated a few girls who lived in Manning,” his comment promptly caused your eyes to roll in your skull before your feet began to shuffle after him as he led the way.
As you tried to keep up with his long stride, you watched as his gaze suddenly dipped to the contents of the laundry basket he carried before something caught his eye.
“Ah, no way,” he chuckled as he shifted the hamper to free his one arm and snatch up an item, “I can’t believe you brought this with you.”
Glancing over, fury swiftly began to simmer in your chest as you watched him clutch the brown plush bovine visage of Chocolate Milk, an old stuffed animal of yours.
“Hey!” you swiftly snatched the soft cow out of his hand.
But the loss didn’t get to diminish his flame as he only spotted the others buried deeper within the basket, hidden beneath the mass of Chocolate Milk, “oh my god, there’s more!”
“Will you please stop?” you begged as he picked up both an ivory bunny and a caramel-coloured bear, “okay, fine, so I brought a few stuffed animals with me, big whoop!” you screeched in hopes that he would for once show you an ounce of mercy as this was in fact your first time being away from home, so the sense of comfort that those toys brought seemed better than if you’d begged your own mother to stay with you till you settled in.
But even when Steve let go of the teddy bears and settled them back into the hamper, his laughter still continued to rumble in his chest, “oh, you’re so adorable, fuck…”
His laughter had thankfully subsided by the time you reached Manning Hall. Once you’d received your key, your feet began to carry you down the long corridors in search of your new home.
When you found the correct door, it already stood ajar, prompting you to slowly push it open before you peeked your head inside.
On the floor, next to one of the nightstands, there sat a dark-haired girl your age, haphazardly stuffing the small drawer with some of her things.
“Hi,” you gently tapped your knuckles against the open door before crossing the threshold.
Glancing over her shoulder, her eyebrows floated up before she exclaimed, “oh! You must be my roommate!” before she sprang up and rushed towards you, “hey, I’m Kate,” she reached out to shake your hand.
Setting down enough stuff to free one palm, you grasped hers and offered her a timid smile, “nice to meet you, I’m Y/n.”
Coming in behind you, Steve bumped against your side as he squeezed his eclipsing form in through the doorway, “where do you want this shit?”
“Oh,” you tried to get out of the way before his stride tumbled you down, “on the bed is fine, I think,” you gestured to the empty one.
Slipping in past you both, Kate then asked as he placed the hamper down on the small mattress, “is this your boyfriend?”
You nearly choked on your giggle as your wide eyes soared to stare back at her, “him? My boy–, no,” you tried your best to ignore the flutter that tingled deep within your belly at her assumption, “that’s my stepbrother. He’s just already a senior here, so we drove together.”
“Oh,” she exhaled before her face screwed up in immediate regret, “sorry.”
Fishing his phone out of his pocket, your stepbrother briefly glanced down at the screen before muttering, “well, I'll let you girls talk. I'm gonna go grab the rest from the car and then be on my way.”
Offering him a small nod, your gaze shadowed him as he exited the small dorm room, your eyes only ripping away from his fading visage down the hall when Kate soon uttered, “hey, I was about to go get my student ID. You wanna join?”
“Sure,” you nodded, stuffing both of your hands in your pockets, “do you know where it is?”
“Actually, I do,” she cocked her head proudly before sharing, “my girlfriend goes here, so I’ve already been visiting this place for an entire year.”
“Wait, wait, wait, let me readjust my grip,” the frat bro with a buzzcut wheezed to the other guy carrying the heavy beer keg. They were barely halfway up the steps that led to the fraternity’s porch as you approached.
“Seriously?” the one that looked like a Norse god halted with a huff, “you can’t keep pausing every five seconds or we won’t get this thing inside till next year!”
“Hi,” the quiet tone of your voice caused them to drop their squabble as both of their eyes promptly drifted directly towards you, “I’m sorry, is this the Kappa Alpha Nu house?”
“It most certainly is, gorgeous,” the blonde one let his stare take a journey down over your frame, “why? You wanna join?”
“No,” you shook your head, “I'm just looking for someone.”
“Okay,” the other one nodded, “well I'm pretty sure everyone’s inside,” his head invitingly tilted towards the open front door behind them before he added, “except for if you’re looking for Frank or Billy, they haven’t arrived yet.”
Slipping in behind them, the entryway that met you was generous and wide, with a broad staircase off to the side that stretched up to an open landing where numerous hallways spewed forth and weaved deeper into the house. Peeking around, you first poked your head inside the living room that bloomed off to the left, though the room that met you was completely vacant.
Though as you twisted to take your search somewhere else, a figure appeared from out of nowhere, curving around the corner, before you blindly bumped directly into the mass.
“Ow, fuck!” he cursed before you stepped off his toes that your shoes had accidentally stomped down on in the collision.
“Shit, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going–…” your apology then promptly faded from your lips as you blinked up into the blue eyes of none other than Bucky Barnes.
“Y/n? What are you doing here?” your stepbrother’s best friend blinked back into your wide eyes before his glance dipped down to the deep neckline of your shirt, “and since when did these stop being mosquito bites?” he teased as a smirk began to bloom on his lips.
As you then tugged at your shirt to cover up more of your cleavage, Bucky only continued to brashly stare.
“Do you know where Steve is?” you avoided his inappropriate comment with a roll of your eyes.
“Yeah, he should be down any second,” his brawny arm curled up before he leaned his weight against the wall behind you, “so, how the hell are you? Taken any showers lately?” he briefly wiggled his brows, recalling the time over the summer when he had come over to hang out with his friend, only to naturally walk into your bathroom right as you were washing shampoo out of your hair.
“I’m fine,” you sighed as your cheeks began to burn, “glad to finally have a bathroom door with a lock that actually works.”
But then, before Bucky could torment you any further, three separate pairs of footsteps creaked on the staircase.
“Hey, Buck,” you heard Steve call out before he reached the bottom of the steps, “did you remember to invite the Delta Phi girls tonight, because–,” his sentence then crumbled as his gaze landed upon you. Stopping in his tracks, he blinked down at you with his eyebrows harshly knitted together before his glare flickered to his friend, “what is she doing here?”
Crossing the width of the entryway, you dipped your fingers into your pocket and said, “you forgot your phone in my room,” before you fished the device out and stretched it up towards him.
Finally crossing over the threshold behind you, the two guys hauling the keg perked up, “already trying out the new wares on campus? Nice.”
“What?” you twisted around to glare at them, your heart suddenly thumping in your chest, “I’m his stepsister…”
“Oh…” one of the guys on the staircase beside Steve murmured before turning to utter closer to him, “this is her? Seriously?” though hushed, his voice was still loud enough for each and every person in the room to hear what he said, “that’s your stepsister?”
The clearly lewd undertones of his cadence flew directly over your head as you then blinked up at Steve and asked, “you told them about me?”
“Oh yeah, he has,” the shaggy-haired one on the other side of your stepbrother eyed you a moment before he shifted down the last steps, “I'm Ari, president of this madhouse,” the towering man leaned against the thick bannister before he pointed out each other fraternity members surrounding him, “this is Marc, Thor, Curtis and I'm guessing you already know Bucky.”
“Yeah,” you briefly entertained Bucky and threw a glare over your shoulder at him, “our paths unfortunately crossed back in high school.”
As your eyes fluttered back, Ari, still standing tall before you, tilted his head and asked, “you stopping by our annual beginning of the semester bash tonight?”
“Oh,” you breathed, taken aback by the unexpected invitation, “thanks, but I don’t think I should. I have freshman assembly early tomorrow morning, and anyhow, I’m not really much of a party girl,” your fingers began to fiddle with the hem of your sleeve.
But then, before you could share any more of your completely valid reasons, Steve spoke up, “oh, come on,” he nearly groaned, “I was told to take you under my wing, so I can’t very well stand around and let you waste away your college years just like you did back in high school.”
“What’s wrong with how I spent those years?” you scoffed and crossed your arms across your chest.
“Uh, you had no life, no friends, nothing,” he counted on his fingers, “you were basically a nun.”
Throwing your hands up into the air, you exclaimed, “oh, well, I’m sorry we can’t all be the fucking prom king and go to parties every weekend without it affecting one’s GPA!”
“Alright, I’m sorry, geez,” Steve huffed with only a whisper of sincerity, “just come tonight, please? I mean, have you ever even been to a real party before? So how would you know that you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it? Just stop by for a second, and if it’s not for you, then you can just leave, simple as that.”
“Drinks for the beautiful ladies,” Lloyd winked as he and Bucky slithered into the cluster of sorority girls to hand out some beverages. You were leaning up against the nearby wall, shyly only having one foot into the conversation as your new roommate, who now stood with her arm around her girlfriend, Yelena, encouraged you to join in and meet everybody.
“Fuck off, Lloyd,” the redheaded ringleader of the girls barked after she’d seized a cup from him, “I can’t deal with you tonight.”
“Still playing hard to get, I see,” Lloyd only smirked back at Natasha’s scowl.
“Oh, I very much am not,” she uttered coldly.
“See, every party you tell me that and every party, I don’t care. It’s part of our thing,” he briefly waved a finger between the both of them.
“It is not part of our thing, we don’t have a thing, we will never have a thing.”
Though his feet didn’t shift at her warning, as his stare only narrowed to a squint before he concluded, “…so what you’re saying is there’s a chance.”
“Just leave me alone,” she threw up a hand between them to shield her from any more of his desperate attempts, “go flirt with some sad, lonely freshman.”
Though as you watched from the sidelines, you swiftly felt yourself stiffen up as Lloyd suddenly saddled up next to you and flashed you a dazzling grin, “hello… are you by any chance sad and lonely?”
Sucking in a breath, you nervously blinked up at him, “not particularly.”
But before the frat guy could make any other attempts, and make you that much further overwhelmed, Bucky’s palm landed on Lloyd’s shoulder before he offered him a band-aid for the rejections.
“Hey, I think I saw those twins from Callahan’s class out on the dance floor a bit ago,” he leaned in slightly to utter over the booming music that rattled the entire frat house.
“Really?” Lloyd gasped, promptly renewed with vigour before he darted off, leaving Bucky alone next to you.
“He seems… nice,” you tilted your head as your gaze traced him onto the dance floor, briefly flickering to Thor behind them all as he controlled the music and put his own spin on it.
“Ah, he’s not that bad when he’s sober,” Bucky shrugged before shifting to face you, “here,” he then held out a plastic cup for you to grasp.
“Oh, I’m not really much of a drinker–,” you tried to protest before Bucky rolled his eyes and shoved the beverage into your hand, “oh, okay, sure,” you blinked back into his steely blue eyes as he then brought the cup up to your lips and guided you to take a large gulp. The searing sting caused you to swiftly tilt your head back down as you then coughed because of how strong it was, “oh my god, what is that?”
“Just drink it, it’ll help, trust me,” he urged as you stared down into the well of what must have been pure liquor.
Cautiously, you took the older guy’s advice, sipping slowly as you let your gaze wander the space, though as you did, you expected Bucky to leave, but to your surprise, he didn’t shift to move away from your side, which then only caused a timid bubble to ache within your belly as your stare nervously flickered up to him, clueless as to what you should do next.
“So…” you exhaled tensely as you tried to make conversation, “you guys do this kind of thing a lot? Throw parties here?”
“Yeah, pretty much every weekend,” Bucky nodded after taking a sip of his own drink, “although this one in particular, the beginning of the year bash, it always gets a bit wild. Probably because we haven’t seen each other all summer long, so some years it gets a bit out of hand.”
“Oh… like, how wild do you mean? Does it turn into a clue movie?” you half-joked.
“No, nothing quite like that,” he chuckled at your slight terror, “although Scott did almost drown in the pool one time, so…” he shared, pointing to the man erratically shaking his thing in the centre of the dance floor, “he was fine, woke back up, but just don’t get alarmed if anyone pulls something particularly stupid before the sun comes up.”
Pursing your lips, you nodded faintly, “thanks for the tip.”
As your gaze continued to flicker across the expansive space and the drunken students letting loose, his own stayed glued to you before you eventually heard him utter, “so, have you gotten the grand tour yet?”
“What?” your neck swiftly twisted in his direction.
“Of the house,” he faintly gestured to the walls around him.
“…you wanna show me around?”
“Sure,” he shrugged, “well, I’m kinda just waiting around for it to become my team’s turn in beer pong, so I’ve got the time to kill.”
“Oh, alright,” you breathed, your pulse suddenly picking up at the thought of wandering the halls by his side.
“Cool,” he nodded before shifting his gaze to the room you already stood in, “so, this is the place,” he spread out an arm as if you hadn’t just been standing in this spot for twenty minutes.
“Yeah, I already figured that one out on my own,” you chuckled briefly before the palm he slid over your lower back caused it to fade away.
With his hold, he guided you around the corner, into the entryway, “so, the kitchen, dining room and the door to the basement are through there,” he then pointed to the different corners of the abode, “and through there is the living room and this room we use for meetings and shit.”
He then ushered you upstairs, where barely any partygoers had ventured up. Pointing down the various long hallways, he guided your vision to the different doors all down each of them, “so, Frank, Billy, Curtis and Miguel’s rooms are down that way,” he then gestured to the opposite direction, “Scott, Thor, Lloyd, Ransom and Marc are down there,” before his feet then shifted down the last corridor, “and down here is my room,” he pointed to the closed door that had his name on it, “Steve’s, Andy’s and Ari’s.”
Though as he spoke, your eyes fluttered to the door at the end of the hallway, standing slightly ajar. The movement that caught your eye on the other side caused you to swiftly glance to Bucky with a look of alarm, though he clearly couldn’t spot it from where he was standing as he continued to chat, his voice soon fading and flying over your head as your stare wandered back towards the dark room.
On a bed in the centre of the room, there was Ari, hovering and grunting above some blonde girl you didn’t recognise. It took a second for you to realise what they were doing, though when it sank in, a small gasp escaped your lips and caused the leader’s eye to snap up from the whimpering girl beneath him and lock with your own stare through the sliver. You wanted to look away, you knew that you should have, but you couldn’t.
And as you stood there, paralysed and suddenly panting, a wide grin began to bloom upon his lips as he held your eye and began to roll his hips with even more force, causing the chick on the bed to nearly fall off the mattress as each thrust drove her closer and closer to the edge.
Though as you finally managed to snap out of your trance, you nearly coughed as you scrambled to blink back to Bucky, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
“I said that I’m gonna go take a leak,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow as he watched your chest rise and fall rapidly beneath your shirt, “you good?”
“Yeah,” you breathed foggily, “I think I just need a second before heading back downstairs again…”
“Oh, well, I'm sure you can go hang out in Steve’s room for a bit,” he cracked open the door behind him and gestured for you to slip inside.
Slowly, your feet shuffled deeper into the room, the plastic cup in your hand soon resting on the windowsill as you momentarily cast your glance outside at the people down in the front yard, playing a rambunctious drinking game.
Though as your frame sank down with an exhale to sit on the edge of the bed, your head swiftly burying itself in your hands, loud moans seeped through the wall from the other room as they crescendoed in a cacophony that caused your head to spin.
Or perhaps it wasn’t just the lewd acts that were to blame for why you suddenly felt so dizzy. Ground unsteady beneath your feet, even though you were already sitting down, you noticed how inebriated you truly had become. Not that you had imbibed that much, but as the lightweight that you admittedly were and the minuscule experience your body had with such substances, it didn’t take much to have you feeling more molten than you ever had before.
“What are you doing up here?” you suddenly heard, causing your face to crawl out of its hiding place in your palms. Glancing up, you saw Steve’s shadow in the doorway.
“Steve!” you jumped slightly at his unexpected arrival, “you scared me,” you clutched your chest gently as you watched him shut the door behind him.
Moving over towards the desk in the corner, he briefly dipped down to find a bottle of whisky that rested in the bottom drawer. Casting a glance back at you over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed as he studied your form, “did I just walk in on something?” he asked as he unscrewed the lid, “you waiting for someone to come up here and fuck you on my bed? Kinky.”
“What? N-no! Oh my god, no,” you sputtered, sensing a mortified heat rush up to your cheeks, “I swear, Bucky was just showing me around a bit, and I wasn’t ready to go back to the chaos downstairs yet, that’s all, he was the one who said it was okay for me to take a break in here.”
“Hmm… you’re still sweet on him, aren’t you?” he guessed before tilting the bottle back for a swig, “is that what was happening here? Were you waiting for him to get back? Did I just cockblock you from finally getting that stick fucked out of your ass? If so, then I feel like I have a responsibility to warn you, he is hung like a fucking horse, so don’t be discouraged if you can’t take him.”
“I–, what?” you panted, blinking back at him wildly, “no, I’m not! I-I don’t like him, I’ve never–, what are you talking about?”
“Chill! I’m only joking,” Steve swiftly chuckled at your perplexed panic, “I mean, not about his size, both a blessing and a curse, you know,” he cocked his head, “seriously, you don’t gotta freak out like some innocent little virgin,” he laughed, though his words only caused you to freeze up, a reaction he swiftly picked up on, “…unless you–, oh shit,” growing silent, his stare stayed glued on you as he slowly sat the bottle in his hand down upon the desk behind him, “you are, aren’t you?”
“Well, you don’t gotta say it like that!” you groaned, keeping your eyes averted to the floor, “it’s not some terminal illness.”
“Sorry, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just–… fuck…” he exhaled, “really?”
“…yeah,” you nervously fiddled with the hem of your skirt as you felt the mattress dip beside you, “you know my mom has never let me date anyone…”
“What about like other stuff?” Steve’s tone tickled your hot skin as he now sat right next to you, “you’ve done that, right?” though you only managed to meekly shake your head as an answer, “really? No one’s ever like touched you before? Or you’ve played with someone else?” he pried, and you once again shook your burning face from side to side, “wow,” he exhaled, “well, then I can’t even begin to imagine how much you must masturbate, damn.”
“I–, I–…” you tried to utter, though the truth of your inexperience seemed too difficult to say out loud, rendering you to once again wobble your head.
“Wait, seriously?” his eyebrows soared up even higher, “you haven’t that either?”
“Well, I’ve–, sort of–, I don’t know,” you stumbled, your gaze still hazy on the floor.
“How have you done it?” he then asked, making it that much harder for you to fill up your lungs with oxygen.
“Oh god,” you jaggedly shifted your vision to the ceiling, “this is so mortifying.”
“No, it’s okay, you can tell me,” he pushed in a gentle tone you didn’t think he had in him.
Gnawing at your bottom lip till a metallic taste met your tongue, you hesitantly muttered, “…kinda just, I guess, sit on a pillow or a stuffed animal or something and then–…”
“Shit…” a low groan rumbled in his chest, a sound that shot straight down between your thighs and worsened the throbbing already distracting you down there, “that’s the only thing you do? You just hump your pretty little pillow till you cum?”
“Well, I don’t know if I–, uh, reach that per say, I just kind of rock till it builds and then I’ve always stopped because–, I don’t know…” you uttered, mortified that your inebriated state had nudged you to share such matters, especially with him, “it’s stupid, I know. My anatomy knowledge is great, much better than yours, I know where stuff is and how things technically work, but when I was younger, I know it’s dumb, but it all kind of scared me, like what if I did it wrong and ruined something, and I know now that statistically speaking the odds of something like that happening are really, really low, but–, yeah…”
Steve’s eyes never left you for but a second, merely stared as you shared and eventually, after silence had swept through the room like a crisp breeze, he parted his lips and uttered, “do you want me to teach you?”
Finally, you turned your head to meet his gaze, “…you’re my stepbrother…”
“Yeah, of a couple of years,” he had the audacity to shrug, “and for most of that time, I’ve been away at school, so like, are we really?”
A stunned scoff then bubbled out of your throat, “our parents are married, so yes, that makes up stepsiblings.”
“Well, for now,” he tilted his head slightly, “were you living in the same house as I was over this summer? They clearly aren’t newlyweds anymore…” he stated before leaning in closer, “so, what do you say? Will you let me help you?” your eyes flickered down to your knee as his knuckles slowly inched closer and ghosted against your skin, “I promise, it’ll feel so fucking good, you don’t even know…” he nearly whispered as if he was trying to sell you on a drug you’d instantly get addicted to.
“I–…” you panted, “but wouldn’t it be weird that it’s you showing me?”
“No, it wouldn’t be weird at all,” his head gently shook from side to side, “unless you want me to go grab Bucky, I'm sure he wouldn’t mind either–”
“No, no!” you swiftly squeaked, “that’s not necessary,” as sharing such a secret with Steve had been bad enough, the thought of repeating the whole ordeal with someone else made you feel as if you might faint.
“Okay,” he breathed before he slowly began to inch closer, an action you swiftly put a stop to when you pressed a palm to his chest.
“Wait, what if I don’t like it?”
“Then you just tell me, and I’ll stop,” one of his hands floated up to rest on top of your own, still pressed against him, “promise,” he offered you a reassuring smile. Steve’s glance then flickered down to your lips before his eyebrows twitched slightly as he wondered, “so, if you’ve never done any of that stuff before, does that mean you’ve also never been kissed?”
“…well, I've played spin the bottle a few times, many years ago, does that count?” you recalled the awkward pecks in your youth.
“Not really,” the corners of his lips twitched before he asked you, “can I kiss you?”
“Can you–…” you echoed faintly before whispering, “okay,” utterly spellbound as you stared back at him, “what should I do?”
“Just relax,” he then gently grabbed each side of your face with his wide hands, “and follow my lead.”
It simultaneously felt like an eternity as well as only the blink of an eye before Steve had closed the gap and pressed his lips to your own. At first, it was soft and slow, his right thumb briefly swiping against your cheekbone as he kissed you, but then you felt his tongue flicker forth, making you gasp, before he seized that opportunity to slip past your guard and let his tongue dance against your own, the sensation of which caused you to positively melt as you relaxed into the kiss and mirrored his efforts.
You had no clue how much time had passed once you finally parted, and you blinked your dazed eyes back at him.
And in your haze, he first shifted back deeper onto the bed, before he gently manoeuvred your frame to slot you in between his legs, “here, lean back against me,” he drew you closer till your back was pressed up against his chest.
Twisting your neck to look up at him, you were still too stunned to speak, only suck in a shaky breath as he then pressed a peck to your temple.
“You ready?” he murmured against your hairline as his hands slid down atop your own, his fingers swiftly interlocking with your smaller ones.
“I think so,” you uttered nervously.
“So, let’s start off with the basics,” his low voice only worsened the tingly sensation that now roared in your body like a roiling flame, “could you tell me what places you’ve explored before and where you haven’t yet?”
“…well, I guess I’ve touched most places before…” you hesitantly began, “my hands usually run all over my body when I–, you know… but I’ve never put anything inside, and I only touched my–, uhm, clit one time, a really long ago,” your confession began to make you feel so dizzy, you feared you might faint at any moment, “and it was just really intense and–, I don’t know, I was scared that it was too much, so I never tried it again, not directly anyway, just–, you know, pillows and such…”
“Alright,” he uttered, letting go of your hands.
Your eyes grew as they then traced Steve’s touch, first sweeping up to gently cup both of your boobs. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he briefly brushed his thumbs over the pebbles of your nipples, poking through the thin fabric of your shirt. You found yourself barely breathing when he eventually let his palms roam further south till they were at your hips, and his fingers began to hike up your skirt and let it crumble around your waist.
“Let me see…” he murmured directly in your ear as he poked at your bent legs to pry them open, “oh my god, look at you…” you felt the deep groan vibrate in his chest as he caught sight of your panties and the embarrassingly soaked patch darkening the cotton, “you are so fucking wet…”
Steve then slowly slid his touch down over your covered core, merely cupping your lightly, though still making it near impossible for you to breathe. But your whole body twitched as he lightly curled up his hand till only the tips of his fingers still grazed you, before he then began to draw a feathery pattern of circles, tickling your deprived centre.
“How does that feel, huh?” he kept up the ghostly touch.
“I-it’s–, o-oh my god,” you whimpered, doubtful if you could take whatever else he’d dare to throw at you when even such a light touch managed to make you tremble, “Steve.”
Seizing his teasing, his fingers then hooked in the hem of your underwear before pulling them to the side, sticky strings of your arousal clinging to the cotton, “oh, fuck…” he groaned before his instincts overtook him and his fingers caught the waistband before ripping them down your legs till their rushed journey halted at your ankles, resting around them and loosely trapping them together.
Pushing your legs further apart, one hand then traced your inner thigh while he hooked his other burly arm across your chest, just beneath the swell of your tits, occasionally squeezing so tightly that your boobs were pushed up even higher as he efficiently strapped you in, impossibly close to his broad chest.
Painstakingly slow, he slid his touch closer and closer to your glistening core, till he reached the places that you never had the nerve to truly touch on your own.
“Oh, f-fuck!” you gasped as the rough pads of his fingers just lightly dragged through your folds.
“Christ, you’re sensitive,” he kept on peeking over your shoulder as he drew a slow circle over your clit, “look at you, fucking trembling like a leaf, and I've barely touched you yet.”
“Barely?” you echoed breathlessly, “what do you mean–, how is this barely? I-I don’t know if I can–, it’s–, fuck,” you whimpered against his touch, “it’s too much,” your thighs trembled on either side of his wide palm, “I don’t know if I can take it, I think you might have to stop.”
“No, no, no, it’s not too much, you can take it, I know you can,” he urged before he bent his strong legs and hooked them over your own, trapping your wiggly limbs and holding you down and open for him, “just trust me, I’ve got you, all you gotta do is just relax, okay? Just give into it.”
His feathery pressure on your puffy pearl then increased, making your hips buck beneath his touch as a moan rippled out from deep within your lungs.
“Oh, fucking hell, there you go,” he smiled from behind you, “look at that little pussy, fucking crying out now that she’s finally getting some attention.”
Your fingers twitched just beneath his arm, still flexing over your ribs, and a murmur slipped out past your whimpers, “I can’t believe this is actually happening…”
Though as Steve’s touch drove you mad, his fingers slipped down to catch some of the slick that leaked out of your untouched hole, before he went into autopilot and didn’t sweep back up to bully your glistening clit, but instead began to circle your virginal entrance.
“No, wait,” you instantly began to freak out, “n-not there!”
“You sure?” he let himself trace your tight opening one last time, “alright, maybe next time then…”
Once his fingers had swept back up and focused in on your puffy pearl, rolling it firmly beneath his touch, you felt your body reach the agonising point where you’d always chicken out.
“Steve, I–”
“Hm?” he hummed in your ear and kept up his efforts, surely feeling your clit throb beneath his fingers, “you getting close?”
“I-I–,” you gasped, trying your best to fight the feeling, “this is usually when I stop.”
“Oh yeah?” you could plainly hear the smirk on his lips.
“Mhm,” you nodded, staring down at his efforts that barely even paused.
“So, this is what you’d do, huh? You’d ride your pillow and then just stop?” as he uttered that last word, he abruptly took his hand away, “just leave yourself all edged and needy?” your hips bucked after his fading touch, “that’s usually something I’d do to my girls just to be a menace and make them all dumb and desperate, but that’s just what you do to yourself all of the time?” your whole frame quivered against him as you weakly tried to grab for his hand, even as he brought it completely out of your reach, “damn, gotta admit, wish I had known that earlier… I could have sneaked into your room afterwards and lent a hand, helped you go all the way. That’s what you needed, wasn’t it? You just needed your big bro to come in and hold your hand through it because you got scared? It’s okay, I’m here now, I’ve got you, big brother’s got you.”
“You’re not my brother–”
“Damn right, I’m not,” he nearly chuckled before he began to touch you once again, rendering any retort you had lined up to fly straight out of the window as shaky moans instead flowed from your lungs.
Though the cruel pause had given your body enough time to calm down just a tad, it barely took any time at all for Steve to push you back towards that intimidating ledge and hold you there as you peeked over the edge.
“Steve, I don’t know if I can–, it’s–”
“Baby, it’s okay, you can do it,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “just trust me, it’ll feel so fucking good, you don’t even know,” the hand he had plastered against your ribs slid up to grasp one of your tits, denting the softness with his long fingers, “just let it happen, relax.”
Shaking uncontrollably, your face tilted to hide in the bulk of his arm as the most blinding and overwhelming sensation you’d ever felt in your entire life rippled through your form, white-hot pleasure in a dose that you hadn’t thought imaginable.
“Oh, there you go, fuck,” he moaned and tried to draw your very first orgasm out as long as he could, “atta girl, that’s it.”
When his movements finally stopped, his messy hand slipped down to rest against your twitching thigh, hazy whimpers ever flowing from your lungs as you reeled in the staggering sensation.
“Holy shit…” you eventually managed to pant shakily.
“Told you it’d feel good,” he uttered cockily before pressing a kiss to your temple.
Your eyes fluttered shut as he then began to caress your thigh gently, sweeping his touch up and down the goosebump-ridden flesh till your breathing began to slow.
But then as you felt yourself relax even further back against him, wiggling slightly to get more comfortable, you noticed something hard poking your back. Assuming that it was something in his pocket, you shifted once again, but still couldn’t escape it, though with each of your squirming attempts, a low groan was conjured deep within Steve’s chest.
“What is that?” you then muttered, “is it your phone? Could you take it out of your pocket?”
“No, it’s not my phone,” he couldn’t help but chuckle at your innocence, swiftly causing you to freeze up, “you got me hard.”
Gasping loudly as if he hadn’t just had his hand on your pussy, you shot up to a sitting position and swiftly crawled around to direct your wide eyes straight at him. Skirt falling down to cover you back up, your panties however still remained around your ankles as you shifted to kneel on the bed before him.
“Oh my god,” the stunned expression plastered all over your face caused him to melt, “you’re so cute…”
Blinking back at him, you stammered, “that was–… you’re–…”
“Hard? Yeah,” he casually uttered, “kinda impossible not to be after what just happened,” he let his hand drift down to palm himself through his pants, guiding your vision to flutter down as well to finally look at the prominent bulge that strained against the zipper of his jeans. And as his touch slowly rubbed against the mouthwatering hardness, teasingly squeezing it for an ounce of relief, his head then cocked as he continued to stare at you, “can I ask you something?”
Downright hypnotised as you stared down at the overwhelming display of his arousal, you only managed to hum as a reply, “mhm,” as you stayed transfixed on the clothed hardness that somehow both terrified and exhilarated you at the same time.
“Have you ever seen a cock before?”
Meeting his unwavering gaze, you blinked, “…in textbooks and stuff…”
“How about up close?” he asked and you swiftly shook your hazy head, “you wanna see mine?”
“I–… what?”
“Do you wanna see mine?”
“U-uh…” you could barely think as you felt the sore sensitivity between your unsteady thighs somehow blossom back into the same agonising tingles that had taken hold of you before, “okay.”
A sharp breath filled your lungs as you watched him free his dick. Your eyes swiftly grew even wider as he enveloped the hand, still glistening with your juices, around the fat girth. Slick and sloppy sounds filled the room with every leisurely stroke as he began to slowly jerk himself, your thighs unconsciously squeezing together at the show.
“You good?” he chuckled lightly at the way your eyes had gone glassy.
“Mhm…” you foggily nodded, struggling to grasp onto even a single thought, “it’s–… a lot bigger than I imagined…”
“Have you been imagining what my cock looked like?” he relentlessly teased.
“No, no, I mean, just in general,” you fumbled over your words as he kept up his silky strokes, “yours is bigger than I imagined them to be in real life.”
“You wanna touch it?”
“…t-touch?” your eyes fought to blink back up and lock with Steve’s own.
“Yeah, come on,” he then grabbed your hand and brought it towards his length. At first, he let you just graze your fingertips against his dick, guiding your touch as he slowly dragged it across the velvety skin, all the way from the bulbous head, glistening with shiny precum that beaded at the tip, to the fat base where his heavy balls bloomed beneath.
“Oh–,” you swallowed as he then wrapped your fingers around his girth before engulfing them with his own broad hand, still shiny from your wetness, “it’s–, really hard.”
“Yeah, well that’s what you do to me, baby,” he smiled as he tightened his fist around your own, though even so, his girth was still too big for your own fingers to meet on the other side, “this is all for you…”
His free hand then grabbed your chin before he ravenously pressed his lips to your own, kissing you fiercely as he began to move your hand and guide your touch over his throbbing length.
Eventually, as you broke from the kiss, you peeped down at his cock, tight in your grasp.
His fingers kept on clutching your chin, holding you close, as he then purred, “here, like this,” his wide hand flexed around your smaller one, “a little tighter, don’t be scared, you won’t hurt me–, yeah,” he then moaned as you obeyed his command, “fuck, that’s it…” briefly letting his eyes flutter closed as he breathed through the pleasure. Though as he blinked his gaze back open, his broad thumb brushed against your knuckles as he asked, “you wanna try on your own?”
“O-okay,” you uttered before his guiding touch faded and you timidly tried to emulate his efforts, “like this?”
“Yeah, that’s good,” he groaned as you slowly slid your careful touch up and down the length of his cock, “shit, you’re a natural, baby,” his fingers that clutched your chin briefly shifted before his thumb poked up to brush the pad against your bottom lip, “keep going like that and I’ll blow in no fucking time.”
“Oh,” you swiftly ripped your stare away from his dick as you misunderstood his words, “should I stop then?”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled before claiming your lips once again, not holding back in the slightest as he let the kiss grow sloppy and desperate.
Rejoining his touch to your own, he began to speed up your actions, making you stroke his thick girth even faster than before. And as he tilted away from the greedy kiss, a glossy string of saliva still kept you both connected.
Panting as he neared the finish line, he cast a brief glance down at his fat cock slick in both of your hands, before he threw his head back and moaned loudly as he unravelled at your touch.
“Fuck…” he panted as he let go of your palm, now sticky with his hot load just as his own hand was as well. Chest still rising and falling rapidly, he caught your frame and tugged you even closer, “come here,” he murmured as he pulled you into a limp hug.
“Was that okay?” you asked in a small voice as you curled into his chest.
Catching your jaw, he tilted your head back enough for you to catch his eye before he uttered, “that was fucking perfect,” and he kissed you once again. As he drew back, his gaze lingered, eventually fluttering down towards your lips before he brought his fingers up towards them, still messy with both your nectar as well as his own load, “open up.”
“What?” your brows knit together as you blinked down at the sticky digits he ghosted against your lips, tilting your head back slightly in confusion.
“Give it a taste.”
“Why would I do that?” you nearly laughed.
“Because it’s normal,” the older guy told you, “most people love cleaning up after their messes, so you probably do too.”
“Seriously?”
“I shit you not,” he said, though you kept on staring back at him in doubt, “what, do you want me to prove it to you? Fine,” he then extended his thumb for him to suck it clean, “there,” he released the dinger from his lips with a pop, “now it’s your turn,” he twisted his hand back down towards your mouth.
And hesitantly, you found yourself parting your lips for him, “there you go…” he groaned as he slipped two of his long fingers inside your mouth, “see? Tastes good, doesn’t it?” his gaze stayed transfixed upon your lips wrapped around his messy digits as he slowly let himself shift his fingers, greedily fucking your face for a bit, “shit…” he cursed as you licked them clean and he pulled them back out, a murmur swiftly slipping from his lips as he continued to stare, “I can’t wait to train this little mouth to do all sorts of tricks…”
“What?” you asked as your mind began to scramble for the meaning.
“Oh, nothing,” he sighed and ignored your naiveté before he pulled you back in for another hug, “nothing at all, sis…”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble
#lea’s writing#take her under your wing au#stepbro!steve rogers#bucky barnes x reader#steve rogers x reader#ari levinson x reader#stucky x reader#steve rogers smut#ari levinson smut#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes au#steve rogers au#steve rogers series#bucky barnes series#stucky x reader smut#frat!bucky barnes#frat!steve rogers#stepbro!steve#steve rogers fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfiction
3K notes
·
View notes