#still stressful but better 🙃 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joosthead · 3 months

Note

SMUT PROMPT 2 PLZZZ

just too soft for all of it || j.k. f!reader

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 2S) crying crying during sex that leads to a pause or early end to comfort and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over & 3F) gently pushing their hair behind their ear to see their face better

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, no pronouns, reader gets referred to as his “favourite girl” one time. notfamous!reader lol also does not speak dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 4.4k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (fingering, piv), a good amount of negative self thought (i may have gone overboard—feeling inadequate as a partner, reader is very hard on themself and quite sensitive), mentions of anxiety/stress/being overwhelmed, a very fluffy and healthy joost :( aur i love him anyways, pls heed the prompt cuz that in itself is a content warning teehee, 🧀🧀🧀alert i can’t lie!!, a variety of dutch terms of endearment i'm not sure i’m using right but it’s for the sake of no y/n

₊˚⊹⋆ track of the fic: "sweet nothing" by taylor swift

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i resonate heavy with this 🙃🙃 had the worst last few weeks of this uni year but i’m FREE!!!! thanks for requesting this, i combined this with a few other asks stated above! happy first juno joost fic to meee yippeee

rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it!! you've been warned. please do not repost this on any other platform.

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni.

To say the utter least—it had been a hard few weeks for you.

The whims of life carried you away like a tsunami to your normal routine—work and classes and friends and family and life, life that you couldn’t ignore or get away from like you wanted to do, nothing to do except doing it. And you’d been doing it, just fine for the most part, but one thing led to another, and the last week was a whirlwind of commitments, obligations, your procrastinating on all of them, somehow. You got yourself into a mess of your own making.

It certainly didn’t help that your boyfriend, Joost, was away for his own life: a festival performance in Canada, one in Belgium, one in the Netherlands but not one you could attend easily with all of the work you had for yourself. After that, he worked on the new album in Germany, putting the final touches on his 9th project, filming new content and preparing for his upcoming tour.

He left around the beginning of when your life started getting busier. If you added it up—23 days you hadn’t seen him in person, but it’s not like you were counting (you were counting, and sad the entire time about his absence.). It felt like the same amount of time you hadn’t even seen or talked to him, through the phone, on Facetime, even texting each other.

Voice memos in the bathroom at work, always apologizing for how rushed you had to be; leaving him on delivered for hours as you studied, or had an event you needed to be at, or had a person you needed to talk to, someone else who needed your time more than Joost needed yours, and it was too much. All of it was too much. Too much for you to handle easily, every second taken by someone else.

You felt like a terrible partner, not being able to speak to him as much as you wanted. Seeing all of his messages, the reassurance that he understands how busy you are and that in the end, you'll always make time for each other…his ability to be such a good partner held up next to your perceived inadequacy made you even more stressed.

In the end, it’ll all work out—today, Joost flew back home, though you still had a number of commitments and assignments to get to and couldn’t pick him up from the airport. Your mutual friend picked him up, and you bit your nails at every update given; willing the time to go slower so you could tidy up more, work on that one last piece of paperwork so you wouldn’t have to worry about it, make sure everything is perfect so Joost can have a good welcome back.

In the nick of time, you were able to get everything done, but it still felt as if there was something missing, like you'd be hit with a missed deadline in the midst of your time back together, and it would all come crumbling down.

As you opened the door, right as your friend pulled up to your street, you tried to put it aside, and you did—for now. Late afternoon and you stand at the top of your townhouse steps, watching in nervous excitement as Joost unloads his luggage from the trunk. Your friend closes the trunk and waves at you.

You wave back, but your eyes are on Joost as he gathers the two suitcases and starts rolling them to you in a sort of disorganized frenzy, just as excited as you are; you would come forward and help, but it’s cute to watch him, clumsy and stumbling over his long pants and tote bag and everything—your Joost, finally back with you.

He wears a heavy black jacket, sunglasses, a black cap that he takes off and shakes his hair out of; the sun shines off him, and you can't help but smile at the sight. His hair grew out a little, the darker blonde roots growing in. Those jeans are ones you’ve never seen before, new glasses, new clunky boots that look greatly uncomfortable but perfectly his style. Evidence of the time passed, and for some strange reason, it brings a pang to your chest that you try to ignore as you come down the steps of your house.

“Come here, come here, come here, baby, I missed you,” Joost exclaims, arms open and leaving his bags behind him to come meet you halfway, laughing.

You say as you hug him around his neck, his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick—”

“Don’t worry about it, I know you were busy.”

You nod as he moves his arms around your neck and you go around his waist, Joost pecking your cheek several times and making you laugh. “I still feel bad I couldn’t pick you up.”

“Never feel bad, you’d still be the best even if you left me on the side of the road.” You give him and his compliment a weak smile as you pull away.

—

The first time you get a moment to yourself in a month: Joost’s head lays in your lap as you both watch some cartoon on the couch together after eating.

You cleaned most of yesterday and some of today; you cooked most of last night since you knew you had more time, preparing Joost’s favorite meal—it was the best you could reasonably do, considering all of the other obligations you had in these last two days.

As he ate, you pushed around your own food; would’ve made it fresh, could've had a nice table setting for dinner, should’ve prepared more for all of this. You still gave him a sheepish smile as you watched him happily eat the microwaved meal you warmed up for him, no indication at all that he’s disappointed or unhappy like you are with yourself. You shouldn’t feel like this, but you do. It’s getting increasingly difficult to shake.

The colors and lines dance across the TV, spouting raunchy jokes that you can half understand with the few years of Dutch you have under your belt; the air conditioner is on, and you can finally rest. Joost is changed out of his airport outfit and into some shorts and a shirt. He’s home, and you did the best you could do, and now he’s in your arms again.

You don’t even mean to, but you sigh, perhaps louder than usual, because Joost looks up at you from your lap, brushes a lock of your hair out of your eyes, says, “You’re the best, you know?”

It catches you off guard enough that you shake your head almost instinctively, not fast enough to hide…whatever feeling this is you’re feeling. “I don’t feel like it, Joosty.”

“You don’t?” He gets up from your lap, sitting next to you, and brings his face close to yours. “You should, because you are.”

Your noses are brushing, and even in the midst of your racing thoughts, you can't help but smile at him. His face grows into a smile, and you come forward and kiss him, deeply; you know it takes him by surprise, how he takes a little to kiss back, like trying to learn each other again. Nonetheless, he kisses back, holding your face in his hands, grinning into it—he's so pleased, so content, you know it by how sweetly he holds you.

The TV becomes background noise to you, the air conditioner no use with how hot you feel when you move to sit atop him in his lap, one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your ass as you grind down on him, licking into his mouth.

“You're so tense,” Joost says when you pull away, thumbs rubbing into your back where there are sure to be knots in your muscles.

You roll your eyes. “Can you blame me?” you snicker and he smiles.

“I’ll relieve some tension for you, then.”

Nothing but a few layers of clothes separate you—he smells so good, tastes so good, feels so good that you pull away, run your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his warm body, his stomach. You move to take it off of him, and he’s a step ahead of you, taking it off himself and attaching his lips to yours again, like a magnet.

“You’re not wasting any time,” he says as you rest your hands on his chest and kiss down his stubble covered jaw to his neck, on top of Lola Bunny and back up again.

“I need you, Joost,” you breathe in between kisses, and he pulls back and groans which makes you giggle, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You can't just say that, oh my god,” Joost whines, looking up at you pathetically, pupils blown and lips swollen from yours. “That’s so hot,” he laughs, and it makes you laugh too, how ridiculous he is. “Fuck, I love you.” He comes back in for one more kiss before he shifts so you can lay down on the couch, and he's on top of you, kissing again. He helps you shimmy down your shorts, your underwear, and in no time—his hand is between your legs.

“I would have taken it slow but—I’m too excited,” he breathes. You palm his hard cock through his shorts, coaxing a sigh out of him. Joost hovers above, leaning on one elbow and using the other hand to run his fingers through your slit, wetting them with how aroused you are. Involuntarily, your legs twitch, your breath catches in your mouth, and Joost gives you a soft laugh. “You’re so sensitive, schat.” Fingers still touching you so gently, he noses at your cheek—you’re a hairpin trigger, how reactive you are to him. “Has it been that long?”

Breathless, you nod as he presses his thumb to your clit, petting at it. “Too long, I was waiting for you.”

“I could say the same for you.”

You sit up, pushing up against him, still kissing like you can’t bear to be separated from him, but he pulls back from you—brings two fingers to his mouth, wetting them with his spit, and the sight brings your heart to your stomach with how arousing it is.

Sure, Joost sends videos; yes, you have…homemade…videos of your own between the two of you; his deep voice through the speaker in your late night Facetimes, talking you through it or his incessant compliments when you send him some pictures of your own.

Nothing compares to the real thing—the smell of his cologne on his collar even after he’s taken a shower; his blonde hair in your eyes as he kisses you; holding onto his strong arms as he fingers you, the wet sound music to your ears though normally, it would make you sheepish at how filthy this all is.

Sometimes it makes you laugh that the random guy you met with a Crazy Frog tattoo on his forearm is now your boyfriend, but it feels so serious now more than ever. You realize now how much you’ve missed him, and how much you’ve pushed down that feeling in favor of everything else.

Joost crooks his fingers inside of you and you moan into his mouth, which he smiles at. “You like it?” he asks, both of you knowing the answer. He knows you so well, inside and out. Knows that spot inside of you that renders you unable to speak, how to hit it just right like it’s muscle memory to fuck you with his fingers. He rubs your clit at the same time, using his spit and your wetness to do so, and God—you wish never leaving this spot was an option.

Your climax fast approaches you; Joost kissing at the side of your lips, your chin because you’re too lost in your pleasure to kiss back. With a few more pumps of his fingers, he brings you there, a choked moan tumbling from your mouth as you cum, almost falling into him as he takes you through the last waves of your orgasm. “Thank you,” you breathe, pressing a deep kiss to his lips again now that you have the ability to.

“Thanking me? Nothing to thank me for,” he says, but you shake your head.

“I disagree,” you say quietly, palming over his erection once more now that you’ve gathered yourself. “I have everything to thank you for,” you think, but can’t say out loud. You move so you can be on your knees on the ground in between his legs. It’s been quite a bit, enough so that the program on the TV is completely different now, the AC has turned off—he’s still so hard, still hasn’t been taken care of.

You're about to lower his shorts, take him into your mouth, but Joost takes your hand and says, “Can we skip it? I wanna be inside of you, lieverd.”

Almost a whisper, you reply, “Whatever you want,” nodding, and he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“You’re so quiet today. Is anything wrong?” He can read you like a book, the furrowing of your brow at his suggestion an easy giveaway.

“Nothing’s the matter,” you lie, but he still looks disbelieving. “I just wanted to give you something back.”

“This is something back and more, baby. Lie down.”

You do, too tired to argue for your side—the side that wants to give Joost everything you have and more, pay him back for the time you’ve been so absent, so distracted from your relationship and all the things Joost had been doing in the time away. It’s not as if you don’t want to lie down and have him fuck you—it’s just that you feel that you haven’t earned it yet.

Your body language gives you away—“Still so tense, lieverd,” he says, squeezing your shoulder as you adjust, legs on either side of his thighs. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Of course I do,” you purr, because of course you do, reaching into his briefs—Joost Klein branded, of course—and pulling his cock out, jerking it a few times and making him groan with the sensation. “You're so sensitive,” you quote him from earlier. “Has it been that long, schat?”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; a month away, hard work on his album and music videos, content and marketing, coming back home to his favourite girl gazing at him starry-eyed with a hand around his dick and ready to take him inside. If you peered into his mind, this is what he’d be thinking. No thoughts match your worried thinking about how you may or may not have let him down—you didn’t. That would be impossible, at least to him.

“Much too long.”

You rest your head on a throw pillow that Joost has laid for you, and he lines himself up with your entrance. Fingertips on his stomach, you stop him for a few seconds from coming forward, and you wrap your hand around his shaft, swiping it through your slit a few times, collecting your wetness and his pre-cum on the head of his cock.

Loudly, he swears in Dutch, and the latter half sounds more like a strangled whisper than any real word. “You…fuck, my god…you are evil,” he laughs, even though he’s now rubbing the head of it against your clit, making you mewl.

“You ready for me?” he asks, and you nod, licking your lips, trying to control your breathing. Your initial apprehension is long gone, though it could creep back every second—who cares? You’re finally together again. “You’re so wet,” Joost breathes as he eases the head of his cock into you. The stretch is something to get used to after so long away, but he gives time for you to adjust—seems like he might need it more than you do, how he sucks a breath in through gritted teeth, the snail’s pace he's going at. “I might cum right now.”

“You promise?” you tease, watching the slow slide of his cock inside of you, watching just like he is.

“I might have to promise with how this is going.”

“You can do it,” you giggle and then moan because he's managed to fit half of his length into you. “I believe in you.”

“Yay,” Joost smiles as he bottoms out in you, then gives you a kiss. “We did it!”

He holds his hand up for a high-five and you laugh—”I’m not high-fiving you while you're inside me.”

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

Rolling your eyes, you give him the high-five he so desperately wants and he beams at you with a toothy grin. “Never, I guess.”

“Never,” Joost repeats, and then straightens up. You look up at him through your eyelashes—his mullet is mussed from the tangles of your fingers through his hair, his chest moving steadily up and down with the exertion of this all. He moves your legs so your left ankle rests on his shoulder, the right wrapped around his hips.

His hand creeps up your shirt, and you do the rest, exposing your tits to him. Joost is normally so clumsy, so heavy-handed—what a contrast that he can be so calm dragging his fingertips around your nipple, making it pebble in the cold.

He cups your cheek after you moan, then runs his tattooed knuckles down it, slips his thumb between your lips and hooks it on your teeth momentarily—you chase it, but he continues down your chest and to your belly until his thumb is finally back on your clit and circling it slowly.

The drag of his cock out of you is wonderful, so wonderful it makes you shudder when he does it, combined with his terribly slow treatment of your clit.

“My baby, did you miss me?” Joost says softly, kissing at your calf, your ankle as he sinks back into you. The sensation robs you of a response, a sigh tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it, but he takes it as a response enough. The smile on his face—the beauty mark under his lip, those deep dimples so prominent—you could never tire of it. “I missed you more, schatje.”

It feels so good, it feels like heaven being with him again. He comes back from such a busy time in his life, where you’ve done little, and all he has is praise and warmth and affection for you—fingers you within an inch of your life and doesn’t even ask for anything in return, just takes care of you in the way you need most.

You know that he benefits from this just as much as you do—this isn’t so one-sided. But your brain is so frazzled from this last month, the nerve endings fried and in want of a fuck up to cling to like they have been whenever you’ve made a mistake at work, in class, in your relationship.

Joost interrupts your thoughts: “I was so happy to see you on the steps, I could’ve sprinted to you if I wasn’t wearing those damn shoes.”

All of the times that you forgot to reply to Joost, getting a text saying your name and a sad face right after; the times where you were too distracted to give him your full attention and could only hum your acknowledgement to him, having to be reminded about what he said later; that one time just a few days ago you fell asleep on call with him in the middle of him excitedly speaking about a breakthrough with a bridge on the most important song of the album.

The pleasure you felt earlier is now overshadowed by your racing thoughts.

“I wrote a song about you, you know?” Joost says, his voice so gentle. I was only going to let you know when the album came out, but I can’t keep a secret.” Rocking against you, his pelvis rubs against your clit and it makes you cling to his shoulders. “The voice memo I sent you earlier—it was my first draft, just me. Did you like it?”

“You…you wrote a song about me?”

Only now do you remember the voice memo Joost sent you in the morning when you were still cleaning, the one that you saw and made a fleeting mental note to reply to later on, which you promptly forgot as you vacuumed, dusted, folded.

Such misplaced priorities, and now you're paying the sad price.

“Joost,” you say, eyebrows screwing up, that all too familiar pulling feeling behind your nose and eyes—you realize quickly that all of the emotions bottled up inside of you from the past month have come out with vengeance at the new knowledge of Joost’s song about you. The knowledge wouldn’t have been new if you just paid more attention.

You try to hold it back, pushing down the feelings again, but it just won’t work. All of it spilling over at the worst possible time, tears streaming down your face before you even know it. You fail to wipe the wetness from your cheeks—Joost stops his movements, asks in a panicked and concerned voice, “Oh my—are you crying, schat?”

Attempting to pull it together once more, you cover your face with your hands and shake your head silently, but your already sniffly nose sells you out. Your shoulders shake with your crying. Too far gone now.

“I wanted—“ you sniffle, and he hands you a tissue from the side table for you to blow your nose into as he stumbles out and off of you. “I wanted to be with you tonight, but I just—so much—I never—I never listened to your memo, I couldn’t, I had to finish so much before you got here and I couldn’t and I feel so bad, like, you wrote a song about me and I didn’t even have the time to listen—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Joost coos, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you sob. “Baby, please.” His expression is so concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he pats your back. “Wait, shit,” he says, getting up from the couch and looking down at his still bare bottom half. “Let me put everything back on, I’m sorry schatje, give me—“ In a hurry, he puts his underwear and shorts back on, tripping over himself and almost falling over. “I just can’t do this naked, I’m sorry.”

That brings a laugh out of you and a laugh out of him, and you start explaining as he sits back down next to you, rubbing your arm. “I don’t—I don’t deserve you.” You shake your head, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. “I should’ve listened to what you sent me, I should’ve been there more.”

“Bro,” he deadpans, beckoning you to come and sit on his lap.

You do, still trying to get the tears out of your eyes as you settle into his arms. “Shut up, don’t call me bro while I’m crying,” you laugh, voice weak but lighthearted.

“Bro. I will do it again.” Joost gives you a second to let it out more, to breathe as he smooths his hands back and forth on your back. “You did everything perfectly, lieverd. Perfectly. We were both so busy, and you still made time to call me and text me. I would have been lost without you, I know for certain.”

You shake your head. “I forgot to reply and pick up your texts so many times, Joost, I felt like such a bad person for doing so.”

“You did? I didn’t notice. All I cared about was that you replied. You’re not a bad person at all,” Joost says, and the sweetness of his words just make you want to cry more. “I appreciate more from you the effort that you put into everything, into what we have. Not what you couldn’t or didn’t do.”

“You’re so nice,” you whisper, sniffling. You can’t think of a better compliment with how overwhelmed you are, so you kiss him, instead, and he kisses back. Even with this, you can tell how gentle Joost is holding your cracked pieces back together.

“I’m nice?” he asks, smiling. “Best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” For a little, you both sit there in the silence together. “How about this—tomorrow, we can have a day to ourselves. You can lounge and study by the pool, and I’ll be your little butler or whoever and we can just relax for a bit, hm? Order food, drink, smoke, whatever.” Pausing, he grins. “We can even listen to the whole album, if you want.”

“You finished it?” you ask, sitting up more and incredulous. That’s complete news to you.

“This morning, right before I flew back here,” Joost says, nodding proudly. “I also texted you, but duty calls, no?”

“You texted me?” He texted you? And you missed it?!?!? Again, the new information makes you cry, and he holds you tight as you do. “You should be mad that I didn’t see it,” you say in between dry heaves into his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I could never be mad at you, lieverd, and I’m sorry I made you cry again,” he says, rubbing your back, petting your hair. “I just wanted to let you know when I did it—it was just a timestamp, that doesn’t mean you needed to know right that second.”

“But I wanted to know.”

“You know now, and I know how proud you are of me. That’s enough, that’s even more than what I wanted.” You trust him and his words so fully, every passing second with him is another way to help you feel better. “I love you,” Joost says your name so seriously, a punctuation to his love letter. “I mean it.”

“I love you too.” You kiss him, deeply, moments passing that you use to thank everything you can that he’s so good with your worries, your anxieties. “I’ll take you up on that offer for tomorrow, Joost,” you say, finally calmed down enough. Your eyes are incredibly bleary—you didn’t know that was possible. But at least you aren’t actively crying anymore. “Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you for giving me something more to look forward to, schat. Now—let’s go run a bath together and listen to my song for you.”

#joost klein #joost klein smut #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost x you #joost klein x you #joost #joost smut #joost fanfic #joost klein fanfiction #juno's fics #answered prompt #smut prompts #juno’s smut

611 notes · View notes

writersdrug · 5 months

Note

COD men period comfort? 🥺

The way my period started right as I finished this... also, I have Endometriosis, so I wrote this with the idea that periods are very heavy and painful for the reader, sometimes making them bedridden. Shit's rough 🙃

CoD Headcannons: Comforting You While You're on Your Period

Fluff, slight nsfw, mentions of cramps and blood, mentions of fingerings, no "period? What's that?" behavior, these men are all educated, mentions of food anxiety, female anatomy

Captain John Price

If this was a competition, Price would be the winner. He doesn't need to look at your tracker app to know it's around the corner, he recognizes the signs immediately. As soon as you begin to dissociate for more than a minute or two, accompanied by your grumbles of how you've been craving junk food lately, he knows it's coming.

He's very intuitive when it comes to your needs. He knows you'll want to call out of work the first few days, so he does it for you. That way, you won't be stressing over it the night before. He plugs in your heating pad (leaving the setting on off, for now), so it's ready when you need it. He fills your water bottle with cold water, he fills the nightstand drawer with iron and protein laden snacks, and he puts a fresh box of your preferred pain medication in there as well. The bathroom is stocked with pads/tampons, and he even makes sure that the remote to the telly is on the nightstand.

He forces you to stretch every morning. It's the one time he ignores your protests and drags you out of bed, insisting you would feel much better - and he was right every time. He'd have you sit with your feet pointed forwards, bending your back until you could touch your toes.

"Gonna join me, John?"

"Psh, you know I'd snap like a twig, love."

Then he'd have you on your hands and knees, kneeling beside you and slowly guiding you to stretch your arms and arch your back, keeping your bum in the air (let's be honest, he doesn't kneel behind you for this because he'd be keeping you in that position for a different reason). He'd have a hand on your lower back, whispering small praises as you groaned from the relief. Once you were in that position, convincing you to get up was another hassle.

He understands that you can have mood swings - he always reminds you that communication is best, and even if you aren't sure what you want, you should still talk to him. Let him know if you're feeling too overstimulated, if his presence is a bit too overbearing in that moment, or if you want him there - whether that's sitting in a chair next to the bath while you take a soak, his hand running over your hair, or if he's cradling you in bed, hands gently massaging your abdomen/lower back.

You feel a bit silly, sometimes - being treated like a porcelain doll. As you promised him you would, you communicate with John that you feel bad that he's pampering you so much, and that you can't exactly return the favour at the moment. He'd listen, never shushing you or interrupting you, and at the end of your venting, he'd assure you that not only is this his obligation as your partner, but it's also something he enjoys doing - looking after you when you need it most.

As for making it up? "We'll explore what options there are when you're feeling up t' it" (He's talking about ovulation week).

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You tell Gaz when your period is coming. He's not as intuitive as Price, but he appreciates that you let him know, and he helps you plan for the next few days. You go shopping together, stocking up on snacks, meds, and Liquid IV (Gaz had originally introduced you to it, and now it's an essential when you're on your period).

He once bought you a period massager that you found online. You thought it was the best invention ever, with both a massage and a heat setting, but it never could compare to Gaz's hands. You eventually ended up putting it on a shelf in the closet after telling him through tears, all while he massaged your stomach, that it felt like you were replacing him, and you hated it. You wanted to throw the damn thing away, but he convinced you that you might change your mind later.

Gaz treats this time of the month like it's the most normal thing in the world. Of course, he pampers you, giving you cuddles when you want them and helping you through the emotional shipwreck in your mind, but he knows you don't like feeling like you're helpless. So he does it all in the most nonchalant way possible. He'll play video games with you as the both of you lounge in bed; whenever you want a snack, he grabs one for himself (partially because you mentioned once that you don't like eating by yourself, partially because he's always hungry).

He refers to your period in different ways each time it comes around. "Is it shark week?" "I got you some more tampons, babe, for the ritual." Or, his favorite, when he sees you scowling at your period tracker app: "Ya got mad cow disease again, luv?"

He'll watch true crime with you per your request, but he's not thrilled about it. You've had to correct him multiple times that it's not about the killing, it's about the mystery of solving each murder that intrigues you. More often than not, you'll look up from where you're laying on his chest, and he'll be watching the telly with a grimace.

"What's wrong, Kyle?"

"It was the landlord - guy looks fishy, and his alibi is shit."

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

Johnny understands what a period is - he's a smart man. However, when it comes to your cravings and raging emotions, he's like a devil on your shoulder. If you thought you were impulsive during this time of the month, he only adds fuel to the fire.

He comes back after a trip to the grocery store, announcing that he purchased everything you need for the next few days. The "everything" in question? Crisps, wine, and candy (your favorite candy, sure, but not much chocolate). You don't have the heart to tell him that, while you enjoy all the snacks and alcohol he bought, it's not necessarily the best food for your period - although, the part of your brain that was craving it was thanking him over and over.

You would be lying on top of him on the sofa, the telly playing a show that had been neglected by the both of you. He'd be rubbing your lower back with one hand and massaging your scalp with the other, listening to you as you tearfully explained how much you missed your childhood family dog, a husky named Janet.

"- and she was so cuddly and protective- *sniff*- and she- did I tell you, she used to howl when I cried, like- like she was crying with me? God, I miss her-"

"Sweetheart, why don' we just get ye a pup, eh? A husky, just like Janet, and ye can both howl together whenever ye feel like it."

"No- *sniff*- no, Johnny, we shouldn't-"

"Why not? It'll keep ye company when ah'm away. Ah've always wanted a pup myself, y'know."

It really didn't take much more convincing than that. The next day, Johnny was walking into the flat, holding a husky pup cradled in one arm, and a bag of dog toys and food in the other. You had already forgotten his suggestion to get the dog, and would have scolded him for being so impulsive, but the cuteness aggression had already set in. You squealed and ran over to Johnny, crying happy tears between peppering his face with kisses and cooing at the puppy. He had the proudest smile on his face, seeing how much happier you looked compared to the day before.

Oh, and if you tell this man your breasts are sore? He's running across the room, fast enough to break the sound barrier, to offer you a helping hand (or two).

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon has to remind himself that, when you're on your period, you don't always think logically. He's extremely patient with you, but he isn't the best with words. Or, rather, he isn't well-versed in the backwards rationality that comes with your period.

"Simon, can we get Chinese?"

"Sure, luvie, if you want it."

"Will you eat some?"

"Honestly, 'm not really hungry. But we can get what you want."

"... no, I'm ok. Nevermind."

"Wha'? Why not?"

"I don't need it."

Simon still doesn't understand why you won't eat without him, but he knows not to question it. He does, however, order your favorite takeout anyways, and he'll feed it to you if you still insist that you don't want it. He may steal a bite or two if you let him.

Like every good partner, he understands what a period is, and he understands the pain and frustration it causes you. He's still never entirely sure of how to help you, and he often doubts that he's being helpful at all. But that's where his military experience came in clutch: you tell him what to do, and he does it. You want to cuddle? "Scoot over f' me, luv." You want time alone? No worries, he can do some of his own work, just shout if you need him. You're running low on tampons and medication? He'll drop whatever he's doing and run to the corner store for it.

Massage KING, and he doesn't even know it. He huffs and says you're just trying to flatter him when you tell him how good at it he is. He treats you like you're in a spa, too: he dims the lights, he makes you wear an eye mask, he'll turn on the fan because he knows you love the white noise... he'll kneel behind you as you lay on your stomach, and this man will deliver the most tender, slow, and soothing massage of your life. His hands are already so huge and warm, and he somehow flawlessly works you into a drooling puddle each time.

He can't lie: seeing you there, passed out and snoring, no longer complaining about your aches and pains, fills him with just as much pride as it does relief. He's happy you're feeling well enough to rest, and that he's the one to get you there. He'll slowly get up, covering your lower back with the heating blanket, before leaving to replenish your thermos with tea.

König

Whenever you mention that your period is coming soon, he always panics a little. König is a strong soldier, not bothered or phased by much. But when it comes to you, he hates knowing that you're in pain, and that he can't do anything to fix it (despite how often you assure him that he's helping).

This man goes all out. He fills the fridge with healthy, colorful fruits and vegetables, meat, and a pitcher of your favorite drink. He has your heating pad ready to go by your bedside, along with two thermoses, one of hot tea and one of ice-cold water. He sets up a small tray in the bathroom with tampons, pads, fresh underwear, and even a few pairs of shorts. He has a fan in the corner of the room, pointed at the bed and ready to go if you need it. He even takes off work for a few days - he refuses to leave your side when you're in pain.

Like Ghost, he likes being told what to do. If you ask him to turn on the fan, to turn off the lights, or to refill your thermos, he's up and doing it before you can finish your sentence. He hangs on your every word like it might be your last (you'd think with how he acts while you're on your period, you might be dying). He snuggles you every second you're in bed, and despite it being a bit warm, you don't mind the constant affection.

He cooks for you no less than twice daily, and this man can COOK. In no way, shape, or form does König skimp on seasonings and portion sizes when it comes to you. He carries you to the kitchen and sits you on the counter so he can keep an eye on you while he prepares you a hearty, nutritious meal (he needs to make sure you're eating well, schatz, but he'll let you scrounge for lunch, if that's what you really want). Sits with you at the dining table and holds your hand while the both of you eat, listening to you talk. If neither of you have anything to say, or if you're dissociating, he'll just sit and enjoy the silence with you, occasionally brushing your hair from your face and leaning over to kiss your cheek.

Sometimes, he'll do some of his work in bed with you, if he absolutely can't put it off any longer. You were once snuggled up to him, half asleep in the crook of his arm as he typed away on his laptop. He would occasionally rub his large hand over your lower stomach if he heard you groaning in pain from your cramps.

"Schnuki?"

"Mm?"

"Do you want me to finger you?"

That just about made you bolt upright like a rocket. "What?!"

He pointed to his screen. "Everyone says it makes you feel better, no?"

"König, um..." You didn't hate the idea, but didn't he? "I thought you were working?"

"C'mon, liebe-" he closed his computer and put it on the nightstand, rolling on top of you. "Relax for me, I'll make you feel good..."

Please just let this man take care of you and tell him he's doing a good job, it's all he wants.

716 notes · View notes

emotionalsupport-ljh · 2 months

Text

Breaking and Entering

You don't want Jihoon to worry.

Fluff (a miniscule amount of angst) - woozi x fem!reader

A hell of a lot of words for a sick fic :D Described as "princess treatment" by my friends 😌

AO3 link

Word Count: 3.1k

////////////////////////////////////

Before you even open your eyes, you feel a scratch in your throat that burns like hell. You reach for the water on your nightstand and take large gulps trying to soothe the pain. As your eyes open, they droop heavily and take a moment to adjust to the early morning sunlight that makes its way past your curtains. A chill suddenly attacks the uncovered parts of your body. You duck back under your comforter only to have an oppressive heat come in waves that cause sweat to cling to your forehead. On top of all that, you can’t breathe out of your left nostril. You’re terribly sick.

As you lament in your miserable state, a notification brightens your phone and you have to shut your eyes. You blink them trying to get used to the light, but all it does is give you a headache. You brave through the pain to turn your brightness down and check the notification. It’s a text from your boyfriend, Jihoon.

Jiji: good morning babe~ 😘

You: Good morning!

Jiji: what are ur plans for today? work?

You: No

You pause for a moment before continuing your response. You wonder if it’s a good idea to tell him that you aren’t feeling well today. On one hand, he might want to know that kind of stuff so that he can take care of you. On the other hand, it could cause some unnecessary stress in his already stressful life. Also, with his busy schedule, he probably wouldn’t be able to do much. You decide ultimately that this illness would probably be over quickly, and you don’t want to make Jihoon worry about nothing a little cough medicine and tea would fix.

You: I'm going to take the day off to relax and be lazy lol 😏

Jiji: that sounds nice

i wish i could do the same 😮‍💨

You: Busy schedule today?

Jiji: yup 🙃 but im excited for our date later this week

You: Me too!

Jiji: i have to go to work

text me later

You: Will do! I love you 🩷

Jiji: love u too~🖤

Putting your phone down and taking the chance to move from your bed to at least retrieve some relief in the form of medicine or warm tea, you feel your muscles ache in a way that makes you never want to move again. For now, you stare at the ceiling with the resolve to get over this silly little cold. You fall asleep soon after and stay asleep for many, many hours.

When you finally awaken again, the chill in your bones still hasn't subsided, no matter how many layers of sheet and blanket cover you. You have to force your eyes to open against the deeper sunlight now pouring through the cracks in your curtains. You power through the discomfort to get them to adjust to the brightness. Again, you reach a hand out for your phone and see that it is afternoon and that you have some missed texts from your boyfriend.

Jiji: hey~

wuts up

Jiji: taking an afternoon nap huh

text me when u see this

The messages were all sent about 45 minutes ago. You feel a little bad about lying, but it only strengthens your resolve to get better and put the whole lie behind you. You text back like normal, hoping that he has the time to read and respond even for just a few minutes.

You: Sorry! I fell asleep watching anime

It doesn’t take too long for a reply to pop-up. You had been dating Jihoon for months now, but you still got butterflies every time he texted you. Even now, aching all over and dripping from your face, he makes you feel a warmth you swore would make you even healthier than you were before.

Jiji: oh rub it in my face 🙄 lol

dont get too far without me

You: I would never!! 😫

How’s it been today? You're not too stressed, right?

Jiji: eh

im coping lol

nothing im not used to

You: Don’t push yourself too hard ok? 🥺

You're doing such a great job!!!!!!

Jiji: thx lol

i gotta go. love u~ 🖤

You: I love you too 🩷

You decide to try to come up with the ultimate healing game plan for the rest of the day. You plot out your meals and activities to maximize the time you can spend getting better. Or at least you try to as you come to realize that sleeping an extra 4 and a half hours without getting out of bed means that you’ve yet to relieve yourself. This kickstarts your game plan as you rush to the bathroom.

You power through the aches in your body to finally brush your teeth and put your hair in a manageable bun for the day. You put on your sweats and some socks to keep warm and make your way to the kitchen where you heat up some soup and make a mug of herbal tea. You take medicine and take it easy all day. The change in scenery from your bedroom to the living room not only motivates your mind to change, but also it motivates your body to move. You swear you already feel better.

Unfortunately, the next two days look the same, and you do not, in fact, feel any better. Even with minimal movement throughout the days, you still manage to leave a mess of dirty dishes, clothes, and tissues strewn about the apartment. You are miserable and finally starting to come to terms with it. The delusion of your ability to heal quickly and on your own was finally starting to dissipate. You thought seeing a doctor was a waste of time, but you start to see the necessity of an appointment the more time you spend with a scratch in your throat and a headache hammering your skull.

The worst part, however, is not the pain, nor is it the constant sweating or the need to breathe through your mouth. No, the worst part is that today is Jihoon’s one day off; you are supposed to be ready to go on a date.

It's a little late in the morning when you wake up. You thrash in your bed frustrated that you are still sick and very tired. When you check your phone, there are no new messages. It isn't unusual for Jihoon to sleep in on his days off. You dread having to tell him the truth that you had been sick all week and couldn’t go out tonight. You could anticipate his response: a string of crying emojis and then a laugh where he says he’s just kidding and he’s fine as long as you get better. He wouldn’t really be okay with it, but he would say he is. He would be really disappointed; he isn’t very good at showing his true emotions, but you know he feels them so deeply. You don’t want to cause him any undue stress or heartbreak. At this point, it unfortunately is inevitable.

You grab your phone and hover over Jihoon’s contact, trying to muster the courage to send your good-morning-text and your confession followed by a long apology and promises to make it all up to him one day. You don’t expect your phone to ring, brandishing a very familiar sweet smiling selfie with the name “Jiji” underneath. You are startled then you take a deep breath, clear your throat, and answer.

“Good morning, my baby,” a sleep-rasped voice calls out from the other side.

“Good morning,” you try to answer in a normal voice, doing your best to hide your congestion.

“You sound different. What’s up?” Jihoon caught on immediately.

You whine a little over the phone, only prolonging the inevitable. There’s only silence from the other side. “I’m sick,” you say, then blurt out, “I’ve been sick for the past three days. I really, really tried to get better, honestly. I’m so sorry, Jiji. I can’t go out tonight.”

Your heart beats quickly in your chest, maybe from the nerves of finally coming clean, maybe from the extra exertion on your sick body. The five seconds it takes for Jihoon to respond feel like five hours. All he says is, “Oh. Okay.” After that, he hangs up the phone, leaving you stunned and with a horrible pit in your stomach.

You’re in shock. The kind of shock people feel after breaking a limb or recovering from a disaster. It pushes every other feeling out of your body. You do your morning routine in a fugue state. When you sit back in your bed, it all hits you at once. Tears stream down your face almost unconsciously, and you lay down with your face in your pillow. Eventually, you fall asleep again, too tired from the illness to continue to cry or feel anything.

Jihoon makes up his mind quickly. After abruptly hanging up the phone, he immediately gets up and goes through his own routine faster than ever, even taking 30 minutes off of his normal workout just to have more time for his own plan. After coming home, he does something a little out of character. He goes to the kitchen to cook something that isn’t chicken breast and white rice.

This surprises his roommates. Soonyoung tries to help him with the big pot of what was so far just stock and vegetables. He gets distracted easily, and it takes him a long time to cut up an onion. Jeonghan takes a picture of Jihoon and sends it in the group chat asking if this is normal behavior for Woozis. Seungkwan tries to taste it before the dish is ready and whines when his hand is met with a smack from a wooden spoon.

“This isn’t for any of you. Leave it alone,” Jihoon says in a stern voice.

“Wait, what? Then who is it for?” Soonyoung raises an eyebrow at him.

“Y/N, my girlfriend. She’s sick.”

The mood in the apartment changes. Now, Jeonghan is texting more furiously in the group chat about how Jihoon cares so much about his poor, sick girlfriend. Seungkwan now insists on tasting the dish the whole way through the cooking process to make sure it’s suitable for such refined tastes as his and yours. Soonyoung calls his mom and asks what the best thing is to cure illnesses. It becomes a whole big thing that has Jihoon a little bit annoyed but also grateful his friends care about you almost as much as he cares about you.

Jihoon’s morning and the better part of his afternoon off of work are then filled with surprise visits from Mingyu, Jun, and Seokmin who bring an array of dishes that could feed you for a month and Minghao who brings a special tea blend that he uses when he's feeling sick. Vernon sends a playlist of chill music for you to listen to while you recover, and Wonwoo writes a list of movies he recommends you watch to rest. Chan makes a special delivery of his grandma's famous kimchi, which has the rest of the boys groaning that they don't get any this time. Joshua sends the best essential oil wax melts so you can indulge in some aromatherapy. Finally, Seungcheol makes sure that Jihoon tells you that he can send anything in the world to your house using his card whether it be medicine or a treat from your favorite bakery or even a new designer pajama set to make sure you are at maximum comfort levels.

As he makes his way over to your apartment, Jihoon feels silly carrying a bunch of bags filled with various gifts from everyone on top of the soup he made that seems to pale in comparison. He curses Jeonghan under his breath for telling everyone his plan to bring you supplies, effectively making him the delivery boy because he is the only person who has the passcode to your apartment. He tries to call you on his way over, now adding his phone to the pile he was juggling. It rings a few times and then goes to voicemail. He tries again and meets the same outcome. He assumes that you’re resting; being sick for multiple days sounds exhausting which is why he is so willing to bring over everything he (and the others) could possibly think of to make you feel better.

Jihoon reaches your front door and knocks loud enough that you would be able to hear it from your room, but soft enough that you wouldn’t wake up if you were resting. He waits a beat before just typing the code and letting himself inside. He makes his way to the kitchen and sets down the various bags on the countertops. Only once his arms are empty does he realize the state of the apartment. He slowly takes in the dirty dishes and various random stuff left on the floor. The trashcan is full, and tea bags litter the countertops. There are tissue boxes everywhere, each one full of used tissues.

He walks slowly to your room and, opening the door, he almost couldn’t make out your sleeping shape on the bed. You’re curled up into a ball under many layers of blankets on one side, and on the other was a pile of clothing. There’s more clothing on the floor. Jihoon goes back to the kitchen and takes a deep breath. He meticulously puts all the food everyone prepared into the fridge, rolls up his sleeves, and decides to start there. He makes a list in his head of all the things he could realistically do in the few hours you would be asleep.

The next moment, Jihoon is elbow deep in soapy water scrubbing dishes and wiping countertops. He finds all the cleaning instruments and proceeds to sweep and vacuum. He fills a trash bag with tissues, tissue boxes, and food containers. He gently tiptoes around your room, gathering up the clothes from the floor, which he assumes are dirty, and putting them in the wash. The clothes on the bed, which he checks are clean, are now folded and put in a hamper for later sorting. He even has time to reheat his soup and make a pretty plating of it paired with some rice and a cup of some of Minghao’s herbal tea.

You awaken when you hear dishes clanking in the kitchen. Someone is in your home. You freeze until the noise stops and begin to get up from your bed. With your legs swung over the side of the bed, ready to stand and possibly defend yourself, the door opens slowly and in walks Jihoon with a tray of dishes.

He looks surprised, then flashes a big smile, then says, “Good, you’re awake. It’s time to eat.”

All you can do is stare at him in disbelief as he sets a tray of soup and rice and tea on your lap. He sits cross-legged in the empty space beside you and scrolls through his phone as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

“W…what’s all this?” you stutter out, utterly confused.

“Lunch,” Jihoon answers nonchalantly.

Looking at him beside you, you realize that there is indeed empty space on your bed for him to sit where there was once a pile of clothes. Tears appear behind your eyes when you look around at the spotless floor of your bedroom. You look at your boyfriend as one tear falls.

“Did you…”

“Yeah, it was a real mess in here.” He turns to look at you and uses his thumb to wipe the one tear from your cheek. “Start eating. I bet you haven’t eaten all day. How are you supposed to get better if you don’t eat?”

He was right. You take a spoonful of broth and bring it to your lips. It tastes wonderful. Alternating between tea and soup and rice, you feel fuller, and the heat from the meal eases your throat just a little more. Jihoon looks at you and sees how happy you look to be having a meal that wasn’t microwaved from a package. You are already almost done with the meal after only a few minutes.

“See, you were hungry, huh?” He teasingly shakes his head.

You lightly push your boyfriend's arm. You make a face, suddenly feeling awkward to be around him. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“What? Why? Because you lied to me for days and didn’t let me take care of you? Or because you canceled our date on the day of because you assumed I cared that we went out somewhere?” he starts sarcastically, “I actually hadn’t thought about it all day.”

“I’m serious, Jiji!” you try to whine but end in a cough. He’s laughing at you as you get a little frustrated.

“I’m seriously not mad. I wish you would’ve told me, but being mad won’t fix anything.” His smile is soft, and he’s looking at you with love in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry. I just didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t know it would last this long. Honestly, I don’t know what I have, and you probably shouldn't be sitting so close to me right now.” You weakly try to push Jihoon away, but he sits like a rock, not budging at all.

“I’m fine,” he chuckles, “The plague couldn’t even keep me away from you.” He leans to kiss your forehead.

All your muscles relax as the last few bites on your plate disappear. Jihoon takes the empty tray in one hand and uses the other to guide you to your feet with him. He wordlessly walks you both out of the room. You see that not only is the entire apartment clean, but there are small gifts left out on the coffee table.

“What is all this?” you ask your boyfriend as take a seat on the couch, waiting for him to put the empty plates and bowls from the tray in the sink.

He takes a seat next to you and rubs the back of his neck with one hand and avoids eye contact when he answers, “The guys heard you weren’t feeling great, so, of course, they had to help out, too.” He goes through and shows you the wax melts, medicine, and self-care products. He also tells you about your new stock of homemade meals from the best cooks in the group. You get really excited about the kimchi from Chan’s grandma. He sends you Vernon’s playlist and Wonwoo’s recommendations. He even shows you the text Seungcheol sent him about using his card for whatever you might need.

Everything is perfect for the rest of the evening that was supposed to be a fancy, romantic date night. It turns out that watching movies and listening to music while snuggling and talking is the best medicine for illness and the most romantic date you have ever been on.

#another one thank you #cant write anything but being head over heels in love rn #woozi #seventeen #lee jihoon #svt #lee jihoon fanfic #lee jihoon fanfiction #lee jihoon x reader #woozi fanfiction #woozi fic #woozi x reader #woozi fluff #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #lee jihoon fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff

252 notes · View notes

7ndipity · 8 months

Text

Connected

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: Joon loves the way you take care of him and wants to be as close to you as possible.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, swearing, not proofread

A/N: She finally wrote another drabble! It only took 84 years!🙃(I know it was only like a month, but it was pissing me off) A big thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! Sorry it took me a while to get to, I hope you’ll still like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The late evening light that filtered through the bedroom curtains was just bright enough for you to make out Namjoon’s features as you lay against his chest, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

Two weeks apart hadn’t really seemed that long of a time until you were back in his arms, and suddenly it was like he hadn’t felt you in months. The cozy dinner you had planned together had long been forgotten, finding a far more fulfilling reunion instead in feverish touches and strangled cries of each other's names.

It might not have been the exact way you planned for the night to go, but as you looked up at him in the cool glow of midnight, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect evening.

“You okay?” You asked softly, noticing the still unsteady pace of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“Yeah, that was…” He let out a deep breath. “I needed that.”

You caught the thin strain in his voice, the tone you knew he used when he was stressed but trying to hide it.

“Rough week?” You asked, reaching up to comb your fingers through his messy hair.

“Mhm.” He hummed, closing his eyes, leaning into your touch.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” He laughed humorlessly. “Honestly, I’m so fucking tired, I don’t even wanna think right now,” He pulled you closer, letting his lips brush against yours as he spoke.”Just wanna be here with you.”

You connected your lips with his, parting them at the faintest probing of his tongue to grant him access to lazily explore your mouth.

As you rubbed his shoulders soothingly, he couldn’t help wincing into the kiss as you passed over a particularly sensitive spot.

Feeling him flinch, you pulled away, looking up at him with concern.

“Is something wrong?” You asked.

“I just twinged my shoulder earlier, it’s fine.” He said quickly, trying to brush it off.

“You want me to give you a massage? It might help?” You offered.

“I’ll be fine.” He tried again, leaning in to claim your lips once again, but you weren’t having it, dodging his lips and sitting up on your knees.

“Sit up.” You said, tugging his arm.

“Babe, I’m fine, really.” He argued, following your request anyway.

“Yes, but you could feel even better,” You said stubbornly. “Now let me take care of you.”

He sighed, caving easily to you. “Fine, but I want you here.” He patted his lap.

You straddled his lap without argument, letting him hold onto your hips out of habit, and giving him a quick peck on the lips before setting to work, trying to gently knead out the tension and soreness in his shoulder without causing him any more pain in the process.

You weren’t an expert by any means, but whatever you were doing seemed to feel good at least, earning soft, appreciative grunts from Joon as he let his head droop forward to rest against your chest.

You were always so good to him, so ready and willing to take care of him in any shape or form, whether that was making sure he slept and ate properly, or letting him use your body for his own pleasure. Even now, when normally he would be fussing over making sure you were okay, you managed to look after him as well.

He’d never felt so completely safe in someone’s arms before, so completely loved. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve you, but he was beyond thankful to whatever forces had led him to you.

Tilting his head up, he started peppering soft, lingering kisses across the expanse of your neck, sucking lightly at the still blooming marks left over from his earlier ministrations, making you squirm as his grip on your hips tightened.

“Joon.” You whined, feeling the growing weight of his hardening length against your core.

“Hmm?” He hummed, still focused on trailing kisses along your neck.

“I thought you were tired.” You said.

“Who said that?” He said, smirking against your neck.

“You did! Five minutes ago.” You giggled

“That was five minutes ago,” He said, coming back up to your lips. “You were right, I’m feeling much better now.”

He kissed you deeply, rolling you both over so that you were now caged in under him, your legs falling open naturally for him to settle between as his lips trailed down your front.

He loved you like this, all spread out and willing, any trace of shyness or hesitance completely absent from the way you whined out his name again as he latched onto one of your nipples, arching further up into his touch.

His fingers ghosted between your thighs, teasing your wet folds and making you shudder from sensitivity.

His gaze darted back up to your face, mirroring your earlier concern.

“Is this okay?” He asked, suddenly worried about pushing you too far.

“Joon,” You pulled him back down to you. “Stop thinking.”

You kissed him deeply, your hips up bucking against his hand all the encouragement he needed to continue.

He slipped his fingers between your folds again, his movements so soft and gentle as he spread your slick over your cunt, as if it was the first time he touched you.

“Fuck baby, how’re you always so wet?” He said, almost in disbelief. You were literally dripping, making a mess of the sheets beneath you as he toyed with your clit, pulling the sweetest little noises from your lips as he let two fingers sink into your wet heat, curling them inside of you to find the spot that made you see white.

He loved the way you fell apart for him, head thrown back as your eyes closed in bliss, clinging to him for stability as he pushed you towards your release.

He could feel his cock hanging heavy between his legs, twitching and begging for any sort of attention, but he chose to ignore it, focusing solely on the way you clenched around his fingers, your breath stuttering as your orgasm threatened to overtake you.

“Joon.” You tried to warn him.

“I know, Baby, it’s okay.” He breathed. “Let go.”

You let out a choked cry that faintly sounded like his name as you came, your back arching off the mattress and pressing you closer to him as your whole body shook from the intensity of your high.

"You did so good, baby.” He said softly, pressing a soothing kiss to your temple as you came down. “So fucking good."

“Joonie,” You whimpered in that soft tone that made him feel dizzy with need. “Want you inside, please.”

“Are you sure?” He asked gently. “It’s okay if you wanna tap out or take a break.”

You shook your head. “Need you, please.”

How could he deny you when you ask so sweetly?

He drew his fingers out slowly, letting out a deep groan as he wrapped the slick coated digits around his aching cock, jerking himself a few times to spread your wetness over the length as he stared down at the mess he’d made of you.

He guided the head of his cock between your puffy lips, tracing around the outside of your entrance teasingly, resisting the urge to slip in yet, loving the way he could feel you clenching around nothing.

“Joonie!” You whimpered, squirming impatiently.

He chuckled at your desperation, as if he wasn’t already nearly as gone as you were. “Alright, Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

He repositioned himself, hovering over you as he eased himself into your weeping cunt, eyes shut tight as he felt your fluttering walls stretch to accommodate him. He was amazed at how you still managed to feel this tight even after he fucked you less then a half an hour ago.

He forced his eyes back open as he bottomed out, staring down you with complete adoration.

“I love you so fucking much.” He sighed, kissing you softly, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, cradling him even closer to you.

If there was a way to preserve a singular moment to exist within for the rest of your life, this was where Namjoon would want to be; not a single thing in the world mattering other than you and him and the way you connected together so perfectly.

Eventually, he started to roll his hips into yours, earning a soft moan from you against his lips.

He kept his movements smooth and unrushed, not fully chasing his own high, just enjoying the feeling of you around him, the way you sucked him in with each thrust, the way you twitched in his arms when his cock brushed against that gummy spot inside of you just right.

Far sooner than he anticipated, he felt lower abdomen beginning to tense, his hips beginning to speed up as his release rapidly approached.

“Fuck, ‘m close.” He warned through clenched teeth.

“Cum for me, baby, please.” You whispered, clutching onto him even tighter.

Your words were the last thing he needed to push him over the edge, his hips slamming against yours with a sudden intensity as he thrusted as deep inside of you as he could manage before cumming, filling you to the brim and making you twitch with sensitivity.

He slowly fell down on top of you, his head coming to rest against your chest, your positions from earlier now switched, his eyes beginning to droop closed on their accord.

“Are you tired now?” You asked, grinning as you caught sight of his sleepy expression.

He chuckled drowsily. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” You kissed his forehead gently. “Go to sleep, Joonie-bear.”

“I love you.“ He mumbled, letting his eyes fully drift closed.

“I love you too.”

He slept better that night than he had in weeks, knowing he was back in the safety of your arms.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#namjoon drabble #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #namjoon scenarios #namjoon oneshot #namjoon one shot #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #bts drabble #bts one shot #bts smut #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #7ndipity

662 notes · View notes

elibeeline · 2 years

Text

Body is wired but brain is so tired please let me sleep

#updates time! the shift went a lot better when the manager i didn't like had finished and left #and baku's gonna bring up that uncomfortableness if it happens again #to not make a big deal out of it or suddenly bring it up #just a quick little 'hey please stop insinuating that you want to kiss me. everything else is great but the kissing is uncomfortable'#but worded a bit better probably #today would've been a bad time to mention it too either eay #*way #and he deleted that post out of fear that they'd seen it but i think we're in the clear #thank you sammie for the offer btw! we did see the comment but the stress at the time had us overthinking the situation #oh oh also still not sure on the new headmate who was around a few days ago 🙃#we think they're a non-fictive but that makes it hard to clear things up until they decide on a name #bc then we can set up pluralkit for them and keep attatching a name to thoughts and feelings until a fragment becomes full #we're getting the hang of it now 💪

1 note · View note

emersonfreepress · 5 months

Text

help i'm alive

So! Long time, no see. 2023 was a whole goddamn lot lol

I don't have a demo update to share yet, but that's because I had to scrap nearly everything I managed to write during a very, very, very bad stint of writer's block last year. I hadn't even realized it had been a block like that until I went over my work so far last month and realized it was bad -- like, trust me; a slog to read that didn't even sound like me. It's been extremely frustrating but I've finally broken free of that and it's been easy and actually fun to write again for the first time in actual years. I just hate giving updates that have no actual news in them. And I really had nothing to share other than: I deleted thousands of words and feel so much better now 😅

Anyway, little about my demo plans have changed: I'm still putting out the Chapter 3 demos in Choicescript/on Dashingdon and then will be going dark to move things over to Twine. Where I am in the process right now is... feeling like 35% done with the overhauled version of this chapter and 50% done for the next demo update.

As far as asks, I'm... not really sure what to do?? I believe I've read them all (I love you guys), but so much time has passed since getting most of them that I'm not sure if it's, like... still pertinent??? To go back and answer them?? I suppose some of them like character asks could be, but all the nice messages of support -- that feels weird since I've practically ghosted this blog since August! Idk. Y'all tell me what to do with 'em and I'll do it. Maybe I should make a poll.

Uh... that's really all there is to say regarding the game! I've added some personal stuff after the cut, but if you're done here: Thanks for reading and sticking around. It means the world, for real.

So what has occupied my time all this time? Doctor, therapy, money, and friends. And improv! But especially the first two. There was a lot of non-writing related stuff fucking up my ability to focus and write, so hopefully with my mind and body both feeling a lot better, I can get back to being present and active with the game. I didn't realize how physically unwell I was until last year and it's been like... life-long issues I've been treating. It turns out it's not normal to feel exhausted enough to sleep at any given time, at all times, for your whole life! wow!!

I also uninstalled Tumblr from my phone back in February, so you could say I'm sort of generally focused on offline life. (And what an interesting coincidence that my writer's block dissipated shortly after that...) I also just moved!! The last two weekends have been so expensive and stressful -_- But I can't even compare the old place to the new. We're basically paying the same price for idek how much more space. The cats are so happy; which means the house humans get to be happy.

My schedule is finally freed up from constant medical shit (there was a 3-month stretch this winter with multiple doctor appointments literally every fucking week 🙃🙃🙃). My mental health is doing a lot better -- literally incomparably better compared to where I was this time last year. There's live comedy now (which I dabble in, to be clear lol), but I've finally found myself able to like... balance it all. The physical and creative energy that goes into it all, anyway. The lovely thing about improv is that you kinda just show up and do your thing -- it doesn't cut into my writing time so much as it costs energy. Unless I end up in this comedy debate show thing next month, which I am very excited to give up writing time for

So like... Life is life-ing and I'm just vibing. Or something? I'll be around.

Thank you all again so much for your interest, support, patience, and readership <3

#oh and if anyone knows where i can stream mob wives uncensored without paying any extra money i'd love you forever lol #that is unimportant- unless y'all find it important that i have access to all of my most influential pieces of media at all times IJSAYING!#jk jk ofc <3 thank you for reading #conspiracy in emerson #if cie #progress #cie ch 3

132 notes · View notes

asimperingswannsong · 11 months

Note

Request: fluff with Larissa where Rissie is having sad girl minutes and Reader cheers her up, please

🤗 Thank you for the ask! I can certainly try! This was my first attempt at a Reader insert. It was a fun challenge. Hope you like it! 🙃

Another Dismal Dance

Larissa Weems x Reader

Notes/Summary/Warnings: Just fluffy stuff. Larissa has another disappointing Rave'N and reader tries to make it better.

--------------------

You were standing with Ms. Ingram, the other rookie teacher, by the punch bowl at the Rave'N chaperoning the students as they arrived. She was busy mindlessly speculating on who might be dating who and whether any of the speculative couples would be making an appearance together as official items, but your attention was elsewhere. You were trying to be subtle about it, but it was difficult because the object of your affection was positively radiant this evening.

From the moment you'd interviewed with her and bonded over your shared interest in Outcast History, her former subject, you'd been enamoured by Principal Weems. This was your first teaching job and she had been an amazing mentor, always ready with words of encouragement or offering an ear for you to vent. And when she'd begun to confide in you during your fireside chats in her office, you couldn't have been happier. She'd been having a tough time this year with the monster attacks and Wednesday's constant need to solve the mystery surrounding them. You'd become increasingly worried about her as you could see from the windows of your rooms how many evenings, she'd been working late into the night doing damage control for Wednesday's latest antics.

But you'd been able to cheer her up anytime she expressed frustration with things just by mentioning the Rave'N. She was so excited about the preparations. She wanted everything just right for her students to have a memorable experience and her enthusiasm was one more thing about her that you found so endearing. You'd been having little cautionary chats with yourself lately just to check in and remind yourself to respect boundaries since this was your boss and making an unwanted advance toward her could be a huge mistake but it was hard to keep your resolve everytime you saw her flitting through the halls. She was so beautiful and so elegantly put together. And her personality matched her appearance, charming and perfect. It was a struggle not to be a complete simp.

Especially right now, she was stunning in her knee length silver dress, and she looked so happy seeing all of her hard work come to fruition. She had done an incredible job on the themed decor. It was nice to see her have this perfect evening after all the stress she'd dealt with recently. Now, if only you could work up the courage to go over and tell her as much. "Right?" Your eyes widened as your realized you'd become so engrossed in Principal Weems that you'd completely checked out of the conversation with Ms. Ingram.

"Sorry?" "Coach Vlad." She was met with a look of confusion. "I said he thinks his track suit is formal wear apparently. Crazy huh? Are you alright, Y/N?" "Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about Monday's lesson plan and whether to include a pop quiz," you lied trying to cover for the actual reason behind your inattentiveness. Ms. Ingram rolled her eyes dramatically and grabbed you by the arm shaking it, "We're off work. It's a dance. Loosen up and have a little fun, Y/N." "Yeah, I'll try…"

You managed to excuse yourself from Ms. Ingram's gossip train and finally made your way to Larissa. "Ms. L/N! You look lovely this evening darling. That dress is so pretty!" she greeted you happily. You blushed noticeably at her compliment. "This is amazing Principal Weems. You should be so proud. And you are a vision. Perfection." "Really?" her turn to blush noticeably. "I love it. And the gloves, the jewelry, and the hair, they're all absolutely beautiful." She smiled still blushing, "Flatterer." "Just facts." "Ms. L/N?" You heard Ms. Ranier, the other history teacher, call from behind you.

You reluctantly started to turn away from Larissa to acknowledge Ms. Ranier, but she reached out gently and took your hand to draw your attention back to her for a moment. "Ms. L/N?" You turned back with a look of inquiry. "Before you go…" "Yes?" "I just wanted to ask if you'd like to stop by my office later? Maybe for a celebratory drink? I'm so happy with how everything came together." "I would love to. That sounds fun," you said beaming at her. She smiled in return and winked at you, "See you then, Y/N." The wink has caused your stomach to abruptly relocate within your body. You turned and floated away.

Everything was going so well…until it wasn't.

You were standing against the wall with two other teachers deeply engaged in a terrible dance battle with each of you showcasing your cringest of moves when you felt a droplet land on your shoulder.As you looked around trying to find the source of the leak you noticed the droplet was red. "What the hell?" And then there was two, three, four. "What's going…" And then the sprinklers opened fully and rained down red.

People started to scream as their formal attire they'd spent weeks choosing became stained all over. Then they started to try to get away and began slipping in the mess. You immediately started trying to help students up and direct them to the exit, but it was chaos. And then you heard a loud scream and you turned to see Larissa having a full-blown meltdown in the center of the room and your heart broke in two.

She'd wanted this to be perfect so badly and she'd already dealt with so much this year and now she and her beautiful dress were stained from top to bottom. She was breathing deeply and shaking. She seemed to be having a panic attack or hyperventilating. You tried to make your way toward her, but you kept getting caught up in the on rush of the exiting crowd. Over and over again you were thwarted from getting to her. Eventually you were pulled along by your fellow teachers who all just wanted out.

In the aftermath you stood and looked frantically around for Larissa. You just wanted to make sure she was okay. Unable to find her, you hugged and comforted crying students encouraging them gently to return to their rooms and get cleaned up and apologizing for their dance being ruined. Finally you spotted her, but she rushed by on her phone and you heard her addressing Sheriff Galpin. She'd recovered from her earlier panic and now she sounded furious.

Realizing this was not an ideal time to try and speak to her you returned to your own rooms and cleaned yourself up. You paced your room using baby wipes to clean the stains from your face and out of your hair as much as possible before changing out of your ruined dress. You could see Larissa pacing furiously in her office and gesticulating wildly at the other occupants.

You determined when you had a chance you would try to intervene and do what you could to comfort her in some way. You grabbed a large basket and began filling it with items, baby wipes, cloths, a blanket, a candle, a bottle of red wine you'd bought after trying it in Larissa's office one evening, and finally a small bouquet from your pink hellebores. You made your way over to the main building and saw Sheriff Galpin and Mayor Walker leaving as you entered. You made your way upstairs.

As you entered while knocking you saw Larissa hastily try to wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes as she stood from her desk. "Y/N? Are you alright? I'm so sorry for what happened?" You came in and placed the basket on the couch. "Am I alright? I came to check on you. I know how much you were looking forward to this. I'm the one who's sorry for the way it turned out." She'd been making a valiant effort not to cry but she lost the battle and started to weep openly. You rushed over and hugged her tightly. "Oh no sweetheart. Don't cry. I'm so sorry."

She clung tightly to you and sobbed loudly. You held her tightly in return and rubbed soothingly on her back trying to bring her some comfort. As her sobs lessened slightly you placed your arm around her lower back. "Come here, sweetheart," you said gently leading her toward the couch in front of the fire, "let's sit down together for a minute." You brought her around to the couch but she hesitated. "I don't want to stain it," she sniffled still wearing her ruined dress. You moved quickly over to your basket and removed the blanket, unfolding it and holding it open like a towel. She continued to hesitate.

You wiggled it at her invitingly, "Come on. I brought it just for you. Feel free to stain it all you like." Larissa smiled through her next sniffle and moved closer to you. You wrapped her up into a red burrito and hugged her once more before encouraging her to sit. She did and you removed the candle and flowers placing them on the table and lighting the wick. Larissa smiled and wiped a strand of stained loose hair from her eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously.

"Me? I'm currently in the middle of an impromptu and somewhat desperate attempt to provide some small modicum of comfort to you after what was an unmitigated disaster perpetrated on the most undeserving of creatures." Finishing your quick mood setting decor, you reached over producing the bottle of wine and holding it out to her. "May I interest the madam in a glass of the house's finest Beaujolais Nouveau?" you said in your corniest French waitress impression. Mercifully she chuckled as you poured her a glass.

Darling, you didn't have to do any of this." "I wanted to. I felt terrible seeing you crushed like that." You held up a baby wipe. "May I?" "Please." You placed a knee on the couch beside her and bent forward over her wiping the stains from her face gently. She gazed up into your eyes with a look of gratitude that made you weak. "Thank you," she whispered as you continued to wipe away the red. "Of course, sweetheart."

When you finished cleaning as many of the streaks from her face as you could, you sat down next to her on the sofa and poured yourself a glass. She held hers out for a refill and you both sat and stared into the fire for a while. You felt her hand lay over the top of yours and you turned yours over. She entwined your fingers together and you continued to watch the flames. "Are you going to be alright?" you whispered. "Yes, darling, don't worry about me." "But I do," you said after a pause. She caressed your hand gently and smiled.

#my fic #fluff #gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa weems x reader

160 notes · View notes

meowzfordayz · 8 months

Text

stressed — zenitsu, kyojuro, sanemi

Author’s Note: you ARE enough❣️ You ARE loved❣️ You WILL be okay❣️

stressed — zenitsu, kyojuro, sanemi

Agatsuma Zenitsu x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~700

CW: none

Emergency Request Fulfilled: I started taking a lot harder classes this year and it’s killing me and my impostor syndrome because I’m so slow compared to everyone else. It’s making me depressed/stressed so I wanted to request a pick me up request.

stressed — enmu, genya, muichiro

~faqs~

Lowkey gets stressed too 🙃

Does his best to hide it, but Zenitsu’s an open book, so it doesn’t stay hidden for long

Sometimes he’ll even sense your stress before you do

“Are you okay Zeni? You seem stressed.”

“I’m fine!” ☺️

…

*realization hits*

Zenitsu: Are you stressed? 🥺

You: Nooo, you’re stressed! 😒

Zenitsu: But I’m not? 🥲

You: Well your stress is stressing me out! 😖

Zenitsu: But I’m not stressed?! 🫠

*insert Spiderman meme here*

Affirmations

Once you’ve determined that you’re both adequately stressed 💀😂

Zenitsu brings out ✨The Jar of Affirmation✨

Aka your equivalent of scrolling through cheesy, inspirational social media posts when you’re feeling low

Zenitsu: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL! 😍

You: YOU ARE CAPABLE! 😎

Zenitsu: YOU ARE SMART! 🤓

You: YOU ARE DETERMINED! 😤

It’s kinda cathartic to yell/be yelled at, y’know? 🥰😆

Lovingly, ofc

Your stress hits close to home for Kyojuro (imposter syndrome, inadequacy), but he’s unsure how to support you

Which is not to say that he doesn’t try

Bc he does try, a lot and often 🥺

But a pin pricking feeling that he isn’t quite cut out for comforting you frequently surfaces

“I can order takeout and build a pillow fort for us to watch a movie in together? Would that be okay?”

Your stress fades to a gentle, manageable pulse as Kyojuro’s tender doubt gnaws at your chest, your arms hugging him into your warmth as you murmur softly

“That would be absolutely perfect. Thank you for taking care of me.”

—

He still questions his ability to ease your burdens as you snuggle into his side, plastic containers and utensils spread out on the fluffy blanket beneath you, a thin canopy of cotton sheet and fairy lights billowing above

Could I have decorated better? 😕

Why did I make us sit on the floor?! 😞

But he allows himself a lingering, adoring smile when you begin making airplane noises, happily opening his mouth to accept your forkful of pad Thai

“I love you!” you grin, darting in to peck his nose

“I wuv y’u too!” he declares, the tips of his ears as red as his heart

He’s convinced that pad Thai’s never tasted so delicious

Knows your favorite snacks better than he knows himself, and won’t hesitate to walk to the corner store to buy you a lil snick snack

“Kyo, it’s almost midnight. I’m fine.” 😝

“Your stomach rumbled.” ☹️

“I can eat in the morning.”

“Fine.”

…

“I shall wait until midnight, at which point it will be morning.” 😎

“What if I fall asleep before you get back?”

“Then I guess you will most certainly eat in the morning.” 😌

Doesn’t let you lift a finger, sometimes to the extent that your stress morphs to anger 🤪

“I said I was stressed, not incapable.” 😐

“Me helping you is a testament of my love, not a commentary on your ability.” 🤨

“You aren’t helping me! You’re infantilizing me!” 😖

“I in fact have not put you in a diaper nor made you suck on a pacifier.” 😃

“I will dye your hair while you’re asleep.” 😒

“Would a spa day reduce your stress?”

“No, but watching your reaction to waking up with green hair would.” 😌

“If you somehow manage to dye my hair without waking me up, then I guess I deserve it.” 🙃

“Could you at least let me wash my dishes? Or put toothpaste on my own toothbrush?” 😕

“No and Yes. Okay?”

“I want to tie my shoelaces too.”

“You can do one shoe.” 😉

“Whatever.” 🙄🥰

Gets you out and about

Whether it’s joining him on a grocery run or just walking around the block

Sanemi knows a change of scenery can refresh and remove the monotony of stress

He’ll even coax you into photoshoots

“Stop. You need a picture underneath that tree.”

“Wait, the sunlight is framing your face so beautifully.”

“Let’s take a selfie together.”

Not bc he loves being your personal photographer 🥴, but bc he sees how much you brighten at his softness 🥺

Sees how happy his explicit (albeit occasionally disgruntled) affection makes you

… maybe selfies aren’t so bad after all

#headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #modern au #agatsuma zenitsu #zenitsu x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader

134 notes · View notes

thebibliosphere · 2 years

Note

hey idk if you would be able to answer this but thought I would put it out there. so I have eds and THOUGHT i was having allergic reactions but a skin test at an allergist said i have literally 0 true allergies. is histamine intolerance similar to moderate allergic reactions? Ive been through most of your health tags and done research but cant really find any forward answers. its all MAY or MAY NOT

Unfortunately, you’re not finding any straightforward answers because allergies and non-IgE-mediated allergic reactions are poorly understood, even by some allergists. (usually the gaslighty kind 🙃)

It is entirely possible to test negative for allergic reactions for things you are absolutely having allergic reactions to.

This is because allergy tests focus ONLY on “true” IgE allergies and do not take into account that there are other underlying mechanisms that can cause mast cells to degranulate, which is what happens when you have an allergic reaction.

In an IgE reaction, the cells become unstable, releasing various hormones/chemical responses, which is what we know as annoying allergic reactions in minor cases, and anaphylaxis is severe responses.

In a functional immune system, these chemicals should really only be released in response to a true IgE allergy.

When your immune system is a little over-reactive, they can release in response to stress (this is what causes stress hives, and we now think some cases of IBS) and sometimes things like viral illnesses. This is why so many people have developed MCAS or MCAS-like symptoms after having covid. (mask up, besties)

Sometimes, however, the “off” switch in the immune system gets broken, and the mast cells become increasingly over-reactive, and that's when you can start developing new or seemingly random allergies that are inconsistent and don't show up on IgE allergen test panels. It’s why you’ll sometimes see the term “idiopathic anaphylaxis” in people who have anaphylaxis that can’t be explained. Well, the explanation is wonky mast cells. Why are they wonky? We’re not really sure.

Perhaps if the medical world hadn’t ignored its existence for ten+ years and focused so much on gaslighting patients until a mass pandemic hit, we would.

This type of mast cell degranulation, triggered by a non-IgE-mediated reaction, is common in histamine intolerance and mast cell activation syndrome, which can also be comorbid with EDS.

So are you reacting to things not showing up on an allergy test? Quite possibly, and your EDS makes it more likely.

Unfortunately, the testing for both is a crapshoot and are actually intended for mastocytosis. This is not to say you shouldn’t ask for a tryptase test (the 24-hour urine test is far more accurate than the blood test); I just mention it because it is entirely possible to have HIT/MCAS and still test negative for elevated levels of tryptase.

Until better testing methods are available, HIT and MCAS-aware doctors will now often diagnose based on patient history and response to mast cell stabilizers.

Anyway, sorry for the wall of salty text, I hope some of it is helpful to you! Best of luck with figuring everything out!

#chronic health tag #mcas #allergic reaction #mast cell dysfunction isn’t rare #it’s jus rarely diagnosed

600 notes · View notes

talkfastromance4 · 2 years

Text

Feel my love—Ashton Irwin oneshot

a/n: this is not what I originally planned for this to go but, here we are🙃

Warnings: body worship (I think at least), oral sex, dirty talk, praise kink (if you squint), different positions, slight sub space, fluff

Word count: 2.1k

Feedback is always welcome and reblogs help a great deal! Enjoy!

•••

Rain is pattering along the windows, the hush of wind matching your uneven breathing as Ashton’s lips trace over your skin. He started at the peak of your forehead, tracing the contours of your face then hovered over your lips. He paused there waiting for you to touch his lips with your own but it’s fleeting because he trekked a detour to your jaw.

While his lips were claiming your neck, his left hand scoped the plains over your hip and waist, each stroke of his fingers created speed bumps over your skin and a shiver through your body. He took his time circling his tongue over your nipple while his hand cupped the other breast massaging it.

“Ash,” you squeak when his teeth tug on your risen bud.

“Be patient, angel,” his breath is hot between the valley of your breasts and he continues down. He uses both hands to grip your breasts, nipples caught between the valley of his fingers and his tongue drags down your stomach. “I want you to feel it all.”

He peppers kisses over your lower stomach, you feel your heart pounding against his palm.

“Relax, baby,” he sighs curving his head to kiss your hips. “I’ll take care of you.”

You moan in response when he kisses between your legs and they fall open like a book. His hands are still squeezing your breasts, his teeth nip at the flesh of your thighs and you run your nails over the backs of his hands, wrists, and forearms. If he’s touching all of you, you want to be touching as much of him as you can as well.

“That’s it,” a kiss to your pubic bone, “just feel.”

His tongue slips through your folds easily and the sensation causes you to clutch at his hair and you’re gasping from the quick strokes and licks of his tongue. Ashton brings his hands down your body, one taking hold of your hand in a tight grip while the other grips the conjecture between your thigh.

“I know you’ve been stressed, baby,” he mumbles and flicks his tongue over your clit. Your legs jerk, you pull on his hair. “Long days at work…”

You arch your back when he inserts a finger, pumping in and out, in and out. Thunder rumbles outside but you’re more aware of how tight you’re holding his hand and the languid way his tongue moves over you, in you. He makes it flutter like a butterfly as he inserts another finger, each flutter clipping your clit at the right interval.

“Yes!” you squeak, sensations rolling over you like the rain down the windows.

Ashton pumps his fingers rhythmically and you peek through your eyelids to see the muscles in his shoulders flex and tighten. The sound of his fingers and mouth working you over bring you to the cusp of an orgasm, you feel it coming and arch your hips to meet his motions. He hums as if he knows–because of course he does he knows your body better than anyone else ever has–and moves his face up and down with the motion of your pelvis.

Your heart is pounding for a different reason, gasps and moans mingling together. Ashton’s moaning with you, encouraging you to let go and give into the sweet release. You feel it building, and building, like an intense crescendo of a song.

“Give it to me, come for me.”

And you do. You cry out in pleasure as you feel it wash over you, from the top of your head all the way to the tips of your toes. Your body freezes in motion, that sweet release coursing through your veins and chasing after Ashton’s fingers and tongue. Your legs wrapped around him, ankles taut until the sweet release has concluded and you feel the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Your body is hot.

Your body is buzzing.

Ashton suckles at your sweetness until your body goes lax against the bed and you can hear the rain again. Your lips turn up in a blissful smile, neck rolling to the side as you watch him kiss his way back up your body. His eyes meet yours and his fingers are the last to leave you and you’re left empty yet full at the same time.

You feel the sticky drag of his fingers up your stomach, coated in your orgasm, shivering as he circles your nipple then stops at the entrance of your lips. His hazel eyes gaze adoringly at you and he jerks his head the slightest bit. You open your mouth and his fingers glide inside, you suckle on them.

You stare at each other unblinkingly and you slither your hand down his waist, over his hip, onto his stomach until you’re stroking his cock. He’s velvety soft and incredibly hard in your hand, his hips thrust into your strokes.

Your palm catches on his veins as you tug him ever so slightly to your entrance, his head bumping you.

“Love how wet you get for me,” he says removing his fingers from your mouth. “Can always slip right…” he presses into you so the head of his cock spreads you open but he pulls back again, “in.”

He’s teasing you and you pout at him.

“Please, Ash,” you run your thumb over his tip, lifting your hips in tandem to try and pull him inside you. “Want you to fill me up.”

“Yeah?” he strokes the hair on the side of your head. His body dips onto yours and you welcome the weight of him, both in your hand and on top of you. “You do take me so well, angel. Such a good girl for me.”

“Come on, please,” you move your hips and the hand holding his cock and he’s almost inside you.

Before you could blink or gasp at the swiftness of his motions, he somehow has your hands above your head held tightly between his hands. You stare at him in shock but when he smiles, you smile back.

“Good girls don’t talk back,” he shakes his head and you roll your eyes causing him to rub his head between your folds. “Or roll their eyes.”

“Wanna feel you,” you sigh trying to move your arms but his grip is tight. He knows you like it and you feel your arousal leak out of you.

“Dirty girl,” he smirks dragging his dick against you once more. “Making a mess for me, huh?” he adjusts his hand so he’s holding your wrists with just one as he uses the other to hook around his hip. “Do you want it slow or fast?” he presses his tip into you more and you’re clenching at the loss when he pulls out.

“Hard,” you whisper.

You catch a ghost of his smile before his lips are on yours and he plunges into you. You cry into his mouth from the immediate satisfaction of him filling you up. Ashton wastes no time by fucking into you hard and fast, the bed already jerking against the wall. Your bodies become flush, hot and sweaty with each drag and pull.

You meet his hips perfectly, skin slapping skin and his hand hot on your thigh to keep your leg in place. Your kiss becomes sloppy, heated, and dirty and you’re aching to drag your nails down his back but your hands are caught. The restraint makes it hotter and you’re arching into him again, needing to be closer.

“How’s that baby?” he pants when your kiss breaks. His fingers on your thighs are probably leaving bruises but you want more of him. His hips roll and rock, his cock gliding along your walls deliciously.

“S-so good…” you pant, his eyes glance down at your breasts as they bounce with your movements. “Harder, baby…please.”

Ashton growls and releases your wrists so he can push your legs up, your knees against your chest. He fucks into you relentlessly and with no mercy, giving you exactly what you want until your eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent moan as you’re filled with ecstasy. The quick drag of his cock in and out of you has you seeing stars and you clench your hands behind his neck, your foreheads touching.

“Want me deeper?” he gasps, his hair is wet from sweat hanging over his forehead. You nod quickly, licking at your dried lips. He pulls out of you and you cry out at the loss. “Turn over, angel.”

He helps you with careful hands because your body is buzzing and you felt your orgasm creeping in. You’re on your stomach, cheek pressed into his pillow and Ashton drags your hips up to his pelvis. He taps the inside of your thighs so you spread your legs, his fingers slip between your folds.

“Ready baby?” he asks.

You crane your neck so you meet his eyes, but you take him in before you answer. His chest is glistening with sweat, his hair curled and tuggable, arms big and strong.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

He smiles back, grips his cock and glides inside of you easily. You both groan at the sensation of being connected once more and Ashton starts a slow rock. In…out…in…out until he moves faster. The new angle has him going deeper and this is one of your favorite positions because of that reason. Your eyes close at the familiar bliss, a soft laugh echoes against the pillow.

Your head feels lighter as your orgasm trickles in quickly, his cock sliding and gliding at the perfect precision. Ashton’s breathing evenly, making sure to keep his tempo and his own orgasm at bay.

“Come for me, baby, c’mon…I can feel it,” he grunts pushing in further. And he hits that sweet spot.

“There! Oh, right there, right there,” you sing and he complies easily.

You hold onto his sheets, bracing your body so it stays still so he can keep fucking you in the right place. Your ears start to ring, your stomach rolls and you’re coming again. And it keeps going and going and going until–

“Oh, fuck,” Ashton groans and snaps his hips even faster until he’s pulling out and you feel his hot cum spurt and rope onto your back.

Your pussy is clenching at nothing, your body still chasing an orgasm that lingers with him. The pillow is wet from your mouth, your brow sweaty from the euphoric sex. Ashton’s noises are music to your ears as he jerks the last of his release onto you.

After a moment, you gather the rest of the sounds around you; the ticking of the clock on the wall, the constant crash of rain on the window and the quiet hum of the radiator. You feel Ashton shift towards the nightstand then feel him dab at your back with a wad of tissues and then the cool swipe of the baby wipe to really clean you off. He stamps a kiss on your lower back then falls next to you, his hazel eyes gazing into yours.

“Hi,” he whispers nudging your nose with his.

“Hi,” you breathe slipping your legs down so you’re flat on your belly. Your head is swimming, your body is heavy, you’re totally blissed out in the best way. You somehow inch your way closer to him and Ashton takes you into his arms, your legs intertwining.

“How do you feel?” he asks kissing your forehead.

“I feel…loved,” you swallow and caress his cheekbone.

“Good. Want you to feel my love, always.”

“How do you feel?” you poke his nose for emphasis.

“Complete.”

“Ohh, you make me complete,” you sing, “you make a complete mess–”

He covers your mouth with his hand and you’re giggling into his palm and he’s chuckling with you. You know he doesn’t like hearing his songs play during sexy times because it always gets him thinking about the production behind it thus losing the allure of the sexual moment at hand.

“You know I had to, the opportunity was right there,” you defend when he removes his hand.

“I know,” he rolls his eyes affectionately. His arm snakes around your waist, your bodies still sticky but it feels nice. “I didn’t really comprehend the ‘caught up in heaven’ until right now. Because–”

“No, don’t say it,” you shake your head.

“Because you’re my angel,” he smiles and you groan at his pun but love that you can be goofy together.

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker pinching his hip. “But that’s why I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

You continue kissing and caressing each other’s bodies as the rainstorm continues on outside and soon the kisses turn deeper and more sensual. Then you’re rolling on top of him, pinning his wrists to his sides with a grin.

“My turn.”

Taglist: @calumance @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower @mymindwide @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @mulletcal @pandaxnienke @celestialams @in-a-world-of-fandoms @blairscott @writersdare

#ashton smut #ashton irwin smut #ashton oneshot #ashton irwin writing #Ashton 5sos #ashton fluff #ashton irwin 5sos writing

412 notes · View notes