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euno11a · 3 days

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”Simon, you need to promise me you won’t get mad…” you said as you looked at him from the opposite side of the couch.

his brows furrowed as he looked at you, “Can’t promise, love.”

you nibbled your lip, picking at the skin on your cuticles before finally spitting it out. “I have a crush on someone!”

you’ve seen Simon in many ways - when he’s angry, sad, happy, horny and that beautiful look he gave you when he saw you on your wedding day, but nothing would’ve ever prepared you for the look you got when you said that. He looked like you hit his heart a thousand times. “Y’what?”

“I- I have a crush…and the problem is, I can’t stop staring and thinking he’s the most handsome guy. And when he stared back at me, I got butterflies and felt myself blush.”

He sat quietly, listening to you as you rambled on about your new crush…at least you were telling him and not cheating.

You let out a small sigh, “He makes me nervous and giddy; not nervous in a bad way, but nervous in a ‘I just want him to lean in and kiss me’ kinda way. Like, ‘Hey, my phone buzzed and I hope it’s him’ kinda way. And when I get ready to go out, I struggle to find the perfect outfit because I wanna look just right…”

that feeling of comfort he once had with you, his wife, was just fading away so easily. After all the shit that had happened to him, you were the last one he thought would do this to him. He stood up and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head and walking off to the front door.

you got up and ran over to him, grabbing his arm. “Si, where are you going?” You looked at him, trying to figure out what made him upset.

“Away. Let y’have yer time with your new lad.” His voice was stern and full of venom. But it only got worse when he saw you crack a smile.

“Simon…no, lovie, I was talking about you! You’re the guy I have a crush on…and I know it’s gushy, but I feel like a teenager again every time I look at you. It’s your fault for being so handsome.” Your voice gentle as you cupped his face and pressed little butterfly kisses to his cheeks and nose.

he could do nothing but stand there dumbfounded. “Y’need t’find a better way of sayin’ shit, doll. Thought ye were bout to leave me…” his voice got softer when he said that last bit.

your eyes softened, knowing how it sounded to him. You sank to your knees and pressed small kisses to his sweatpant clad thighs, earning a small groan from him. “Wha’re you doin’ love?”

“Apologizing…” you said, staring up at him through your lashes as you pulled his sweats down.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost #ghost x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #fluff headcanons #fluff #drabble #oneshot #smut

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cute-sucker · 2 days

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"❀˚ rafe is so attentive to you. he might be busy ‘handling business’ all the time, but he’ll drop everything if something’s bothering you. he wants you to live a cozy, carefree life, physical proof to you and everyone else that he can maintain that for you. so, when you show up at tannyhill with tears in your eyes, he goes straight into problem solving mode. ˚❀༉‧₊" - (x) inspired by @maiiuelle

you were in a foul mood. one that left you nothing but in shivers, and sniffles. you were holding yourself together until you saw rafe. you had started working lately, telling rafe that you could handle it and that you hated the way that he had to pay for everything.

you worked at a meek small cafe, serving tables, and coming home greasy and bubbly. sometimes you'd bring free leftover fries, and rafe would kiss you, telling you that there was enough money to pay for it. but you liked it. you liked the simplicity rafe liked seeing you happy.

but today everything was horrible. from the way that the day started from the way you felt in the beginning. you had hit your toe on the door and chipped a nail. then there was a man who yelled at you for getting his order wrong, and you ended up having chunks of potato puree in your hair after a toddler grappled for the food you were serving.

so there you were at tanyhill. staring up at the daunting building, as hot tears streamed down your face. you felt caged in as your arms were wrapped around your body. you felt small, almost as if you could disappear the moment something was uttered.

rafe had given you the key to the house. that's the way he was, giving you small things. giving you small things that you'd always hold close to your heart. sometimes he'd just gaze at you, kiss your forehead and call you his "sweet girl," and you felt your whole body blaze with a fire. and so you gently swung open, the hall echoing with emptiness, you felt yourself smile gently.

tanyhill reminded you of rafe. and rafe reminded you of good things. yet your foul mood followed you, and somehow there was this inkling feeling that rafe wouldn't allow you to keep your job if he knew how horrible the service was.

but you couldn't help yourself as you bundled in rafe's bedsheets, smelling that scent of his, and wearing one of his polo's. your hand ached towards the phone, yet you held back. he was probably handling business, but it was finally when you picked up the phone and dialled his number. he picked up in one ring.

"rafe?" you sniffed out, your voice scratchy.

"what's wrong?" rafe murmured back. you could almost hear the alarm in his voice and could feel the way he was probably pacing around. he was probably going to be in trouble. that caused you to wilt even more, as you tried to stammer out your sentence.

"i need you."

˚❀༉‧₊˚.

you could imagine what rafe was thinking. he was probably worried. worried out of his mind, as you sat in his bed, messy bed head and tears streaming down your face. you heard the creak of the door opening, and there he was.

you saw him, eyes soft as they traced your body. there you were, eyes rubbed red, and a pout on your face. you seemed almost in disbelief, as you stared at him. finally, you jumped into his embrace. it was warm. it was home. you could hear his heartbeat.

your voice was slurred as you whispered words out, still seeking his warmth.

"you came."

it was only here you took a peek at his face, a soft smile was sprawled across his face.

"you called."

maybe that was when you realised you loved him.

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textmel8r · 6 hours

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[ SMAU ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( second installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , allusions to sex , mentions of dubious consent/manipulation , profanity

likes and reblogs appreciated !

#❝ 𝐑𝐀𝐄’𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ❞#jjk smau #jjk texts #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji smau #toji fushiguro #toji angst #toji drabbles #toji zenin #toji x reader #jjk angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #drabble #jjk fanfic

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coffeeandcrossword · 2 days

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spencer reid x reader drabble, smut 18+

summary: spencer masturbates in the shower to the thought of you

౨ৎ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 𐙚✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𐙚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𐙚⋆⭒˚.⋆౨ৎ

spencer is standing in the shower, hot water spraying down on him, steam filling the room. his thoughts are on you and he feels a familiar tug he can’t ignore, his hand seemingly acting on its own accord as it trails down his stomach towards his aching, already half hard cock. his fingers lightly thread through his pubes, spending some time there before moving his hand to his balls, fondling them lazily, almost teasing himself by denying himself the touch where he wants it most. his head falls back as he enjoys building himself up more, his thoughts on you, your lips, your warm, wet mouth. finally, because he can’t bare it any longer, his hand moves to his cock, his flat palm rubs up and down the length of it before fully tightening his grip around it, fisting it up and down. he begins to pump a little faster, a little harder, stopping for a second to allow his thumb to swipe over the tip. flashes of you fill his vision — fuck, he wishes his hand was yours. he braces himself against the tiled wall of the shower with his free hand, widens his stance a little as he continues pumping his rock hard cock. “oh fuck,” he whispers to no one, as he increases the speed of his hand. he’s fully whimpering now, unable to stop the small whines from escaping his mouth — god, he’s getting close. your name falls from his lips, his hand movements becoming more erratic as he teeters on the edge. he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his hips are rocking into his hand, he’s not gonna last much longer. fuck, his vision starts to turn white as stars explode behind his eyes, he tumbles over the edge as needy whines pour from his open mouth, white hot cum spurting onto the shower wall, the floor. god. he starts to come down, his chest heaving, body trembling slightly as he regains awareness. steadying himself, he moves to stand under the spray, turning the water to cold.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #fanfic #drabble #smut

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kamapon · 1 day

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Love at first sight

#rook hunt #vil schoenheit #savanaclaw rook #twisted wonderland #twst #drabble

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punkshort · 3 days

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What did a day in the life look like for Joel & reader, during the peak of their relationship, before her accident?❤️‍🩹💘

Never Enough

An I Know Who You Are drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), fluff

WC: ~800

A/N: At the peak of their relationship, they were very soft for one another. It took a while for them both to get there, each of them pretty hardened by their own traumas. So when reader lost her memory and Joel had to start over with her, he took it really hard but tried to hide it as best he could. Obviously, suppressing his feelings didn't work out too well but let's take a look back at a simpler time.

Joel usually woke up before you, his internal clock way too finely tuned to allow himself to sleep in. You normally didn't like to sleep touching him because he ran hot as it was, but if it was winter and you were cold you always found your way into his nook.

Coffee was a must for both of you in the mornings. Most of the time you barely spoke on the days you had patrol until you had at least half a cup of coffee in your systems. You didn't like heavy breakfasts but you needed something or else you got too lightheaded, so you kept it simple. Maybe some fruit or a piece of toast. And if you were making yourself something, you always made sure to make some for Joel, too, because he was terrible at taking care of himself.

You didn't mind. You actually liked taking care of him.

On the way to the barn you would talk about which routes you were assigned that day, or you would ask how his back was feeling, or he would ask how you slept the night before.

Always before parting ways, you would make sure to kiss him. You never rushed that part because you never took a single day for granted.

It was rare you got paired up for patrol together. Both of you were seasoned and your roles were to mentor the younger groups, so typically you were paired with someone greener.

Whoever got back first always waited for the other to return, then you would walk back home together. Usually it was in the afternoon so sometimes you cleaned up around the house while Joel restocked the fireplace with wood. Sometimes you would go to the warehouse and restock your pantry, other times you would help Maria watch Violet.

Depending on the day, you might go to the dining hall with Ellie, but if you were particularly tired or if Joel didn't feel like being around people (which was often), you would stay home and cook something together.

Usually both of you ached after a few days of patrol in a row, so sometimes you took a bath together. He would sit between your legs and rest his back against your chest while you washed his hair. His eyes would close as he got lost in the feeling of your nails gently massaging his scalp, all the stress and tension melting away under your touch. He would skirt his fingers lazily over your soft curves under the water, making you shudder. He adored being the one to get those reactions from you.

Admittedly, your sex life wasn't as wild as when you first met. Over the years it became more intense and loving rather than frantic and needy. He made sure you felt every inch of him while he dragged in and out of you, slow and deep, pulling the sweetest sounds from your throat. Little whispers of his name in his ear, murmurs of I love you against his throat, whines warning him you were close and don't stop and you feel so good.

No matter how many times he fucked you, it was never enough. Each time set his heart on fire. The feel of your soft skin under his rough hands, the taste of your wet heat all over his mouth and beard, the feel of your hips grinding against his while you bounced on his cock. He never felt more close to you than in those moments where he was buried deep inside you, doing everything in his power to make you feel good and give you everything you needed. He loved watching you fall apart, your perfect face contorting in pleasure before you stilled and your eyebrows relaxed with a sigh. He loved the feel of your cunt squeezing him when you came, fluttering and pulsing around him. It always brought his own orgasm to the surface within seconds, pulling out of you feverishly, usually without a moment to spare, and spilling his release all over your thighs or ass or stomach or breasts.

Afterwards, he would clean you up, but he would be lying if he said he didn't take a moment first to admire the way you looked: all satiated and relaxed and covered with his spend.

You curled up against him and wrapped your arm around his stomach while his hands wandered over your shoulders and back, soothing you to sleep with kisses pressed into your hair.

You brought out a softnes in him. No one else got to see that side of him. He reserved that just for you.

#anon ask #ask #ikwya fic #drabble

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dragon-ascent · 9 hours

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"Zhongli, would you eat me if I were food?"

"Of course I would," your husband responds, a small smile on his face.

Your eyes widen, a pout now making itself known. "I thought you were going to say, No, I would never eat my beloved! What gives?"

Zhongli's smile grows. "I had initially thought to give such an answer, but I think trying new things would be rather lovely." He pulls you close as if he didn't just insinuate you would be an interesting new meal to sample.

"Well!" you huff, "I wouldn't be very tasty."

"I have tasted you many times and find you perfect for my palate," replies Zhongli nonchalantly, cuddling you, "so there is nothing to worry about."

Your face heats up; looking away, you stammer, "I - I wouldn't be a healthy option..?"

"Some meals can simply be enjoyed for their taste rather than their nutritional value." Zhongli beams, his smile a blend of mocking and loving. "So, I believe dinner is accounted for. I shall add salt, pepper, garlic and some vegetables and have myself a fine meal, hm?"

"No!" you protest, squirming, to which your lover only laughs and holds you tighter.

#sini writes #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #fluff #drabble

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wttcsms · 2 days

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switchin' the positions for you, osamu miya

pairing osamu miya x f!reader word count 2k synopsis osamu miya says you've got a lot to learn, rookie, and he's more than happy to teach you. content contains creampie, pet names (baby, good girl), slight praise kink (reader receiving), fwb to lovers, multiple positions, tennis player!reader author's notes to the requester: you know who you are, girl. give the masses (me) what i want: you to become a writer!!!

“Fuck.” Osamu hisses out the word like it burns to have it escape through his gritted teeth. “D’ya like that, baby?”

You can’t give him a coherent answer; it’s kind of hard to hold a conversation with him when he’s got you sitting all snug on his lap, cockhead hitting that special sensitive spot of yours that you never knew you had until you start your little arrangement with him. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s the only person capable of reducing you to a hot, whiny mess but when you instinctually tighten up around his cock, he lets out a soft, smug laugh.

His warm breath tickles your ear when he leans down to tell you, “Told ya I’d teach you a thing or two.”

You try to tilt your head back so your eyes can meet his. You don’t like looking up to people, but Osamu is just so big. You’re sitting on him, pussy clamping down on his fat cock that’s buried snugly inside of you, your back pressed against his muscular chest. The man owns a restaurant; surely hauling all those massive rice bags couldn’t have possibly given him this figure. You want to make a face, let him know that his “I told you so” is not appreciated, but when he makes eye contact with you, he gives you a smirk — a warning. A split second later, he thrusts up, and you can’t hold back your moan.

He did that on purpose, you think to yourself. He’s always baiting you, always waiting for the right moment to catch you off guard. You’re a favorite to win the Japan’s Women’s tennis tournament; no one catches you off guard.

But when you’re out on the road, traveling with your team, and your starvation-induced tantrum leads to your coach making a pitstop to some hole-in-the-wall restaurant named Onigiri Miya, you learn that it is possible for someone to trip you up.

“So you’re the girl with the killer serve,” is what he says the first time he’s taking your order. “You don’t look like much of a killer to me.”

You’re pissed, hungry, and still upset over hearing the men’s team talk about how you look good in your skirt and should consider modeling for Sports Illustrated instead of trying to make it big in tennis. You’re frowning when you tell him, “Are you the owner of this restaurant?”

“Yep.”

“Doesn’t look like much of a restaurant to me.” In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t be rude to the man handling your food.

“It’s up and coming.” He says, eyes looking you up and down in a way that makes you suddenly very, very hyper aware of how fitted your top and how short your skirt is. He’s not ogling you; he’s sizing you up. Like you’re a challenge. “It’ll look it soon enough.”

You like a good challenge.

When you come back the next week, high off your victory, you walk through the doors of Onigiri Miya, smug and prideful.

The feeling intensifies whenever he tells you he saw your game, but you’re immediately dissatisfied when he hits you with a, “Ya still got a lot to learn, though.”

Your first lesson? Taking three of his thick fingers knuckle-deep in your pussy as your back is pressed against the wall of the storage room of Onigiri Miya. There’s only one single light bulb flickering in the darkness of the pantry, but you don’t focus on that. Instead, you focus on the searing heat from between your thighs, too eager to chase after pleasure to care about the fact that you’re so wet, you can hear every thrust.

You’re so close to cumming, you find yourself moving your hips upwards, trying to bring yourself to release even faster. He immediately stops his ministrations, making an annoyed sound of clear disapproval.

“You need to learn how to stop bein’ so damn greedy.” His words come out as a raspy whisper, and when your walls involuntarily clench around his fingers, there’s a small noise that seems to come from the back of his throat. He’s holding himself back.

Somehow, the fact that you have a strong effect on him as well makes you so pleased, you find yourself gripping his shoulder as you disobediently grind against his fingers yourself, letting out a loud whine as you cum all over his hand.

With heated cheeks and heavy breathing, you let Osamu Miya know that being greedy is what makes you such a star player. You don’t get by with just taking what’s given to you; everything, from points on the court to a more-than-satisfactory orgasm, is yours for the taking.

You don’t expect him to just smile at your prideful remark, and you certainly don’t expect him to remove his fingers from you, hold them up to the light so you can both admire the way his index, middle, and ring fingers are glistening with your juices, before he licks the pads of them.

Is the room heating up? Did the air conditioning suddenly break? You feel hotter than usual as you watch the vulgar display, and you should be ashamed of the way your knees are already weak from hitting your climax, ashamed of the way you have to press your thighs together so he doesn’t catch the way you’re already anticipating a round two.

“Have a taste, baby.” He’s grinning, smiling like the damn devil himself, as he extends his hand, brings the tips of his fingers to your lips. You shake your head no, not trusting yourself to speak.

He pretends to sound disappointed. “No?” Then with a shrug and a smug more for me then, he licks the rest of your essence off of his fingers.

“I could go for a second helping.”

The sentence barely leaves his mouth before you find yourself parting your thighs to welcome him back.

Through the course of three months, you find yourself being taught various lessons from Osamu. He teaches you to mind your manners and refuses to fuck into you, choosing to tease you with the head of his cock instead.

“Not gonna fuck ya ‘til you say please.”

Like with your tennis matches, it all boils down to a game of stamina. Who can hold out the longest? His tip is wet and sticky with pre, and you can catch every hitch of his breath as he rubs against your clit. You’re soaking through his bedsheets, his bed being the only comfortable piece of furniture he has in his “work in progress” of a bachelor pad.

He practices breathing exercises with you when he pushes himself as far as your little throat can take him. Drool will be dribbling out the corners of your swollen lips, and he has your hair bunched up in a makeshift ponytail, strands sloppily wrapped around his hand as he watches you try to take all of him in your mouth.

“You gotta breathe through your nose, baby. Atta girl, that’s my good girl.”

He teaches you that you like praise.

He’s more observant than you realize. You can tell from the way he recaps and analyzes your matches with you after a particularly rough game, and you can tell from the way he’ll notice if the way he has you bent over the kitchen counter is uncomfortable for you. He knows you like the way he gives it to you hard, sloppy, messy. You have a meticulous training routine, every aspect of your life reduced to a bullet point on an itinerary from your personal coach.

It makes sense that his sloppy kisses, the ones that leave your lips swollen, the ones that are less than kisses and more of just messy exchanges of spit, are your favorites. You like being reduced to a wet, boneless, fucked out little mess, and you like it because it’s all coming from him. He has a business to tend you, and you have a professional athletic career, and yet, the world is reduced to his barebones apartment bedroom. No tennis matches, no food truck deliveries to worry about.

Just your back pressed against his chest, the thin material of your athletic tanktop and his tight fitted compression shirt doing nothing to stop the searing exchange from both of your bodies’ heat.

“Told ya I’d teach you a thing or two.”

All you can do is close your eyes and lose yourself to the overwhelming pleasure of having him buried to the hilt inside of you.

“You’re so good for me, ya know that?” You like the way he grunts out the words, punctuating each word with a thrust that has you clinging to his forearm, both of his hands wrapped tightly around your stomach so you can stay still, stay easily accessible for him. “You’re not just my good girl, you’re my best girl.”

You let his words of praise soak you to the bone. You’re letting out desperate, high-pitched, needy whines, and there’s no more holding back on his end. He’s fucking into you with the stamina and strength that rivals some athletes.

You finish first; you always do. You tried, once, to get him to cum before you, but once he caught on to your little scheme, he stretched your body, had your legs folded and sore as he fucked into you almost angrily, like getting him off before you have is something he takes personal offense to.

He’s addicted to watching you cum. The way you can’t control your body, your tight, always stressed out body that only seems able to relax when he’s smothering you, his body heat getting lost and mixed up with yours. You fit so perfectly against him, under him, on top of him. When you cum, you tilt your head back, resting against his shoulder. Your eyes look dazed, almost like you’re unable to see straight, but he stares at you, smiling as he realizes that every time you cum, you can’t help but search for him.

When he finishes inside of you, you think you’re close to cumming again. The rush of hot, thick heat flooding your now-sloppy insides has you whining so cutely, he almost wants to start fucking into you again. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets you rest, gives you a minute to catch your breath.

“I don’t normally do this, y’know.” He sounds a bit out of breath, and it fills you with deep satisfaction to know that you’re capable of having this effect on him. It’d be embarrassing to be beat in a contest of stamina when you’re the professional athlete here.

“So you’ve said.”

Osamu is busy with his business, and you’re busy with tennis. The two of you know that there’s not a lot of room for a relationship, but the two of you are also well aware of the fact that there’s something more to this than just good sex. It’s obvious in the way he holds you, and it’s obvious in the way you let him. He wants to cook you good food and to meet his mother, and you want him at all your games, to dedicate your victory speeches to him.

“I wanna do this right.” And he’s so sincere when he says it that it makes your heart flutter, gives you the unfamiliar sensation of butterflies in your tummy. “I wanna take you out on dates and for you to meet my family.”

“I’ve never been in a relationship.” You admit this to him, even though he already knows. “So, I wouldn’t know what’s the ‘right’ way to go about it, anyway.” You peer up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. “But you promised you’d teach me a thing or two.”

“Yeah?” The word comes out breathless, full of anticipating, wanting, hope.

“And I think I really don’t mind being taught every once in a while.”

#osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #osamu x reader #osamu smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #one shot #imagine #drabble

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 days

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Hey! Can you do an Adam x Reader wher he reacts to you pregnancy cravings? Thank you again? Have a great day!

A/n: i feel like adam would try to steal the food at first 😂

"What the fuck you eatin babe?"

Snapping your head up, you narrowed your eyes pulling the plate of ribs towards you with a side of peanut butter near you. "Food"

Taking another step towards you, your husband pointed to the peanut butter. "Ya, but what is that shit you're dippin it." The man wrinkled his nose as you tore off a piece of meat slathering it with peanut butter.

"What do you think?" You snapped as your lips then started to quiver. "Am I disgusting? You think I'm gross don't you."

Adam's eyes went wide, panicking as he knelt down beside you. "Oh no! Babe...I don't think it's disgusting! It's cute that you're combing these food's together!"

Sniffling, you ran your tongue across your lips as you gave him a smile. "Really?"

Brushing one of your tears away, Adam nodded his head as he then tried a piece. "Ah hey! This shit is good."

Placing his hand on your growing belly the man let out a laugh shaking his head. "See the kid knows his food, just like his old man."

"Adam!" You let out a small whine as you let your arms around his neck. "I'm hungry."

Biting back a yawn, the lan wrapped his arms around your hips pulling you into his lap as he placed a small kiss to the nape of your neck. "Well what do you want then babe."

"Tuna fish and chocolate milk"

"I...." Adam paused then cleared out his throat slowly nodded his head. The things that you've been craving, never in his life he'd seen these strange ass combinations but this was you. He would do anything for you. "Sure babe."

Giving you a smile, he placed a kiss to the side of your head as he gave your hips a squeeze as he lifted you up. "Anything for you."

Biting back a yawn, you smiled rubbing your belly again to sooth the kicks as you watched him leave to grab the food. "Thank you!"

#drabbles #drabble #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #adam hazbin x reader #adam hazbin #hazbin adam #adam x reader #adam x you #adam x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n

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mirage-aera · 3 days

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•°. *࿐ Sick days || JH86

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Love Lost - Mac Miller, The Temper Trap

Synopsis: Sick days usually aren’t fun. Especially for Jack. He hates them. But you somehow always make it better.

Word count: 1.401

Masterlist

Am I watching the canucks game while writing this? Yes, and stressing over it

When they said that men are always the most dramatic when they catch the common cold, you didn’t believe them. You thought it was an exaggeration. But the way Jack has been acting the past three days? Yeah, it’s not an exaggeration. You’re both curing his cold while nursing your own headache. One that’s been a product of his whining. This man is acting as if he’s on his deathbed, a damsel in distress, a whiny little-. You love him, but you wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of sedating him for a day so that you could get some peace and quiet. You would like to know how Ellen handled him whenever he got sick. It’s almost unbearable.

“Babyyy?”

“Am I dying? It feels like I’m dying.”

“Everything hurts…”

“More medicine? I don’t need it. It’s disgusting.”

“Can you please get me a painkiller? I do need it…”

The need to hit him with a pan to knock him out for a few hours is concerningly high. You’re trying to be patient with him. He’s not feeling well, and not being active, those are things that he hates and you know that. You’re really trying to be patient with him. However, he makes it very hard to when he’s whining every other minute.

You hide yourself in the kitchen to make sure Jack will leave you alone for a minute. You absentmindedly stir canned chicken soup in a small pan. When it starts smoking you take it off the heat and grab a bowl. You pour the soup into the bowl and grab a spoon. You carefully walk to your bedroom with the bowl, a bottle of water, and a pill. You open the door a little wider and walk up to him. He sniffles but manages to crack out a small smile. “There you are. I missed you.” He says softly, making your heart melt. Sick as ever and he still manages to make butterflies flutter. “I was only gone for a minute.” You say gently as you place the bottle and pill on his nightstand. You hold out the bowl of soup. He grimaces at the sight of it. You give him a stern look. “You need to eat something. Otherwise, you won’t get better. And make sure you take a pill after or while you eat.” You can’t help but fuss over him a bit.

He groans in response but takes the bowl from you. He starts eating at a slow pace. You sit by his bedside and watch him eat. Pale, sweaty face, hair pointing in all sorts of directions, and yet he still is so handsome to you. He notices that you’re staring and glances at you. He lets out a raspy chuckle. “There’s nothing noteworthy to stare at right now.” You smile and move his hair out of his face. It’s starting to become a little long again. “There’s plenty to stare at. You’ll always be pretty in my eyes.” His eyes shine at your comment. “Pretty?” He asks with amusement in his voice. You roll your eyes but can’t help but let a grin creep up your face. “Sorry. Handsome.” He smiles triumphantly. “That’s what I thought.”

He soon finishes his bowl of soup. You take it from him and set it aside. You hand him the bottle of water and the small white pill. He takes it from you. You notice how clammy his hands are. You frown as you watch him down the pill followed by big gulps of water. You place the back of your hand against his forehead. Your frown deepens when you feel how warm he still is. He knows better than to fight you back so he lets you do your thing. “Your fever is not letting up. You should get some more rest. That might help.” You say softly. He nods and slides underneath the blankets. He pulls it up to his chin. You gently run a hand through his hair. “I’ll be in the living room. Just holler if you need me.” You say softly. Although, you’re secretly hoping he’ll sleep for a couple of hours. For both of your sakes. “Alright.” He croaks before shutting his eyes. You watch over him until you’re sure he’s fallen asleep. You get up carefully and make your way to the living room.

***

Time passes by quickly when you’re finally able to relax. You check the time on your phone only to realize Jack has been sleeping for a while now. You get up from the couch and quietly walk back towards your bedroom. You peek your head in only to see Jack snoring away without a care in the world. You smile at the sight, happy that he’s getting some rest. You realize that the blanket has slipped down a little. You carefully walk up to him and tuck him back in. You tuck the sides underneath him. Tightly wrapping him up in the blanket. He looks like a burrito. A 5’11 burrito.

You step back and take in the sight. You let out a quiet snicker. You pull out your phone and take a picture. Saving that for later. You look at him one more time before leaving the room and going back to the couch. You throw yourself down onto the couch and look at the picture you’ve taken. You snort. Jack’s going to kill you for sure once he finds out. You send it to the Hughes brothers group chat that Jack has ever so kindly thrown you into.

Another hour passes as you’re peacefully watching something on the television. You laugh at the conversation going on in the group chat. You hear some rustling from the bedroom. You’re about to get up when you hear a hoarse holler. “Baby!” You chuckle, “yeah bub?” He lets out a loud groan. “You did not send that picture in the group chat!” You let out a laugh and make your way towards him. You snicker when you see his phone in his hand. The group chat is still open. “I did. It was way too hilarious to pass up. You were like a burrito. Or should I say a Jackrito? One of a kind.” He pouts at you. “Really? A Jackrito? Was that necessary?” He asks, almost offended by your shenanigans. You snicker. “Yes. It’s funny.” He crosses his arms and huffs. “I don’t find you very amusing right now.” He retorts before he gets into a coughing fit. You pat his back, helping him through it. “You’ll find it amusing when you get better.” He glares at you and shakes his head. He stops coughing. “You’re still in trouble. Don’t forget that, because I certainly won’t.” You let out a snort. “Whatever you say bub.” You look at him affectionately. You suddenly get a great idea. “I should send the picture to your mom.” His eyes widen at what you said. “No!” He exclaims. You burst out into laughter. He huffs and pulls the blanket over him. “I’m glad you are having fun while I’m dying.” You roll your eyes. “Now you’re being dramatic again. For the millionth time, you are not dying Jack. You simply have the common cold.” He lets out a raspy chuckle. He lifts the blanket slightly and pulls you into him. He covers you both with the blanket. “It feels like I’m dying, especially when you aren’t around.” You can’t help but smile at that, despite his theatrics. You can feel yourself getting tired. Even though it isn’t that late yet. The warmth he’s emitting is so comforting. You let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

***

A week later he’s back on his feet. But he transferred his germs to you. You’re as sick as a dog. He walks into your bedroom with a bowl of soup in his hands. “This will make you feel better.” You glare at him. He laughs, “are you still mad at me for getting you sick?” You nod, “what do you think?” He snickers and sets the bowl aside. He sits by your side and rubs your arm tenderly. “I said sorry baby. But…” he trails off. He shows you a cheeky grin. “It’s only the common cold. Don’t be so dramatic. You still want to hit him with a pan. “I hate you.” He rolls his eyes before planting a kiss on your forehead. “I love you too. Get better soon, okay?”

#hockey #nhl #nhl fic #nhl hockey #nhl players #nhl x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes imagine #jh86 #new jersey devils #nj devils #blurb #drabble #fluff

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my-love-is-sunlight · 11 hours

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Kitchen counter

Fluff drabble + gn reader

Law almost jumps out of his skin when he spots you drowsy on the kitchen counter, alone in silence underneath the white lights of the submarine, almost like a lucid dream

He approaches you from behind, keeping silent

He towers over you even when sitting down, his eyes wonder on your peaceful face, eyes closed, hand under your chin while the other stays clinging to your cup of tea

You hate tea, you must’ve been desperate, looking for a cure to your sleepless night

He admires you for a while, not noticing he may appear a little bit creepy just staring, but you look just so effortlessly dreamy

“I can feel you staring, Captain” you mutter, your voice soft like a summer breeze, but it shakes Law to his core

He takes a step back and panics, but as your giggles meets his ears, he relaxes, a smirk forming in his lips as he decides to sit beside you

“Sleeping on the kitchen won’t help you rest better” you let out a tired sigh, your head turning to your Captain

When your eyes meet, Law can’t help but wonder if you always look at him the way you’re looking at him now, so sweet and warm, like he’s the answer to all of your problems

The calmness of the late night allows him to unravel, savoring the moment of your shared presence, bodies tired and souls alight

“I just had a long day”

He knew this. At very early hours of the day, he had heard your loud screaming trough the hallways of the sub, bashing over Satchi and Penguin who had thrown away an important paper you had been working on when they were tasked with cleaning your office

So you had to redo the whole paperwork

Because of this, you were late for dinner and the worst thing imaginable had happened, you didn’t get any dessert

Your favorite part of the day

Suddenly, Law feels a weight on his shoulder, he turns to see your head nuzzled on his side, eyes lost looking at the emptiness of the kitchen. A new feeling forms in his heart, he can feel it reeling going a mile per minute, warmth irradiates from his flushed face, and even though this feeling is new and alien, he likes it

Another silence falls over both, but this one’s different, this one is sweet, homely and welcome, a silence that speaks louder than any words could

Scared, Law allows his head to fall over yours, the way his body fits with yours in prefect harmony makes his heart swell. He closes his eyes and prays for this moment to remain forever, he wants you all to himself like this everyday

After a while, your weight falls slack, he peeks to see you completely asleep. He smiles to himself, a hand traveling to push away the lost strands of hair, showing him a full picture of your beautiful face

Big mistake

Another wave of that same emotion he felt moments ago washes over him, what were you doing to this poor man?

What was he to do now?

Ever so gently, he removes his arm to support your back while the other goes down to your feet so he can pick you up bridal style, keeping you close to his chest. As he walks you to your room, he feels you clenching at his shirt, looking for his warmth

He lets you down light as a feather, but a part of him doesn’t want to let go, a part of him wants to take you away

He peeks at Ikkaku’s bed praying to every god above that she hasn’t woken up, to his delight she is fast asleep without a care in the world. He tucks you in with the outmost care, before he stares at you yet again, burning this moment into his memory

“Good night” he whispers, making his way out to his bed

As he drifts to sleep he wonders if having you by his side every night would help you sleep better

It’ll help him sleep better that’s for sure

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

Text

the girl next door 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You can’t remember the last time you had the house to yourself. Even if your mother’s just next door, it feels a little lighter around there. And you’re happy for her. Maybe having Steve around will be good. He can be an outlet so she doesn’t have to put all her frustrations on you.

She was happy when she left, even excited. That’s another rarity in your life.

You start your day off with a tea. The apple cinnamon bags are a bit old so you use two. You bring the cup into your room and get your table set up with your pencils and sketchbook. You open the window to let in the sunlight, the natural light much brighter than the yellowed bulb above.

You know your mom would tell you to do something more useful than just scribble in your sketchbook. You got the dishes done last night. Steve offered to help but you deflected as you foresaw your mom’s disapproval. You can’t let company pick up your slack.

You try to wipe away the anxiety of last night. It’s over now. You shouldn’t have worry very much about it again.

You finish your tea. It’s cold by the time you get to the dregs. You sit back to look over your sketch. Your eyes feel a bit fuzzy from hyperfocusing on that one stamen. You rub your brow and yawn. The sun shifts and you look over at the old alarm clock on your nightstand. It’s close to noon.

Something else catches your eye. You look up at the window across from yours. The curtain ripples around the gap before it’s pulled open from inside. Steve stands on the other side of the pane. Can he see you?

You can’t tell as he turns away without acknowledgement. The glare of the sun should hide your room well enough. You never really thought of it as your blinds are closed more often than not.

You get up to rinse out your cup. You stretch your legs as you pace in the kitchen. You’re restless. You’re so used to your mom and her demands and expectations, that having your own time feels aimless.

You could surprise your mother with dinner. Have it in the oven when she comes home. It’s still early but you can make something more than boxed macaroni. It will be a good cushion to fall back on when you remind her about tomorrow’s appointment.

🏠

When your mother returns, you can see the fatigue around her eyes. For as little as she goes out, you’re not surprised. What strikes you, is how happy she is. You help her to her recliner and she sighs as she leans back.

“Such a nice man,” she keeps repeating.

You smile and let her regale you with a recounting of her day. Still, you can’t help but wait for the pendulum to swing back to normal. She leans her head in her hand, her eyes distant.

“I swear, the universe sent him to me,” she says, “it had to. It was how much I need someone.” She drops her hand and traces her finger around the armrest, “sick, got a lazy daughter, stuck in this damn house...”

There it is. You frown. You mash your hands together and waver.

“I made dinner,” you offer.

“I don’t want KD,” she snips.

“I made... I made shepherd’s pie,” you offer meekly, “should be almost done.”

“Hm, wondered what that stench was.”

You frown. “I can put it in the fridge for tomorrow. Be good to have something we can just heat up after the doctor’s.”

“Doctor?” She grumbles, “eh... I forgot.”

She slumps and her eyes dull. You can’t help the pang in your chest. Sometimes you wish it was you who was sick. It feels like you deserve it more than her.

“Hopefully it’s good. If you can get the surgery--”

“Surgery!? Surgery. You keep going on about the damn thing,” she barks. “They can’t fix me, girl, get that through your head.”

“I know, mom, but they can help--”

“Like you help me? Crittering around here like a rat!” She hits the armrest violently, “would ya leave me be?” She closes her eyes and turns her face away, deflating once more, “ruined a good day...”

You sniffle and slowly turn on your heel. You should have known better. You should have just left her alone. As much as she rants about you staying in your room, she prefers you there. Out of sight, out of mind.

🏠

The next day, your mother doesn’t say much. Her silence is just a bitter as her words. You don’t push it. She gets in the car without argument and you set off into town. Even if she says it’s a waste of time, she listens intently to the doctor and answers all his questions. It’s only when she has to go through the tests that she shows her agitation.

After some hours spent at the specialist clinic, you’re free to go. Your mom is just as quiet. You feel her mood roiling in the air. Her hand is shaking to the point that she’s hissing at it.

You steer down to the corner and linger at the stop sign.

“Mom,” you squeak, “you want some orange julius? A treat for the way home?”

“Don’t talk to me like a damn child,” she snarls. “Let’s just go. I’m tired. Got no blood left in me.”

You nod and bite your tongue. Maybe you can just put her to bed. Her naps are a respite, though you find yourself anxious in the silence, terrified of waking her prematurely.

As you pull onto the suburban avenue, you slow and approach your drive. You pull in and shut off the engine. You get out and go around to help your mom. You open her door and she hauls herself out, tisking under her breath.

“Didn’t see him,” she mutters.

“Good afternoon,” Steve’s voice answers your question before you can ask. You look over the hood as he waves from his porch, “busy day?”

Your mother steels herself and forces a smile, “just went to the doctors.”

“Oh, everything okay?” He asks.

“Sure,” she chimes, “just some tests. Nothing serious.”

“Good to hear,” he stands behind the porch railing, arches crossed, “day’s not over yet. Still lots of time to enjoy the sun.”

“Mhmm,” you mom grabs onto your wrist, shaking you as leans into you. “Nice day out.”

“I was gonna do up a milkshake, if you ladies wanted to join me I got plenty to go around.”

“Milkshakes?” Your mother considers, “mm, I’d have to change out of these.” She looks down, “smell like a hospital.”

“Sure, take your time,” Steve says, “how about you, honey? I got strawberry. You seem like a strawberry type.”

“Eh, she’s more a vanilla type,” your other cackles. “Plain.”

“Got that too,” Steve ignores the joke. “I understand if you’re tired out though. Don’t wanna be too desperate over here, just wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I’ll be over soon,” your mom assures him, “she’s got some laundry to do.”

She keeps hold of you and points you towards the house. You help her inside, even though she does her best to hid how she clings to you. Her steps are uneven and stunted. You get through the front door and help her sit on the chair you keep by the door, just in case.

“Goddamnit,” she’s shaking pretty bad. “Help me, you dumb girl.”

“I... I don’t...”

“Get my goddamn inhaler. I forgot it this morning.”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

You hurry down the hall and to bathroom. It isn’t in the cabinet. You go back out and scan the table. Not their either. You find it next to her recliner. You wish she’d keep it one place. You go back to her and hand it over.

“I’m gonna go over,” she says before she huffs from the canister, “you’re gonna stay here. Out of my way.”

“Alright,” you agree. You prefer that anyway.

She takes a minute before she gets up. She shooes you away and you retreat to your bedroom. You sit on your bed and wring your hands, waiting as you listen to her. She doesn’t say goodbye before she leaves. Only the front door slamming lets you know she’s gone.

You exhale and pull the fold out table up to the edge of the bed. You open your sketchbook and stare at the pencil. You don’t feel like drawing but you have nothing else to do. You just sit, looking at the amaryllis. You can pick out every flaw in your work. You close the cover and frown.

A knock startles you and you stand up. Oh gosh, it’s probably Marge. What is it now? Is the siding too stained? Are the steps crooked? You get up and shuffles down the hall. You open the front door, hiding behind it as you poke your head around.

Steve has the screen door propped open against his elbow. He holds a tall glass filled with pink, “here. Figured I’d bring this over.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you accept the condensating glass, a wide straw poking out of the whipped cream topped drink.

“Maybe next time you can pop over too,” he suggests, “I’ve been working on getting the pool going...” he grins, “it’ll be a good summer for it.”

You nod and look down at the milkshake.

“Really nice of you,” you say.

“It’s nothing, sweetie,” he puts his hand on the door above him, looking down at you, “enjoy.”

“Uh,” you look at him then at the straw. You don’t want to be rude. You put your lips around the tip and take a sip. “Mm, yup, good. Thank you.”

His blue eyes stick to you and he drags his hand down the door, “I’ll make a deal. You come over to see the pool when it’s ready, and I’ll make you another. How about that, sweetie?”

You push your lips out. It’s not nice to say no. He didn’t have to bring you the milkshake or invite you. You shrug.

“Okay,” you agree, “erm, thanks again.”

He nods and taps the door frame before he steps back. He gently closes the screen door and you watch him through. He turns and strides down the stairs. You shiver as the cold glass numbs your fingers. Hopefully, he forgets about the pool thing. You don't even have a suit.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #au #silverfox au #the girl next door #mcu #marvel #captain america

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cute-sucker · 1 day

Text

note: thank you @.princessbrunette for creating boxer!rafe !!

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

you clutched the pregnancy test, clammy hands shaking as you felt more scared than ever. rafe was still in his match, and you- you were forbidden from coming to his matches. the last time you came his opponent had made a pass at you after rafe brutally beat him.

the guy plummeted to the ground before he could utter another word, and rafe decided that enough was enough. so he sat you down, in your little cameo shorts and baby white tee. your thick lashes battered as he tried to come out the truth. the two of you were in the completely vacant locker room.

"listen, kid, i don't think you should come to my matches anymore," he said gently, as you gripped his arm. you had a sweet expression on your face before you heard what he had said - quickly wilting as you frowned at him. before you could open your mouth he had already cupped your face as softly as he could.

his hands were rough and warm on your face, you could smell the brutality on them, yet you felt yourself at ease in his embrace. you could never admit it - but rafe had some control over you that you could never explain.

"i know you're going to say it's your calling," he quipped, leaning in closer. his hot breath fanned your neck, as his mouth nipped at your cheek, "but baby i don't think this place is good for you." you felt yourself unwind and opened your mouth to blubber something.

you finally gasped out, "but i wanna see you!"

he groaned, steady hand moving down to your waist. there was an amused expression on his face, but he stayed firm.

"rafe? please."

"no."

that was it. so you got another job, and later on, rafe told you to stay at tanyhill with him. you were overjoyed that you would get to see him more and that he was being so gracious. all the girls in the ring had told you he was a playboy and nothing more than that. and you would never tell rafe but it was nice not being a ring girl. sure it was a way to get money fast, but your thighs ached from the amount of times you shined and plucked them.

but it wasn't just that. it was also the dark humid lights that dawned upon you, and trotting while people eyed you like a piece of meat. and now, you felt free, and while rafe would never understand why you chose it - you were a waitress.

the owner, delany liked you, so she didn't give you a hard time about anything. it was a cafe where time seemed to slow and it was as if nothing could go wrong. you got up early in the morning, giving rafe a goodbye kiss while he was in bed as he groaned about you leaving so early. you took life at strides. things were great.

but here it was. a sign that maybe everything was going to go to shit. be fine. your heartbeat quickened and you could barely breath - that was when you knew it was going to be bad. you could barely imagine yourself pregnant.

how old were you? 25? yeah, that was too young and quite frankly did rafe even want a baby? sure he mentioned it sometimes, when you went to baby showers and cooed a baby clothes. but would he-? it was another mouth to feed and god you didn't know if you could support that. rafe, sure, but if he left you? and it was an actual human being to love.

finally, you found yourself rushing out of the bathroom. you had to tell him now, as your heart was on fire, and your hands were stinging. quickly you gathered your stuff and headed over to delany.

"i have to go."

˚❀༉‧₊˚.

the ring was the same as usual. the same musty smell, and that feeling of everything being possible. you weren't recognised - though you did see a couple of familiar faces in the crowd. but you weren't here to chit-chat.

urgency drummed through your veins as you found rafe. 12:35. it was almost time for his first match, and you couldn't dump on him like that. no, you really could there was this feeling. this feeling that ran through you like wildfire as you stumbled to him.

he looked good, better than good, but he looked alarmed as you twisted yourself around his body.

"hey, hey kid," he laughed at you furiously hugging his middle, "i love that you're here but i told you about visiting me, didn't i? we had this conversation-" he was stopped right there as you kissed him, cupping his face. he was out of breath, pupils dilated when it finally set in.

maybe he saw the way you sweet doe eyes were welling up with tears, or the way you swayed in his arms as if he let you go you could crumble, or the way you were trying to mouth words, but nothing was coming out of your mouth. he furiously swore under his breath, and pulled you along with him - you followed like a puppy.

the dim lights of the corner he had pulled you in soothed your state. no longer did your skin ich, but your head still pounded. rafe looked down at you with a worried expression, as he rubbed your back. you were still holding on to him, wide-eyed.

"hey?" he snapped his fingers, "can't be doing that here. not right now. what's wrong?" he asked harshly, and you shook your head, completely nonverbal. he raised a hand through his buzzed hair, concern evident in his eyes. whenever you got like this- which was never he had to remind himself to be gentle.

finally, he dropped himself, voice quiet. he didn't care if people saw him like this- all vulnerable. "sweets are you okay?" he probed again. finally with trembling hands, you reached out into your bag to get the pregnancy test- and broke into tears. the two double lines spread fear throughout his heart.

rafe had changed. that was a fact, he no longer was plagued by his fathers words as much as before. but could he be a father? suddenly he looked down at you, wispy lashes wet, and doe eyes pleading. suddenly, he felt something blossom in his heart. he imagined you running around in tannyhil, round with his kid. you would be wearing a pretty sun dress, as laughter rang through you.

finally, he closed his eyes, "it's gonna be okay."

you seemed to take that as a bad sign, gasping out muffled words, "no, rafe, i didn't know what was going to happen, please-" your hand reached out for his, hoping that things were going to be okay.

rafe was still looking at the test, as he closed and opened his mouth before shaking his hand, "we're gonna get married, all right? yeah, and i want you to stay here with me. 'cause i need you here." he said tapping your head. there was a watery smile on your face, as you jumped into his arms.

he held you tightly, and you sniffed. before letting go of him to look into his eyes. it was at that moment that you realised how much he loved you. when he's staring at you like you are his world, and his steel eyes are soft. when his eyes are welling up with tears.

"just really happy and shit," he chuckled, "i can't believe this," he murmured out before pressing his lips on yours. finally, he pulled apart from you, still gazing into your eyes.

"you should go," you found yourself whispering out "it's time for your match." yet your hand found a deathly hold on him.

you saw him smile, and give you a peck on the lips, "want you to watch, 'kay? i'm fighting this match for you," and then his hands travelled down to your stomach, "you and baby."

dazed you watched him step up into the ring and sighed. if this was love, you'd fight for it any day.

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