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ryukatters · 5 months

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it's your fault for loving me — y. okkotsu ⁺˚⋆｡°✩

⟡ pairing: yuuta okkotsu x fem!reader

⟡ cw: /DARK CONTENT, /yandere! yuuta, /dubcon, /NONCON, ex-bf!yuuta, stalking, he breaks into your apartment, he /manhandles you (he’s strong), /implied babytrapping, /possessiveness, MINORS DNI

⟡ wc: 2.9k (someone sedate me)

⟡ song inspo: language by brent faiyaz

⟡ summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks into your apartment. What do you mean he needs to leave? He’s staying right here.

The slow, muffled drag of your feet ricochet off the hallway walls as you trudge along to your apartment. You fumble with your keys for a little bit, but find no resistance as you insert it into the slot.

“Huh, that’s odd…I could’ve sworn I locked it.”

You chalk it up to exhaustion. You're only practically ever home to sleep due to the way you've been throwing yourself onto mission after mission. Even now, sleep is a luxury you can barely afford. You kick off your shoes lazily, not bothering putting them in their rightful place on the shoe rack.

Maybe before, you would have cared more about keeping the house tidy. Or maybe before, your loving boyfriend would pamper and coddle you the minute you opened the front door, so you never had to worry about the little details like putting your shoes in the right place.

You were exhausted.

You wanted nothing more than to wash up and plop down onto your soft, soft bed. You don’t even make it to your bedroom door before you pause, anxiety prickling your nerves.

You sense him before you see him. Yuuta’s cursed energy has always had a tendency to seep out whenever he was around you. Whether it’s a testament to how he’s able to fully relax in your presence or a display of raw power, you’re not sure.

"You're home," a certain black-haired sorcerer chirps. "How was your mission?"

In the past, simply hearing Yuuta’s voice would be enough to melt away the pent up stress from a hard day of exorcizing curses. It’d soothe your aching muscles and tired soul as you let yourself be enveloped by the weight of his affection. But right now, it did everything except that.

The shiver of excitement that used to run down your spine is replaced by trepidation caused by the only person who used to be able to comfort you.

You know better than to ask how he knew you were on a mission, much less ask how he managed to break into your apartment. It seems he's been in here for a while, with the way he seems to have made himself at home on your bed, much like the way he used to before.

"Why are you here?"

The question makes him sit up.

“Because I missed you. Is that so bad?”

You want to laugh. The whole situation is all sorts of fucked up, and the two of you are talking about it the same way one would the weather.

“Yuuta, we broke up 2 months ago,” you press, vexation lacing your words. You could never imagine yourself using that tone on him. Yuuta’s always been so meticulous in loving you, in making sure you were happy. He’s never given you a reason to be upset with him. But that was then, and this was now.

You could say whatever you wanted to say. You were tired and definitely not in the mood to deal with a supposed burglar that happens to be in the form of your ex-boyfriend.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he says simply.

“You walked out on me!”

“Because I thought you needed some space. And now I’m back. But I never said we were breaking up.”

Space was an extremely generous term for what Yuuta gave you. If you could consider watching your every move from a distance, keeping tabs on who you talk to, and making sure you stay out of trouble secretly, “space.” He would never let you know that though. It’s too much, too soon.

He couldn't help it, not when his precious baby could get hurt. He’d never forgive himself if that happened.

“Come and sit, my love. You look so tired.” He pats the space next to him. You will your heart not to flutter at the familiar nickname.

Your body moves before your brain can catch up. It’s almost like listening to him was muscle memory. You pause in your step, cross your arms, and glare at him.

“Leave, Yuuta. I don’t want to see you.” The words rise from the very depths of your soul and spill out of your mouth like bile, burning and spiteful. It hurts to speak to him like this, even after he’d abandoned you with no hopes of return.

“Sit, love.” A little more demanding this time. “I’m not repeating myself again.”

The tension in the air is palpable, so thick you can cut it with a knife.

You take a seat. Yuuta doesn’t miss a beat before he has his hands on you.

“Missed you,” his hand reaches out to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing against the plushness of your cheek.

You’ve always been so soft, it’s one of the things Yuuta loves the most about you.

You flinch. Blame it on the adrenaline coursing through your body like wildfire. Your fight or flight response is shot. Yuuta’s touch seems to rewrite everything that’s been hardwired into your brain.

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before moving down to kiss the tip of your nose, and both of your cheeks. Each press of his lips leaves feels like it’s being seared into your flesh, a metaphorical branding iron of sorts— to show that you’re Yuuta’s and Yuuta’s only.

Your mind goes blank when he sucks a kiss into the side of your neck, whimpering pathetically as he grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin.

“We can’t do this,” you assert, but the words get stuck in your throat, so it comes out more as a whiny sigh. Your body seems to have a tendency to betray you when it comes to him.

“But we can,” Yuuta coos, pushing you down until your back is flat against the mattress. He takes both of your hands in his, lifting them up until they’re above your head, effectively pinning you in place. “We’re doing it right now, aren’t we?”

Yuuta can appear pretty unassuming to outsiders. He’s quiet, reserved, almost meek. If one were to take a closer look, however, they’d realize that beneath that unostentatious front was a more commanding aura, one that forces you to submit to his whims with his sweet tongue and sensuous touches. Perfectly calculated, perfectly executed.

"I fucking hate you,” you spit, thrashing against his hold, but to no avail.

"No you don't,” Yuuta shuts you down with conviction. Like it’s the absolute truth— the kind that can’t be twisted or broken. It almost feels like he’s chastising you for thinking otherwise. “Take that back right now.”

To be honest, hearing those words stung more than any physical blow you could have ever landed on him. Has he not shown you enough love? Or have you already forgotten?

Isn’t what you have pure love?

A hand wraps around your neck, lithe fingers inching up before they grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “I said,” blunt fingernails digging into your skin, “take it back.”

You sputter out an apology with teary eyes, an odd mix of humiliation and regret seeping into your bones, stomach swirling with shame and to your horror, a tinge of anticipation.

It’s pathetic, really, how easily you give in.

“Now give me a kiss, sweetheart.” Yuuta bridges the gap between the two of you. He presses his already throbbing bulge against your clothed pussy, moaning into your mouth appreciatively.

You feel so dizzy you think you might explode.

Yuuta makes quick work of the buttons on your uniform, releasing your wrists so he can throw the offending garment and all your underthings beneath it to some random corner of the room.

Calloused hands roam your body, squeezing and groping, as if to map out the cartography of your flesh, committing each peak and valley to memory. He watches in fascination how your skin bristles with goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

He ignores your pleading cries and attempts to push him off. Yuuta is being driven by pure instinct alone. That sick, twisted voice in his head that he’s always tried to suppress whispers. It goads him on to take what he wants, to make sure you remember that you’re his, and his alone.

He knows that you haven’t been seeing anyone. You were always so loyal, even when you were upset with him. Anyone who did try was taken care of the minute they left your sight.

It’s been far too long since he’s had you. His desire fills him with a sort of quiet rage, one that metamorphoses into something darker, more sinister and morose the longer he goes without you. Almost like a curse that’s gone far too long without feeding.

Yuuta Okkotsu loves you to the point of madness.

He thinks he might literally implode in on himself any second longer without you.

It’s almost laughable how different the two of you are. An ethereal beauty too good for this world, yet here you were in between the legs of a cursed man with too much love than he knows what to do with.

“Yuuta, please,” you cry out. You flail your legs in an attempt to kick Yuuta off. He catches both with ease, throwing them over his shoulder to slide your bottoms off, leaving you completely bare.

He can’t suppress the groan that tumbles past his lips. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers.

You’re dewy eyed and gasping, nails clawing at his forearms and beating at his chest in a last ditch effort to stand your ground. Nothing can deter him.

Yuuta could easily heal himself if he wanted to. But the angry red welts and blossoming hues of purple on his pale skin are a badge of honor of the utmost prestige. It’s undeniable proof that you’re real, that his love for you isn’t just a fragment of his imagination, and that none of this was just some pipe dream. He could take a little pain if that meant you got to be his.

He’s always been yours without any reservations.

“You can cry if you want, if it helps,” he says genuinely, but the gleam in his eyes shifts into something predatory. “But you should know you’re really fucking wet.” As if to prove a point, he slowly fucks his middle finger into your weeping hole, then his index, then his ring. They curl up to rub against that spongy spot just the way you like.

You let out a sharp gasp, spine arching off the mattress.

You tried to ignore him—detach yourself from the whole situation, let him get his fill, and be done with this whole ordeal. But it’s Yuuta— the man has a grasp on both the corporal and spiritual parts of you that you can’t bring yourself to understand. It seems like he knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. And right now, he’s managed to make a home in all five of your senses. There’s no escape. He's made sure of that.

He pulls out his fingers with a lewd squelch. A clear sheen of liquid coats every digit, stringy as he parts them to show you. He smiles knowingly.

“You keep fighting me, but it turns out you want it after all, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks burn in humiliation. Whether it’s from the situation at hand or the truth behind his words, you’re not too sure.

“Don’t you know?” Yuuta rasps, fingers going back to work their way inside you rhythmically, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice, paying special attention to how you try to mask how your face contorts in pleasure.

He presses his forehead against yours, willing you to look at him wordlessly. “I know what’s best for you. I know what you want. And right now, this little pussy wants to be fucked. Isn’t that right, my love?”

He’s met with a breathless moan. You’re so close. Tears threaten to fall as your chest heaves in exertion, trying not to teeter off the edge too soon.

You look so pathetic it’s insane. Yuuta swears he can feel his mouth water in anticipation for what’s bound to come next. He thrusts his fingers with calculating speed and precision, the heel of his palm slapping against your neglected clit just right.

He leans down right when you cum, lips catching yours as you moan into his mouth. Satisfaction swells in his chest as your slick drips down his wrist.

“You’re ready.”

Yuuta unbuttons his pants, pulling it down just enough for his cock to spring free, tip slapping his abdomen as it leaks with precum. He fists it, jerking his hand up and down his length. He slaps it against your clit once, twice, and a third time before he slips it inside your weeping hole.

Your walls spasm around his cock to accommodate his sheer size and girth, struggling a bit more than usual. You feel so full. It’s been far too long since he’s fucked you. You claw at his lower abdomen, trying to make space between the two of you. It’s all too much, all at once. Yuuta won’t have it. He slips his hands under your sweaty thighs, pinning your ankles on either side of your head, effectively folding you in half. You cry out at the stretch.

“Always take me so well, angel.”

He sets a steady pace, dragging his cock in, pulling out, and then back in with an absurd amount of force. The sound of skin on skin ricochets against your bedroom walls like a sort of cacophonous symphony. You don’t get the luxury of the sweet, slow thrusts he usually blesses you with, while he coos about how good you are for him.

“Where’s all that attitude from earlier? Am I making you feel that good?”

You glower, refusing to acknowledge the fact that your body betrays your mind— that Yuuta’s bringing you closer and closer to nirvana the further he drags you down into hell.

He slides his hand down your tummy, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Yuuta—!” You clench around his length, hurtling towards your second orgasm quickly.

“You’re so greedy. Cumming again already?”

He’s met with silence. He’ll forgive your transgressions this time around. He’ll just have to teach you how to be his good girl again.

A particularly rough thrust has you choking back a moan.

“Thought so. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

Your peak hits you like a crashing wave. Your body tenses, leaving you gasping for air as you clench around Yuuta’s cock. You cry out deliriously, falling apart as Yuuta continues to pound into you. It’s too much, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. You’re stuck.

“I’m the only one that can make you feel this way, understand?” He grits his teeth, staving off his release just a little longer. He fucks you through your orgasm thoroughly as he chases his own.

He presses all of his body weight on top of you, your legs on either side of his head as he folds you into a mating press. He groans at the change in position, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper.

Realization cuts through your cloudy judgment like a sword.

“Yuuta— Yuuta, please. Pull out–!”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears. He’s rambling now, intoxicated by all you have to offer, yet you’re the one paying the price. The effects of overstimulation are taking over now, your body twitching involuntarily with each thrust.

“I’m not leaving you, ever. It’s just you and me.”

You shake your head in objection, mind too hazy to voice out any resistance. Tears well up, threatening to spill from your lash line.

Yuuta nods with a grin, canines glinting, just like a predator that’s caught its prey. “It’s true, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it. Say I’m it for you. That I’m the only one.”

“Say it.”

“You’re it for me, Yu. The only one.” You babble, tears streaming freely now.

You feel the moment he reaches his plateau— the way his dick twitches inside of you right before your walls are being painted white with splashes of Yuuta’s hot cum.

Your fate’s been sealed.

He fucks into you a few more times, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he rides out his orgasm. A white ring wraps around the base of his cock, the copious amounts of seed he’s poured into you threatening to leak out.

Yuuta doesn’t bother pulling out. In a quick show of dexterity and freak strength, he manages to flip the both of you so that your positions are switched, with you lying on top of Yuuta’s chest. The steady beat of his heart fills your mind.

Your entire body is on fire. You feel numb. You let yourself be carried away by the prospect of sleep, hoping that you’ll wake up to find that this was all just some wild fragment of your imagination.

He presses a hand against your head, like he was afraid you’d pull away and ruin whatever fantasy he’s deluded himself into believing.

The simple truth is– Yuuta Okkotsu loves you. And he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that no one else gets in the way of that.

He runs his hand up and down your bare back lovingly, admiring your spent form. You’ve always been so soft. So pliant, so willing to give in to his desires.

It’s the thing that Yuuta loves most about you.

a/n: i had to reupload bc this hellsite sucks. hopefully this shows up in the tags now

tagging @princess-okkotsu again hehe

#i do not wish to be perceived #yuuta x reader #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuta x reader #yuta x you #yuta x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #/dubcon tw #/noncon tw #/babytrapping tw #/yandere tw #/stalking tw #/possessiveness tw #kat’s writing #kat’s demon time

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tasteleeknow · 1 year

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— make a wish

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, established relationship. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 3.9k

summary: it’s your boyfriends birthday. you can’t afford to get him much—so you offer him a small coupon book of favours. he cashes in immediately.

a/n: reupload bc of shadowban mess, i'm sorry! thank u so much to everyone who read and gave me feedback the first time, love u for it ❤︎︎

afab!reader. profanity. anxiety mention. pet names. oil massage. unprotected intercourse. praise kink. grinding. breast groping. fingering. possessive behaviour.

You couldn’t afford to get your boyfriend anything for his birthday. You’d considered borrowing some money from your friends. Anything you could afford felt totally inadequate. It was embarrassing. You had been so stressed about it Minho had noticed your low mood. “Just stressed with work,” you’d told him. It was only during a phone call with your parents you’d had an idea. When you were little you’d made your parents small coupon books for their birthdays. Each page would have a small redeemable favour they could use at any time. Things like vacuum the house, breakfast in bed, clean the bathroom etc. When you had no money of your own the little ticket books were your solution. Why couldn’t they be now?

You’d spent the last few days with the small book in your pocket, pulling it out and adding a page whenever a new idea popped into your head. You knew he’d pretend to like whatever you got him. Whether he was actually happy or not, you’d never know. You couldn’t help feeling anxious about it. You’d woken up before him this morning to make him breakfast, fiddling with the small book periodically—second guessing giving it to him at all. You could just tell him his gift hasn’t arrived yet, go borrow some money and buy him something nice.

He sits across from you now, devouring the pancakes you’d made—his hair fluffy from sleep. He’d hardly said anything since he’d woken up, stumbling out of the bathroom and collapsing into the chair—half asleep. You wonder if now is the best time to give him the coupon book, while he’s too sleepy to think too much about it.

“Come here,” Minho mumbles around a mouthful of pancakes, pushing his chair back and patting his thigh. You shove the small book in your pocket and stand to make your way to his side of the table. He watches you approach him, eyes dropping to your bare legs.

You were wearing a sweater you’d stolen from him, some panties and a pair of fluffy socks. Lazy day attire. When you’d asked him if there was anything he wanted to do on his birthday, he’d stretched his arms above his head and mumbled. He wanted to do absolutely nothing at all. You’d thought maybe you could make up for the gift with a trip somewhere nice. Obviously not.

You settle yourself in his lap, thighs across his legs, side pressed to his chest. “Feed me,” he says, a serious expression on his face.

You wrap one arm around his neck, holding yourself against him. “No please?”

“It’s my birthday.”

“So I'm just your personal servant today then?”

“Mm, pancake,” he says, opening his mouth in preparation. Maybe he will like your coupon book. You pull your arm from his neck so you can reach over to cut up the pancakes. His arms wrap around you, keeping you from falling off his lap. You hold your hand under the fork as you bring it to his mouth, ready to catch any spillage.

“Say ahhh,” you prompt, treating him like one of the small children you’d babysat as a teenager. He frowns, leaning forward to latch onto the fork to steal the food. He leans back, eyebrows relaxing—a satisfied expression forming on his face as he chews. “Baby,” you tease, poking his cheek.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me today.”

“I’m always nice to you.”

“Extra nice. Another,” he says, finished with his mouthful. You feed him another, watching him chew. You may as well give him the book. You could always tell him you had another gift coming. You reach into your pocket to pull the small book out. “What’s that?” he asks, reaching to snatch it from your hands. You pull it away from him just in time.

“Be patient or you can’t have it.”

“It’s for me then?” he says, a grin forming on his face.

“Only if you’re good.”

“I’m always good.”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself. “It’s…not much. I couldn’t really…afford much else so I thought—”

“Give it,” he says, reaching to snatch it from you. He’s successful this time. You hold your breath as he inspects it, snaking one arm around his neck so he can free both his hands. He’s quiet as he reads the small note you’d written on the first page, then he flicks through.

“I can use these anytime?” he says finally.

“Yeah, whenever.”

“What’s this one?” he asks, pointing to one of the pages.

“I’ll pet you.”

His nose scrunches as he pulls a face. “Why would I want to be pet?”

“You love being pet.” You reach up to stroke the hair at the back of his head. “Like when I stroke your hair as you’re falling asleep.”

“Now I have to pay for that?”

“You just get to ask for it whenever you want.”

He’s silent as he flips through a few pages. “I want to redeem this one right now,” he says, ripping out one of the tickets. You take it from him so you can read it.

“Clean the cat litter for a week.” You look across the room to the three litter trays against the wall. “Alright then, your week starts now.”

“Good, I haven’t done it this morning,” he says, flipping through the pages again. “This one, too.” You take the piece of paper from him.

“Return one of your sweaters,” you read.

“I want this one back, right now.” He tugs at the sweater you're wearing. He hadn’t worn it in months, not since you’d stolen it. You attempt to climb off him so you can go change. “No, now,” he says, holding you down.

“This coupon is for one sweater, not one naked girlfriend on your lap.”

“It’s not my fault you allowed the system to be easily manipulated.”

“Let me up a second.” He loosens his grip on you just long enough for you to resettle yourself in his lap, one leg over each thigh—facing him fully now. “Help me,” you say, lifting your arms above your head. His fingers brush against your skin as he pulls the sweater up over your head—dropping it to the ground the second you’re freed. You look down at the pile of fabric on the floor. “If you don’t want that, let me keep it. It’s my favourite.”

“I want it.”

“You’re disrespecting it.”

“It’s mine, I can put it where I want,” he says, leaning back in the chair and tracing his palms up your waist.

“I hate you.”

“Did you really just say that to me on my birthday?” He says, eyes fixed on your tits.

“Do you like it? The book.”

“Mm.”

“Do you really or are you just saying that?”

“It’s already got you naked in my lap, I like it,” he mutters, hands grasping your breasts. You pull them off you.

“Groping wasn’t part of the voucher.”

“I’ve never needed a voucher before.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Is there a groping voucher?”

“Take a look.”

He reaches down to grab the book from the floor before flipping through it. You smooth his messy hair down a little as he searches. “Massage?” he reads. “Can I have a massage AND grope your tits?”

You hold your hand out in reply. He rips the massage coupon out and slaps it on your hand then flips through until he finds a ticket with your scribbled handwriting that reads: ‘1 Coupon to Touch, Grope or Poke’.

“I can’t believe I need to pay for this now,” he grumbles, tearing the page from the book and slapping it on top of the other in your palm.��

“One massage with groping coming right up,” you say before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and climbing off his lap. He bends over to grab the sweater off the floor before following you to the bedroom. You lay out a towel on the bed. “Lie down,” you tell him before collecting the massage oil from the bathroom. When you return he’s stripped himself fully, lying back with his hands behind his head. “Did I tell you to strip?”

“The voucher didn’t say I needed to be clothed. You’ve got the oil anyway. You were gonna tell me when you came back, control freak.” He says, smirking at you from his reclined position against the pillows.

“I was going to tell you to take your shirt off, not whip your cock out.”

“You like my cock,” he says, reaching down to stroke himself.

“Don’t fish for compliments, there’s a voucher for that.”

He pulls his hand from his cock, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you properly. “There’s a compliment voucher?”

“Mm,” you confirm, climbing onto the bed to settle next to him.

“How many?”

“It’s unlimited until it expires at the end of the week.”

“Okay, compliment my cock then.”

“I like your cock very much. My favourite cock. Very pretty. Now roll over.”

He groans dramatically as he turns onto his stomach, pulling a pillow down to rest his head on. You climb over him, settling against his ass. You snap the cap off the oil before dribbling a generous amount over his back. He mumbles something, too muffled for you to make out.

You lay yourself down onto him, breasts against the bare skin of his back. “What was that?” you ask before pressing your lips to the skin just behind his ear.

“The oil is cold,” he repeats, clearer this time.

“It’s cold? Poor baby,” you tease, sitting up again and dragging your hands down his back—spreading the oil as you go. Your breasts and stomach are slippery from where you pressed against him. He was right, it was a little cold. “I’ll warm you up, yeah?” you say, hands working the oil into his muscles. He groans as you hit a sore spot, letting you know where he needs extra attention. His muscles flex occasionally as you work, the feeling of them under your hands in combination with the noises coming from his throat make it impossible for you to stay still. The small movements of your hips against him go unnoticed. At least he doesn’t give you any indication he’s noticed.

It isn’t until you’ve reached his lower back that he speaks up. “Take them off.”

You lift your fingers from his skin. “My hands?”

“Panties. I can feel you rolling against me…wanna feel your naked pussy.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s my birthday,” he whines. “Is there a coupon for it?”

“For grinding against your ass?”

“For getting naked.”

“...Yes.”

He lets out a contented sigh. “Best present ever.”

You can’t help it when your lips curve into a small smile in response. “You wanna use it then?”

“Mm, take them off.”

You stand up on the bed to pull them down your legs, leaving you entirely bare minus the fluffy socks on your feet. “Socks?” you ask.

“They can stay. Cute.”

You lower yourself onto him, against his lower back this time. You can’t help letting a small sound escape your throat as your sensitive cunt presses against his warm slippery skin. You resume kneading his muscles as your hips roll against him, leaning down to press small kisses against his neck occasionally. Each time you lean down to kiss his neck you listen to the barely audible sounds he makes, like he’s holding back moans.

“You warm now?” you ask eventually, voice breathy.

“Mm,” he confirms, “Can feel your hot little cunt…so warm.”

“This was a coupon for a massage, and now I'm naked grinding on you.”

“Like I said, easily manipulated. No rules about combining tickets.”

“Turn over,” you say, climbing off him. He sits up, pulling you into his lap. “Let go, I’m not done.”

“Mm? Intermission,” he mutters before pressing his lips into yours. You feel his cock trapped between you, the oil spreading a little from your chest to his. “Compliment,” he mutters between kisses—cashing in one of his unlimited compliment coupons for the day.

“Could feel all your muscles…you’ve been working so hard...”

“Yeah? The gym is paying off then?”

“Mm, can see it.”

“Thank you.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll lie down now.”

You climb off him, letting him settle himself down on his back. As you reach for the bottle his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “Do you need that?” he asks.

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it, but you could oil me up another way.” He says, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

You sigh, giving him a pointed look as you wait for whatever is about to come out of his mouth next. He was completely unpredictable, one of the many things you loved about him.

“Your tits,” he finishes, lips curving into a proper grin.

“What?”

“Use your tits to oil me, they’re all slippery.”

“You…want me to…rub the oil from my tits onto you?”

“It’s my birthday,” he repeats for the umpteenth time.

“There’s no coupon for that.”

“Just because you love me, then.”

“Let me get the oil, I need more.”

He releases your wrist, allowing you to grab the bottle. You climb over him and open the cap—looking up at his face. He smiles. Alright, then. You tip the bottle upside down at your clavicles, letting the oil pour down over your tits. It’s cold. When the oil hits your nipple, a shiver runs down your spine. Minho’s hand comes up to grip your thigh.

“More,” he says, voice breathy. You definitely don’t need more but you humour him, pouring oil until it drips down onto his stomach.

“Enough?” you ask, finally.

“Mm, good.”

You drop the bottle onto the bed next to you and use both hands to massage the oil into your tits a little. His hand on your thigh squeezes a little tighter as you work.

“I’m a fucking genius,” he mutters, eyes fixed on your tits. You huff out a laugh, hands dropping to rest on his chest.

“Should I oil your tits now?”

“If you like,” he says, as if he hadn’t guided the situation exactly where he wanted it. You lower yourself down onto him, chest to chest. “Compliment,” he breathes into your mouth. You slide back and forth a little against him, the slick oil making it easy.

“Needy,” you tease before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Hm…let me think.”

“You need to think about it?”

“You just have too many good qualities. It’s overwhelming.”

“Ah, I see.”

“You make me feel safe…and warm. I get this feeling in my chest when I’m with you, like everything is really okay.”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you down onto his chest fully. “Another.”

“Your eyes are the prettiest.”

“Mm, another.”

“You make me laugh more than anyone else.”

“These are really unlimited?”

“Sure, but the more time I spend complimenting you the less time I have to rub oil on you with my tits.”

“You can't compliment me WHILE you rub oil on me with your tits? It’s my birthday.”

“Is it? You hadn’t mentioned,” you tease, grinning down at him before continuing to spread oil over him with your body. He closes his eyes, biting his bottom lip between his teeth as you work. His hair flops over his forehead, still messy from sleep. One of his hands grips your thigh, the other above his head—resting against the pillow, palm facing up. You reach up to intertwine your fingers with his, his hand warm in yours.

“Kiss,” he mutters, lips a little swollen from where he’d bitten them. You take his hand from your thigh, pressing it above his head to join the other. You hold him there, each hand in his as you taste him. He’s a little sweet from the maple syrup. You can’t help moaning into his mouth, a little overwhelmed from all the different sensations. The warmth of him under you, the slippery oil coating your torso, the slide of your sensitive nipples against his skin, his sweet lips attached to yours, his warm hands in yours.

He detaches his lips from yours to speak. “Is there—” He kisses you again, interrupting himself. “Is there a coupon for letting me oil you?”

“No, I don’t think letting you give me an oil massage is much of a gift.”

“Well, I do,” he says before wrapping his arms around you, flipping you under him. You felt like you’d been holding his hands to the bed pretty firmly. Apparently not. He’d pulled himself free without even a hint of struggle. His dark hair hangs down over his eyes. You reach up to play with it just before he sits back and grasps each of your tits.

“So slippery, hm?” he whispers, eyes fixed on where his hands grope you—kneading each breast thoroughly. He’d always had a fascination with your breasts, groping them whenever he had the chance. You’d often hear the bathroom door open mid shower, your boyfriend joining you. He’d lather up his hands with body wash, insisting on massaging each breast—completely fixated on them until you eventually guided his hands elsewhere.

You wrap your hands around his wrists now, prompting him to look up at your face. “I’m slippery elsewhere, too,” you say, guiding his hands down your stomach slowly. He pulls away so he can move down the bed and push your legs apart—settling himself between them.

“Here, baby?” he asks, one finger gently brushing against your wet cunt. You suck in a breath, already sensitive from grinding against him. His finger brushes up and down through your folds gently, like he’s never touched you before. You close your eyes, basking in the feeling of his soft caress. You're so blissed out you nearly jump out of your skin at the cold oil he pours over your cunt. Apparently you’d been so out of it you hadn’t noticed him reaching for the bottle.

“Co-Cold,” you stammer out, back arching off the bed slightly.

“Yeah? Poor baby,” he teases, mimicking your words from earlier as his fingers find you again—much more confident this time. He spreads the oil over your mound, then his fingers move down through your folds, massaging the oil over your cunt thoroughly. “So pretty,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to make out.

You struggle to stay still, squirming as he plays with you. It isn’t until he presses his long fingers inside you, the other hand working circles on your clit, that you let go—back arching off the bed as you whine his name. He works you through your high, wet sounds filling the room as he fucks you with his fingers.

He climbs over you as you attempt to catch your breath, panting into his mouth as he kisses you. So sweet.

“Do I need a coupon to fuck you?” he whispers against your lips.

“No,” you breathe out, “you can do that just because I love you.”

The tip of his cock kisses your sensitive cunt as he mutters against your mouth. “I want to hear compliments as I fill you.” You nod, struggling to offer him a verbal response. “Use your words,” he prompts.

“Yes…compliments…move, please.”

He presses forward, his tip spreading you open. Your mind blanks, as it always does when he enters you. As he knows it will. Your mouth falls open, brows pulling together. “Compliment,” he says, not pressing in any further.

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes. “So—So big, always so hard for me,” you manage to breathe out. He offers you a small smile before pushing into you a little more, the oil helping him spread you open. He drops his head into your shoulder.

“Another,” he says, lips moving against your skin.

“Stretch me open so well, feel so full of you every time. Wish you were inside me always, just like this,” you say, threading your fingers into his hair. You hold him against you as he begins moving, pressing his body into yours. He quiet as he fucks into you slow and deep, much slower than your used to. He usually liked it fast and hard, holding your hips up off the bed so he could use your cunt like a toy. He’d fuck you like that most nights, biceps flexing as he held you up. It wasn’t until he’d filled you that he’d melt, everything about him softened as he helped you reach your high—either with his fingers or his mouth.

“Tell me your mine,” he mumbles into your neck now. Slow, deep strokes of his cock splitting you open.

“Of course I’m yours,” you answer, fingers stroking the back of his neck gently. “Just like your mine, right?”

“Mm,” he confirms before his lips attach to your skin properly, sucking a mark into your neck. You savour the feeling of him filling you as he works on marking your neck, the movement of his hips speeding up a little. When he finally detaches from your neck, you expect him to sit back—to start fucking you like he usually did. Instead he moves his head to the other side of your neck so he can begin marking you again. By the time he’s finished this one his hips are moving erratically, signalling his end. He hovers over you, breath mingling with yours as he pants.

You keep your eyes locked on his as he comes, loving the expression he makes as he fills you. You reach up to grab the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to yours as his hips stutter against you, a final moan slipping from his lips.

After returning from the bathroom you find Minho quietly flipping through the coupon book, inspecting each page properly. You settle yourself against him, head resting against his chest. “What does this one mean?” he asks.

“Read it to me.”

“Make a wish.”

“That’s a free for all. You can ask for anything.”

“Anything?”

You chuckle, hand lightly patting his stomach. “Nothing that’ll get either of us arrested…or killed.” Or cost more than I can afford, you add silently.

He says nothing. You imagine his brain running through every possible thing he could ask of you. You imagine him asking to adopt another cat or make you come to the gym with him everyday. Every now and then you’d tag along and watch his workout. He said it was motivating. You close your eyes, nuzzling against him a little. Then the sound of paper tearing breaks the comfortable silence and he tucks the ticket into your hand.

“I want to use it now,” he announces.

“You sure? You only get one.”

“One a year.”

“You want the same gift again next year?”

“It’s a good gift.”

You don’t hold back your smile, your face hidden from him. You believe him. He actually likes it. “Alright, what’s your wish this year then?”

He’s quiet again. His hand rests on top of yours, the ticket tucked safely under both your hands. Finally, he speaks again. “Marry me.”

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

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bratzforchris · 10 days

Note

can you do one where chris has a gf who gets psychogenic fevers? thank you!

Masking

Summary: Autistic masking takes a lot out of you and leads to you running a psychogenic fever, but luckily for you, Chris is always right by your side to help you<3

Pairing: Chris x neurodivergentfem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of masking, autistic meltdown

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Thank you for the request! I actually experience psychogenic fevers myself (related to masking and burnout), so this was a very self-indulgent request :) For those of you that don't know, psychogenic fevers are stress related and psychosomatic. You can read this article for more info<3 Hate/ableism/etc will be blocked and deleted ♡ Enjoy!!

There were very few parts, if any, of your relationship with Chris that you didn’t like. Everything was absolutely perfect. Your boyfriend spoiled you rotten, taking great care to make sure you were okay physically, mentally, and emotionally, and always made sure to both accommodate and help you accommodate your disability. Chris never made you feel wrong, bad, or different for the way your brain worked. Quite the opposite, actually. However, there were things that even he couldn’t control for you.

Like today, for example. The morning had started off rather rocky, with Matt unintentionally finishing off the milk before you’d had your bowl of cereal. Frosted Flakes was one of your safe foods, and not being able to have them, along with getting out of your routine, had left you teary-eyed and anxious. The middle triplet had apologized profusely, and although you forgave him immediately, it still put you out of whack. Then, instead of your usual afternoon snuggle and stim time with Chris, you’d both been running around the house getting ready for the movie premiere the trio had been invited to this evening.

All of those events had led you to now, standing off in the corner of the ballroom that had been used for the afterparty, nursing a sweating glass of Sprite. You adored being Chris’ girlfriend, but sometimes all the things you had to attend as a plus one became exhausting, especially when you had to mask around all the people you didn’t know. You’d been suppressing your stimming all evening, as well as small talking with a variety of people without Chris by your side, and it was beginning to wear on you. You shivered, setting your drink down on a nearby tray and rubbing your arms, both as a stim and to warm yourself up. You supposed it was the thin, silky slip dress you had on, but for some reason you felt awfully cold.

In the wake of trying to warm yourself up, you hadn’t even noticed Chris appear by your side. “Hey ma,” he smiled, sipping his own drink. “I’ve barely seen you all night.”

You hummed softly, still trying to warm yourself up. “Is your jacket in the car?” You asked softly, wincing at the ache in your joints.

Chris studied you for a moment, assessing your quiet voice and shaking frame. “Are you okay? You’re not looking too good…” After being with you for nearly two years, your boyfriend could practically read you like a book, always being in tune with your moods and feelings. He also knew that you experienced psychogenic fevers, and that the lack of routine, as well as masking around a large group, probably wasn’t doing you any favors.

“I’m cold,” You mumbled. “I feel like I’m getting the flu or something but I don’t have a stuffy nose or anything.”

Had you been able to think more clearly, you would’ve realized that you were currently going through what was unfortunately a pretty common experience for you. You had started experiencing psychogenic fevers in high school, once the stress, combined with being neurodivergent, kicked in. They were usually low grade fevers and body aches that would come on during the night due to stress and anxiety and then be gone by the next morning, but they made you feel awful nonetheless.

Chris ran his thumb across your cheek softly, noting how you leaned into his touch like he was the last source of warmth on earth. “D’ya wanna go home, ma?” he asked gently. “You’ve got a fever, babe.”

You looked up at your boyfriend as tears collected on your lash line. “Oh…I guess I should’ve realized…” You mumbled, the thought of why you were feeling terrible finally kicking in. “We don’t have to go, though. I’ll be alright. Enjoy the party.” You tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Sweetheart, there’s no way I’m gonna let you just sit here all stressed and burning up. This party’s shit, anyway. Stay here, ‘kay? I’m gonna go get Matt and Nick.”

You felt your heart swell as you watched Chris walk away. Despite his assurance, you knew how much your boyfriend loved parties, and the fact that he was willingly leaving one for you made you want to cry. You curled into yourself as much as possible on the small couch next to you while you waited for the triplets. All you wanted at this point was a hot bath and for Chris to hold you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The next thing you knew, Chris was gently shaking your shoulder, brushing your bangs off your forehead. “Ma, come on, honey. We’re going home.”

You sleepily blinked open your eyes, realizing you had fallen asleep in the time it had taken for Chris to find Matt and Nick. “Oh…I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep.”

Chris smiled softly, while Nick looked on worriedly. “Matt’s getting the car.” he explained at your confusion to only seeing two-thirds of the triplets.

Your boyfriend helped you up gently, leading you by the arm towards the exit while Nick shielded you from onlookers’ eyes protectively. Had Chris had his choice, he would’ve carried you, but he didn’t want to completely embarrass you, nor did he want photos of you not feeling well circling around social media. You shivered when the three of you stepped out into the cool night air, whimpering softly.

Chris helped you into the car, where Matt was idling at the curb. You immediately grabbed his hoodie from the front seat, pulling it over your shaking frame. “I’m cold.” You whispered.

Your boyfriend caressed you in a tight hug as well as he could with his own seatbelt, holding you close so that you could feel his body heat as Matt sped home. By the time the car had pulled up outside of your shared LA home, you were practically asleep, your aches and pains making you miserable. Chris gently shuffled you inside, leading you upstairs to the bedroom.

“Do you want a hot shower, ma?” he asked you softly, helping you remove your earrings and necklaces.

You shook your head, feeling too fatigued to do much else other than cuddle under the covers. Chris seemed to understand, continuing to help you undress with a soft smile on his face. In his eyes, you always looked like a goddess, no matter how sick or tired you felt. You sighed softly once you were dressed in a much more comfortable outfit that consisted of one of your boyfriend’s soft, big shirts and some cozy pajama pants.

The brunette kissed your forehead with a soft ‘be right back’ as you snuggled up under your soft duvet. You laid across Chris’ pillow while you waited, breathing in his soft, boyish scent. Before you knew it, your boyfriend returned with a handful of medical supplies in one arm and a warm, wet rag in the other. Chris used the washcloth to gently remove your makeup, pressing kisses to your fevered skin as he did so.

“Do you know what brought this on?” Chris whispered gently, sitting beside you.

He had a pretty good idea of what had brought on this stress-induced fever, but he wanted to give you a chance to voice your feelings first. You rolled over, sniffling softly and pressing your face into his thigh as you tried to voice your concerns. Despite being home and in bed, you still felt the stress of being out of your routine and masking wearing on you.

“Not right now? I’m too tired…” You mumbled, a sniffle escaping you.

“Okay, ma. That’s okay. Let’s take your temperature, okay?” Chris gently grabbed the thermometer off the nightstand, gently sticking it under your tongue while he caressed your cheek. “100.3 (37.9 C). Not too bad, but enough to make you pretty miserable, huh?”

You just nodded sadly as Chris passed you some Tylenol and a water bottle. You downed the medicine quickly, shuddering at the bitter taste in your mouth. Your boyfriend easily helped you lay back down, pulling you into his chest as he spooned you. Instead of focusing on the pain you felt, you snuggled into Chris, realizing that this was the routine you had been craving all day.

You and Chris would always spoon at night before you went to bed, talking about everything and nothing while huddled up under the weighted blanket that had been placed on the bed at your request. Tonight, Chris didn’t pressure you to speak. Instead, he mumbled little things about how strong and beautiful you were, how he hoped you felt better soon, and how much he adored you while he traced little shapes onto the soft skin of your arm.

Despite your pain, you felt yourself becoming less tense. You knew your fever probably wouldn’t go away until tomorrow morning, and that you would need lots of routine and special interest time to get yourself back to fully normal, but for now, you enjoyed the brunette's soft hold, relishing the way it made your body feel perfectly aligned after a day of overwhelm.

It was much easier for you to fall asleep than you had anticipated, the combination of Chris’ snuggles and the medicine working its magic lulling you to sleep. By the time you woke up the next morning, your temperature was back to normal and you made sure to shower your lovely boyfriend with affection for what a great nurse he had been.

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

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danikamariewrites · 10 months

Text

Azriel x adhd!Reader

A/n: As someone with ADHD I struggle with a lot of stuff like my emotions and daily tasks. I like talking about it bc I don’t think it should be taboo and I hate the stigmatism around it that it’s just people being lazy. If your struggling with ADHD or any other mental health problems know you’re not alone ❤️

Warnings: mentions of mental health struggles, some angst

At first Azriel didn’t understand why your mood could be so up and down all the time. Or why you struggled with getting out of bed some days and others you had so much energy you didn’t know what to do with it.

You didn’t like loud noises, being touched unless you wanted too, and some textures overwhelmed your senses causing you to lash out.

You have a hard time communicating your feelings and he does too, which makes you both frustrated when one of you just brushes the other off or is passive aggressive.

Azriel notices you space out sometimes or that when he’s talking to you, you ask him to repeat things because you didn’t hear him. He thinks it’s odd but brushes it off as you just being preoccupied. He also picks up on your fidgeting but never thought anything of it

One day you both snap at each other resulting in the worst fight you’ve ever had

Azriel ends up going to Rhys for advice because he doesn’t want some stupid fight on a random Monday to be the reason you break up

Azriel tells his brother about the issues that have been building up over the last few months and Rhys, who’s been one of your best friends since childhood, tells him you’ve always been that way

He doesn’t go into detail, it’s your story to tell, but he does tell Az about when you were younger and your parents had Madja come give you a few tests. He remembered being a little nervous for you but you were fine. You just needed a little extra help and attention with things because your brain works differently

Azriel instantly feels bad that he didn’t know

“It’s ok Az, she didn’t even tell me until we were teenagers.” Rhys says sympathetically. “Yeah but I’m the one that’s supposed to be there for her, not get angry with her.” Rhys hugs his brother, insisting he stay the night and that time apart will do you both good

The next morning Az comes home to you baking in the kitchen

You had to move around or the thoughts of Azriel not coming home because you were too much of a burden were going to eat you alive

When you see him you try to apologize but he cuts you off asking if you could sit down and talk

“I don’t want to push, but Rhys told me about when you were younger and the testing with Madja.” He says gently

You take a deep breath, trying to blink your tears away

Sometimes it’s hard for you to talk about your ADHD because you hate to seem weak or different

But you’ve held back long enough and if you didn’t tell Azriel soon you knew you would get worse trying to mask it

You tell him everything. how your energy goes up and down, your depression and that it’s worse because you can’t find the energy to do things

You feel useless sometimes because you forget things or because you don’t listen

He hugs you as you cry into his chest, “I just feel so guilty being this way. I’m sorry Az.”

He brushes away your tears, “It’s ok my love. I know I don’t communicate well either. And I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt this way. It must’ve been killing you to keep it in.”

From that point forward Azriel was always there to make things better

Your communication improved and fights or the silent treatment became very rare

You weren’t afraid to tell him if something was bothering you or if you needed extra help or attention from him

Azriel and his shadows could pick up if you were being overstimulated or stressed out, so there were times you didn’t even need to ask

If you were out with the group and became uncomfortable Azriel would take you somewhere quite to help calm your anxiety

He’d wrap his wings around you so it would be dark and quite, helping slow your panicked breathing

“It’s ok baby, take a deep breath.” “That’s it, in and out, don’t rush.” “Here feel my heartbeat, can we try and match it?”

If you didn’t like how your sweater or dress was feeling that day he would be there with a back up or give you his own

“Are you sure Az, I don’t want to take it from you then you’ll be cold.” “Don’t worry about me baby, I just want you to be comfortable. Plus I’m built for the cold, Illyrian remember?”

Whenever you start fidgeting it’s usually if you’re bored or nervous. Azriel always keeps a little fidget toy or a pen on him so you can hold it and focus your energy on that. He knows you hate being thought of as a distraction and you think it’s better to focus on a small thing in your hands rather than swinging your feet or pushing your chair around

You thought him knowing about your ADHD would change how he feels about you or treat you differently. You bring this up to him one night in bed, “This doesn’t change the way I feel about you at all. You’re still perfect to me, my love. You just need extra help sometimes and it’s ok to ask for help.”

#acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar #azriel acotar #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #acotar headcanon #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel x you #azriel headcanons #acotar reader fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic

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star-xxx1 · 11 months

Text

Mrs Romanoff your truly fucking sick, but I'II always love you -

Mob!Natasha x fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha misses you.

Warnings: Dark Natasha, stockholm syndrome, making out, mentions of murder, tooth rotting fluff, Blood.

Natasha's expression was stonic as she glared out the tinted widow of the Matt black landrover. Now ruined, blood smeared on the expensive leather seats. Studying the outside world around her. Her eyes still on the road but examining for anything that might be off or dangerous. Her mind overflowing with thoughts, each one cutting through her like a knife cutting butter. Emerald Eyes flickered to the rear view mirror. There displayed the many blood drenched weapons laid out on back seat, reminding her off the stressful event's she had to deal with this month.

Wow a month without the love of her life, She could only go so long without you and that timer had ran out. You really didn't want to clean up the affects of her rampages that were unleashed if deprive of you for a short 'lengthy' period of time, destroying or killing everything or everyone in her way.

That's what she needed, you, she couldn't feel a thing with out you, no remorse or pain, nothing.

During her time away she would face time you any chance she got. Purposely being late to meetings and events just so she could chat to you a little longer. Mortified when the last week of the work trip turned into a survival game and she had to cut all contact, not wanting anyone to trace her to you. Of course she told you before, not wanting you to stress but you just couldn't help but to do just that.

Within that week, that already annoyed Natasha became more irritated making her even more dangerous. The redhead already was riled up without your touch. Your calls kept her from tiping over the edge but now she had nothing. She couldn't stand it. All she wanted to do was engulf you in her arms and never let go.

When she first kidnapped you met you she was already heavy addicted but when you started warming up to her dark and twisted ways, she got even more obsessed. It was like she was dependent on you. Dependent on your, touch, smell, voice, personality. Just you in general, and without it, she is like a drug addict having violent withdrawal symptoms. Not being able to sleep, irritability, changing moods, depression, Having carvings of you. Her grip tightening on the sleek wheel, more annoyance and fusration building up in her chest.

She had snapped big time. Slashing the throats of many, smashing people heads into walls, stabbing, shooting. That rage had to go somewhere and today it was put into one of her countless killing sprees. Her last three victims being teammates who where suppose to come over to discuss more business, but that would only restrain her from touching you longer. After safely discarding of the bodies she hopped back into her car, continuing the journey home, not caring about the mess she had created.

She was only a few minutes away but that short distance felt like miles to her. Pressing her foot down on acceleration, she put all her focus Into getting home, speeding down the dark streets of new York City.

Tried and worried you plopped down onto the enormous, white couch, to you it felt like pure clouds. You lied there thinking about the intoxicating redhead, anxiety dripping from every pore on your body.

You were stressing out way to much it wasn't healthy at all. Grabbing the tv remote you turn on the huge flat screen tv which was mounted to the wall, hoping it would help distract you. You flicked through the many apps, selecting Netflix. Mindlessly scrolling through the movies and series, you finally saw something that caught your eye. It was a comedy action movie, pressing play you tried to push out all the fear that bubbled inside you.

Around 10 minutes later you were alerted by the penthouses ai that the front door was opened. Springing up you quickly made your way to the door, pacing down huge hallways.

"Natasha?" You called out before Turing the corner. There you saw her drenched head to toe In blood. Taken aback sightly, you stopped in tracks, trying to get used to the sight of your wife. You've seen her like this before but it still catches you off guard everytime. "Is that yours? Did you do it again?"

She was hypnotized by the sight of you in her fuzzy sweater, which was way to big for you, and the pink sleep shorts you had paired with it. You looked adorable. Taking a deep breath she closed the space between you and her. As she came closer you could see miniscule chucks of something on her signature black jacket. "Natasha, what the actual fuck in that?"

"Brains, flesh I don't know? Both maybe? Could be anything?" She shrugged.

"How many?" You questioned raising a brow.

"Like, 20?"

"20! Natalia!" You raised you voice at her. She grinned at your reaction, finding it cute. She pulled you into a tight hug missing you so dearly. "Great you've got blood all over me and that shit too" she chlucked at you comment. "Come on Natty let's get you into the shower" you pulled away and held her hand. Dragging her the through the halls and into your bedrooms bathroom.

You turned on the shower and started undressing, feeling a pair of eyes burn into you. "You gonna undress to?" You asked. The women quickly started stripping. Once done you grabbed a plastic bag and put the clothes into it. After tying it and placing it onto the counter, Natasha slammed your back against the cold shower tile, and smashed her lips into yours. You let out a loud moan which she greedily gobbled up. Swiping your lower lip with her tounge asking for permission which you happily granted. The kiss was sloppy, passionate, and intense. Only pulling away once you both couldn't breathe.

"I really missed you natty" you rested your head in the crook of her neck lightly crying.

"Shh, it's okay dekta, I'm here now" she kissed your head while whispering sweet nothings. You both griped on each other for dear life In comfortable silence, basking in the feel of being with eachother.

After finishing your shower, scrubbing away all the blood, you both got dressed into pajamas. Natasha slipped under the covers off the large bed. Expecting for you to join, only to see you leaving the room with the plastic bag.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm just putting your clothes on the kitchen counter to remind us to burn them tomorrow since there's no point trying to save them there to far gone, I wont be long, I promise sweetheart" you ressured her.

She gave you a warm smile and adjusted her position into a more comfortable one.

When back, you turned off the lights and crawled into her arms, so happy to have your wife back.

"I love you Natty" you mumbled.

"I love you more dekta" Natasha responsed back.

Natasha felt whole again, stable and content with you back in her arms. All her pervious stress melting away. You both soon fell into slumber, feeling so loved by each other.

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biteofcherry · 1 year

Note

Getting caught in a downpour with Bucky, by the time you guys make it to shelter your little sundress is clinging to every curve and your nipples are showing and you're soaked

Meanwhile Bucky is like 👀👀

This may have turned not the way you expected, sorry 🙈

A splash of courage

Bucky Barnes x female reader

warnings: none! 😱 a tiny dose of nudity and a hint at smut, but overall it's just pure, sweet fluff

word count: 2.1k

Though the day started sunny, hence your choice of a sweet, flower-patterned sundress, the sky bore strokes of gray clouds when you exited the library.

It was still warm, the slight breeze tickling your skin with a lick of early summer heat. You hoped the wind would chase the clouds away, too. At least until you get home. You needed this day to go as least catastrophic as it could.

It would be the first time Bucky visits your place.

To ease your anxiety and make both of you feel more comfortable, you agreed on spending the afternoon together. Bucky wanted to cook lunch together and maybe watch something. Keeping it in the broad daylight meant less stress at the prospect of spending time in the intimacy of your apartment.

Though you craved intimacy with Bucky.

He was sweet and caring, flirtatious enough to have your heart racing and your fingers helping you out at night as you thought of him; but he was never too pushy. When you visited his place - which he shared with his best friend, Steve - Bucky kept himself close enough that his warmth accelerated your pulse, but made no move to push your boundaries.

Oh, he made no secret of the fact he was into you. That he wanted the kisses to lead to more. That he wanted to kiss not only your lips, but other spots on your body.

“Mhm, doll, I wonder if you’re as sweet all over.” He murmured after parting from your swollen, kiss-reddened lips, his hand stroking your upper thigh.

That need grew in you as well. The first few dates he took you on were a dizzying rush of excitement and romanticism. The more you met casually, on a daily basis, the closer you drifted to each other. Your touches became bolder.

You were still shy about making the first move, however.

Compared to Bucky, you had very little experience. It made you feel awkward at times, especially when Bucky seemed so smooth and confident in sexual matters.

Asking him over to your place was your first step of your own courage to someday (soon, you hoped) ask him to touch you all over. To ask him to make you come. Just like you imagined when you used your fingers, or your small, cute vibrator.

For now, you focused on the sweet afternoon you were about to spend together. However mundane the things you did were, Bucky’s company never failed to improve your mood.

You trotted down the library steps and looked around, searching for him. Bucky was supposed to meet you in front of the library, on his way back from the gym.

You looked for him among the colorful crowd of people that passed by, some students mingling around the stairs, a few tourists taking pictures. Your head jerked up when you heard Bucky calling your name.

A smile instantly beamed on your face upon seeing him. Your step gained a little bounce to it as you walked towards him.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky’s broad smile radiated sunshine that was currently seeping through thickening layers of clouds.

He put a hand on your waist as he leaned down to give you a greeting kiss. A soft, lingering peck that evoked butterflies in your stomach.

His hand found yours when you pulled apart, fingers intertwining in a gesture that became easy and natural for you over the past weeks. Bucky readjusted his gym bag over his other shoulder and playfully tugged on your hand.

“Ready?” It melted your heart that he checked in with you every step of the way, making sure you were comfortable with things even as simple as spending a day cooking and being lazy on the couch.

“Yes, Bucky.” You replied, matching his steps as you walked across the street.

A rumble of thunder boomed over the treetops when you were strolling through the park, interrupting your conversation about a book you were currently reading and which Bucky already finished a few weeks ago.

“Crap, we better walk faster.” You laughed nervously as you glanced up at the dark sky peeking through the branches.

“Don’t lose your sandals as you try to match my steps.” Bucky teased, but his hand tightened its hold and he pulled you closer to him.

Rain poured down less than three minutes later, catching you in the middle of the park. You squeaked as cold, heavy drops splashed across your body. Water trickled between your joined hands, making your palms slippery. Bucky squeezed your hand tighter, but didn’t let go.

“Come on, let’s hide in the gazebo!” He pulled you with him, the both of you now running across the grass toward a round, roofed shelter.

A few people already hid there, shaking and muttering quiet curses at the weather. You and Bucky jumped inside with laughter; yours more breathless than Bucky’s. Perhaps you should join him at the gym in the future, to improve your fitness a bit.

“Hopefully it’s one of those rapid summer storms.” You said, watching the downpour cascade just a few inches from your faces.

The air still held some warmth, but being soaked head to toe made you shiver.

You glanced down at your feet, pink nail polish on your toenails chipped in a few spots. Your sandals were drenched, leather turning darker and a bit abrasive against your skin. Your sundress clung to your body, delicate fabric becoming close to see-through as it stuck to your curves.

Bucky’s gaze, always so attentive, turned darker as he looked at you.

Drops of water were sliding down your neck, dipping into the valley between your breasts. Your nipples hardened, two vivid points drawing attention to your chest as you caught your breath. Pretty sundress, which was short enough it gave him a stroke as you bounced down the library steps, now seemed even shorter - the fabric clinging to your ass and hips, sticking between your thighs.

His hands itched to run up your legs, roll the sodden fabric off your body and lick the water from your skin.

Bucky noticed your shiver. As well the way you wrapped your arms around yourself, somehow curling in on yourself.

He suspected it may not be from the cold alone, but from the stares you were receiving from the two men who were also hiding in the gazebo. A flare of anger snapped him to attention. He dropped his gym bag down and crouched to rummage through it.

“Here, doll,” Bucky offered you his hoodie. “It may be a bit stinky, but it’s dry and-”

You took it from Bucky’s hand without hesitation. It was thick, but so soft you nearly moaned in delight as you put it on. The sleeves were too long and the size of it swallowed you, but it provided instant warmth.

And it smelled of Bucky.

“Thank you.” You sighed, smiling up at him.

You went on your tiptoes to give him a kiss; one of your hands resting on his chest, the other weaving into wet ringlets of his hair at the back of his head.

When fifteen minutes later the storm passed, Bucky took your hand again and you raced toward your place. It was better not to risk another rainfall to catch you.

You were both giggling at the squishy sounds Bucky’s shoes were making as he walked up the stairs to your apartment.

“I hope we don’t catch a cold.” You ushered Bucky inside the warmth of your apartment.

“It would be best if you take a hot shower.” Bucky dropped his bag by the door, to not bring more water further inside. He took off his water-filled shoes, his socks were completely soaked.

“I have a dry set of clothes in my bag, so I can change here.” He offered. “I’ll make us some tea, too.”

“Yeah?” You looked at him, melting from his thoughtfulness all over.

From the way Bucky looked, too.

His shirt was already tight on his broad chest, water made it cling to him, underlining muscles that rippled beneath the fabric. The hem of his tee rolled up on his belly, exposing a stripe of skin right above his jeans.

A single drop trailed slowly from his navel, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.

A few times you had the opportunity to feel what was hidden behind his zipper. When you made out and your thighs spread, and Bucky grinded into you just right, you felt the hardness. Sometimes, afterwards, you laid in your bed and tried to draw the outline of it in your mind, assess its size and girth…

You quickly shifted your gaze back to Bucky's face, feeling embarrassed for staring. Bucky’s mouth was curved in an amused, quite pleased smile, but he made no comment about your moment of daze.

Like you, when Bucky’s eyes roamed over you in the gazebo; his gaze undressing, betraying dirty, hot thoughts. Which you wouldn't mind coming true.

“Okay, yeah.” You cleared your throat, turning on your heel to save yourself from further embarrassment with an escape. “I’ll bring you a towel!” You called over your shoulder as you opened the door to your bedroom.

With fingers still on the knob, barely a full step inside, you stopped. A thought crossed your mind. Impulsive, a little reckless perhaps, but you couldn’t shake it off as it unfurled along with heat in your belly.

You swallowed nervously and slowly turned back around.

You walked up to Bucky, holding his gaze. Toe to toe, you stood there in front of him. With surprisingly sure fingers, you pulled the hoodie off of your body and tossed it aside. Leaving you standing in a soaked dress, with every line of your body visible to Bucky’s hungry gaze.

“I think-” you started shyly, but adamant on not cowering- “we should take a hot shower together.”

Bucky’s eyes glinted with cold fire. His gaze remained on your face as he moved his feet wider apart, standing so much closer to you that you felt the heat of him graze your skin.

“Are you sure, babe?” With how low his voice dropped, you knew it took a lot of his willpower to not be touching you already.

As an answer, you took the drenched sundress off in one smooth motion.

Letting it drop to the floor with a wet splash, you tilted your chin up and arched your chest forward, boldly displaying yourself in front of Bucky. Pink lace of your bra and panties was equally soaked.

You were becoming wet, too. Especially at the prospect of being naked with Bucky.

His eyes remained trained on your face a moment longer, before he slowly dragged them down your body. It felt as if every inch of your skin was burning up just from his gaze swiping over you.

“You’re beautiful.” Bucky murmured and reached out his hand to touch you. “So fucking gorgeous.”

His hand caressed your side, his other arm wrapping around you, hand dipping to spread over your ass. Bucky leaned down. His mouth ghosted across your cheek, warm breath chasing off tiny drops that lingered there.

When his lips pushed against yours, you arched with a gasp. Mouth parting willingly, allowing Bucky’s tongue in. The way his tongue rubbed against yours urged you to rock your hips against his thigh in a needy rhythm.

“How about-” Bucky pulled merely an inch from your lips, hot breath mingling with yours. “We take a shower and then dry off in your bed?”

He kneaded your ass and you groaned, your fingers slipping beneath Bucky’s wet t-shirt.

“It’s our first time together, I wanna enjoy it thoroughly.” He nipped your lip as his other hand ventured up, fingers teasing the lace of your bra. “Shower sex can be fun, but not practical for a long session I plan for you.”

“Now you’re just bragging.” You chuckled, pulling his t-shirt up.

“Wait and see, doll.” Bucky snapped the strap of your bra against your shoulder, grinning at your little yip.

He complied to your unspoken demand when you started tugging his tee upwards, lifting his arms and taking it off completely. Your palms instantly splayed on his chest, fingers tracing lines of his muscles.

“Come on, baby. Let’s warm up in that shower first.” Bucky grasped your wrists gently, lifting each to his mouth to kiss it. “There’ll be plenty of discovering and touching involved there, too.”

Bucky picked you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his hips. A surprised laugh bubbled on your lips, shifting into a soft moan as your breasts pressed into Bucky’s naked chest.

Outside, another thunder rumbled.

#dumbgothbunny #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #my writing #a splash of courage

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raz-writes-the-thing · 6 months

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In It For The Long Haul (Doctor Who)

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: Almost dying repeatedly will wear anyone down eventually, and you're not sure how much more of this you can take.

CW: anxiety, nail picking, angst, comfort, sprinkle of fluff

DW tag list: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Spending day after day with the Doctor could be incredibly easy. Travels throughout time and space, meeting aliens, seeing new planets and visiting markets and things. Those were the easy days. The soft days. The hard days, well, they almost broke you sometimes.

The hard days were filled with kidnappings, murders, weeping mothers and danger lurking around any and all corners. You never knew what monster was going to pop out of what closet, or whether you were going to meet your end that day. And eventually, as that sort of thing would do to a person, it wore you down.

Today, well, you weren’t sure you were going to make it. The Doctor was so used to this kind of thing day in and day out that you supposed he didn’t need to process it the same way you did, and the more you needed to press your memories back and bottle it all up, the more that tight ball of anxiety grew inside you, threatening to burst out and take you with it.

The Doctor held his psychic paper in his hand, slapping it against the other thoughtfully. He’d received another message. Someone else who needed help. You wanted to help them. You really did. And you wanted to be there with the Doctor- side by side as you saved people and kicked alien ass. However, at the same time, the two of you had faced down at least three, maybe four, terrifying potentially fatal situations this week alone and, well, you were getting close to your breaking point.

You were tired and overwhelmed.

You could tell just by looking at the Doctor that he was gearing up for an adventure. It was really horrible of you to think, but, well… if they were suffering and asking for help at a specific point in time- you could always wait a while and travel back to that point later. The caller would never know. You weren’t talking years or anything, just a few days. Even just a day.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind, you regretted it. You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, causing you to lean back against the TARDIS wall and sigh defeatedly. She seemed to hum from behind you, trying to give you a little comfort. Oh, you needed a vacation. And not a vacation where as soon as you get there the Doctor finds some alien threat to investigate or some bomb to diffuse. A real, honest-to-God vacation. Or you’d be the bomb the Doctor had to diffuse.

“What do you think, eh? Up for another adventure?” The Doctor finally turned to you, a massive grin spread on his face. Upon seeing whatever expression was plastered on your own, his brows dropped down into concern. He hummed and within seconds had bounded over to where you were standing in the corner. “What’s wrong, love? Was it the crab? I never trust the crab from Sigfried Xena. Bit too… purple for me.”

You let out a chuckle despite yourself. No matter what mood you were in, the Doctor always made you laugh. Whether it was intentional half the time was up for debate, but still. He made you laugh all the same.

“It’s- it wasn’t the crab,” you say, biting your lip anxiously, looking at the tops of your shoes. The Doctor’s warm hand is suddenly over your own, and you realise that you’d been picking at your nails. A habit you’d formed when stressed or anxious. You were pretty sure that’s why you let them grow out sometimes. A steadying sigh leaves your lungs and you risk a look back up to the Doctor.

“What’s wrong?” He asked pointedly, giving you one of those arched brow looks that always pulls you out of your shell.

“I don’t think I can do this.” The admission is so quiet you could barely hear it yourself. But the Doctor heard it. Of course, he does.

“Do what?”

You can tell he’s fighting the urge to say something to make you laugh. He can see you need to get this off your chest.

“I don’t think I can go off on another dangerous adventure,” you breathe. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but, I’m- I can-” you let out a frustrated groan as the words refuse to form for you. The Doctor’s eyes are flitting between yours as if he understands perfectly and doesn’t understand a word at the same time. Then again, you were pretty sure that was just his permanent state of being anyway.

“I almost died this week,” you say exasperatedly, feeling around the words and forcing them out. “Four times. And not in a cute oh-yeah-that-maths-homework-almost-killed-me kind of way. I almost actually died, Doctor. Four times. This week alone.” You knew he knew this, but you couldn’t regenerate. One bad shot from a gun, or a Dalek’s laser and it was game over for you.

Being put in these situations over and over were starting to wear you down. The almost constant fear was starting to grate against your insides like sandpaper.

The Doctor hummed for a second. You were almost certain this had been the most quiet he’d ever been. It was concerning.

“I can’t leave whoever this is- they need help,” the Doctor said eventually, choosing his words. “I know you’re not asking me to stand by and let them suffer, but I can’t leave them. It’s not who I am.”

You nodded, fingers grasping around the hand he has on yours so you didn’t start with your nails again.

“How about this?” The Doctor says, using his free hand to raise your gaze back to him by your chin. “You can come, or you can sit this one out. The TARDIS will keep you company while I’m gone- and then when I get back, I’ll take you home.”

You start to interrupt, but the look he gives you tells you to let him finish.

“We can visit your family- oh, I dunno- have dinner or something, and then you can either come with me to the next great adventure, or you can stay. I won’t be upset.” You know this is a lie. Of course, he’d be upset. “Well, I’ll understand,” he corrects.

You chew on your lip, peering into his eyes as if you’ll finally be able to decipher the thoughts going on behind them there.

“One condition,” you say after a few moments, settling on a decision. “You take me dancing first- after the problem is dealt with that is,” you tack on quickly, waving at the psychic paper.

“And I’m coming with you to help whoever that is. I might be overwhelmed, but I can’t stand by either.”

“Oh, yes,” he says softly, stretching back into that grin that melts hearts. “I think I can manage that.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, grasps one of your hands in his, and puts his other around your waist. You giggle freely as he leads you both back to the console of the TARDIS and lets go with an almost giggle of his own.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I love dancing. Brilliant stuff, that is. Good for the soul. Alright, then,” he looks positively giddy, rubbing his hands together. “First stop Earth- 1746.” He starts booting the TARDIS up and organising the coordinates.

“Allons-y!”

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yannaryartside · 1 month

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Why did Claire convince Carmy to drop HIS ideas for the menu?

So, did somebody else get upset when Carmy explained to Sydney that Claire made him realize "there are things I don't really care about...anymore" about the menu?

Like, wtf dude, this is YOUR menu, the whole point of your restaurant, why the fuck do you now think you don't care?

On Claire changing the menu

I think that Storer was really smart for not showing that scene, where Claire is comforting Carmy after his panic attack. Now, from what we can gather of the actual events, Carmy got a panic attack, then they talked about Donna driving a car through the wall of their house, and sometime before or after all that, they talked about the menu. A couple of things that, if they happened, could have been big red flags about Claire:

Why was Claire's solution to tell Carmy to forget about his original ideas for the menu? that is like "Oh honey does this cause your anxiety (you know, because you care about it) why don't you just drop it? Maybe then you will be happy" You have to treat the anxiety, not avoiding the things you care about because of it.

Did Claire dismiss Carmy's intentions on the menu, because it had to do with Syd? Like, did she actually recommended to drop it all because it would mean that Carmy and Sydney won't collaborate anymore? because Claire felt threatened? We all saw the way Claire looked at Syd.

Even if you could justify all this by "she was doing the best she knew to help him" I think the audience wouldn't have appreciated her talking Carmy into forgetting his vision for his own restaurant. That is the equivalent of Mary Jane telling Peter not to be Spiderman.

Now, and this is the really weird part, at this point Carmy is trying to make all the dishes his family made, but change them a little, recontextualize them. To make them "his own" and he told Claire about that, he part that is not clear is why he dropped the "thoughtful chaos menu" and just left the "chaos menu" My interpretation of this, again, is because thoughtful chaos can only be made by Carmy and Syd's collaboration. So Claire agreed with the things relating to the Berzatto traditions, but not, idk, Carmy's original vision for the restaurant, which may have not so much to do with her mother's recipes, and wanted to explore more to create something unique with Syd ideas too?

On Claire comforting Carmy.

Just a little last note. They had sex. Like, Claire and Carmy had sex after he got a panic attack, and the next morning he was still stressed as fuck. While just the memory of Sydney was able to calm him down from a huge panic attack (while he was thinking of Claire). Jejejeje.

Now...being serious. Idk if you think that offering sex for calming someone down is cute...I don't think it is. Even if they have already calmed down and you just want to "make their night better" or whatever.

Some people get really into sex while they get stressed, but a panic attack is more of an "I am dying' feeling, and it can depend on the person, Carmy is the kind who gets frustrated, exasperated, and violent while trying to handle his anxiety. So trying to make somebody not feel any of that that by asking them to be in the mood for fucking...Like "Oh, the trauma that you are trying to process right now honey, just don't feel it, but I want to fuck, and I know it can make you feel better" Personal opinion: gives me the ick, like 'Oh, my affection must be the answer to all your problems, my love is the only medicine you need" It all gets worse in my mind when I remember this woman is an emergency doctor, she is supposed to know some recommended procedures to help people with panic attacks, maybe she used them before they got into bed, but still, she can only presume that he is in a different head space just a few hours later, and you kinda look like and ashole if she offers and you say no.

I just don't like the idea of forcing mood changes on someone by offering them affection, especially sex. That can be really toxic for both parties.

#this post is all over the place but idk #Carmy changing his original vision because of his relationship with Claire still bothers me #the bear meta #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #the bear #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #sydney x carmy #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmy x sydney #syd adamu

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rachelsfav-queer · 15 days

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Okay, I’ve been dying to write something so I made something for wenclair. But I also promised myself to make it short so, we’ll see if I keep that promise lmaoooo

So without further ado, here’s Wednesday’s first time cuddling in front of others.

Wednesday could feel the room around her getting louder, despite the volume of the people she reluctantly calls “friends” not changing much. Enid gave her a very long-winded explanation about this phenomena after it occurred during one of the group’s usual movie nights, though summarized it down to a mix of overstimulation, social anxiety, and daily stress.

And though Wednesday was very slightly offended by the implication that she was in some way “weak”, she learned to accept this and understand that her girlfriend only sought to help her, not insult her. Throughout the two years they’ve known each other, Wednesday has come to find that Enid truly does want the best for her, though is somehow yet to entirely believe that she is the best for Wednesday.

And so, Wednesday knew quickly that she was soon going to reach the point of overstimulation, but she was still not prepared to ask anyone for help with it.

Thankfully, her girlfriend had become more than well attuned to her mood and often knew how Wednesday was feeling before she did. Enid scoots closer to the short girl and gently grasps one of her hands, garnering Wednesday’s attention. The girl startles slightly, but settles as Enid carefully scoots even closer. Mindlessly, Wednesday leans into the werewolf’s warmth, not even registering what she’s doing and where she is. The vulnerability that Enid pulls out of her should terrify Wednesday, but instead, it just makes her feel at home. Like her heart is closer to whole.

And yet, there’s still something missing.

There’s still a part of Wednesday holding back. Speaking plainly, she’s still afraid. The trust of Wednesday Addams is not something easily earned, even less so after the events of last year. Yet somehow, Enid Sinclair has managed to sneak her way through Wednesday’s toughest barriers and highest walls and straight into her heart and has found that it’s not so cold and black as she’d like everyone to believe.

So why? Why can’t she let this final barrier down? Let Enid in fully the way she desperately desires to have her?

Fear. Plain and simple.

But as Wednesday looks into Enid’s eyes, the fear melts away. She looks around at the rest of the Nightshades and can clearly tell that they’re all pretending not to be watching them, they’re all surprisingly terrible liars considering they’re supposed to be part of a secret society. But Wednesday doesn’t quite care now. When Enid pats her own lap invitingly, Wednesday barely spares a second thought before sitting across it. Enid hums satisfied and wraps her arms around Wednesday tightly in her excitement. Wednesday groans annoyedly of course but does nothing to signal Enid to let go, which Enid accepts as the closest to a “please never let go” as she’s gonna get from the small raven.

Instead, Wednesday curls up closer to the werewolf, as close as she can get without literally merging herself with Enid. (Something she’s definitely not considered, she swears, Enid) And the two girls cuddle tightly for the rest of the night, with Enid even falling asleep with the raven in her arms, still not quite comfortable enough with the others to feel safe falling asleep around them. In due time, though. She’ll find that they all care about her and want to keep her safe as well.

End <3

#wednesday fanfic #wenclair #wenclair fanfic #wednesday addams #wednesday x enid #enid sinclair #my writing #fluff

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weeb-polls-with-pip · 4 months

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Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Round 2

Propaganda:

Amuro -

"Being a Newtype is just space autism to me. But also he sucks at falling in line in a structured environment, would rather work with machines than talk to people, and is only allowed as a child soldier because he's the bestest at big robots."

Kyouya -

"what's there to say? you know him. you love him. vote kyoya."

Euini -

"I relate a lot to his social anxiety, especially his performance anxiety that occurs when he's being watched by people, particularly due to his stress at needing to follow the plan/do things the "proper" way in order to not feel like he's a failure. he also stands like a lil autistic kid and i appreciate him so much for that.

(LIGHT SPOILERS) basically, he has a test that he needs to take in order to advance as a witch, and he keeps failing it because he cant perform properly while being watched by other people, even though he knows the "right" spells to use and why he's supposed to use them. on his third attempt of the test, he's prepared a "script" to use so that he can follow it and not worry about failing in the moment (in this case, his script is a hand-written book of the proper spells to use and the order in which he's supposed to use them), but when a part of the exam changes, he's no longer able to follow his script. because he's been taught all his life that there's only one proper way of doing things, his way of thinking is very rigid and he's not able to deviate from his plan without panicking. luckily, one of his fellow examinees (richeh from the autistic anime girls poll 💕) is able to convince him to try and change the way that he does things to something that is more attuned to his personal needs- basically change the way that he casts his spells and which spells to use so that he doesn't need to struggle with doing things in the way that everyone says that he should; the way that he cant seem to manage. but, even before richeh helped him with that though, he was still finding way to modify the "proper" spells a little bit to better suit his weaknesses. he was trying so hard to fit in to the mold that witch society gave him, but it just wasnt right for him and he was making it work however he could."

Aoi -

"He has a very devoted special interest in the idol Takada-chan, which he frequently imagines in fights and other situations… the moment someone (Itadori) expresses equal interest in something he is passionate about, he immediately declares them besties and brothers and creates a whole elaborate shared history for them that doesn’t actually exist. He’s not really interested in connecting with people who don’t share his interests. He’s seen as somewhat strange and eccentric. Though in the present he is respected because of his strength as a sorcerer, as a child he was very isolated."

Floyd -

"Has no emotional regulation skills and will make it everyone's problem. Prone to mood swings and can get angry at the drop of a hat, but can also be so goofy, silly, and lovely. Sways side to side for that good good stim, and loves to squeeze others (with violent intent and affectionate intent). Who doesn't love a good pressure stim? His interest in things can be fleeting, and his motivation to do things can change as quickly as his mood. Spontaneous and feral extraordinaire."

Apollo -

"Not canonically autistic but he has ZERO volume control plus he scripts/repeats stuff (“I’M FINE!!!”), sometimes mimics other people’s speech patterns (like replying “ja” to Klavier), sensitive to loud noises (stayed backstage at a concert cuz it was too loud) and bright lights (complained about the stage lights being too bright at the same concert + screamed when opening the hatch to the bright stage at magic show), and has been really into space since he was a kid, which could definitely be a hyperfixation (not to mention how he read every single one of Phoenix’s old case files back when he admired him). Plus he’s a little TOO normal, to the point where it circles back around to making him the odd one out, which is absolutely what masking feels like for me. Even when he tries to be fun and weird he gets strange looks/made fun of for not being weird in the right way. The list of autism symptoms is just a checklist for him at this point."

Ash -

"he just has those vibes ya know?"

Shou -

"His special interest is math. He uses math terms in regular conversations and calls people yoctograms/zeptograms which earned him monikers such as "math man" and "pi-face". Speaking of Pi, he once shouted 155 consecutive digits of it through a megaphone just because he could. He's so normal."

Sunny -

"Sunny has been told that his face is not expressive. He doesn't talk a lot and he often gets lost into his imagination. He is a great listener and recalls a lot of information being told he has a great memory (he is able to remember a whole speech about flower symbolism that his friend told him) He is compared to a cat."

Yuu -

"He’s like if an emo programmer boy was also completely unhinged and also had a tragic backstory."

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weirdworldofwinnie · 6 months

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A Darling Distraction

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only Oneshot

(Mood board by Selene Shelby @forgottenpeakywriter, this fic is especially for you, so I hope you enjoy! Thanks for the initial idea and support💕)

Summary: Robert's been married to you for a while and now in Los Alamos, after the last few years of hard work and a 'successful' Trinity Test, he desperately needs something he won't admit: his wife in pink satin lingerie and sexual stress relief.

Word Count: ~3,703

Warnings: Smut, unprotected and oral sex both ways, light daddy kink + breeding kink, some angst, mention of infidelity, period stereotypical gender roles, unspecified age gap (less than 10 years)

Disclaimer: Obviously NOT historically accurate to real life and is inspired by Cillian Murphy's portrayal of Oppenheimer in the film. It isn't supposed to be in total support and a complete reflection of the man's character, only my interpretation. Scroll away and DNI if you are uncomfortable or take issue with this; it is primarily for entertainment purposes only and it is just fantasy/fiction!

This is strictly a one shot story, no more will be added to it. If you want to read other Cillian!Oppenheimer fanfiction, check out my Masterlist

Tags: @happysparklingshadows (@forgottenpeakywriter wanted me to tag you), @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86

It had been less than 24 hours since the denotation of the gadget and Dr. Robert Oppenheimer's eyes had been engulfed in fire; the aftermath of a hot white flash as bright as a hundred suns blowing out his pupils, followed by a colorful mushrooming cloud that was somehow simultaneously beautiful and horrific. Between the hours before and after Trinity, he had thought of Jean and her influential poetry, and you of course, but now the bomb had become him and only that one vision filled his mind, haunting him.

All day he had been at the lab and offices, but mostly at the main mess hall celebrations that flowed with chatter and too many drinks shared amongst the military and scientists alike whom many believed had been witness to a great success, a miracle, but also the worst of humanity had just been born into creation. Oppenheimer had become what he supposed he had been destined to be all along: Prometheus, doomed to bring great power and advancement to humanity at a steep cost. He was the destroyer of worlds, but not technically yet, and that was the worst of it. The early morning test was exactly that; a trial, a preview of what was to manifest, and very soon would the world get to see such power he had helped birth. He desired peace, but the trick was he was only attaining that through warfare like never before. The stress was far from over and he was afraid to become a nervous wreck by the end of the decade with all these dark pervasive thoughts and doubts. Depression was nigh on the back of pressuring anxiety and there was no way anything would ever be the same again. He had changed, the world had changed, seamlessly overnight.

As he clumsily unlocked the front door to his home with slightly shaking fingers and stumbled inside, reaching up to remove his porkpie hat and hang it up on the coatrack, he called out your name hoarsely. After a beat of listening and there was no response, he sighed... Maybe you'd already gone to bed or were tucking in the children, whatever it was he didn't know and didn't care because he was too wrapped up in his own emotions. He felt ecstatic that all the hard work had come to fruition and they cemented history, but he was also at a paradoxical point of great accomplishment and great moral failure; the duality of man. But most importantly: it worked. Now what they would do with it was another matter he couldn't quit thinking about.

He reflexively twitched for a cigarette in his shirt pocket, but he was empty, so he walked to the bedroom single mindedly and fumbled for a box in the side table, yanking out the drawer and shifting through to pick up a pack of Chesterfield's.

"Darling?"

He jumped, spinning around with a huff and hand on his hip to see you standing in the shadows of the entryway and draped in a pink robe snug around your frame and he noticed your feet were bare as if you'd just been dressing.

"Y/N, I thought you were... Are the children in bed?"

"An hour ago, they were fussy and very insistent with missing Daddy, but once I read to them they finally settled down. You've been absent all day because of the test, what made you actually come home?"

He shook his head, finding relief and refuge in taking a long drag on the cigarette and blowing the smoke out, gesturing at you with the butt of it.

"You brought in the sheets like I told you to?"

"Of course, I knew."

"Good."

He moved to the edge of the bed and sat down heavily, rubbing his forehead and you noticed the tiredness he exuded for a man who usually was so attentive with higher energy levels, and how sunken in and sad his wide ocean eyes were. These past few years had taken a tremendous toll on his wellbeing more than ever... His jutting cheekbones and general gauntness were more pronounced with the unhealthy loss of weight and crinkles of wrinkles were all he truly kept gaining in eventual amounts; crow's feet, forehead lines, nasolabial folds, and etches under his eyes. His dark hair, kept meticulously cut short, was greying at the sides. Even his teeth, if inspected closely, were on a fast track to faintly showing signs of aging decay from all the smoking and drinking he did on a daily basis.

Robert was not the picture, nor rarely the temperament, of boyish youth you remembered from Berkeley.

Truthfully, you and him hadn't had proper sex in many months; it just wasn't very desirable or convenient between his never ending work that created distance between him and anyone who wasn't a scientist, the continuing socializing and parties with many other faces in town, and you personally spending days cleaning up and minding after little (often crying) children who did not have a clue of what their parents were doing out in the middle of the New Mexico desert surrounded by barbed wire fencing and uniformed men always patrolling. Life here was anything but boring, but the bedroom sure had become so. More often than not, Robert couldn't sleep soundly while you kept to your designated side of the bed and tried to ignore his tossing and turnings until eventually he doped himself up on sleeping pills to cope. He also hadn't been the same since the news of Jean Tatlock's passing and you highly suspected - no, knew - he had an affair during his trip to California once he had his security clearance approved. Of course it upset you he could be so idiotic and unfaithful, yet it wasn't shocking given his womanizing track record, but what made you more concerned was knowing how psychologically troubled Jean had been and if Robert thought he could offer her some consolation, he may have just made it worse and partly done her in. If he blamed himself for her death, you couldn't imagine carrying around that kind of guilt in addition to what he spent his time creating to end the war.

He stood now, restless, and began to pace an invisible groove into the flooring as he continually smoked and muttered to himself. You drifted away into the bathroom and shut the door, shrugging off your robe to the floor. You were completely nude underneath, coming off of a fresh bath and you had spritzed yourself with the best perfume you owned, hoping to surprise Robert, but something was clearly missing here.

Yes, and you know obviously what it is. It's his happiness, the spontaneousness that he has lost ever since he ran those calculations and went to Albert Einstein about a chain reaction igniting the atmosphere and blowing us all to bits. It was less than 0.1% chance, but it reminded him of the bigger issue... creating such a weapon with the power to destroy oneself was mighty weighty on any half decent man's conscience and even a rotten one's, for he too would be annihilated in the process if ever taken far enough. Everything these days was pure existential dread, no doubt about that, and no wonder Robert wasn't in the mood for love. His heart was being drained of it daily and you wanted to help, to fill him again even if just for once. It was difficult to watch him continually self-destruct and negatively affect those around him.

So you plucked up the ready matching pink folded satin lingerie he'd gifted you for the fifth wedding anniversary off the countertop and slipped into it, banking on the fact that it made you look sexually irresistible... And oh, it certainly did dial the appeal up to ten. You sauntered out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom where Robert was now seated on the bed, nose deep in a book and paperwork, clearly engrossed and a permanent frown was driven into his skin between his sculpted eyebrows.

"I have something for you, love," you announced softly as you leaned in the doorway, letting your body be on full display in such a loose, risqué little number.

"Hmm?" he murmured distractedly, haphazardly fluttering pages.

"Are you even reading any of that?" you asked flatly and he accidentally dropped it to the floor, hands still quivering and he tried to get up, wavering on his feet as you watched him in a strange state of both nerves cracking and drunkenness. You ached to make him better and by golly, tonight you would even if you had to throw yourself at him.

"Robert, don't you want to look at me? I have a surprise on..."

"I should pick this up and go to bed with a pill," he said to only himself, bending over and scooping the paperwork and book into his arms before standing unsteadily and he turned his back, carelessly dumping the materials onto the side table. You quickly strode up behind him and slid an arm around his waist, fingers drumming on his metal belt buckle splashed with a tinge of turquoise design.

He froze as you wound a bare leg around one of his and he reached behind his back, brushing your scantily clad silky bottom, fingers gliding over the fabric and making you moisten.

"The lingerie, you're wearing it," he stated and you couldn't quite tell if he was delighted by this or not.

"So I am, I know it's been a while since you gifted me with it, so tonight I thought I'd finally return the favor after the amount of stress we've been under, especially you."

"You-you're proposing I need... oh no. No, I don't know if I'm, uh, ready-no, I don't know if I-I can, I mean do-handle it-" he stuttered out and you fought a laugh. Oppie the great improviser, the genius, the man always in control of the proverbial cockpit was ironically clearly not thinking all that straight tonight and for once in his life, absolutely tongue-tied. You may not have much power as a housewife (that earned psychology degree had been so far deemed useless once you moved with him and had children) in this godforsaken place, but you had this way of melting your husband to molten lava that no one else was capable of. His mouth utterly agape, you ran your hands around the leather of the belt and snaked another leg around his, squeezing gently into his side as you put your lips close to his ear, murmuring.

"You know that we both need it, so just let me work my magic like a good old fashioned whore..."

He bristled, catching your hand still fondling his belt and pushing away lightly.

"I would never refer to you as that," he said, completely unamused and perhaps with a veil of disgust too that you thought seemed unnecessary.

"What am I, then, just the stoic scientific director's wife who will be at your side when you receive a Nobel for your work in stopping the world from global conflict with explosions and implosions?"

His sharp jaw clenched and in one swift motion, he abruptly fell over sideways onto the bed and you startled, leaning over and gripping at his shoulder, worried.

"Oh, Robert, are you sick? I was just being a bit sarcastic."

He closed his eyes, obviously in some sort of internal turmoil that didn't merit sharing fully.

"No, I just... We don't need to do this, not now, not when I'm having a pretty bad time. I'm fatigued, probably drunk, and I should talk to the General tomorrow about the schedule. I'll be wanting to fly to Washington soon; the President will be expecting a briefing and they need to determine the exact target and then once it's all over we'll need to settle somewhere else and..."

He began to murmur anxiously about all the engagements he was expecting (postwar and not) and you shook your head, pushing down on his chest.

"But don't you want a distraction, a temporary all consuming joy for one night?" you pressed and he finally looked up at you, really gazed at you, and a genuine buttery smile spread across his mouth.

"Come here, my love," he whispered while tugging at the lingerie panty bow unsuccessfully and you clamored onto the bed beside him. He paused, licking his lips, and then spoke too briskly.

"We'll get straight to it and once I finish, it should help me sleep naturally better than those prescriptions."

You sat up, shoving him playfully and scowling.

"That has to be the least sexist statement you've ever said to me in the bedroom. Don't you want a marathon, not a sprint? Enjoy me, Robert. That's what I'm really here for anyhow, your darling distraction."

He took this in, then rolled over on top of you, his hot alcohol and nicotine infused breath on your cheeks as he breathed heavily, and you made a cringing face.

"How many drinks have you had today? You smell of a bar and I'm thinking you should rinse your mouth out before you get the luxury of having me."

"You do, hm? I guess that's a command, Mrs. Oppenheimer," he smirked and sat up, shoving off to the bathroom and you went to go put on a record on the turntable in the living room. The classical music crackled through and you walked back to the bedroom, laying into a seductive position onto the bed, one leg propped up with a bent knee and your arm draped across the headboard.

When he came back, his eyes widened at the sight of you as though it was finally registering and he wet his lips again, unapologetically hungry. He moved to the bed, shrugging his suit jacket off to drop to the floor, taking off his black tie, and mindlessly undoing the buttons on his white shirt. That was quickly discarded as you waited for him to remove his socks and shoes, pretending to be impatient by switching position to cross your legs and checking your manicure.

"Hurry up, Oppie, I have a time limit here."

He shook his head disapprovingly, kicking the shoes under the bed and whipping off his belt, tossing it to the floor with a clunk before wrestling out of his trousers and you stared at his boxer clad skinny frame, the cock not even engaged yet... Looks like he's making you do all the work again. A petulant sigh escaped when you rolled your eyes and he pointed a finger, chastising.

"Patience, my love. Hasn't Daddy taught you anything at this point?"

You bit your lip as he leaned over and his bare chest collided with yours... You pulled him into an antsy kiss, mouths crushing each other needily and he tasted of tobacco and toothpaste, a strange combination, but better than before. You felt the slight sheen of cold water he had splashed on his skin transferring to yours and you gripped his neck, fingers splaying across the back of his head.

His own hands went to fondle your covered breasts and you pulled away from his kiss for a moment.

"You are divinely doll like in this, I love such feminine expression," he murmured in a kind of rapture.

"Shame it has to be stripped of me," you whispered with raised eyebrows.

"It's only garments, what really counts is here..." He suddenly squeezed both your breasts and you let out a spurt of high pitched noise, allowing him to remove the top, shimming it off your body in one motion and tossing it over his shoulder where the strap caught on the bedpost.

He thumbed over one nipple and then transferred to the other, teasing you to rock hard nubs. He moved to your panty, slipping it down and off to expose you, and you kicked it to the end of the bed. Then, in turn, you yanked down his underwear and his cock sprung out into your ready grip. You began to pump on it and getting him to a more erect state, rising up. He groaned lightly and you pulled the oozing tip to your mouth, parting lips and flicking your tongue out to carefully lick a strip along the length before taking head, making him grow stiffer and wetter by the minute. Your mouth popped of his length, swallowing, and he gripped your waist as he focused hard on you over his throbbing member.

"What do you want, my love? Do you want me?" he whispered huskily and you shivered in anticipated arousal.

"Yes, darling, I want you... I need you, you own me and I own you."

"Sounds like a fair arrangement," he breathed before crushing into you and began to rub, purely animalistic, all over your smooth body. His head burrowed down into your freshly shaved pussy just like how you and him liked it clean, licking at your folds and massaging your lower abdomen in a desperate frenzy. You dug nails into his hair, curling, and bucked your hips to meet his appetite when he slowly slithered on top. You groaned as you took him, all of him, and let his penis expand and stretch out your core to the fullest extent, clenching instinctively around the shaft as he thrust repeatedly until you were sent easily right over the edge in freefall.

"Mmm, Robert!" you squealed in ecstasy and he muffled you, hand slapping down over your mouth and shushing insistently.

"Shh, don't need to wake the children now. God knows they'll find Mommy and Daddy intimately together one of these days and be scarred for life at the sight." He chuckled as you whined behind his palm and grooved further at a pace you both knew very well. After years of marriage and sensual exploration, he knew all your sweet spots and sensitivities, when was too much, and yet it was taking all his self control not to completely plow you apart right now. His skin smacked against yours as he ground into you, hands everywhere at once and he peppered wet kisses all along your jaw to nape.

When his warm cum finally jetted into you, flooding in your cervix fully, you were unable to constrain a loud moan and he growled primally, his whole small frame shuddered through his own climax as you gripped his back, using his boney spine as placeholders for your fingers as he rocked further at a steady pace, not going to come out right away.

More orgasms came fast and one after the other, especially as you rolled over and he took his place beneath and you rode his cock in a fervor, letting the peak hit all over again and he watched in a dazed nirvana as you pleasured. When he finally pulled out from your used leaking hole, you could tell how satisfied he was having been able to hopefully successfully seed you and that signature smugness was so evident.

You laid panting at his side as he took up another smoke, struggling to keep his eyelids from closing and drifting off to sleep. You interweaved legs, soaking wet with combined fluids dripping onto the sheets, and he flit a free finger down to your soaked pussy, groping and nearly overstimulating you with another orgasm you didn't think could be as strong as the first. He grinned at the effect and cupped your mound with his palm, dominant of it as he spoke softly.

"Groves pointed out that I have no knowledge of birth control, which is true. By this rate, you'll be having yet another baby in nine months and I can only hope we are far from this current landscape and political climate then, never to return. You know, I'm hoping for another boy this time."

You sighed with a smile, rubbing your belly and his hand joined yours, rubbing circles over your navel.

"You make a wonderful mother," he commented in praise and you laughed lightly, bitterly, and glanced at him.

"I'm not perfect, I can barely hold it together these days when they're hungry, tired, and upset for no reason I can physically see at all... Sometimes I wish to wring their necks quite honestly. And you're very hardly the model father yourself when you are always away and hardly take care of them. I know the work is everything, but they need genuine paternal love more than your science to save them."

He shrugged, nonplussed, and then set his wispy cigarette to the ashtray before leaning his head against yours.

"We are probably horrible people, but I wouldn't have it any another way. To create life with you is more than I could selfishly do alone, for obvious reasons untold."

You laughed again at his dry humor and intertwined your body with his own, wishing you could crawl inside his skin and live in his bone structure. He was absolutely everything to you, even on bad days, and maybe his prestige and stability contributed to that, but there was real love underneath his flaws.

"Whatever you face, I'll be here to try to mitigate it," you whispered seriously and he nodded, appreciative.

"I trust you and I love you, Y/N. It won't get easier for me, for us, and I'm afraid the future may be as horrifying as I imagine it."

"That's why we have sex, to stave off the inevitable for a little while," you told him, tears pushing out and slipping down your cheeks. He caught one with his finger and wiped it clean off, staring at the translucent wet spot at the tip of his fingernail sadly. It wasn't unusual for you to weep after sex, but this felt different.

"Kiss me," he murmured and you leaned forward as he grabbed the back of your head and smooshed in, tongues writhing together for a few seconds before you both pulled away, breathing in the same air together.

"Tonight is good enough for me," he decided and you snuggled into his neck, closing your eyes to succumbing exhaustion.

In an uncertain frightening world full of variables, you vowed to be his one constant for life.

Thanks for reading 🖤

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 1 year

Text

(TW: Sex, genitalia mention)

My dear lgbt+ kids,

Sex isn't supposed to hurt. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying.

That includes all kinds of penetration: vaginal, anal, with a penis, finger or toy. "Entry pain" with penetration isn't normal and neither is pain during or after sex.

There are sadly still people out there who tell vagina-owners that it's normal to feel uncomfortable during sex, that penetrative sex isn't supposed to be enjoyable for you, only for your partner, or that you need to bear the pain (either for your partner's sake or "until you loosen up" - which is not how the vagina works!).

The idea that “you are born tight and need to be loosened up by a penis” (and that you therefore need to lie down and take the pain until you are loose enough) is a complete myth. It is easily debunked by basic biology: your vagina is a muscular canal. That means its tissue is elastic! It can stretch when it needs to, and then it bounces back (just think about childbirth! It can stretch to fit a whole baby) - and it can do that because that’s how muscles work, it doesn’t need some magic penis to come along and teach it to do that. It’s actually a pretty sexist idea that you’d need that!

Pain isn't (and shouldn't be!) a normal, regular part of sex. If penetration hurts, it's a sign something is wrong. It's a good idea to talk to a medical professional who can help you pinpoint the exact reason.

Here are a few common causes:

Not enough lubrication. This means you are not "wet" enough. The vagina self-lubricates when aroused, the anus doesn't. So, for vaginal sex it can help to just include more foreplay to make sure you are really aroused and ready to go! Foreplay can be anything that feels good and gets you in the mood. Additionally you can use lube (this is a kind of gel or cream specifically made to reduce friction during sexual activity which are safe to apply to genitalia - please do not try to use face cream, shampoo or anything like that. If it is not made to be used vaginally, it can really irritate your skin and make the problem worse!). For anal penetration, you always need to use lube.

Certain medications (like antidepressants, birth control pills or high blood pressure pills) can decrease lubrication as a side effect. If you suspect this plays a role, please do not discontinue your meds without your doctor's approval. Ask them for advice, maybe you can switch to a different brand or dosage. Lube can also be helpful in those cases.

Urinary tract infections can cause a burning sensation during or after sex. Talk to your doctor, you may need antibiotics or other medication to treat your UTI.

Skin problems in your genital area (like eczema) can cause pain during sex. If your skin looks red or feels itchy, raw or swollen, talk to your gynecologist.

Vaginismus causes involuntary spasms of the vaginal muscles. This may be the case if you can't insert anything at all (not even tampons) without experiencing severe pain. Talk to your gynecologist. (They usually do not need to perform an internal exam to diagnose vaginismus, if you are worried about the exam being too painful). Treatment can include physical therapy (such as pelvic floor exercises) and psychological therapy.

Depression, anxiety, high levels of stress or past traumatic sexual experiences can also contribute to pain during sex. This does not mean “The pain isn’t real, it’s all in your head”! Emotional health and physical health are interlinked. For example, depression can make it harder to feel aroused (and therefore lubricated).

This is not an exhaustive list. There are other temporary situations, chronic conditions and acute illnesses that can make sex painful - if you are unsure or worried, it’s always best to consult a gynecologist.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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danikamariewrites · 9 months

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Hi! Can you write a one shot (hopefully on the longer side) where reader is just struggling with anxiety and depression and Cassian is comforting her? TIA!

Fix You

Cassian x reader

A/n: hi anon! I was in the mood to write this one. I had a bad day and was feeling depressed today so it was nice to imagine Cassian taking care of me while writing this. So if you’re feeling depressed know you’re not alone and if anyone ever wants to talk my dms are open :)

Warnings: angst, mental health struggles, anxiety, depression (I didn’t proof read this so I’m sorry for any typos)

A few weeks ago you felt your depression creep in again. But there was no way you were about to have a depression episode. You and Cassian were happy. There was nothing really to stress about, your work load had increased a little but nothing you couldn’t handle.

So you pushed it down. Kept fighting your thoughts and just kept breathing. Everything was fine. Cassian didn’t suspect anything and you wanted to keep it that way. You hated feeling like a burden to him. It made you feel anxious that he would take time off of work to stay with you.

Cassian always said he didn’t mind, but a little voice in your mind told you he did mind and hated you for it. You did love that he was so willing to take care of you. No one in your life had ever been there for you like Cassian has.

All day you felt mentally exhausted. Your social battery was drained and your depressive episode was winning. You were going to fight it for Cassian and for yourself. You were supposed to be getting ready to go to Rita’s tonight with everyone but all you could do was zone out while staring at your reflection in the mirror.

You weren’t focused on imperfections, you just hated how tired you were. The bags under your eyes seemed deeper, more purple. Blinking at your reflection you felt the ache of tears build behind your eyes and that all too familiar lump form in your throat.

Closing your eyes for a few seconds you open them and let your tears flow. You felt insane for just staring at yourself with a blank face while you silently cried. It was better to let it out at home than at Rita’s surrounded by your friends.

You don’t know how long you stood there just watching yourself cry. It had to have been a while because Cassian finally knocked on the bathroom door. He didn’t wait for you to respond to come in. “Y/n?” “Yeah.” Your voice cracks and sounds far away from your body.

Cassian turns you to face him, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs wipe away your tears as he looks at you, really looks at you like he’s searching for the answer to an unspoken question. “Is it bad again?” Your face scrunches and you begin to sob. You nod, burying your face in Cassian’s chest.

He holds you close to him before picking you up to carry you to bed. You didn’t realize he was already dressed to go out and your guilt for making him stay home made you cry harder.

Cassian jumps on the bed sitting against the headboard. He pulls into his lap and you curl into him continuing to sob. He rubs slow soothing circles on your back and gently rocks you back and forth.

You ended up crying yourself to sleep. Cassian tucked you in laying next to you. He lightly held your fingers he watched you sleep. He let out a sigh of relief knowing your mind had a break for a few hours.

Cassian always felt guilty when you got like this. He felt like a failure for missing all of the signs you were falling into a depression. He liked that he was the person you could go to, so why didn’t you come to him for help this time?

You jolted awake the next morning. Rubbing at your puffy eyes you scanned the room for Cassian. Before you could go look for him the door opened and he padded in holding two steaming mugs of tea. “Good morning princess.” He shot you small smile that you tried to return.

“Morning.” He handed you a mug, kissing your forehead. You take it with both hands letting the it warm your frozen fingers. That’s when you noticed the curtains billowing in the morning breeze. “I opened the window last night. You woke up and said you felt like you couldn’t breathe, so I wanted to let some fresh air in.”

You gave Cassian a sad smile. “Thank you.” He sat on top of the covers next to you, his wings trying to relax behind him. You could tell he wanted to talk. “Go ahead Cass. It’s ok, ask me.” You lay a reassuring hand on his knee and he takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see the signs. And I want you to know that I’m always here for you. You can come to me with these things y/n, please.” Cassians voice breaks a little. You shed a few tears as you curl up in his lap again.

You hugged Cassian tight tucking your face in his neck. “I promise I’ll ask for help next time.” He relaxes and kisses the side of your head. “Good, you’re not alone y/n. I’m here for you my love.”

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #cassian acosf #cassian fanfic #cassian acotar #cassian acotar x reader #cassian angst #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian x reader

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