THERE'S A 3 AM VERSION ???

THERE'S A 3 AM VERSION ???

THE ALBUM WAS A MASTERPIECE. THE URGE TO WRITE HITS YOU WTF

🥹 sobbing screaming crying

summary | ari takes care of you when you're sick dom!ari levinson x sick!reader | kinktober 2022

for more drabbles: [#kinktober 2022] tag!

warnings | kinda fluffy, actually. just ari taking charge + reader falling into subspace??

buy me a kofi! drabble requests/asks! main!

CONT.

“Ari—”

“I got it,” the man in front of you grunts, moving towards the kitchen. Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. 

Great. Not like you ruined the friendship before it began—what friendship is there between the two of you anyways? I mean, it has been a few years since the two of you first met, and the man in front of you couldn’t stop glaring and turning quiet whenever he was around you. Your friend Natasha introduced the two of you, her saying that this was her best friend. Since then, he was pretty much stuck with you. 

Like now, with you being sick, and him coming over to take care of you since Natasha asked—practically begged—him to.

And you’ve never been more uncomfortable sitting in silence. 

For one, he’s intimidating. Plus, though you’ll never admit it, you seem to melt around him. Since he shoved the cocky football player attempting to get handsy with you in college, you felt… safe. Around him. And shy. And everything else. 

Like you knew that he would take care of you no matter what. The reassurance that you can depend on him. 

“Sorry,” you murmur when he brings you a glass of water. The man stares at you for a second, then shakes his head. 

“Stop apologizing.”

The sorry is stuck in your throat again, so you just nod instead. Ari sighs—you’re sure you’re an annoyance to him. Who would sign up to take care of someone who was younger than you and could barely form coherent sentences? There were thousands of girls wanting his attention. 

Your grip on the cup loosens, when he places it on the table, crouching in front of the sofa. His hands are on either side of your thighs, as he stares up at you. Observing you. Heat crawls up your neck, and you fight the urge to bury your head in the blankets. 

“Do you need anything else?” The words are surprisingly softer than expected. 

“You can go,” you blurt. “I don’t want to hold you up if you have anything.”

He does—since he’s the CEO. It’s ridiculous that he’s putting back meetings for you. 

“I’m staying,” his voice is firm. “Until you get better.”

“I’m feeling okay,” you squeak, and attempt to get up. “I can search the fridge to find something to make for dinner.” 

“Baby.”

You freeze at the nickname that leaves his mouth. Isn’t that… for lovers? 

It must have the effect he intended, though, because Ari gently places you back on the sofa, pulling the blankets around you. But this time, he places himself below you, so that you’re straddling his thighs, and that your chests are touching. In order to steady yourself, your fingers splay across his chest, and he sucks in a tense breath. You shiver—not from the cold. The whole time, he’s staring at you, eyes hooded. 

And you can’t discern whether it’s embarrassment or nerves—maybe both—but you bury your face in the crook of his neck: your safe spot. Whether you’re watching scary movies or forced to go to another party with Natasha, that area has been a haven for you, blocking out your surroundings. 

It’s not until now that you realize how… odd this is. How this is something that friends don’t do. 

Except you don’t know if you care. Because you’re falling into some headspace, where you can let all responsibilities go and have Ari handle it—he always does. In fact, you want Ari to take charge and tell you what to do. 

You feel his hand, big enough to engulf yours, come to rest on your hip. You squirm when his thumb rubs circles on your skin, an arm snaking around your waist to press you closer together. 

“I’ll take care of it. Don’t lift a finger—you understand me?” 

string earphones (?) are the authentic and original and for some reason while wearing them that's when i'm most productive and creative-

THE ALBUM WAS A MASTERPIECE. THE URGE TO WRITE HITS YOU WTF

🥹 sobbing screaming crying

Are you planning on doing a part 2 to "hoax"? I'd love to see what happens next!

ack hi hello & yes i am! i have most parts connected, just a matter of writing more angsty scenes and filling in the blanks 😌 thank you so much for reading!

summary | you think you can go unpunished, but steve has other plans softdom!steve rogers x naive!reader | kinktober 2022

for more drabbles: [#kinktober 2022] tag!

warnings | size kink, breeding kink, dd/lg, dom/soft ari, explicit smut, edging

buy me a kofi! drabble requests/asks! main!

CONT.

“Steve! I’m sorry!” You cry, writhing on the bed. 

“Clearly not sorry enough, baby,” he grunts, pulling out before you can come. You clench around nothing, and another sob escapes your lips. 

You didn’t think Steve would take his punishment this far, edging you instead of spanking you. Yes, it was probably your fault that you used his card and spent too much money, money that you usually don’t like spending. Half of it you spent on donating food and clothes to charity. And, well, the other half you justified in spending it for him, since he had a habit of ripping your clothes off.

Which was fine. It was probably the intention behind it that’s getting you into so much trouble right now. You pissed that Steve—Daddy—has been busy for the past few days, neglecting you. Sure, he left you kisses, but he left for the company quickly after that, leaving you wanting. Wanting him. 

Something that he’s been making amends for for hours. When his tongue licks your slit, and he sucks harshly on your clit, you release another desperate whine. 

“Daddy! Please!”

“Finally the proper name. My dumb baby forgot what to call me, didn’t she? Makes sense, since she thought that Daddy didn’t care about her anymore. Since Daddy didn’t give her the attention she wanted—that’s why you acted out, isn’t it?”

You can’t answer. Can’t think. You can’t grab at him either: he tied your hands and ankles to the edge of the bed. Instead, you’re resorted to babbles. 

He slips his cock in again, and you cry at the sensation when he starts to thrust. A hand comes to wipe your tears, and Steve leaves kisses on your neck and along your jawline. 

“It’s too much! Please!”

“Please what? Please let me come? Please forgive me?” 

“I’m sorry! Sorry!” You choke on the words, and with a growl, Steve slaps your ass. 

“Never again, you understand me baby? You’re Daddy’s, always.” 

Once the words leave his mouth, you can’t control it: the orgasm strikes you, toes curling and back arching. You nearly black out, the few seconds as you come becoming hazy. Steve comes inside of you, and you milk him as he kisses you, still thrusting, slow and steady. 

“Ready for another round, baby?”