#I can take as long as I want to do that one it's not a mainline fic aksksk

[humanjarvis]

lads LIs when you're hesitant to initiate kisses

sylus understands your hesitancy to make yourself vulnerable, but he also can't stand to see you unfulfilled. the first couple times he catches you staring at his lips, he offers nothing but lazy blinks and slow smirks, challenging you to come to him first. but when you look away in uncertainty one too many times, seemingly content to watch your own desires slip away as long as it saves you from embarrassment, he saunters toward you, maintaining eye contact all the way. placing one hand on your hip and the other on your chin, he bends to capture your lips with his, making you stumble with his intensity. his grip on you only tightens when he breaks the kiss, and before you can ask what he’s doing, he tugs you toward his lips. when you lose your balance and fall into his embrace, you realize his game: he’s making you kiss him first 

zayne empathizes with your shyness and hesitancy, afraid to so much as look at you the wrong way in case he offends you. since you’re both too frozen in overthought to make the first move, you don’t become intimate as quickly as most couples, trading physical closeness for emotional understanding. when he walks you to your door after a visit to the bakery, he leaves you with a warm goodnight hug, and you both assume the other is satisfied. only when you think he’s asleep on the sofa one evening and press a fond kiss to his cheek does he realize you share his private desires. the next day, after stoically psyching himself up for 20 minutes, he finds you in the kitchen and kisses you deeply, a pink tinge on his cheeks when he pulls away

caleb wants you to kiss him first—or at least ask him to kiss you—but what if you won’t? he needs to know that you want him—that you’ll willingly give him the privilege of kissing you—so he gives you a few pushes in the right direction. he teases you with heated glances and not-so-accidental touches until you walk up to him, dumb with desire. when you stare up at him helplessly, he settles a large hand on your waist and hovers over your mouth, giving you the chance to push him away. when you don’t, he leans in slowly, tantalizingly, as if wanting to drive home the fact that you’re letting this happen to you—letting him claim your mouth in a slow, consuming kiss. this way, maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the courage to take what you want from him next time—if you let him taste you, there’s no need to be shy anymore, right?

you know rafayel, so you know he would be upset if you expected him to initiate everything—would it kill you to show a little interest in him? that said, you also know that initiating things isn’t really your thing. so, you find a trick that works like a charm: you goad him into kissing you. you’re comfortable enough with kisses to other places—anywhere but the lips—so you adorn his cheeks and neck with soft, chaste kisses until he’s riled up and flushed, his breath coming out in soft pants from the pleasure of feeling wanted. when you pull away, he chases your touch, and all it takes is an innocent giggle from you before he’s pinning you down and stealing your breath away, his tongue tangling with yours in passion and power.

xavier is confused and a bit discouraged when he realizes you never initiate—he thinks you just don’t want to kiss him. one afternoon, you find him sulking in bed, huddled under his comforter with the lights off. worried he’s sick or hurt, you ask what’s wrong, and he gives you 4 pouty non-answers before finally giving in. you can feel your face heat and gut tangle in guilt when he questions if you ever want to kiss him, and with one hand stroking his hair, you confess that you’re simply too shy to kiss him first. he responds with a blink and a whispered “so you do like me, then?”, and when you nod, he tackles you at the speed of light, pressing kisses all over your face before finally claiming your lips

a/n: anon who asked me if i’d ever write for zayne and i hinted at later this week this is not what i was talking about don’t worry, just an impromptu writing exercise to convince myself i’m not washed. also while this technically counts for xavier and raf i’m the least familiar with their cards so idk if/when i can write anything much longer than this for them (love them tho)

[gf2bellamy]

overheard — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: a girl flirts with spencer, leading him to tell her that he has a girlfriend, not realizing that garcia is right behind him. content warnings: secret relationship , they're at a bar , girl hitting on spencer a/n: hiii !! can u tell i love the secret relationship trope by now ? bc i do also theres a small tiny pride and prejudice reference if anyone catches it :')

“Do you want anything to drink?” Spencer asked, his voice gentle as his hand rested on your thigh beneath the table. His fingers squeezed slightly.

The two of you sat in a dimly lit booth at the bar, a casual night out with the team.

You turned your head slightly, considering. “I’ll take a soda,” you said with a soft smile. 

Spencer nodded, his thumb brushing over your thigh absentmindedly before he reluctantly pulled away, pushing himself up from the booth. You could see it—the slight hesitation.

The urge to press a kiss to your temple before he left was almost unbearable. It would be so easy—too easy—to forget where you were, who was around. But he caught himself just in time, swallowing down the impulse with a tight-lipped smile instead. 

Your eyes met his knowingly, before turning back to JJ and Garcia.

Spencer made his way to the bar, his hands flexing open and closed at his sides as if chasing the phantom sensation of your warmth. He exhaled slowly.

The bar was busy, and it took a moment to catch a bartender’s attention. As he waited, his gaze flickered to the side, and that’s when he noticed her—a woman nursing an almost-empty glass, her eyes fixed on him. 

Spencer tensed, his fingers tapping against the counter.He quickly averted his gaze, directing it back toward the bar, subtly shifting his weight in discomfort.

Finally, a bartender stepped in front of him. “What can I get you?” 

Spencer blinked, clearing his throat. “Uh—two sodas, please.” 

The bartender nodded. As Spencer waited, his eyes drifted back to you. You were giggling at something JJ had said, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and the sight sent a warmth through his chest. He smiled softly to himself before turning his attention back to the bartender—who was now deeply engaged in a conversation with another customer. 

Spencer exhaled slowly, realizing he might be stuck here for a while. His fingers tapped lightly against the counter.

That’s when someone suddenly slid into the empty barstool beside him. He turned his head slightly, only to see the woman from earlier—the one he had accidentally made eye contact with. 

“Hi,” she greeted, flashing him a wide smile. 

“Hi?” Spencer responded, his tone more questioning than anything else. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” she remarked, taking a slow sip from her drink, her gaze lingering on him through long lashes. 

Spencer hesitated, his brain momentarily scrambling for a polite but distant response. “Uh… yeah, I don’t come here often,” he finally said, shifting uncomfortably. He glanced at the bartender again, who was now fully engrossed in his conversation and seemingly in no rush to get him the sodas. 

“You should,” the woman said, her smile widening. 

Spencer swallowed, his shoulders tensing. Social cues weren’t exactly his strong suit, but even he could pick up on this one.

The way she leaned in slightly, the way her eyes remained locked on him—it was clear she wasn’t just making small talk. 

His fingers flexed at his side, an unconscious reaction to the absence of your touch. He didn’t like this. Because the only person he wanted to be sitting next to right now was still at the booth, completely unaware of this interaction. 

Her hand drifted closer to his on the counter, fingers brushing just barely against his own. Spencer immediately pulled his hand back, hoping she’d take the hint.

But she was too drunk to register it as rejection—if anything, she barely seemed to notice. 

He exhaled through his nose, his patience thinning. His eyes flicked back toward you, hoping—praying—you’d look over so he could silently plead for an out. But you were still deep in conversation, completely unaware of his growing discomfort. 

“What's your name?” the woman asked, her voice slightly slurred, her smile lazy as she leaned in a little closer. 

Spencer hesitated, tapping his fingers on the counter impatiently. “I, uh—I’m Spencer,” he mumbled, keeping his voice polite but distant.

He didn’t return the question. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how to extract himself from the conversation without causing a scene. Direct confrontation wasn’t really his style—he much preferred logical exits.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much logic in dealing with an overly persistent drunk woman at a bar. 

Thankfully, just then, the bartender finally stopped talking and turned toward him. Spencer wasted no time making himself known. 

“Hi, excuse me,” he said. His urgency must have been apparent because the bartender immediately nodded. 

“Right, sorry about that,” he said, quickly grabbing two sodas and setting them on the counter. 

“Thanks,” Spencer muttered, relieved. He grabbed the drinks, ready to make a quick escape, but just as he turned, he felt it—her hand wrapping lightly around his own. 

His entire body tensed. His eyes shot down to where her fingers clung to his, and then slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. 

“You’re cute,” she giggled, her grip lingering. 

Spencer’s breath hitched in his throat, an overwhelming discomfort settling in his chest, as he removed his hand from her grip. He had officially had enough. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think twice. 

“Look, I’m just here to grab two sodas for me and my girlfriend,” he blurted, shifting the drinks slightly to emphasize his point. 

Spencer always felt a warmth in his chest when he said that word—girlfriend. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe it. But right now, that feeling didn’t even have a chance to settle, because the moment the words left his mouth, a loud, dramatic gasp sounded from behind him. 

His stomach dropped. 

No… No, no, no… 

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if that would somehow reverse time or make what just happened disappear. But deep down, he already knew. 

He turned around hesitantly, almost like he was afraid of what he’d see. And there she was. 

Penelope Garcia. 

Mouth open, eyes impossibly wide, practically vibrating with the weight of this newfound information. 

“Garcia, wait—no—” Spencer started, panic rising in his voice. 

But it was too late. She gasped again, spun on her heel, and bolted toward the table. 

Spencer stood frozen, still clutching the two sodas, staring after her in absolute horror. He didn’t even care that the woman at the bar had pouted and walked away—his attention was solely on the impending disaster. 

At the booth, you were mid-conversation when you suddenly heard someone shout your name. Startled, you turned, only to find Garcia standing in front of you, hands on her hips, eyes ablaze with betrayal. 

“How dare you?” she demanded. 

You blinked, glancing at JJ, who looked just as confused as you. “What—?” 

But you didn’t even get to finish the sentence. 

“How could you not tell me you are dating our boy genius?” she exclaimed, her voice full of dramatics, as if you had just personally wounded her. 

“What?” JJ blurted, her straw slipping from her lips and falling into her drink. 

“Sweetheart, repeat what you just said,” Derek said, grinning so wide, clearly enjoying every second of this. Rossi, sitting beside him, raised an intrigued eyebrow. 

And then, from behind Garcia, Spencer slowly came into view. 

He stopped a few feet away, standing awkwardly with the sodas still in his hands, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

You stared at him. 

He stared back. 

He was red. His ears, his cheeks—blushing terribly, looking like he wanted to disappear into the floor. 

“Oh. My. God,” Garcia whisper-yelled, her hands flying up to her mouth as realization fully settled in. “It’s true! Oh, my God! How long?” 

Derek was cackling. JJ still looked like she was buffering. Rossi sipped his drink, clearly entertained. 

Spencer let out a long, slow sigh.

“Well,” he muttered, avoiding everyone’s eyes, “so much for keeping it a secret.” 

Spencer carefully maneuvered around Garcia, who was still watching him like a hawk, her arms crossed as if she were about to interrogate him. He set the sodas down on the table before cautiously sliding into the booth next to you, his movements stiff with embarrassment. 

“What on earth did you say?” you hissed under your breath, leaning in slightly as the entire team erupted into overlapping chatter around you. 

“Nothing!” Spencer insisted, though his voice cracked slightly. He swallowed, shifting awkwardly. “I just… a girl was flirting with me, and I told her I already had a girlfriend. And, uh… Garcia overheard.” His voice got quieter toward the end. 

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh, though the situation was anything but funny to Spencer. 

“I cannot believe this,” JJ muttered, shaking her head in amused disbelief. She swirled her drink in her hand, blinking between the two of you as if processing new information she should have known long ago. 

You shifted in your seat, feeling increasingly self-conscious under all their stares. Garcia was practically vibrating with energy as she whispered animatedly to Derek, who was grinning ear to ear, clearly loving every second of this. Rossi, meanwhile, simply stared blankly, his expression unreadable, and JJ—well, she was definitely staring, her slightly tipsy gaze moving between you and Spencer as if still coming to terms with reality. 

You turned to Spencer, who was fixated on the glass in front of him, his fingers toying with the condensation as he tried to pretend he wasn’t still very red. 

Sighing, you nudged him gently with your knee under the table. “You know… it’s fine,” you murmured. 

Spencer looked up at you, eyes cautious. 

“Not having to hide anymore,” you clarified, your lips twitching slightly. “It sounds nice.” 

Spencer blinked at you for a second before something in his shoulders loosened. His lips parted slightly, then curved into a small, shy smile. 

“It does,” he admitted, nodding slightly, his curls bouncing with the motion. 

Without really thinking, you reached out and lightly brushed your fingers through his hair, the soft curls slipping between them. “Now I can touch you,” you teased. 

Spencer’s smile widened, his blush deepening—but this time, there was something more relaxed about it. He wasn’t panicked anymore. 

The moment was sweet. Soft. 

And then— 

“Oh my god, they're touching!”

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Keep Talking

Your LADS man hitting it so well that you start speaking another language. Here's how I imagine they would react. [Requested by: tianalamb] A/N: Took some creative liberties as always CW: ‼️MDNI‼️fem!reader, afab!reader, p in v, raw dogging

Zayne

Type: Checks if you’re okay

Zayne is already incredibly touch starved so anytime the two of you are getting it in he is absolutely drowning in you. Nothing, but tangled limbs, faint snow particles that melt when they touch your heated skin, heavy breaths, searing wet kisses and whimpers of pleasure. Such a gentleman in the streets, but a real pussy pleaser in the sheets.

Here you are straddling him, dripping down his dick, watching him whimper under you. Unfortunately for you those thighs of yours are starting to burn. “Wooo hold on Zayne” The only thing he’s holding onto is your hips as he plants his feet and pistons up into you. The sudden change in power has you throwing your head back in ecstasy. Your sudden loud moans mingle with the string of foreign words. Zayne slows his pace and pulls you down; examining your face with concern “Is this okay? Did I go too fast?” You’re still trembling on the brink of another orgasm “No Zayne it was perfect keep going I'm close” He would waste no time snaking an arm around you and holding you close as he continued to bully your swollen pussy with those same vicious strokes that continuously massage your g spot.

Rafayel

Type: Speaks back to you in Lemurian

Rafayel is all red ears and shaky breaths yet somehow you always end up pinned underneath him. His lips never leaving your neck as he slid into you so tenderly. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close while he gave you long languid strokes. The way you gripped him already had him whimpering with each thrust, but the minute you started to beg him to go faster he thought he’d lost his damn mind. He’d slip his hand between your sweaty bodies, thumbing your clit while pounding your weeping pussy mercilessly. You jerked and squirmed under him as tears pricked your eyes.

When those foreign words reached his ears Rafayel would raise his head meeting your gaze and respond in Lemurian. Knowing that he’s hitting it so good you’ve reverted to your mother tongue would boost his ego immensely. He’d sit up pressing one of your legs down by your head and throwing the other over his shoulder so he can get even deeper — repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. That devilish smirk gracing his lips when he sees your eyes rolling from pleasure. “Raf- ngh! I’m cl- ah!” he’d lean down — folding you like a pretzel — taking your bottom lip between his teeth and giving you a sharp nip before whispering “I like when you speak in your mother tongue”

Xavier

Type: Gets turned on even more

Xavier was always insatiable when he got hot and bothered. He knows exactly what to do when it comes to making a mess of you. His goal would always be to have you begging for mercy while simultaneously begging for more. “One more baby just give me one more you can do it” his words were said through gritted teeth as he gave you rough calculated strokes. He would stare into your lust filled eyes as foreign words fell from your kiss swollen lips.

He had no clue what you were saying, but that silky voice of yours only turned him on even more. He gripped the fat of your hips and continued bullying your dripping cunt like he wants to mold the shape of your gummy walls to fit him and him only. Shudders rippling up his spine as your orgasm has your pussy spasming around him making him fall right over the edge with you.

His grip on you would become bruising as thick ropes of his cum filled you up. He’d pull out slowly watching his seed drip out of you. Just when you think you’re going to get a chance to catch your breath Xavier has you bent over the couch stretching you on his cock again. “Keep talking to me like that” he’d say breathless trailing wet kisses wherever his lips could reach.

Sylus

Type: Talks to you in the same language

It should be known by now that Sylus is a polyglot because he refuses to hire an interpreter for his business. He has the patience of a saint when it comes to prepping you. So when he has you pinned under him squirming and shaking from your second orgasm it’s not a surprise when foreign words roll off your tongue draped in pure bliss.

“You’re divine” He says slipping into your sopping cunt, audibly groaning as he sinks every inch into your welcoming heat. Once he bottoms out inside you he has to take deep breaths to stop himself from cumming too quick. His thumbs lovingly stroke your waist as he starts slowing moving. He’d already have you overstimulated so it didn’t take long before your third orgasm crashed over you.

His grip is turning harsh as he talks you through your third — his hips snapping into you at an even pace making your high last even longer. His breath is hot and choppy next to your ear; he’s trembling just as much as you. Sylus would have you so drunk on him that you didn’t even notice the entire time he was talking you through your orgasm he was speaking in the same language you were rambling in. You’d try your best to run, telling Sylus it’s too much. He’d hold you in place, singing your praises in your language as he added his fingers to the mix. Light spanking straight on your puffy clit had you practically screaming. His thrusts become sloppy right before spilling into you. Heavy ropes of cum painting your insides as Sylus holds you close whispering what feels like poetry into your ear.

Caleb

Type: Makes you repeat yourself over and over

Caleb could never get enough of you. The way his hands roamed from your boobs, to your hips, down to your thighs and slowly but surely making their way back to your waist. Your mind already going blank from the multiple orgasms he’d snatched from you. His thrusts are deep and slow “I could stay like this forever” he’d whimper as your cunt squeezed him mercilessly.

He perked up when those breathy foreign words dripped from your lips like honey. You pressed a hand against his stomach, covered in both your juices and his cum, whining for a quick break. Caleb has no idea what you’re saying, but the way you squirmed and whined under him only made his desire grow.

One moment you’re clawing at his back and next you’re flat on your stomach being pressed into the mattress. “Say it again” his breath is hot against your ear, but his tone has the heat in your core reigniting with a passion. His hand slipping under you and propping your chin up so he can hear you clearly as you ramble in your native language. He’d slip two of his long fingers into your mouth when you try to stifle a moan by biting your lip “Again” he’d demand. He licked and sucked on your neck while you drooled from both sets of lips, eyes rolling as he bullied his cock into you until you were whimpering uncontrollably; barely forming words. “Keep talking” Caleb really couldn’t get enough of you especially now.

[sleepincrow]

suggestive content.

what if he sex bans YOU. what if he threatens YOU with the lack of delicious sex?? what if he punishes YOU with no sex—to see what would happen to you, how pathetic you would become, hm? begging him to forgive you and for him to just relent and fuck you?

AND WHAT IF HE REGRETS IT, NOT A WEEK INTO THE MONTH-LONG SEX BAN HE PROMISED YOU. WHAT THEN???

"please, pretty baby~ 𖹭" he'd coo so fucking pathetically. it doesnt matter what position you could be in, in the end, he's the pathetic one. he would bat his eyelashes, trying to woo you over with his velvety words, all the while he tries to hide the tears that's gathered in his eyes from the soulful desperation of not being able to rut his hard cock on your thigh, let alone fuck you. "ive already forgiven you, so let's just stop this whole thing, yeah?"

oh stars, he's trying—trying to act as if he didnt put you in this situation.. as if he didnt put himself in this situation. you clicked your teeth. it's truly so cute how he thinks he still has the choice.

"but baby," you start, also batting your eyelash in false innocence. "you were right, i needed this punishment, so im taking full responsibility!" the slight growl and grunt thet came out of his irritated mouth was enough for you to know that your acting was perfect.

"don't act so mature now!" his grip on you tightens. underneath these calloused hands that hold onto you with a rough and wanting motive was the hidden sea of desperation. the hold youve got on his hips, keeping him from touching you, its pissing him off.

"come on, honey, you wanted this for me, right?" you mumbled under your breath, looking through him with those big eyes of yours. its taking everything in him to not just rut into you. anything'll do.

and he couldnt help it.. he was desperate!

"fuck.. come on, please? sh-shit i cant— i cant do this 'nymore. need- need to feel ya, baby, please?" he's fully given up at this point. he curses out his sex drive for giving up so early, and silently curses out to you. how could you endure this further than him? surely this is of your doing. somehow.

yes. it has to be you. youre too pretty doing whatever you want. its not like he can help it, youre too addicting. looking at you is a treat for him, a privilege to others, is it not? thats why. thats why he cant go much longer than a week without feeling you

he's deep into your neck, nose pressed against your soft skin, inhaling the scent of you. whatever he can get backfires cause his cock just becomes harder in the confines of his pants. strong arms envelope you, quivering in the need to fill you. look how you have him wrapped around your finger, clinging on to you as he pleads in your ear.

"im sorry, please, just fuck me."

he doesnt remember why he even punished you in the first place. all he wanted was to know how long it would be before you'd come crawling to him, begging to put his dick inside you. turns out he folded way before due. all he can think about is shaming his own hand for not being able to replicate how your pretty cunt squeezes him just perfectly. just enough to force his eyes into the back of his head. nothing could replicate you.

you feel too good. better. youre his ecstacy, dont you get it?

[earthtooz]

because throwing an apple at someone's head was a sign of professing one's love in greek myth.

fluff, gn!reader, i wrote this in a blip

When you told yourself today was the day you confessed to Phainon, you weren't expecting it to turn out like this.

The very ripe, very red, very ready-to-be-consumed apple was not supposed to fly out of your grasp the way it did. It was not supposed to hit him on the head, silencing his laughter as he dumbfoundedly blinks at the item that broke him out of his giddy stupor. It was not supposed to land perfectly in his hands as he glances between your face and your snack, which has now decided to work against you.

You definitely were not supposed to just mutter a meek 'I like you', and you definitely were not supposed to turn on your heel and run away from him!

And why is he chasing after you? Can't he tell you need alone time to recover from the unfortunate series of events that just unfolded?

"Y/n, wait!" He calls, barely sounding out of breath. Your feet hit cement, grass, climb up and down flights of stairs, they don't stop as you dash through every bit of the Grove of Epiphany, all for the sole purpose of shaking Phainon off your tail.

However, it was your mistake for believing someone like him would be willing to give up, and his stamina outpaced yours by a landslide, so just what were you thinking? Running away like that in the spur of the moment?

"No!" You shout back. "Leave me be!"

"But I have something to say to you!"

"I'm sorry for throwing an apple at your head!"

"It's okay! I don't mind- just, stop running!"

"Maybe you should stop chasing me!"

"For Titan's sake-"

As you round a pillar that lead to a short staircase, Phainon had jumped over the ledge and landed by the time you descended the flight, and with a lunge, his hand had securely wrapped itself around your elbow. You had lost. Lost the chase, the fight, your dignity as you gaze up at him, your stomach stirring with unease at his imminent rejection.

There's an unreadable look in his eyes but you don't try deciphering it because you're certain you seem like a mess right now. Your face felt flushed, sweat stuck to your skin, and your hair was all over the place, and worst of all, Phainon was going to reject you while you were in this state.

Titans, please help. This was not what you intended at all.

"You're too fast," he huffs, chest heaving like yours. "You really know how to steal someone's breath away."

"If you're gonna let me down just get to it already."

"Let you down? You think I was chasing you all this way just to let you down?"

"Or were you going to return my apple? It was my afternoon snack-"

"What? No, it's my apple now, you gave it to me!"

"Well, I... threw it at your head-"

"-I accept your confession!" He blurts boldly.

All you can do is splutter out a pathetic 'huh???'.

Phainon is exasperated at this point, desperate to confess the feelings that's been dwelling in his chest for the entire time he's known you. When he's waited this long, he wasn't going to let the moment go, not when you're the one who took the first step, having the nerve to capture his heart and take off bolting with it.

"I like you- a lot! You're everything I've ever wanted and I've waited so long for this, Y/n, please don't make me suffer any longer."

He doesn't blink as he looks at you, as if stubborn to not miss anything about you, not a single micro-change in your expression, the way your breath hitched at his passion, the tweaks of a small smile beginning to pull at your lips.

"Just how am I making you suffer?"

"You tell me the one thing I've been waiting to hear from you and instead of letting me speak, you run away and have me chase you like a Spirithief, does your cruelty know no bounds? Fine, if you're still unsure about my feelings then-"

He takes a big bite out of the apple, the crisp crunch speaking more than it should have to as you blink at his unwavering will.

Phainon's confession settles in the silence, and the first thing you do is laugh in a way that has him almost crumbling to his knees in relief. It was an ode to something beautiful, the start of a new beginning, and as he split your apple in half and handed you the unbitten part, the dull ache on his head finally began to subside.

© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[tqlepatia]

Hi, umm, can you write about being arranged married to Sevika? Perhaps you both haven't shared an intimate contact with each other or just a mere kiss on the lips, and you just can't take it anymore, so you confronted her about it, and Sevika is just blushing the way you look and what you were talking about, and maybe a wee bit of smutty smut, wihihi. But if you are busy, you can just skip this one. Tysm, love your works. Have a nice week ahead of you

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

𝒜rranged 𝑀arriage.

⌞tw : smut, dirty talk, strap on, dumbfication (only a little, i swear), angst ( i think?), arranged married⌝

It had been months since you and Sevika got married—an arrangement that was all about family ties, obligations, and strategic alliances. Your parents had met Sevika at some high-end party in Piltover, and when your dad found out she had money, he acted like it was no big deal, casually offering you to her like you were some kind of asset. On paper, you were wife and wife, but in reality, you were basically strangers to each other.

Sevika, ever the stoic and unreadable force, treated you with distant respect, never crossing any lines but never stepping closer either. She was dutiful, protective, and yet… untouched.

Not once had she kissed you, not once had she reached for you beyond the casual brush of hands when passing by. The tension had become unbearable.

And tonight, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You stood in front of her, dressed in nothing but a thin nightgown, your heartbeat hammering in your chest. The candlelight flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls, making her sharp features look even sharper. She sat at the edge of the bed, metal arm resting on her knee, her dark eyes flicking up at you.

“…What?” Her voice was low, cautious.

You swallowed, gathering the courage that had been bubbling inside you for weeks. “Are we really going to live like this?”

Sevika frowned. “Like what?”

“Like we’re strangers.” You took a step closer, bare feet pressing into the cold floor. “Like this marriage is just some contract we signed, nothing more.”

She exhaled heavily, running her flesh hand over her face. “That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

“That’s not what I want,” you admitted, voice softer now. Vulnerable.

Sevika tensed at that, as if unsure how to respond.

“I want you.”

Her eyes snapped to yours. You saw the hesitation in them, the way her shoulders stiffened, like she was holding herself back from something.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” she muttered.

You took another step, close enough now that you could feel the heat of her skin. “I do.” Your fingers reached for her jaw, hesitating for only a second before gently tilting her face up. “Sevika… kiss me.”

Her breath hitched. She stared at you like she was searching for something, an escape, a reason to say no.

But she didn’t.

Instead, her metal hand found your waist, pulling you between her legs. The warmth of her breath ghosted against your lips as she whispered, “You don’t want me like that.”

“I do,” you insisted. “I’ve always wanted you.”

And then, finally, she kissed you.

It was hesitant at first, as if she was unsure if she should, but the second you melted into it, Sevika lost control. Her lips were warm, demanding, her grip tightening on your waist as she pulled you onto her lap. You gasped softly against her mouth, and she took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours with a desperate kind of hunger.

Her hands, one warm, one cold, roamed your body, learning, feeling. When her lips left yours, they trailed down your jaw, pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck, making you shiver.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” she murmured, but the way she held you told another story.

You threaded your fingers through her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. “Then show me.”

That was all it took for her restraint to snap.

You don't know anything, not even what time it is, what day it is, much less how many times you had an orgasm, for God! You just discovered that your wife is very insatiable or she is some goddess of sex.

Each thrust into you was a trip that your eyes took inside your head, you never felt so good, and fuck, you could cum again just from the words that came out of her mouth.

"Look so pretty baby, taking so good like the little wife you are, hm?"

"s-..mhmp! ...so pretty, i shoud take a picture of you and hang up on the biggest frame, mhmp!... fuck, in our house"

"Ooh, the little slut likes to be praised, huh?"

"She's almost swallowing me, she's greedy like u."

"shhhh doll, don't let your little dumb brain distract you, yeah? just focus on cum for me baby."

Your bodies moved together, skin slapping against skin as the room filled with the erotic sounds of their lovemaking. Your legs wrapped her legs around Sevika's waist, She could feel her climax building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in her pussy.

Sevika leaned down to capture one of the your nipples in her mouth, suckling and biting the hardened bud. Her other hand snaked between their bodies to rub tight circles around your clit. That extra stimulation was all it took to send you hurtling over the edge.

You came with a loud moan, with your cunt spasming almost violently around her dick. An white anel forming around it, soaking the sheets beneath your both. Sevika fucked you through your orgasm, drawing out her pleasure until she collapsed back onto the mattress, boneless and sated.

Sevika let out a deep sigh, her body relaxing into the mattress as she reached over to the nightstand, opening the drawer just enough to slip off her strap and tuck it away. The soft sound of wood scraping shut filled the quiet room, followed by the rustling of sheets as she rolled onto her back. Without hesitation, she pulled you on top of her, guiding you into her arms like it was second nature.

You melted against her, pressing your cheek against the warm, sweat-slick skin of her chest. Her heartbeat was slow and steady now, a comforting rhythm beneath your ear, her hand found your back, her fingers tracing lazy circles.

Neither of you spoke at first, just basking in the warmth of each other, in the quiet intimacy that followed. The scent of sex still lingered in the air, but beneath it was something softer, the faint traces of whatever soap she used, mixed with the natural musk of her skin. It was intoxicating in a different way, grounding you after everything.

"You okay?" Sevika murmured, her voice low, edged with that rare gentleness she reserved just for you.

You hummed in response, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. "More than okay."

She huffed a soft chuckle, her chest rising beneath your cheek. "Good."

A comfortable silence stretched between you, her fingers never ceasing their slow, soothing movements against your back. You felt her shift slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, then another against your temple.

But still, something lingered in your mind. A weight.

You bit your lip before finally speaking, voice quieter now. "Sevika… do you even like being married to me?"

That made her pause. Her hand stilled against your skin, her metal arm tensing slightly around your waist.

She didn’t answer right away, and for a brief moment, you worried that maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

But then, she exhaled, her grip tightening just a fraction. "Yeah," she admitted, voice softer than you expected. "I do."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her. The dim glow of moonlight streaming through the window caught the sharp angles of her face, the scar on her cheek, the soft furrow of her brows.

"Then why haven't we…" You trailed off, feeling suddenly shy. "You know. Before tonight?"

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but she hesitated. Instead, she reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was surprisingly tender.

"Didn't wanna fuck it up," she finally admitted. "Didn’t wanna… push you into something you weren’t ready for."

You blinked, surprised. "But we're married, Sev."

"I know." She sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. "But that doesn't mean you owe me anything."

Your chest tightened. You hadn't expected that from her.

Sevika. rough, blunt, sometimes distant, had been holding back all this time, not out of disinterest, but out of respect. Out of some quiet, unspoken fear that she’d mess this up before it even had a chance to be something real.

The realization made your heart ache.

You leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her jaw, then another at the corner of her lips. She let out a slow breath, her grip on you tightening.

"You never had to hold back with me," you whispered. "I wanted this. I want you."

Sevika’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her gaze searching yours. Whatever she found there must have reassured her, because she finally allowed herself to relax again, her hands settling on your waist.

"Yeah?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

She exhaled, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Good."

You rolled your eyes at her, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade.

Another stretch of silence settled between you, but it wasn’t heavy this time. It was… easy.

"Tell me something about you," you said suddenly, resting your chin on her chest.

Sevika raised a brow. "Like what?"

"I don’t know. Anything. We’re married, but I feel like I barely know you."

She let out an amused huff. "That so?"

You nodded, grinning. "What's your favorite color?"

She snorte, planting kiss in the top of your head and taking some strands of hair stuck to your forehead. "That’s what you wanna ask me right now?"

"Yes," you said, poking her side playfully. "Answer."

Sevika rolled her eyes but relented. "Blue. Like the ocean."

You blinked. "Didn’t take you for a poetic type."

"I’m not," she said flatly.

You smirked, shifting so you could prop yourself up on your elbows. "Okay, next question. What’s something you hate?"

She thought for a moment before shrugging. "Ice cream."

Your face twisted in exaggerated offense. "What?"

Sevika smirked at your reaction. "Yeah. Don’t like it."

"How do you not like ice cream?" You sat up, straddling her waist now, looking genuinely distraught. "It’s literally one of the best things ever created."

"Too cold. Hurts my teeth."

"That’s such an old person answer."

"I am older than you," she reminded you, smirking.

You gasped dramatically. "Oh, so you admit it now?"

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Shut up."

You grinned, leaning down to press another kiss to her lips. It was soft, lingering, filled with all the affection that words couldn’t quite convey.

When you pulled back, you whispered against her lips, "I'm making you try ice cream again. You just haven't had the right one."

Sevika hummed, her hands trailing absentmindedly along your thighs. "And if I still don’t like it?"

"Then I’ll just have to keep trying until you do."

She shook her head, but there was a rare, genuine smile pulling at her lips. "You’re relentless."

"And you secretly love it," you teased, resting your forehead against hers.

Sevika exhaled, her fingers idly tracing patterns on your skin. "Maybe."

You sighed contentedly, letting the quiet stretch between you again. It felt different now—not empty, not distant. Just comfortable.

For the first time since your marriage, you weren’t just two people bound by obligation. You were two people discovering each other, piece by piece, in the quiet intimacy of the night.

And now, That felt like the start of something real.

[honey-bitch]

Ascendant in the ascendant persona chart

The ascendant persona chart can give you more context on how you appear to others and how you come across one on one. This could also provide context for any planets conjunct asc; for example if you have moon conjunct asc in the asc persona chart you may want to look at the cancer asc description swell.

For 0° - it doesn't have a delegated sign and therefore it will take the qualities of the sign it's in.

✩ Aries ascendant (1,13,25°) - You naturally come of assertive and with power. It might feel like you move around the world with such power and action. Every move you take has guts behind it and you could be an excellent leader. Very dominate and sexy vibes and you also could have a youthful flare. Not minding acting very silly in-front of friends. On the more negative side you could be perhaps a bit impulsive at times.

✩ Taurus ascendant (2,14,26°) - Patient, calm and relaxed. People may see you at times reserved at forefront very composed and comfortable. You may prefer softer and more fluffy fabrics and may have a slow step to your walk. Never the less you're very dependable and you stick by others for the long haul. However you may struggle with adapting to change and may dread being told what to do, if it's not of your own accord.

✩ Gemini ascendant (3,15,27°) - You're like a little buzzing bee always texting, the one million contacts on your phone. Not to mention a little bit mischievous - what's the harm of a simple prank. You may have a little sparkle in your eye and pic like features. You have strong communication skills and are open minded to the possibility of finding something else that interests you. However you may be easily distracted and may quickly move on to the next hobby, as soon as it bores you.

✩ Cancer ascendant (4,16,28°) - You makes you appear nurturing, intuitive, and emotionally sensitive. This is a very sweet and pure sign to have. People may see you as caring and protective, often drawn to your comforting presence. While you exude warmth, you can also be guarded, especially in new situations. Your instinctive response is to create emotional safety, which can make you appear reserved at first until you feel secure.

✩ Leo ascendant (5,17,29°) - You radiate confidence, charisma, and a magnetic presence, and you are fun. You naturally draw attention with your bold personality and vibrant energy. People may view you as expressive, enthusiastic, and larger-than-life, though at times you may be perceived as dramatic or attention-seeking. However as long as you share your warmth, your vibrant and loving energy is appreciated.

✩ Virgo ascendant (6,18°) - You are very practical, organized, and have a thoughtful presence. You instinctively pay attention to details, often coming across as composed, intelligent, and helpful. I don't see you walking out without putting effort into your appearance (unless something is really wrong in your personal life). People may admire your efficiency and reliability, though you can sometimes seem reserved or overly critical. Your calm and methodical nature makes you a steady presence in times of stress.

✩ Libra ascendant (7,19°) - You naturally project charm, elegance, and diplomacy. Not only are you are witty but charming as well. You strive to create harmony in social situations, often acting as the peacemaker. People may see you as friendly, gracious, and cooperative (and perhaps a bit flirty swell), though your desire to keep things balanced can sometimes make you appear indecisive. Your ability to connect with others makes you effortlessly likeable.

✩ Scorpio ascendant (8,20°) - This is intense, and magnetic placement to have. You naturally draw people in with your mysterious aura and emotional depth but you may also scare others because they can't withstand the roaring waves. Others may see you as private, observant, and difficult to read, yet undeniably intriguing. While you exude strength, you may also guard your emotions closely, only revealing your true self to those you trust deeply.

✩ Sagittarius ascendant (9,21°) - You project an adventurous, optimistic, and carefree energy. People may see you as outgoing, humorous, and always seeking new experiences. Your spontaneous nature makes you exciting to be around, though you may sometimes come across as blunt or restless. You thrive in environments that offer freedom, growth, and exploration.

✩ Capricorn ascendant (10,22°) -ives you a mature, responsible, and composed demeanor. You instinctively approach life with a focus on goals, structure, and long-term success. This placement is very indicative of having to raise yourself and infact creating order in your own life. People may view you as serious, dependable, and professional, though you can sometimes seem distant or reserved. Your natural sense of discipline makes you a strong leader and a trusted figure in your community.

✩ Aquarius ascendant (11,23°) -You naturally present yourself as innovative, eccentric, and independent. Not to mention a trend setter. People may see you as forward-thinking, unconventional, and full of unique ideas. As this ascendant is co-ruled by Saturn you may have also have to tear apart the old ways of your elders and form an new path. Your detached and intellectual nature makes you appear cool and collected, though some may find you unpredictable or rebellious. You thrive in environments that allow you to express your individuality.

✩ Pisces ascendant (12,24°) - You have a gentle, dreamy, and compassionate presence. People often perceive you as kind-hearted, imaginative, and emotionally sensitive. You have a natural ability to connect with others on a deep, spiritual level, yet you may sometimes seem distant or lost in your own thoughts. Your empathetic nature makes you a source of comfort and inspiration to those around you. Lololol you may be often caught daydreaming if you have this ascendant and maybe underestimated.

DISCLAIMER: this post is a great generalisation and may not resonate with you. I would recommend buying a reading from a professional astrologer (or me) to get more insight

If you want me to analyse your ascendant persona chart Dm for Paid Readings

©️ 2025 honey-bitch All Rights Reserved

[cherrygirlfriend]

touchy subject

pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: reader seeing her ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of a miscarriage, just pure agony! wc: 1.8k inspired by the song 'touchy subject' by peach prc. originally posted 11/21/2024

a white baby gate fixed in my hallway stays haunting the house with the angels we made; sometimes, i dream, a decade away, we meet in a grocery store; you look the same, with just a few grey hairs. the blonde little girl who tugs on your shirt with your smile looks nothing like me.

it had been four years since you had last been on kildare island; four years of trying to forget the life, or the ruined bones of one, that you'd been escaping from.

after ending your engagement with your fiancé, you'd traveled all around the country in your beat-up truck, hoping to find a place where you'd belong; only to end up back in the outer banks. they say there's no place like home, and in a way, it was true. you can leave kildare island, but kildare island will never leave you.

"everything okay?"

you're startled out of your thoughts by the melodic sound of your mother's voice, and when she follows your gaze to the baby-gate attached to the door leading to the kitchen, her mouth twists into a frown. "i was meant to take that down before you got here..." she chewed on her lower lip, a pang of guilt almost punching her in the chest.

"it's fine." you shrug, trying to lift the ends of your lips into a smile, only for it to look artificial and rehearsed. "i should start unpacking."

"alright." your mother placed her hand on your shoulder, but should've been a comforting gesture, made you feel like you were underwater and the hand was simply pushing you deeper.

you stood alone in the living room of your apartment, the only thing to be heard of was the ticking of the clock your mother had already mounted on the clock, mixed in with the sounds of passing cars, so unlike the day you first moved into the apartment, yet so much like the day you were last there.

"you should keep the apartment."

"rafe, i can't do that. it's way too much, and i'm leaving-"

"it's already in your name." the man sighed, smoothing his hand over his shaved head; he looked so different than usual, the dark bags under his eyes making him look like he had aged ten years, his usually tan face almost pale. "you can do whatever you want with it. keep it, sell it, i don't care. it's yours. i never want to step foot in this place again."

your feet were almost moving on their own, the hardwood floor cold under your feet, leading you to that door, and even though you felt your blood run cold, every cell of your body telling you not to open it, you couldn't help but nudge the door open.

you didn't know what you were expecting.

stepping into the room, you let your hand trail over the soft-pink wall, still remembering the smell of paint.

"you know, you shouldn't be doing that." he sighed, leaning against the doorway. "i can just hire someone to paint the walls."

you roll your eyes, your denim overalls covered in the soft pink paint as the paint stained the white wall, "i want to do this. i'm not gonna hire someone to do everything for me when i'm perfectly fine doing it on my own."

"you're not-"

"hush." you pointed the paint roller at rafe, "i'm doing this. now pick up a paint roller or quit whining."

you look down at the crib, lined with white lace, picking up the brown teddy bear that used to belong to you when you were a child, brushing your hand over the fur, straightening the pink bow around its neck.

hung above the crib, was a picture of a couple that had just gotten engaged, wide smiles on both of their faces; a couple that had once been so familiar to you, but now, it was like you couldn't recognize either of the people in the photos.

it felt like everyone was staring at you as they walked past you; four years clearly hadn't been long enough to make the people of outer banks forget about you, and as you made your way towards the local cafe, you couldn't help but think about how long it'd take for the person you didn't want to know you were in town to find out.

you were strolling down the street, rafe's hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. you licked the ice cream cone, deep in thought, letting rafe take the lead.

"what's going through that pretty head of yours?" he chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, your engagement ring glimmering under the sunlight.

"baby names." you shrug, "what should we name her?"

"do you have any names in mind?"

"i was thinking..." you pursed your lips, not sure if the name you had been considering would be appropriate or not, chewing on your lower lip as you turn your head to face your fiancé, an expectant smile on his lips and his brows lifted in question, "evelyn."

when the name left your lips, you saw his mouth fall open, and for a moment you thought that you never should've spoken, but after rafe cleared his throat, there was a clear smile on his lips, his blue eyes glassy.

"you- you uh, wanna name her after my mom?"

"yeah." you smile, squeezing his hand. "i do."

for the millionth night, you were laid in bed, looking through pictures, featuring the faces of the couple above the crib in the room next door. pictures with the man's arms wrapped around the woman's waist, ones of them holding hands, ones where one was pressing a kiss the other person's cheek, ones from the several midsummers parties they spent together, ones from halloween, thanksgiving, christmas...

the girl in the dress she had planned to wear on her wedding day.

"rafe, where are you taking me?" you laughed, the blindfold covering your eyes, "if the blindfold's for some kinky purpose, you better forget about it."

rafe laughed, continuing to lead you, his large hands on your waist, "come on, have a little faith in me. i'm not that bad, am i?"

"oh, you definitely are. just last week we were an hour late to ava's party because you just thought i was irresistible."

rafe snorted, "well, that's because you were." he pressed a kiss on your cheek, "you can take it off." he whispered, taking a step away from you.

untying the blindfold, you blinked a few times, letting yourself get used to actually being able to see again, only to be startled by the sight of your boyfriend on one knee in front of you, a small velvet box in his hand, "rafe...?"

you wiped away the stray tear that had left your eye without permission before it could reach your jaw, continuing to scroll through the pictures, knowing that it'd be yet another sleepless night, but when you saw a picture of her, you paused.

you weren't sure who was more nervous, you or rafe, even though you were the one in the examination chair, your shirt pulled up and your rounded stomach on full display. his hand was tightly gripping yours, the man's jaw clenched.

"let's take a look, shall we?" the ultrasound technician smiled, and you nodded, feeling her spread the cold gel onto your stomach, a slight yelp leaving your lips, making rafe squeeze your hand even tighter. you looked to him, nodding reassuringly, speaking softly, "it's okay."

rafe's grip loosened slightly and he softened his grip, both of you turning your heads to the screen, and the moment you saw the little lump on the screen, you couldn't help but feel tears stinging in your eyes.

"look. that's our baby."

"shit..." rafe stared at the screen wide-eyed, letting out a low breath, "that's our baby."

just like on any average day on the island, the sun was shining, your skin radiating with warmth as you walked down the street, looking in through shop windows; it had been a few days since you'd first stepped outside, and it seemed like your arrival had become widespread news, and you didn't receive as many stares as you did before.

you arrived at rafe's door, bringing your hand up and pounding on the door before you could stop yourself and chicken out for the third time that week. you were a wreck, unable to sleep, to think about anything other than how much you knew you needed to talk to rafe.

you waited, tapping your foot against the ground and biting down on your lip, when finally, the door slowly started opening, a small smile forming on rafe's lips when he realized that it was you.

"hey baby," he chuckled softly, placing his hands on your waist, "you miss me so much you couldn't even text me to let you know you were coming?" he grinned.

"i have to talk to you." you pull away from his embrace, taking his hands off your waist, the blonde looking down at you with furrowed brows, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, clearly alarmed by the slight frown on your lips.

"what's wrong?"

"i'm pregnant."

without even realizing it, you had stopped in front of a jewelry store, gazing inside at the things on display as you were going down memory lane inside your head. you let out a small chuckle, about to step back and continue walking, when your blood ran cold, the smile fading away from your face, feeling as if someone had stabbed you in the heart.

to anyone else, it would've just been the backs of two random people. but even without seeing his face, you could recognize the only man you'd ever loved no matter where you went.

his short-sleeved white collared shirt was tucked into his dark jeans, riding up slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, having grown out slightly since the last time you'd seen it, his signet ring on his middle finger.

you saw him let out a chuckle, and you could almost picture how it'd sound, his hand going to rest on the back of the person he was with.

a younger woman smiled up at him, and even just from her side profile, you could tell that she was gorgeous, her flaming hair flowing over her shoulders, the smile on her face genuine, matching his.

and when you saw what she was holding up and showing to him, the knife in your chest was twisted.

an engagement ring.

[invoncible]

mark grayson & fem!reader, MDNI cw. unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy

"ow, ow, ow." you whined.

"sorry." mark whispered, loosening his grip on the fat of your waist. "sorry."

"s'okay." you hummed, shifting on top of his lap. the second you moved, he was gripping you again, hissing as his fingers dug into you painfully. "mark!"

"i'm sorry!" he said hurriedly, snatching his hands from your body completely and curling them in fists at his side. "maybe this was a mistake."

the mistake? letting him fuck raw. it started as a joke, like "oh baby, i love you so much i wish i could get rid of this thing keeping me away from you," as if it wasn't just a flimsy barrier of latex, so thin, but apparently enough to create a distance for him.

he laughed when he said it, like it was a far fetched idea that would never come to pass. but nothing is off limits with you. not where he's concerned.

naturally, he did not expect you to agree. couldn't stop the rush of blood to his dick when you said, "you can get rid of it, as long as you pull out."

those were magic words if he's ever heard any, and who was he to reject the gift you've given him?

"just..." his breath caught in his throat, groaning involuntarily when your nails scratched the back of his neck. "stay still."

"mark," you whine. "i don't have super strong legs like you do."

he was on his back. you straddled him, legs folded in a squat so low that your heels poked just underneath your ass. you tried your hardest not to sink down on him completely. he was barely halfway inside your pussy when he begged you to stop with an urgency. but it was getting harder and harder now that you could feel every groove and vein of his cock twitching inside your walls.

your hand curled around the base of his neck while the other clung to his broad shoulders, the sweat of his skin making your palms all clammy.

you pouted, huffing impatiently. "you were the one that wanted this."

"i know, baby." he hummed hoarsely. he looked like a virgin, all tense underneath your naked body. besides his curled fists, his head was thrown back and his eyes were closed. "but i'm gonna cum if you move."

you blinked down at him, fighting the urge to laugh and failing. "seriously?"

his body heats up at the sound and he peeks open one eye, brows furrowed in offense. "don't laugh."

"it's kinda funny." you hum and lean down. "kinda cute."

mark catches the way your eyes were lidded, the way you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to stop your sweet giggles. the swell of your tits, hard nipples pressing against his chest, your hair brushing against his skin as you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth—

"fuck," his hips bucked up, jolting you in his lap. you squeaked as your hips were finally seated flush against him with a wet plap! you tumbled against him, face planted into the crook of his neck.

fully sheathed in your gummy walls, mark thinks he's found heaven. you were so warm, so wet, so soft. and squeezing the life out of him—he was this close to getting you pregnant, he could feel it.

the satisfied moan that leaves your lips almost made him feel bad. but for the sake of your future, he had to take extra caution.

"okay, wait." mark inhaled a shaky breath before gripping your arms, pushing you up and away from his face. a shiver snakes its way down your spine at how easily he manhandles you, keeping your torso upright above him. he has to physically turn his head to stop his eyes from trailing along the delicious arch in your back. "don't move. i'm gonna—" he starts to pull his hips back ever so carefully. "slowly—"

"mm..." your thighs press tight around his hips, pussy tightening around him like it was begging him not to leave, to stay warm and deep inside your pretty little cunt.

"fuck—babe," he whined, brown eyes pleading as they gazed up at you. "you're not helping."

mark was gripping you way too hard again, his hips stuttering in place. you were squirming in his lap, grinding against him and he grunts, eyes screwing shut.

"mmf, m'sorry, you just feel sooo good." your eyes flutter, whimpering breathily when your aching hole was finally, finally getting the attention it needed. not enough, but still better than nothing. "we need to do this more often..."

the fact he was doing this at all coupled with the thought of doing this a second time made his head spin.

"i seriously wasn't—ah—kidding before." he choked on his words when he felt your glossy pussy clench around him, spilling slick around his pulsing red tip.

think about anything else, he begs himself. there was a new issue of seance dog coming out soon. oh, and a collectible. did he have enough money for that? holy shit, he could hear the smack of your ass against his thighs loud and clear.

his eyes flickered to your face, twisted with pleasure. you were so pretty. he loves you. he wants to grow old and retire with you. leave this fucked up hero thing behind someday. how many more times will he get to lose himself in your soft skin, body rolls, and perfect tight pussy before he kicks the bucket? he could've died happy even after the first time with you.

"y/n—"

"cum inside," you demand, brows furrowed in exertion from holding back. you wanted him to fuck you like he meant it, like how he usually does.

mark's heart lurches in his chest, his cock twitching inside you that pulls a string of moans from your pretty lips. his cheeks heat up. "y-you don't mean that." you couldn't mean that. "you said—"

"forget what i said." your head hung loose above him, upper body still suspended in the air. "cum inside." your voice was pleading, a near sob as you begged for him. "please?"

mark never told his girl no and he wasn't going to start now.

he brought you down against his chest, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. cradling you close as he pistons his hips deep inside your cunt. "yeah," he grunted, shifting his hips to get some better leverage, slamming up into you without any inhibition. "you're so fucking hot, god, you feel so good—"

all you could offer him was a strangled moan, feeling him in your stomach, chest, throat.

"fuck. i love you," he whined so sweetly, hugging you close and sinking his teeth down onto your shoulder. "m'gonna cum, but i'll make it up to you, baby, promise—"

within the next second, you felt his body tense. his grip on your ass was bruising, heavy balls tightening and spilling hot strings of cum deep inside you. his cock was coated with his own release, a milky white ring collecting at his base. you moaned softly against his skin, feeling warm and full, satisfied with the way he panted in your ear.

he didn't bother to pull out. he pumped into you slowly, fucking his cum deep inside. if he was gonna do it, might as well do it right.

then he rolled you over, laying you delicately against the sheets with a breathy chuckle, like he'd just won the jackpot. he brushed some hair out of your face and kissed your forehead.

"you're right, we do need to do this more often." he hummed, pinning your wrists beside your head and intertwining your fingers. "now, how do you want me?"

© invoncible

[pineapplepr1nc3ss888]

HOW TO REVISE:

revision is the thought of rewriting a past event that you wish to have occurred, you immerse yourself in that feeling and you affirm/visualise your desired outcome and act as if it’s true.

do not fear this, you have to remember you are the creator and get yourself out of the victim mentality. revision is changing past events to your desired outcome and it’s nothing to be scared of, whatever you revise will reflect what you have assumed/manifested.

reality as i have said before is completely malleable because it’s fluid. you shift yourself to a state/reality where these events never ever happened. it is extremely easy. you can revise anything you want.

death for example, a loved one died in your reality? you will shift when you immerse yourself in the feeling they’re alive or affirm/visualise they never died then you shift to a reality where this person never died. that is ALL you are doing. revision is shifting your awareness to a reality where it never happened. it can be anything.

these are some success stories from Sammy’s Mermaid Gang, all creds goes to the people who posted them but using these for examples that anything is possible:

I cured my grandpa when he was in his death bed!!!

“So guys I'm so grateful and happy that my grandpa is doing so much better now so what happened was 10 days back my grandpa got very sick everyone around us including my family members n doctors said that he won't survive the day everyone was preparing themselves for his demise but I decided that wasn't fuckin happening i kept revising in my head that he's alright and though he kept getting worse I kept staying positive and I even told my mom to just affirm but she just yelled at me calling me immature and everything so i didn't tell anyone n kept affirming in my mind, even though everyone was so worried at home i kept calm and didn't worry much and now I just went n visited my grandpa after few days n he's almost back to normal he's doing great I'm so happy ❤️”

another:

“I REVISED MY GRANDMOTHER’S PERCEIVED DEATH.

to make a long story short, she was in the ICU on a ventilator and i only had about 3-4 days of rampaging before they would take her off. i persisted and affirmed that she’s healthy and well over 30000 times on the counter app and even more in my head alone. i was anxious and fearful the entire time but persisted anyways. yesterday was the day and there was NO movement or signs that she was doing better. my family and i were in a video chat saying our last goodbyes to her. i was at work and had to hang up, so i was under the impression that she didn’t make it after they took her off the ventilator. i was told that she “lived a long life”. i couldn’t comprehend what happened because i KNEW i was persisting and the law is foolproof, so i affirmed more for her before bed and left it at that.

i woke up to news that she actually survived throughout the night BREATHING ON HER OWN WITH OXYGEN ONLY and that the hospital will be sending her home because there’s nothing they can do for her and she’s completely stable. i called multiple family members CONFUSED saying i thought she died and the responses i got were: no, she didn’t die. who told you that? despite everyone being gathered together in the hospital crying the night before…

the only explanation i have for this is that i shifted realities. because persisted anyways despite the 3d evidence (old story) and perception of her dying, my new assumptions came to pass and everything else before that ceased to exist. i’ve never manifested anything like this before. i’m going to keep affirming until she’s fully healthy.”

this is revising age:

“This is my second time revising my age... First time I did it was I was turning 26 and I wanted to join a certain competition with the age limit of 24! So I revised my age to 23... I kept telling myself that I was born in 1994, even my birthday certificate shows I was born in 1994, and that no body not even my own mother remember my old age...

Here comes the interesting part.. 2weeks before the registration deadline my birthday certificate went missing and I always had it with me... But it disappeared completely, and I couldn't find it so I asked my dad if it was possible to make another for me, since my information was already in the system so it was going to be easy to make a new one so I could finalize my registration... Here comes an interesting part when my new certificate came it said I was born on June 7, 1994.. when in actuality I was born in 1991, I asked my father why is it saying I was born in 1994... He looked at me surprised and told me it's because that's when I was born, I said no dad I was born in 1991, he started laughing and told "are you on drugs or something, I am your father so I Know when you were born"

I swear I couldn't believe it even though I asked for it I was the one who was left surprised

People always love to ask the change of documents... just know If that's what you want your documents will change don't ask how, just know they will change by any means necessary!i The changes can happen naturally just like my school certificate changed on their own, or something will happen that will require the making of new documents with the dates you were affirming”

this one was inspired by someone else who erased a 3p (third party aka someone who interferes in your life” and this 3p was literally her husbands ex wife but she erased them from their reality which meant she shifted to a reality where this person NEVER existed do not ask me about what happens to the old reality stop worrying about it you are the creator what you say fucking goes but anyways:

“So long story short I've been revising to change the past since I saw a comment under Sammy's post, which claims that she erased the 3p like they never even existed in her reality using affirmations. I think well maybe I'll try this shit out with my SP.

The affirmation I used was pretty straightforward:

I am the only person my SP has ever knew online

And guess what happened, after robotically affirming everyday along with some other revision affirmations for some time, my revision has happened. I wavered a lot and the old story kept playing in my mind all the time! But I never gave up, I persisted in my affirmations. My SP got back in contact with me just a few hours ago, when I asked about the 3ps, she said she never knew anyone like those and I'm the only one she has ever knew online.

At this point I was still skeptical about it so I went on Twitter to check about it, to my surprise SP's Twitter account has disappeared into the thin air like she never even on Twitter and all the 3ps' traces are gone too like they never even existed! And SP even confessed her feelings to me saying that she's been wanting me from the moment she saw me (That's my another revision affirmation)

Wow, this revision shit is so powerful, I just get to know loa a couple months back and law of assumption about three or four months and I can still pull this off. I just want to remind y'all we can all make it cuz it's our reality, we literally get to change and delete any shit that doesn't serve us anymore like they never even existed from the first place!”

this is health revision:

“YEAHH! Health revision success story here!

Last week I had my right knee swollen and couldn’t move so that I went to hospital to take a MRI image. The doctor said that there was a tumour in my right knee and in a super deep position, she suggested me to have an operation as soon as possible and gave me cephalosporin for diminishing the inflammation. After I got home, I started repeating affirmations:”My knee works normally, I’m feeling so great, I have never had any health problem.”

Yesterday I took the MRI image for further consultation and turned out that the tumour was GONE and my right knee was fine like nothing happened. The doctor was like:” Your knee is totally fine, why are you here? Maybe inflammation but it’s just fine.”

Revise it if you don’t like the situation! Producing miracles is easy as breathing🪄✨”

and last one, this girl revised being in hospital she shifted from the hospital to her own house:

“I Know I've had my share of big and small manifestations,... But what happened 4 days ago has to be my top tier manifestation, My biggest Manifestation ever! Even as I am writing this, I am shaking! Here we go....

4 days ago I went for a morning walk, on my way back home I was tired and wished someone could offer me a ride to my house, few minutes later a man stopped his bike and offered me a ride and i said sure, as we were about to reach my destination we got into a really bad accident, it was dark really quick and the next thing I know, it's hours later I am in the hospital with a wounded body full of bandages and a fixed broken leg,... I mean now I am so confused, nothing feels right anymore and I started panicking and shouting "this can't be real blah blah blah....." They injected me and I went back to sleep when I work up again, I was about to throw another tantrum but I caught myself and said "Renee(that what I call my Goddess self), You got this, this is just a bad dream, it can't be real how can this be real when you haven't even woken up, you are still home in your bed" I kept telling myself that, with tears in my eyes, deep down I was like I know I can shift realities but can this be possible today... I had doubts but I kept repeating my story to myself till I fall a sleep, I woke up and my mother was there, she was crying 😭💔.. I almost gave up and accept that reality but gathered all my strength and persisted even harder! I went to sleep again and I was awakened by my mom's voice calling me by my name and telling me, "You usually go for a morning walk, why are you asleep till this time"

Now, I think I am loosing my mind like how is it even possible... I asked my mom where are we? She laughed and asked me what do I mean, of course we are home, I asked her surprisingly "not the hospital?" She looked at me confused like "why would we be in the hospital, who is sick?" I hugged her and " No one mom, I just had a nightmare, please just hug me" I am perfectly fine not even a stretch on my body

Happy New Year to me!

Happy New Year to Y'all!”

NOW WAKE TF UP!!

no seriously wake up and fucking learn your own power, absolutely no one can do this except for yourself. stop asking others to shift or manifest for you no one can do this except you! you are the fucking creator of your reality no one else is. YOU ARE A MF GOD!

stop whinging, stop crying, finish your little pity party. you are a god, if you need to cry let those damn emotions out and once you’re done then get your ass back on to affirming.

no more complaining.

no more victim mindset.

if you want something then you need to persist in that assumption that desire is already true, affirm it’s true, visualise its true. this year is yours, you just have to step into your mf power. work on your self concept, affirm you are a master at manifesting, you manifest instantly etc it’s that simple.

stop accepting things you don’t want. you don’t like something that’s happened? revise it. you don’t like this 3p? revise them cos 3p who? 🙄 and no you don’t have to revise they never existed just revise whatever the situation is like they never dated your SP or they were never your friend. whatever you want!! REVISE REVISE REVISE!!!!!!!

ps. stop glorifying the void as the answer to your problems, sure it’s instant but you can also just affirm you manifest instantly you just have to have the concept or belief you manifest instantly and your subconscious will make whatever you manifest instantly happen.

act like a god, be the god you are, claim back your power from the 3d, revise shit you don’t like, work on your self concept. just be the fucking god you are and say this is my reality bitch and make that 3d your fucking bitch💋

[calebrity]

ataxia

sylus x fem reader

⤷ sylus wants kids, sweetie. lots of kids.

kind of a part 2 to this piece, but it can still serve as a lil standalone as well ♡ DAD SYLUS DAD SYLUS DAD SYLUS

cw ▻ nsfw, dubcon, breeding, pregnancy mentions, daddy kink, im a strong believer in sylus wanting a big family, whipped sylus, characters depicted are 18+, stockholm syndrome, yandere/obsessive tendencies, ~2.5k words

notes ▻ eeee they fr live in my head rent free </3 anyways take this crumb while i work on like other fics. daddy sylus is actually KILLING me like always on the noggin 😵‍💫

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

There’s a certain peace you feel, curled up on the leather couch, in watching your husband sit on his knees as the little ones crawl around the carpet, playing with them no different than a toddler would.

Not exactly a pleasant peace, by any means, but a simple, sort of resigned one. Your muscles seem to lose the tension, shoulders always piked high, ready for attack- or some other (meta)physical blow- slumping into rounded blades. You sigh.

Perhaps it’s the knowing that whatever bad thing that could’ve come- already has. Now, you’re experiencing the sloping aftereffects of it.

And this—

Sylus, with a beaming grin, letting out an almost breathless laugh as he scoops up one of the boys and twirls him overhead, the other kept by a protective hand at his side so he won’t bump on the corner of the coffee table—

Is just the fallout.

Ruby-red eyes flit over (and they always do sooner than later, like you’re a beacon in the middle of a dark sea) and crinkle at the edges. You’ve told him before that you don’t like when he throws the babies up in the sky like that, that if they were to suddenly fall, they can’t take flight like Mephisto. He must remember, because he lets out a little, woeful noise and carefully lowers him.

The smile remains, though, kilowatt and wide, a little starry-gazed like he’s inviting you to slip off the sofa and join him on the fluffy rug with your children.

The fatigue natural to post-pregnancy has already claimed you tonight, though. Truth be told, you’d have hesitated even if it didn’t. It’s fine, tending to your children on your own; his long absences leave you with massive windows of alone time with the little ones, and you actually enjoy it (save for the huge toll it takes on your energy, of course, but Luke and Kieran lend a hand where it counts- where they’re allowed).

That sentiment changes a bit, though, when your husband does get home. With his presence comes the cold reminder of how things really are, how you’re still an unwilling counterpart in all this- frilly gowns and jewels and the private chef he hires for fancy dinners (because he has the money for it) be damned.

You want to go home. That wish, hollow as it is, still stands.

…Even if it’s started staggering, in these last few months.

He’s always been more than content with just the two of you, but in the last several weeks, you compare Sylus’s emotional state to a suitcase packed too full, joy spilling out the sides. Evidently, he doesn’t try to close the zipper; he lets it happen with gladness, with his hands open and lifted, but you’re not sure he entirely knows what to do with himself. With these significant developments that are just as new to him (possibly even more, as much as that flummoxes you) as they are to you.

It’s as weird as it is endearing to see what having two children (twin boys, funnily enough) will do to your husband. But if there’s one thing you learned about Onychinus’s illustrious leader in the past couple years of your marriage—

It’s that he does not settle for less.

And when he draws closer, both little ones secured in his lap- dozing off because it’s already thirty minutes past their bedtime- and lifts your hand to place a chaste kiss there, rubbing your knuckles dotingly…

You can tell there’s something more he’s craving.

✿

“A girl,” he moans.

Sometimes- after you’ve just put down the boys for four consecutive nights in a row before collapsing in bed, your lover hardly having the opportunity to show his affections, all but guilted into letting you catch up on your sleep- it’s almost easy to forget how Sylus feels, your brain willing it away. How good he fucks you.

If you’re being more general- how good he takes care of you.

“Give me a girl this time, sweetie, just-“ a gasp, “one more.”

And vaguely, in the haze of sweat and burning hands, his thick, long cock plunging in and out of you deeply- slowly- your juices and his pre slicking between you, sticky as molasses, you wonder to yourself if he’s even convinced of that himself.

Just having one more, you mean.

The twins were unexpected: that right there is an understatement. You were hardly prepared for one rascal- all the countless evenings he spent buttering you up, so attentive, and then cumming into you with whispered vows to knock you up be damned— but when the xray revealed not one misshapen, little form in your womb, but two?

It was a bombshell.

Sylus, beside you (on the leather couch downstairs with your personal doctor he paid God knows how unreasonable a sum to show), had squeezed your hand in his and tried to mask half of his joy. The priority was in comforting you, helping you to realize that this was a good thing- a beautiful thing- that your life was not officially over and- hey, don’t worry, hasn’t he taken good care of you thus far? Surely, adding a couple little ones into the equation wouldn’t suddenly make it impossible.

You’re both very capable people, honey. Even more so together, with him. (Well, he assures you as much, anyway.)

Whether or not he could take care of you was never exactly the worry, though. The worry was that you’d be under his hand forever— and a baby? (two, you strictly correct. Two babies) You could kiss the last hope you had of ever weaseling out from his grip, or luxurious manor, goodbye.

He must know it, buried deep in the back of his head underneath the genuine layers of desire to simply start a family with you, his beloved girl, and flesh out more of a solid, burgeoning life; the silent promise underlying the pregnancy tests and inpromptu housecalls of your poor, overworked doctor.

That a family ties you to him forever.

A tether that’s damn near impossible to cut yourself loose from, even if you stood a punching chance at it to begin with. Glues you together in a way that even marriage doesn’t quite scratch the surface of. Your bond is perpetuated by blood, now. Flesh and bone. Your DNA, warped with his to create—

Monstrosities—

No, a harsh voice in the corner of your skull surprisingly snips back. They’re not monstrosities, far from it. All previous qualms nudged aside (and you had a lot, to be clear; hours spent sobbing and pushing helplessly at his chest as Sylus crooned and wrapped you in his arms proves that), doubts surrounding parenting and your own self preservation- your children are beautiful, that’s true. Healthy. Perfect.

If you’re being honest with yourself, and choose the high road here (the high road means willfully forgetting how involuntary this whole arrangement was in the first place)- they’re positively adorable. With his white hair spiking on their heads but your eyes and lips- and a shared penchant to land themselves into trouble, places they shouldn’t be before either of you stoops over to lift them out. Albeit, you’ll admit that their noses are still up for debate; it’s hard to pinpoint the resemblance when their faces are endearingly round, too chubby to really tell in this stage, but you secretly hope they’ll take after you in that regard.

You… don’t know how you’ll continue to operate if staring at your children is like staring at a mirror image of their father.

But… I mean, they’re fucking innocent in all this—

Your precious boys aren’t like their father. They… won’t be. You’ll make absolute sure of it.

“One more,” he chants, sucking in a long, thin breath through perfect teeth. And damn it all he feels good. So good. Maybe he had more than just one selfish, substratal reason for populating your otherwise fairly quiet home. Because you’re more obedient lately, wanting for it, almost… It gets him riled up in ways he could not begin to articulate. Hesitant still (sometimes he has this awful, basal fear that it’ll never go away, your trepidation towards him)- but sugar-sweet when you lie on the silken bed and present yourself with bashful cheeks that tell Sylus you hate yourself for it but have no real control in the moment.

You moan so prettily for him when he pries your thighs apart and presses them either side of your head, fashioning you like a butterfly, to slide in and out of you with ease. Melodic. Maybe he’s tone deaf to all songs save for you because he knows you, knows you like the back of his hand, pitch and lilt; he could pick out the voice of you in a crowd full of whooping people, he thinks.

Again, you blame your excitement on what he’s done to you. The twins’ pregnancy, the fluctuating hormones that have you bouncing between hysterical sobs and yanking your wide-eyed husband into impulsive, suffocating kisses before his fingers quickly settle around your middle. All the gentle erosion that he’s guided you through across the span of almost two years has left you worn and vulnerable.

But you suppose if something were to ever encourage a deeper bond- strengthen it- what else would it be than to take a man’s seed inside your womb and gift him with a bunch of unruly but cute kids? That’d gnaw away at just about anybody’s inhibitions, even if it grudges you to admit that. It lessens what remnant you held onto of this idea of ‘autonomy’, makes you fully lean onto him.

Sylus takes that news much, much better than you.

It’s… got to be more than physical between you now, you think distantly as he bullies his cockhead against your smooth walls, stroking a spongey spot in the bulwarks of you that makes your head go kaput. Like something spiritual, perhaps. He’s joined his soul with yours and that’s why you’ve been so obedient lately, so needy, clinging onto him and making his back your own personal scratching post as he plays at the idea of impregnating you again.

Oh, fuck, he’s such a bastard you hate him you hate him you—

You suppose your baby girl, inevitable to come somewhere down the line- whether that means during the next pregnancy or the third- won’t be like him, either.

She’ll be a sweetheart, and soft. Perhaps she’ll inherit her daddy’s crimson eyes or his smooth, sharp tongue, his inclination for success, but she’ll carry her mother’s heart with her. She will be kind.

Until someone like her daddy comes along. Flips her world on its head.

(And you know that having Sylus as her daddy would be the simple fact that staves off all potential men intending to prey on her, but still, the thought remains, niggling and bitter.)

“Take daddy’s cock, sweetie,” he goads, breath shot right from his lungs as he traps you beneath him- not that you’ve much the will to resist anymore- and moans over you. “You’ll take what he has to offer, won’t you? Your pretty belly will take all of it in?”

Tears prickle at your eyes when his flit down to your tummy, pupils swelling wildly as his jaw sets tight. He hisses through clenched teeth, cock giving a hot pulse accordingly.

It’s not difficult to imagine the bump there, the mound that’s not yet formed over a for now slim belly and wrinkled skin (stretch marks that you loathe but he worships on most nights, with your heels over his shoulder and his tongue lapping greedily at your pussy, palms kneading the flesh with reverence). It’s hardly been six months since you had the twins (a home birth, he’d insisted, because it was safer that way, more sterile, less stressful for you), but Sylus finds himself pining for your body to adapt to his seed again, for your breasts to plump and your stomach to round, your skin to glow.

(Your hands to reach for him because your emotions have been sat on one long rollercoaster ride and you can’t help whatever the fuck is going on inside you.)

“Sylus—“ You mewl, panting as he knocks his forehead to yours- with a whit more force than you think he’d meant, but he’s a little dazed right now, and your pussy feels so good, so don’t hold it against him, kitten- and grunts back. ��Yes?” He breathes, and you liken the sound to a gust of wind, powerful and shaking.

“I- I don’t know,” you all but wail, desperately trying to tamp down your sounds of pleasure before they can escape. You’re failing.

Your reticence is for a number of reasons. First of all, your boys are just down the hall, swaddled in their respective cradles under their rotating airplane fixtures and sleeping soundly. You don’t have any intentions of changing that- especially for something as stupid and pathetic as essentially whoring yourself out to their father (and you’re not a whore, but you can’t help but feel like one when you start to bask in the attention he gives you- your hormones post-pregnancy compelling you to do all sorts of wild things).

And secondly, Luke and Kieran don’t renown you as stubborn for no reason, or your husband, lovingly, as a drama queen— and there’s a defiant part of you that does not want to see the satisfaction on his face when you start to crumble under his ministrations and open your mouth about it.

But all that, for Sylus, is a wonderful work in progress.

And if we’re to be crystal, for as much as the N109 Zone’s number one magnate prioritizes the end goal, he thoroughly enjoys the process.

“You don’t know what, Sweetie?” He whispers. It’s all he can manage right now, you’re squeezing him so tight. In that moment, the fog parts, and he knows with a hundred percent certainty that you do not want him to leave. Yes, your cunt is saying as much, and he rewards it with a carefully angled thrust right against your g-spot, but your face tells no different a story.

You’re beautiful. Perfection embodied. Makes him lose his breath a little.

“I-If I want a girl,” You heave. “If I want one at all.”

Something like dejection passes across his handsome visage then, or maybe it’s uncertainty that weakens the tight knotch in his brow as he inwardly struggles- between his approaching climax and the single mind he’s got to stuff you full of his release- for an appropriate answer. He doesn’t want to anger you. Doesn’t want to make you hate him, no, especially not when you’re finally starting to dip your toes in his waters after all his painstaking efforts to make you comfortable. Oh, God knows Sylus would kick himself for that.

…But this will be good for you. Having another, he means. It’ll be good for the both of you and if you’d just let him show you—

He’s painted the perfect demonstration of that quite well with the boys, hasn’t he? In this past handful of months, you’ve never looked happier and you’re positively glowing and all Sylus has ever wanted was to see your pretty face light with that dazzling, little smile. The twins he’s given you, unbidden as they initially were through your lens, make you so, so happy.

This will be so, so good.

Perfect.

If you’d just give in.

Oh, you’re so maddening sometimes but he adores you, every part and piece. He stoops over so his damp lips brush the lobe of your ear, the perspiration dotting his temple wetting your flushed cheeks. He croons, “You do. You do want it. I’ll show you, kitten, just how bad you need it. The twins need a sister, don’t you think? They won’t know anything other than playing rough, if not.”

Your fingertips squeeze into the lean planes of muscle of his back. He’s burning up, near feverish what with the heat sweltering between your sandwhiched bodies, but he gives a shiver in response like he’s enduring temperatures below freezing.

Panic, beneath the misty veneer of pleasure that makes your face go slack- and the subtle, inexplicable flash of something that almost convinces you Sylus is right, that you do want it- slips into the forefront of your muddled brain. Reaches a hand through the dirt and revives itself, reminding, no, no, you don’t want this, you don’t want him, you don’t want—

You let out a delicious gasp as he spears into you, the flesh of your thighs dimpling as he presses down the undersides of them. Firm, but gentle. It’s true, you’ve become considerably more flexible since meeting him- since having to accommodate him- but he’ll never give you anything more than you can take.

You’d never admit it, but there’s almost a little bit of comfort in knowing that.

“I-I’ll make sure they know how to play nice,” you force out, taking your lower lip in your mouth and suckling as the telltale rush of your climax draws nigh, hardening in your belly as it builds. “I’ll make sure they know how to be gentle, Sy!” Foreign to your own ears. Your voice is horrid as you belatedly register it, all sniveling and gasping- downright pathetic as you cling onto him for dear life and he ruts into you like a dog in heat.

You’re grasping at straws now, you know, but for as feeble as your excuses are, you hope they hit their mark. That they’ll get him to reconsider-

“But sweetie,” he breathes tenderly, “you’re already making sure I’m gentle,” he reminds in a pleasant voice, edged with the remnants of a self control that unravels at a steady pace. “How will you juggle between the three of us? Hm?”

His cockhead, fat and precise, catches on that spot in you that makes you go positively crazy and your eyes flutter back. You let out a strange, choked sound that he marvels at before he capitalizes on the reaction completely, buffetting away at the final walls you’d erected against him tonight.

All are near crumbled.

“I’ll find a way,” you nearly squeak- high-pitched and unconvincing because his mind’s already made- before he’s lolling your jaw back towards him and smashing his lips to yours in a decadent kiss, silencing your protests- for as weak as they are.

It’s close to visceral, the contact, wet lips melding hungrily with yours, trading groans and mewls as he effectively pistons his hips into you and paints colorful stars across the black span of your eyelids. In a word- invasive. Torpefying, all your limbs unfurling and slipping away from him in favor of curling into the sheets as your release approaches at whirlwind speeds, blunt fingernails clinging onto you so tight there’ll be bruises formed tomorrow- as well as an apologetic, rueful sigh on Sylus’s end, because he swears to God he’s trying to hold back—

Fucking mind-numbing.

And isn’t that just what you need? A quiet conscience? A shot of morphine fed through a needle straight into the veins, an emotional kind of tranquilizer or- or something to moderate the snarled mess your heart’s become all because of him—

It seems he’s cognizant then, pupils dilated madly as he finally blinks, of the hands that clench too tight- withdrawing them immediately from your thighs (regrettably, they remain cleaved open in a willing offer for him, shaking and red with his prints) to loop your wrists either side of your head. Holding your hands. Ever the romantic. You almost laugh, seconds off from that white-hot tidal wave of pleasure, at the irony of it all. Onychinus’s formidable, takes-no-bullshit leader, fucking you with all the grace of a big clumsy dog but all the love of one too— loyal and determined, bleeding heart on his sleeve.

He’s still kissing you, sucking on your tongue filthily, and all you can think of is waking the boys sleeping soundly next door how exquisite it feels, his thick member dragging in and out of your walls like it’s his right. Sylus certainly believes as much.

He’s ruined you too good for anyone else; you’re starting to believe it, too.

“There you go, kitten!” He gasps. “Let go. Just- fuck- let go for daddy. Such a good, good girl. Such a good mommy, you are. Our- oh, fuck, that’s it, that’s it, perfect- Our little girl will be so, so lucky to have you.”

When he comes, you do, too.

[himasgod]

Where you fill their faces with lipstick marks.

THIRD-YEARS

FIRST YEARS HERE

The second years will be published throughout the days <3

Where, in a fit of affection, you start showering your boyfriend with soft, quick kisses. However, before you know it, you've covered his entire face with your lipstick. How would the guys react?

maybe cringe? fr I had a lot of fun writing this lmao I didn't take it too seriously and maybe too ooc?

Leona Kingscholar

“Tsk… what a pain.”

From the first kiss, Leona narrows his eyes in suspicion.

For the second, he frowns.

For the third, he lets out a long sigh of resignation.

But most importantly… he doesn’t stop you.

He just lets you do it, lying back with his arms behind his head as if this were another one of an herbivore’s “whims.”

When you’re done, he opens one eye and looks at you in boredom.

“Are you done?”

You nod, satisfied.

Leona stretches and rolls over to go back to sleep.

“…I’ll clean it up later.”

And when he says “later,” he means he’s going to walk all over Savanaclaw like this without caring what anyone says.

When Ruggie sees it, he almost falls over laughing.

“Boss, you look like a romantic work of art!”

Leona doesn't even blink.

"So what?"

If you try to repeat it another day, he'll pull you by the wrist and roll you with him in the grass, trapping you under his arm with a mocking smile.

"Now it's my turn."

And well, you're going to be stuck for a while.

Cater Diamond

From the first kiss, Cater is already smiling. He’s one of those who enjoys these kinds of romantic gestures without any shame.

When you keep leaving traces of your lips on his face, he doesn’t just stay still, but encourages you to continue.

“Come on, Cay-Cay needs kisses on the other side too~!”

When you finish, his face is a mess of kisses. There are marks on his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw… even on his neck.

And the first thing he does is take out his phone 💀💀💀

“Selfie time~! #KissAttack #CayCayIsLoved #BestSmoochEver!”

Not only does he upload the photos to Magicam, but he sets one of them as his wallpaper for a good while.

But the best part comes when Riddle shows up.

“…Cater.”

“Yeah, little housewarden~?” he asks matter-of-factly.

“…Wipe your face before the unbirthday party.”

“Nah, I can’t erase this love!” he replies, winking at you.

And the best part of all: even though he says it’s “for aesthetics,” deep down he feels very loved and doesn’t want to wipe them off so quickly.

And yes, he uses that photo as his wallpaper for a few days… until someone bothers him too much.

But secretly, he saves it in his gallery forever.

Trey Clover

“Oh… so you play dirty now, huh?”

Trey isn’t one to be easily surprised, so when you start showering him with kisses, his initial reaction is to calmly smile and let you have your fun.

But when you finish and look at him in satisfaction, he raises an eyebrow, as if he’s planning something.

And then…

He catches you.

In one swift movement, he grabs you by the waist and drops you onto his lap.

Before you can react, he gives you a forceful kiss on the forehead.

“…Now you’re just like me.”

At first, you’re confused. But then, you feel the warmth on your skin and it dawns on you.

Trey used his own invisible lipstick.

Cater, who was passing by, lets out a laugh.

“Trey, dude! I didn’t know you had such a naughty side~!”

Trey laughs and shrugs, wiping himself off slowly.

“Maybe I should do the same with you next time, huh, prefect?”

And from the way he looks at you with a calm smile, you know he means it.

Vil Schoenheit

“Mh...what are you doing?!”

The first kiss already has him in crisis.

The second has him shaking.

By the third, his mind is collapsing.

“My skin! My makeup! MY FACE!”

He brings both hands to his face as if you’ve committed an unforgivable crime.

He looks at you with drama and disappointment, as if you’re his worst aesthetic mistake.

“I’m going to need to cleanse and rehydrate my skin immediately.”

Without another word, he hurries off to his vanity, pulling out the most expensive products he owns.

But… if you look closely, he’s smiling slightly.

And if you do it in private, he might not take it off right away.

Rook Hunt

"Oh, mon trésor, what a passionate attack!"

From the first kiss, Rook is already fascinated.

Not only does he not stop you, but he leans his face to receive more.

"How bold! How romantic! Your love has been stamped on my skin with the intensity of a tragic poem!"

And the worst thing is that HE DOES NOT TAKE IT OFF.

He walks through Pomefiore with his lips marked as if they were a trophy.

When Vil sees him, he puts a hand on his forehead and sighs deeply.

"Rook… please."

But Rook smiles proudly.

"I will never erase this trace of love, Roi du Poison."

If you try to run away, be prepared, because he will chase you to return your kisses.

"It's my turn to hunt, mon amour..."

Hell yeah he will catch you.

Idia Shroud

“Uh.....”

When the first kiss hits his skin, Idia completely freezes.

When you finish, his hair is completely PINK.

He literally stutters.

“T-This is like… like… a rare event from a secret route in an otome game…”

He's so freaky tf

He can’t process it. His head is crashing.

And the worst thing is that he doesn’t know what to do.

He covers his face with both hands, but his ears are completely red.

“…Why did you do that?” he whispers, almost like it’s a game glitch.

If Ortho sees it, he immediately smile

“Nii-san, you’re super blushing! Did you like it?”

Idia just mentally shuts down.

Malleus Draconia

"Oh… is this how humans show affection?"

From the first kiss, Malleus remains completely still.

When you finish, he stares at you with genuine curiosity.

"…I like it."

HE DOESN'T TAKE IT OFF.

If Sebek sees, he panics completely.

"YOUNG LORD! WHO DID THIS TO YOU?! IT'S DISRESPECTFUL! UNACCEPTABLE!"

Malleus ignores Sebek and smiles gently.

"…Can I have more?"

And then you decide your fate.

Lilia Vanrouge

"Oooh, you're so adorable, prefect~!"

Lilia accepts all the kisses excitedly.

When you're done, he pats you on the head and laughs happily.

"Such youthful energy! It reminds me of my days in the royal court~!"

Not only does he not wipe, but he actually wanders around Diasomnia like that.

If Silver or Malleus sees it, he'll just smile proudly.

"Look, boys, how affectionate is prefect to me~!"

If you try that again, he'll catch you and shower you with kisses in revenge.

Thanks for all the support and I will be uploading the next parts and other twst scenarios on my profile <3

[kirammanswifey]

Hii hope your doing ok I’ve been feeling like shit lately so i was wondering if i could get arcane characters with sick reader? 😊 like they can’t sleep they have a stoamch ache ghey feel nauseous etc….

sick days with arcane characters (fem!reader)

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, sevika and ambessa.

writer's note: you’ve been asking for this one, and here it. also… MOTHER AMBESSA HAS ARRIVED. i couldn’t leave out this absolute powerhouse of a woman any longer. she’s got me WEAK, like… somebody catch me, i’m about to pass out. hope y’all enjoy this one! let me know which scenario had you kicking your feet and giggling the most. as you already know, requests are open ;)

viktor

The illness arrived without warning, hitting you like an unstoppable wave. First, it was the slight discomfort, then the headache, the fever, the weakness that turned every movement into a monumental effort. By the time Viktor noticed, you were too exhausted to hide it anymore.

Now, you’re wrapped in blankets, your body burning, your throat scratchy, barely able to keep your eyes open. The room feels suffocating, and the fever distorts your perception of time. But there’s something that remains constant, unshakable: Viktor.

He’s sitting by your side, his brow slightly furrowed as he watches you. His elbows rest on his knees, hands clasped together, his cane leaning against the nightstand. His golden eyes, usually bright with the excitement of discovery, now reflect another emotion: worry.

"This is nothing," you try to say, but your voice comes out hoarse, barely a whisper.

Viktor lets out a sigh, a low, almost resigned sound.

"Always so stubborn," he mutters, shaking his head. "You could be on the brink of death and still insist you're fine."

You intend to retort, to tell him it’s not that bad, but before you can even open your mouth, Viktor is already moving. He leans forward, his cool hand brushing your forehead with a tenderness that surprises you. His fingers linger there for a moment, as if assessing the severity of the fever, then slowly descend down your cheek, brushing a lock of hair away from your sweaty skin.

His touch is so delicate, so careful, that a shiver runs down your spine.

"You’re burning up," he says, a note of annoyance in his voice, though you know it’s not with you, but with the situation. "You should’ve told me earlier."

You can’t help but smile a little. "I didn’t want to bother you."

Viktor lets out a brief, dry laugh, as if he can’t believe what you just said.

"Bother me," he repeats incredulously, settling back into his seat. "You think taking care of you is a bother?"

He doesn’t respond immediately, but the answer is clear on his face.

Without another word, he stands up, his body swaying slightly as he leans on his cane. His limp is more noticeable when he’s tired, and by the way he moves, you know he’s been here for a while, probably without taking a break.

"I’m going to make you something hot," he announces. "Stay still."

You watch him leave the room, his measured steps echoing in the hallway. It doesn’t take him long to return, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a jar of medicine in the other.

"Take this," he says, offering you the cup first.

The steaming liquid gives off a soft, comforting aroma. You sip it slowly, feeling the warmth spread through your body. Viktor watches you the whole time, with the same analytical intensity he uses when observing his experiments in the lab, as if trying to measure each of your reactions.

"It’s good, right?" he asks, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Better than I expected," you admit with a faint smile.

He raises an eyebrow, amused. "You expected it to be terrible?"

"Not that you’re exactly a chef, Viktor."

He lets out a soft laugh, the sound vibrating in his chest. "You’re right. But it’s not that hard to boil water and add honey."

You finish the tea with his help, and he makes sure you take the right dose of medicine before settling you back into bed.

It’s then that you think he might leave. He’s done enough, he’s made sure you’re better. But instead of getting up, instead of retreating to his lab as usual, Viktor simply stays there.

He watches you for a moment, and then, with a careful movement, slides down to sit on the edge of the bed. He leans on his cane while stretching out his other hand, and with a tenderness you’ve never seen from him, places his fingers over yours.

"I’m staying here," he murmurs, almost like it’s a secret.

Your heart tightens in your chest. "You don’t have to."

"I know," he says simply, and then adds, with a small smile: "But I want to."

The silence that follows is warm, enveloping. The fever is still there, the discomfort persists, but somehow, with Viktor by your side, it doesn’t feel as unbearable.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and you can see the exhaustion in his face, in the way his shoulders drop slightly, in how his fingers cling to yours as if he’s afraid to let go.

Maybe you should tell him to rest, to not work so hard for you. But when he intertwines his hand with yours and stays there, unmoving, giving you his warmth, you decide that this time, you won’t argue.

This time, you simply accept his care.

jinx

The world was spinning.

Or maybe it was just your head.

You woke up feeling like you’d been hit by a damn train. You had a fever, your body ached, and your throat was so dry that swallowing was nearly impossible. But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was that you were on the floor.

And Jinx was on top of you.

“YOU’RE ALIVE!” she screamed right in your face.

You let out a pained groan. “Jinx… what the hell are you doing?”

She blinked a few times before grinning as if she weren’t literally sitting on your chest. “You fainted! Well, actually, you just fell off the bed, but that still counts, right? I thought you were dead. I was going to give you a Viking funeral, with explosions and everything, but I couldn’t find enough gunpowder.”

You rubbed your face with both hands, feeling too weak to process what she had just said. “God… babe, I feel horrible.”

The moment you said it, her smile faltered slightly.

“Horrible as in ‘throw up and die’ or horrible as in ‘I need love and attention’?”

“Both.”

Jinx jumped to her feet. “Then it's time for the world's best nurse to spring into action!”

A shiver ran down your spine. “That sounds terrifying.”

“Silence, patient! Leave it to me!”

What followed was a disaster. A senseless mess, as if a blue tornado had decided that its sole purpose in life was to take care of you… in its own way.

First, she tried to give you medicine. Tried.

“What is that?”

“Something I found in Silco’s drawer.”

“Babe, that’s shimmer.” You sighed, staring at the glowing drug in her pale hands.

“A-ha! Exactly! It can help wake you up! It helps me.”

“Give me the real medicine.”

She clicked her tongue and pulled out a bottle from who-knows-where. “You’re so boring.”

Then, she tried cooking for you.

The result was a kitchen filled with smoke, something charred in a pan, and a bowl of soup that, somehow, exploded.

“Jinx… how the hell did you make soup explode?”

“Eh… doesn’t matter. Eat this instead.”

She held up a cupcake that, mysteriously, had a fuse sticking out of it.

You stared at her with a mix of disbelief and fear. “I’m not eating that.”

Jinx shrugged and stuffed the whole thing into her mouth. Whole.

By the time she decided that cooking wasn’t her thing, she moved on to a safer method: hugging you until you felt better.

And, surprisingly, it worked.

After the initial madness, she curled up beside you, playing with strands of your hair while murmuring nonsense about explosions, schemes, and other things that made no sense. But her soft voice, her warmth, and her presence gradually eased your discomfort.

“Feeling better, sweet cheeks?” she asked quietly.

“Amazingly, yes.”

Jinx beamed with pride. “See? I’m the best nurse ever!”

“More like the most dangerous.”

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Call it what you want, but you’re still in one piece, aren’t you?”

You let out a weak laugh, hugging her tightly.

vi

The first thing you felt upon waking was heat. But not the comforting warmth of thick blankets or a gentle sunrise—it was a suffocating fire consuming you from the inside out. You stirred with a whimper, and as soon as you did, you felt a weight beside you. Strong, firm, yet protective arms kept you trapped in an embrace.

“Vi…” you murmured, your voice hoarse.

She grumbled something against your neck before pulling you even closer.

“Five more minutes…”

“No, Vi… everything hurts.”

Your complaint seemed to trigger an alarm in her head. She immediately propped herself up on one elbow, frowning as her eyes scanned you from head to toe. With a rough yet careful hand, she touched your forehead, and her expression changed completely.

“Shit, you’re burning up,” she muttered, sitting up straight. “How long have you felt like this?”

“It’s not a big deal…”

Vi scoffed, clearly not believing you. She got out of bed in a rush, searching for something, rummaging through drawers and bags with clumsy urgency. Her body language gave her away—she was worried. Really worried. But as soon as she noticed you watching her, she exhaled and forced herself to relax.

“Alright, it’s fine. Just a fever. I’ve got this under control.”

But she didn’t have it under control.

The moment you were out of her sight, Vi practically emptied her bag of the little money she had and ran to get medicine. It wasn’t easy. Between the sky-high prices and the scarcity in the Undercity, she had to bargain, threaten, and even ask Ekko for help. But when she returned, it was with empty pockets, hands full of medicine, and relief written all over her face.

“It’s alright now, babe. You’re gonna be okay.”

What followed was a sweet kind of chaos.

Vi took care of everything. She made you take the medicine like you were a little kid, promising kisses as a reward. She forced you to eat something despite your lack of appetite, holding a spoon in front of your mouth with a look that said don’t make me force you. And when you insisted you could bathe on your own, she simply crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently for you to realize you could barely move.

You ended up in the bathtub together, with her washing your hair with a patience she rarely had for anyone else. Her hands moved through your scalp gently, massaging with slow, careful motions. Her breathing was steady, her gaze focused on you.

“You’re gonna kill me with how sweet you’re being,” you murmured with a weak smile.

Vi chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

“And you’re gonna kill me with worry if you don’t start taking better care of yourself.”

After the bath, when she carried you back to bed like a princess and tucked you in with meticulous care, you realized there was something more you needed to do. Vi sat beside you, watching you with an unusual softness in her blue eyes.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, half-asleep.

“I want you to rest, it’s late,” she said softly.

“But I’m not sleepy yet…”

“I’m not arguing about this. You’re going to sleep, end of discussion,” she interrupted gently.

She settled beside you, pulling you against her chest, letting her breathing sync with yours. Then, she started stroking your hair with slow, delicate movements. Her fingers tangled in your strands with her usual tenderness. And then, just when you thought she couldn’t get any sweeter, she started humming a soft, low melody.

You didn’t know where she had learned that song, but her raspy, almost trembling voice wrapped around you with a warmth no medicine could ever match.

You clung to her shirt and closed your eyes.

“I love you…”

She sighed, smiling against your hair.

“And I love you, gorgeous.”

Her voice was the last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep.

caitlyn

By the time Caitlyn realizes you're sick, it's too late for you to try to deny it.

It's not that you didn’t try. You endured the discomfort, the fever, and the weakness for hours, smiling as if nothing were wrong. But Caitlyn Kiramman is a natural-born investigator. Nothing escapes her. And when her sharp gaze falls on you, you know there's no escaping it.

"Are you okay?" she asks, raising an eyebrow, her tone casual but with a subtle edge that suggests she already suspects the truth.

"Yeah, of course," you reply with feigned calm.

Mistake. Caitlyn crosses her arms, and her expression turns more intense. "Then explain to me why you've barely touched your food, why you've been quieter than usual, and why you look like you're about to faint at any moment."

Shit.

"Don't exaggerate, I'm just a little tired," you try to say, but as soon as you finish the sentence, your cough betrays you.

In less than a second, Caitlyn is already by your side. With a speed that only someone with her training could have, she raises a hand and presses it to your forehead. Her skin is cold compared to the fire burning in yours. Her face, however, hardens with a cold seriousness.

"You have a fever," she declares, as if solving a murder case.

You try to pull away, but her grip on your wrist remains firm. "We're going home. Now."

"Cait, really, I—"

"Now."

And with that voice, with that determination, you know arguing is useless.

"Stay still."

It's the third time in five minutes she's told you that. You're buried under a pile of blankets on the bed, and every time you make the slightest move, Caitlyn swoops in like a hawk to adjust them again.

"I'm going to suffocate," you protest weakly.

"You have chills," she replies without looking at you as she pours liquid into a glass. "If you're cold, you complain. If I cover you, you complain. There's no pleasing you."

You sigh, unable to find a good counter-argument.

When she returns to your side, she holds a spoon with medicine in one hand and the glass of water in the other. "Open."

"I don’t want to."

Caitlyn sighs as if dealing with a small child. "Do you want me to force it down your throat?"

Your defiant look meets hers, but it only lasts a few seconds before her blue eyes narrow dangerously. And that's when you remember that Caitlyn Kiramman always wins.

With resignation, you open your mouth, and she gives you the medicine with the same precision she uses to shoot her rifle.

"You're a disaster," she murmurs, setting the glass on the nightstand.

"Mhmm..."

Caitlyn doesn't move. Her hand rests on your forehead for the second time, but this time, it's not just to measure your fever. It's a slower, softer touch, her fingers gliding over your skin with a tenderness you didn’t expect.

And when you look at her, you see something on her face that's not just worry. It's fear.

"Cait...?"

She looks away, but her hand stays on your cheek, as if needing to make sure you're still there.

"You look so fragile like this," she murmurs. Her tone doesn't have the usual confidence. "I don’t like it."

Your heart tightens.

"It’s nothing serious, just a fever," you try to reassure her.

Caitlyn closes her eyes for a second and exhales slowly. "I don’t care how serious it is. I don’t want to see you like this. I don’t want anything to hurt you."

Her sincerity leaves you speechless. Caitlyn has always been strong, unshakable, the person everyone can rely on. But in this moment, seeing her with a furrowed brow and pursed lips, you realize there's a part of her that fears losing you.

Without thinking, you raise a trembling hand and take hers.

"I’ll get better, love. With all the care you’ve given me, I’ll surely be fine tomorrow. Now, don't worry anymore, okay?" you whisper.

Caitlyn watches you for a long moment, and then, with a gentleness she rarely shows, she leans forward and places a light kiss on your forehead.

"Okay," she replies, in a whisper.

Still, she doesn’t leave you alone all night.

jayce

From the moment you told Jayce you were feeling sick, you knew it was all going to turn into a complete disaster.

At first, he seemed to handle it well. His expression shifted from his usual carefree demeanor to a mix of alarm and determination in just a few seconds. "Don't worry, darling, I'll take care of everything," he assured you with a confidence that almost made you believe him.

But what came next... well, it was Jayce, after all.

To start with, he insisted on making you tea. It would have been a sweet gesture if he had any idea how to actually make it.

From the bed, you heard him opening and closing drawers in the kitchen, cursing under his breath.

"Why are there so many tea boxes? Which one is the right one? And why do they all smell the same?"

A dull thud echoed.

"...Shit. The sugar fell."

You shook your head, already imagining the disaster going on out there.

When he finally came back, he had a cup of tea... or at least, what seemed like tea. The liquid was a suspiciously dark color, and Jayce had a sugar stain on his shirt.

"Here you go," he sat down on the edge of the bed with a proud smile and handed you the cup. "It's chamomile. Or... maybe mint. I'm not sure. But it has honey, so it should be good."

You eyed him warily but took a sip anyway. Immediately, you grimaced.

"Jayce... how much honey did you put in this?"

"Uh... enough."

"This is basically liquid honey with a little bit of hot water."

Jayce pursed his lips. "It's good for your throat."

"I'm going to die from a sugar overdose before the fever kills me."

But his clumsiness didn’t stop there.

He tried to put a cold compress on your forehead, but in his rush to dampen the cloth, he made it too wet, and you ended up with water droplets sliding down your face.

Then, he tried to reposition you in the bed to make you more comfortable, but nearly knocked you onto the floor in the process.

And when he tried to give you the medicine, the spoonful ended up spilling on the blanket.

In the end, Jayce collapsed into the chair next to the bed with a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"I’m a mess," he murmured.

"You’re not," you said, though it was hard to say it seriously after watching him struggle with a bag of ice ten minutes ago.

Jayce dropped his head into his hands and let out a deeper sigh. "I’m one of the most important scientists in Piltover. I’ve built machines that have revolutionized the city. I can rally entire armies with a speech." He turned to you with an expression that mixed sadness and exasperation. "And yet I can’t take care of you when you’re sick?"

There was a silence.

Jayce rarely showed himself like this, so vulnerable. He was always the strong one, the leader, the one who had all the answers. But now, in front of you, he was just a man desperate to do something right for the person he cared about.

You took his hand with yours, gently intertwining your fingers. "Jayce... you don’t have to do it perfectly."

He exhaled a trembling sigh and squeezed your hand in return. "I just... I still get nervous around you."

You gave him a confused look. "Nervous?"

"Like the first time," he admitted softly. "Like when we first started dating, and everything in me wanted to impress you. But now it's different. Now..." His eyes met yours, warm and sincere. "Now I just want to take care of you. And I hate feeling like I’m not doing it right."

The tenderness that filled your chest was almost overwhelming.

You smiled weakly. "You’re doing fine."

Jayce huffed. "I spilled the medicine on the blanket."

"Details."

He laughed, though his expression stayed soft. And then, without thinking too much about it, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You closed your eyes at the contact, enjoying the warmth of his lips on your skin. But when he tried to kiss you on the lips, you pulled away with a grimace.

"Jayce, you're going to get sick too."

He smiled to the side. "You think I care?"

"You should care."

Jayce shrugged, with that playful confidence that always defined him. "If I get sick, then you’ll take care of me."

And before you could argue further, he leaned in and caught your lips in a slow, sweet kiss.

The next morning, you felt considerably better. Your fever had gone down, your throat didn’t hurt as much, and you could breathe more easily.

But as you turned in bed, you found Jayce beside you, his face buried in the pillow, his hair a mess, and his brow furrowed as if he was going through the worst experience of his life.

You let out a laugh.

"Told you so."

Jayce groaned.

"Oh, shut up."

ekko

Ekko had always been fast. His mind, his hands, his movements… everything about him was in constant motion, always one step ahead. But when you got sick, all that speed turned into pure energy poorly managed.

Because Ekko didn’t just want to take care of you. He wanted to do it right.

The problem was that he had no idea how.

“Do you want some soup?” he asked, leaning over you with wide eyes.

You shook your head weakly.

“Tea?”

You shook your head again.

Ekko frowned and crossed his arms. “Alright, then… how about some water? Or fruit juice? Or—?”

“Ekko…” you murmured in a hoarse voice, “I just need to sleep.”

“Oh.”

There was a pause.

And then he suddenly stood up. “Right! Sleep. Yeah, good idea.”

You nodded, relieved that he finally understood. You snuggled further into the blankets and closed your eyes, ready to rest.

Until you felt the mattress sink when Ekko sat beside you.

You opened one eye.

He was there, staring at you.

“…What are you doing?” you asked in a tired voice.

“Watching you.”

You sighed. “Ekko.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t need you to watch me while I sleep.”

He pursed his lips, clearly disagreeing. “But what if you stop breathing? Or if your fever gets too high? Or if you need something and can’t ask for it?”

You looked at him with a mix of tenderness and exasperation.

“Ekko, I have a cold. Not a deadly illness.”

He waved his hand as if that detail didn’t matter. “Still. I’m not taking any chances.”

Ekko tried to stay still. He tried.

But resting wasn’t natural for him.

After a few minutes, he started moving his leg, tapping it lightly against the floor. Then, his fingers began to drum against his thigh. Finally, he started fiddling with his stopwatch, spinning it between his fingers over and over again.

Click. Click. Click.

You groaned.

“Ekko…”

“Yes?”

“If you keep making noise, I’m going to stop breathing. But from frustration.”

He let out a soft laugh. “Sorry, sorry.”

You sighed and turned over to bury yourself further in the blankets.

There was silence for a moment.

And then you felt something warm slide over your hand.

Ekko was holding it.

It was a light touch, almost shy, but his palm was warm against your cold skin.

You turned your face to look at him. He didn’t say anything, but he had that smile of his, the one he used when he tried to act casual but was actually worried.

You squeezed his hand softly in response.

“You don’t have to stay here all night, Ekko.”

He tilted his head. “What if I want to?”

“…You’re exaggerating.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But I don’t like seeing you like this.”

Your heart tightened a little.

There was something in the way he said it, with so much sincerity and concern, that made all the discomfort in your body feel a little more bearable.

Ekko didn’t need to say that he loved you. He didn’t need grand declarations.

He showed it in every small action.

In how he insisted on taking care of you even if he didn’t know how. In how he never left your side even though you were sure he had a thousand more important things to do. In how, even when you tried to convince him everything was fine, he wouldn’t be convinced until he saw it with his own eyes.

After a while, you started to drift off to sleep.

But before sleep took you completely, you felt something else:

A brush against your forehead.

You weren’t sure if you had imagined it. Maybe it had just been a dream…

But you’d swear Ekko had given you a kiss.

silco

Several hours had passed in the lounge. You and Silco, as always, were caught in one of those endless conversations about business, Zaun’s future, and the little strategies he was constantly planning. Though you tried to stay focused, your body wasn’t responding as usual. The fever was consuming you, and exhaustion was starting to take its toll.

You tried to hide it, as always, but you knew your eyes were slowly closing, your eyelids heavy, your thoughts clouded. At some point, you couldn't even hear what he was saying anymore. The tones of his voice faded, and the last thing you remembered was a sudden dizziness before collapsing to the floor, unable to do anything.

Darkness consumed you.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the softness of the sheets around you. You weren’t in the lounge, nor in your own bed. The scent of his cologne, something like leather and tobacco, lingered in the air, and the luxurious pillow beneath your head made you blink several times in confusion. The atmosphere was heavy, unmistakably private—his room.

And then, you saw him.

Silco was sitting near the bed, his chair tilted back slightly, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His gaze was fixed on you, silent, unmoving. For a moment, you thought he hadn’t noticed you waking up.

But then, after taking a sip of his drink, he finally broke the silence. “The doctor said you’ve been neglecting yourself. You haven’t been eating properly, you haven’t been resting as you should. You’re overworked.”

You pushed yourself up slightly, trying to process his words. You were in his bed. How had you gotten here? Before you could ask, he spoke again, his voice cold and commanding, as if addressing a subordinate who had made a grave mistake.

“This,” he gestured between the two of you, “is what happens when you don’t take your health seriously. You’re so caught up in your damned business that you don’t even realize what you’re doing to your body.”

Your mind was still hazy, but the look in Silco’s eyes told you this was not something he was going to overlook. His expression was harsh, his gaze sharp and piercing. You could tell he was holding back, that his frustration was close to boiling over. “This is the last time. The last time your life is put in danger because of your stubbornness.”

A slight pang tightened in your chest. Not just because of his words—but because of the intensity behind them, as if what hurt him most was seeing you in this state.

Silco let out a heavy sigh and leaned in slightly. The only thing that calmed you was the touch—softer than you expected—a light brush of his hand against your forehead. A gesture meant to show you that, despite his anger, he cared.

“I’m going to take care of you until you recover. I’m not leaving.”

You remained silent, watching as he took another sip of his whiskey. The room was so quiet you could hear the faint clink of his drink against the glass. Then, after a few moments of simply staring at you, his expression softened—just slightly—and his next words took you by surprise.

“I’m staying here with you all day, until you’re well again. And no, you don’t get to say no.”

You let out a weak laugh, though the fever still dulled your voice. “And where’s the downside in that?”

Silco didn’t answer immediately. He took another sip of his whiskey, and as he leaned in, he got so close that his breath brushed against your ear.

“When you recover,” he murmured, his voice low, dangerous, “I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

The heat of his proximity made your cheeks flush. You could feel the way your skin burned, not just from the fever, but from the moment itself. A shiver ran through you, leaving you unsure of what to say or do.

Silco pulled back slightly and noticed the glass of water he had left beside you was empty. Without a word, he stood up and left the room.

Once he was gone, you remained there, staring at the ceiling. The fever still clouded your mind, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him—his presence, the way he had leaned in, the way he had spoken.

Your hand brushed against your face, which was warm—not just from the fever, but from the situation itself.

What's up with him?

sevika

You knew getting sick was never going to be simple with Sevika. She was the one in charge. And if she said you were staying in bed, then you were staying in bed.

Sure, you tried to argue. You tried to reason with her. But when Sevika crossed her arms and looked at you with that warning expression, you knew you were walking on thin ice.

“You’re going to stay here and rest.”

“But—”

“You’re going to rest.”

You shook your head. “I can’t. I have work to do.”

Sevika squinted. “You can’t even stand up without wobbling.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me take drastic measures.”

That sounded suspicious. But you were too busy trying to muster the strength to get up, so you didn’t pay much attention.

Big mistake.

By the time you realized what was happening, you were already tightly bound to the bed.

“I can’t believe you actually did this,” you said, blinking in disbelief.

Sevika looked at you with an arched eyebrow as she finished securing the ropes. “I don’t know why you’re surprised.”

“Well, I’m not. But it’s still ridiculous.”

“The ridiculous part is that you’re sick and still want to go to work.”

You tried to struggle, but Sevika knew what she was doing. The ropes were tightened with the precision of someone who clearly had experience in immobilizing people.

Her eyes glinted with amusement as she watched you fight in vain.

“If you’d listened to me from the start, we wouldn’t have to do this.”

You huffed. “Are you going to let me go?”

Sevika put her hand on her chin, pretending to think about it. “Mmm… no.”

And that’s how you ended up in one of the most humiliating situations of your life: tied to the bed while Sevika fed you like you were a little kid.

She held the spoon in front of you with a satisfied smile. “Open.”

“No.”

“Don’t make me force you.”

You glared at her. “This is abuse of power.”

“This is taking care of you.”

“This is unnecessary.”

“This is you opening your damn mouth.”

You sighed deeply, closing your eyes for a moment. Then, finally, you opened your mouth and let Sevika feed you the spoonful.

You couldn’t believe it. Sevika, Silco’s feared right-hand woman, was feeding you some kind of mashed potatoes.

And the worst part was, it didn’t taste that bad.

Sevika looked at you with amusement. “You like it, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Tsk. Ungrateful.”

You rolled your eyes. “Am I really going to be tied up all day?”

“It depends. Are you going to stop fighting me?”

“Maybe.”

Sevika snorted. “That’s not an answer.”

Despite everything, there was a moment when things softened.

After making sure you’d eaten enough (and mocking you a little more in the process), Sevika leaned over the bed and looked at you in silence.

It was strange to see her like that, calm, without the usual teasing in her voice or the hardness in her expression.

Her hand gently slid across your forehead, brushing a strand of hair away.

“You make me worry too much, you know?” she murmured.

Her words carried a weight you hadn’t expected. Sevika wasn’t the type to express her emotions easily, and hearing her admit something like that surprised you more than you wanted to admit.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered.

She huffed. “Yeah. Because I’m not letting you kill yourself with overwork.”

Her fingers caressed your cheek for a moment before pulling away.

It was such a tender gesture that you almost forgot you were still tied up.

Of course, you weren’t going to give up that easily.

You knew Sevika had one weak spot: you.

So you took a deep breath and set your final tactic in motion.

You put on your most adorable face, opening your eyes sweetly, slightly pursing your lips, and using the softest tone you could muster.

“Sevikaaaa…”

She looked at you with an arched eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Could you let me go? I’m already feeling much better…”

Sevika smiled. Not her usual mocking smile, but a soft one, as if she were almost buying your performance.

She leaned a little closer, her hands moving toward the ropes. You sighed in relief, thinking your plan had worked.

Until, instead of letting you go… she tightened the ropes even more.

Sevika looked at you with an expression of amusement and satisfaction.

“Don’t think I’m falling for your little lie.”

Your face went from pure innocence to sheer annoyance in seconds.

“You’re a dictator.”

“I love you too.”

ambessa

The air in the room felt heavy, almost suffocating. Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was the imposing presence of Ambessa Medarda, who sat at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on you.

She didn’t look happy.

“You’re a fool,” she said, her deep, authoritative voice cutting through the silence. “If you were one of my soldiers, I would have punished you for being so careless.”

You tried to sit up, but as soon as you did, the pressure in your head intensified, and a wave of dizziness forced you to lie back down.

Ambessa shook her head and let out a huff. “Look at you. You can’t even stand, and yet you dare to defy me.”

You knew it wasn’t real anger. Ambessa didn’t get angry easily; what she was feeling at that moment was frustration.

For you.

“I’m fine…” you murmured, though the hoarseness in your voice betrayed you.

Ambessa raised an eyebrow. “Right. And I am a helpless maiden.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though the movement sent a sharp pain through your throat.

Ambessa leaned forward, placing a large, strong hand on your forehead. Her touch was warm and surprisingly gentle. She frowned. “You’re burning up.”

Her sharp gaze swept across the room as if searching for something. Then, with the efficiency of someone accustomed to command, she stood up and began preparing everything necessary to take care of you.

Fresh water, a damp cloth for your forehead, a bowl of hot food that, to your surprise, she had prepared herself.

When you tried to take the spoon, Ambessa took it from your hands.

“Open your mouth.”

You looked at her in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Have you ever seen me joke?”

You knew arguing with her was pointless, so you obeyed. Ambessa fed you with the same discipline with which she commanded an army. Not wasting a single movement, not allowing you to complain.

After the meal and a warm drink, she took a seat beside you, watching you with an intensity that made your skin heat up even more.

“Rest,” she ordered.

“I’m not tired,” you protested.

Ambessa leaned over you, her shadow covering your face. “Do you want me to put you to sleep myself?”

You swallowed hard. Knowing her, she meant it.

Surrendering, you closed your eyes and settled into the bed. You felt her hand in your hair, stroking it with a softness you never expected from someone like her.

“You’re too fragile for my taste,” she murmured.

Barely conscious, you gave a faint smile. “But you care anyway.”

There was silence. Then, you felt her lips press against your forehead in a brief but firm kiss.

“Don’t you dare get sick again,” she whispered. “I don’t like seeing my possessions in poor condition.”

Half-asleep, you smiled. Ambessa would never say “I love you,” but this… this was the closest thing to it.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

hello! can you write for Charles taking his baby girl for her first haircut to his mom’s salon? And like the whole family doing lunch afterwards and just spoiling the baby

A Special First Haircut

The soft morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Charles' apartment, casting a warm glow over the living room where little Yn sat on the floor, playing with her stuffed animals. She was humming to herself, completely immersed in a made-up conversation between her plush rabbit and a tiny toy horse. Charles watched her from the couch, a fond smile on his lips.

His daughter, his sweet sunshine.

Yn was the kind of child who made every day brighter just by existing. She was all golden curls and sparkling green eyes, her laughter the most beautiful sound in the world. She had inherited her grandmother’s and uncle Arthur’s blond hair, though Charles liked to say it had a little of his messy touch to it. It was long now, cascading down her back in soft waves, and today was the day she would get her first-ever haircut.

Charles had made up his mind instantly—there was no one else he would trust for such an important moment except his maman.

"Mon amour," Charles called, standing up and walking over to Yn, crouching down beside her. "Are you ready to go see Grand-mère?"

Yn gasped excitedly, immediately dropping her toys and looking up at him with wide, excited eyes. "Yes! Grand-mère! She’s gonna cut my hair, right, Papa?"

"Oui," he confirmed, running his fingers gently through her soft curls. "But just a little. Your hair is too pretty to cut too much."

Yn giggled, clearly pleased, and jumped up. She immediately ran toward her little coat, struggling to put it on in her excitement. Charles helped her, chuckling at her enthusiasm, before grabbing the car keys.

"Let’s go, ma princesse."

When they arrived at Pascale’s salon, Charles could already see his mother through the glass storefront, tending to a client. As soon as she noticed them, her entire face lit up with joy. She quickly wrapped up the appointment, saying a few kind words to the woman in the chair before ushering her out with a warm smile.

Then, she did something Charles fully expected—she flipped the sign on the door to "Closed" and locked it.

"Charles! Mon ange!" Pascale greeted, pulling her son into a tight hug before bending down to Yn's level. "And my beautiful, beautiful granddaughter!"

Yn let out an excited squeal and threw herself into her grandmother’s arms. Pascale laughed, lifting her up easily despite her small frame. She pressed several kisses to Yn’s cheek, making the little girl giggle and squirm in her grasp.

"Grand-mère!" Yn squeaked between laughs. "You’re tickling me!"

Pascale pulled back with a mock gasp. "Oh no! I would never!" She then ran a gentle hand through Yn’s hair, eyes softening. "My little sunshine, are you ready for your special haircut?"

Yn nodded quickly. "Yes! Papa said not too much!"

"Of course," Pascale agreed, setting her down gently before looking at Charles. "Would you like me to trim it just a little, keep it neat?"

Charles nodded. "Just enough to keep it healthy, maman. I can’t let her lose her princess curls just yet."

Pascale laughed, then gestured toward the styling chair. "Come, mon trésor. Let’s get you all set up."

Yn eagerly climbed into the chair, legs dangling adorably. Pascale carefully fastened a tiny cape around her, making sure she was comfortable before gently combing through her golden locks.

As she worked, Charles pulled out his phone and quickly sent a message to his brothers.

Charles: Yn is getting her first haircut. Maman closed the salon just for her. You two want to come?

Lorenzo replied almost instantly.

Lorenzo: Of course! Charlotte and I are coming.

A second later, Arthur’s response appeared.

Arthur: I’m on my way!

Charles smiled, already picturing how much his family was going to fuss over Yn. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked up just in time to see Pascale snipping the very first strand of Yn’s hair. The little girl watched in the mirror with wide, fascinated eyes.

"That’s my hair!" Yn exclaimed, staring at the small golden lock Pascale had cut.

"It is," Pascale said with a smile.

As Pascale continued working, the door opened, and Lorenzo walked in, his arm wrapped around Charlotte’s waist. Arthur followed closely behind, looking just as excited.

"Lorenzo! Arthur! Charlotte!" Yn squealed, waving at them from the chair.

"Mon petit trésor!" Lorenzo grinned, immediately walking over to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Look at you! Such a big girl, getting her first haircut!"

Charlotte smiled warmly. "You look adorable, Yn."

Arthur leaned down, resting his arms on the back of the chair. "Are you sure you want to cut your princess hair?" he teased.

Yn giggled. "Grand-mère says I still get to keep my princess hair!"

"Of course she does," Pascale said, sending Arthur a pointed look before ruffling his hair. "Don’t make her second-guess it."

Arthur raised his hands in surrender, grinning. "Alright, alright."

The adults stepped back, letting Pascale finish trimming Yn’s hair. But then—

The salon suddenly filled with the sound of Yn’s uncontrollable giggles.

Everyone turned their heads in surprise, only to see Pascale holding the blow dryer, directing warm air toward Yn’s head. Her hair was flying in all directions, making her laugh so hard she had to grab onto the armrests to keep from wriggling too much.

"PAPA, LOOK!" Yn giggled. "MY HAIR IS FLYING!"

Charles grinned, pulling out his phone to snap a quick picture. "You look like a little fairy, ma princesse."

"Or a lion!" Arthur added.

"Lion princess!" Yn declared, still giggling.

Lorenzo chuckled, shaking his head. "She’s too cute."

When Pascale finally finished, she turned off the blow dryer and carefully ran her fingers through Yn’s hair one last time.

"There," she said proudly. "My beautiful sunshine, all done."

Yn turned her head from side to side, admiring herself in the mirror. "It’s so pretty!"

Charles leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "You’re always pretty, mon amour."

Everyone else immediately chimed in with compliments.

"You look like a real princess!" Charlotte said.

"The cutest princess ever," Arthur added.

"Perfection," Lorenzo agreed.

Yn, slightly overwhelmed by all the attention, giggled shyly and reached for her father. Charles laughed and scooped her up, letting her hide her face in his neck.

"My little shy baby," he murmured, rubbing her back gently.

Pascale smiled fondly at the scene before clapping her hands together. "Alright, now that we’re done, who’s ready for lunch?"

"Me!" Yn perked up instantly. "I’m so hungry!"

Arthur ruffled her hair. "Then let’s go! I think our little princess deserves a big treat today."

At lunch, Yn was completely spoiled by her uncles. Arthur insisted she get a chocolate milkshake, while Lorenzo made sure she had extra fries. Charlotte helped her color on the kids’ menu, and Pascale couldn’t stop pressing kisses to her forehead.

Charles just sat back, watching it all with a full heart.

His little sunshine, surrounded by love.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDS Men React To An Unexpected Pregnancy

AN: Pregnant reader. Not the boys. That genre is currently unexplored on this blog but not for long 🤭👺

Pairing: LaDS boys x Fem reader

Ingredients: 75% fluff, 25% angst.

My Fav: Rafayel's (new segment because I want to discuss which ones I liked best when writing)

Xavier:

You pass out during a mission. That’s how you find out. In the Hunter Association’s medical ward, you stare at the positive report in stunned silence.

The nausea hadn’t just been Xavier’s cooking.

How even…? You sit there, frozen, until he walks in, finding you pale and unmoving.

A child.

He leans against the wall, the report in his hand. God.

He had vanished the day he found out. Left you bitterly alone. But you didn’t need him, you could raise the child on your own. If Xavier was too weak to accept the truth, so be it.

But he returns. You don’t know where he went, only that when he comes back, he is broken.

"I couldn't change it." He falls to his knees. "The world remains unchanged," he repeats, voice hollow.

The destruction he had accepted, the grief he had worn like armor, now, it becomes unbearable. Because for the first time, he isn’t sure if he can ever manage to save it for his child.

Rafayel:

He dreams of it. Strange dreams.

He’s not one to obsess over omens, but even he, in his eternal wisdom, cannot decipher what a colony of seals playing with marbles is supposed to mean.

Then, one afternoon, he dreams of a baby seal. It coos at him, glumphing closer, making infant-like noises.

And in the dream, he bends down to pet it. Only for you to pick it up instead.

He jolts awake. Hands immediately over his stomach. Breath unsteady. No...not him...it was you. You picked the seal, that meant-

Then he stumbles out of bed, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to find you.

Drives like a madman. He counts the days. Two months. He counts the signs.

His heart refuses to slow down.

Barging into the Hunter’s Association, he’s chased by guards, by an exasperated receptionist, but none of it matters.

When he finds you, he grips your shoulders, searching your face. How could he have missed it?

By the tides, he was a fool.

And then—he feels it. A whisper, warm and murmuring, like the gentle pull of the waves.

A half-formed yawn, ringing softly in his mind.

The presence of his child.

Now all he has to do is tell you.

Zayne:

You watch Zayne eat dinner, half-listening as he talks about his day. He absentmindedly bites into another baby carrot.

Not just baby carrots, baby corn, baby potatoes, those tiny tomatoes.

"How’s dinner, Zayne?" you ask, feigning nonchalance.

He nods, smiling. "It’s good. Very healthy."

"Notice anything?"

He hums in thought. "You’re trying Italian cuisine these days." He places his hand over yours, gentle. "But you don’t have to cook if you’re tired after work."

He’s too kind to mention the small incident with the oven last week. To be fair, the bun in the oven analogy is a classic.

A week. A whole week of hints, and still, he hasn’t caught on.

Sighing, you give up on subtlety. "Darling, did you visit the pediatrics ward today?" you ask, pushing food around your plate.

"I didn’t have time. Had to miss the volunteering event for surgery."

You grin. Taking his hand, you guide it over your stomach. "Well, luckily for you, we’ll have one right here soon."

His mouth hangs open. Eyes darting between you and your stomach before his fingers brush over the nonexistent bump.

"Really? Are we—"

"Yes, you dummy!" You pull him into a hug. "I’ve been trying to tell you for days."

For a man obsessed with your health, he somehow had been ignorant of the biggest of surprises. Unplanned or not, you were going to give him the longest late night shift of his life.

Sylus:

The timing could have been better, he muses, wiping blood off his cheek.

But he had been too lax.

Not that it mattered. Everything was under control.

"Clean up," he orders, snapping his fingers. Shadows slither forward, dragging the remains of his enemies into the abyss.

The news of a child had changed things. He had let fate play its part for too long. Now, it was his turn.

Whatever slow-moving scheme he had let linger, ended now.

There was no way in hell he was letting you go on any mission while carrying his child.

Aether Core be damned. EVER be damned to NEVER. He would wipe them out if he had to.

For now, though, he had other priorities.

Leaving you safe at home, he finishes this last errand. Your only battle at the moment is morning sickness which, much to his surprise, isn’t just limited to mornings.

He wipes his hands clean, heading for his bike.

One last stop. You wanted pickles.

He smiles, revving the engine. Soon, only cars.

And then, he’s gone, speeding into the night, back to you. Back to his family. To cuddle the little dragon who gives you unrivaled heartburn and kicks like a menace at 18 weeks.

Caleb:

He knew.

Some would say he saw it coming, but just because he kept track of your cycle didn’t mean he could predict your ovulation exactly.

He was just…good at math.

Mental math.

And taking you to a convenience store for cough drops, right next to the pregnancy tests, had been pure coincidence.

Not that he totally snuck a glance at you eyeing them. And if he excused himself to grab a snack right then? Also not planned.

You hand him the test. "I think I’m pregnant."

He goes through all the expressions shock, surprise, joy, tears. So dramatic that it fools no one.

Seriously, he’s atrocious at being subtle about it.

Instantly proposes. Shotgun wedding because the baby will need a family.

Grins like a madman when it turns out to be twins.

Secretly, he’s very, very proud.

Heavens, he thinks smugly, I really am amazing at math.

[moonstruckme]

i was wondering if i could request a james or sirius who's stuck in an elevator with a reader who has extreme claustrophobia? love ur writing ❤️

Thanks for requesting!

cw: claustrophobia

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

At first, James thinks that the doors are only taking a tediously long time to open. Sirius and Remus’ building has the slowest lift in the world. You can’t even feel it moving, its progress marked only by the numbers on the dial above the door trudging upward at a snail’s pace. So when it stops, it stops so gently you’d hardly know it has until the doors slide open. So when James registers that it has stopped and he waits patiently for the doors to slide open, it takes him a handful of seconds to realize that they aren’t. 

“Bollocks,” he says. 

“Is it stuck?” 

James could have almost forgotten you were there. The lift’s sole other occupant, standing stiffly in the corner. 

“Seems like it.” He reaches forward, trying the open doors button once before going to the red call one. You flinch at the loud ring. 

Sirius, James knows, will be irritated at having to wait to start their film. He loves being fashionable late but can’t stand when anyone else does it to him. You seem antsy for your own reasons. James supposes being stuck in a six-by-four-foot box isn’t really how anyone aspires to spend their evening. 

“Maintenance,” a man’s voice crackles through a speaker. 

James quickly explains the situation. The man, who works for the building, says he’s going to come try to get you out himself. If he can’t manage it, he’ll phone the fire department. 

“How long?” Your voice is sharp. James turns around in alarm, and you lower it with a short breath. “Until we can get out of here?” 

“Hard to say,” says the man over the speaker. “Could be any amount of time, but no more than a couple hours, I’d say. We’ll have you out as quickly as possible.” 

He hangs up. The breath you take back in shakes audibly. Now that James is looking at you, most of you is shaking. You’re shivering like a wet dog left out in the cold, a tightness to your expression and a faint shine in your eyes. 

“Hey,” James says in his gentlest voice. “You okay?” 

You nod. Once, twice, three times, all too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You sure?” 

You only keep nodding. Slowly losing momentum as your expression becomes strained. 

“Let’s sit down.” He starts lowering himself to the floor, hoping you’ll follow. “We might be in here a while.” 

It’s entirely the wrong thing to say. Your breath catches, then rasps, a tear dropping from your lashes. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” James tries. He scoots closer to you, reaching for your hand. He’s not sure how much you’d like to be touched right now, but you let him use it to coax you down beside him. Your knees are visibly trembling as they collapse in front of you. 

“I’m okay.” Your voice is hardly a whisper. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” 

“You’re okay,” he agrees. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, poor love. “What’s your name, lovely? I’m James.” 

You push out a couple of harsh breaths. Another tear plods down your cheek. It takes James a second to realize you’ve not heard him, and when he asks again you answer. 

“Do you live here?” He’s still holding your hand. It’s warm and dampening with sweat; James has the strange urge to blow on your palm to cool it off. At your nod, he goes on. “My best mates do, too. They’ve had all sorts of issues. Water bubble in the ceiling, old microwave that stopped working. Maintenance seems very good, though, don’t they? They always fix things so quickly.” 

This is not, by what Sirius has told him, strictly true. But though James doesn’t know how, he wants to make you feel better, and he’s willing to fib a bit to do it. If your experience with the building maintenance has been different, you don’t say. 

You only nod. Your wide eyes are pinned to James’ face, chest rising and falling in little jumps. He strokes his thumb over your knuckle. 

“What about you, do you like it here? Had any issues?” 

“My wash—” You’re cut off by a breath, but you look to be trying. “My washing machine.” 

“Yeah? Was it broken?” 

You nod. “It left oil streaks on my clothes.” 

“No!” James’ mouth actually drops open, dismay not all for show. “It ruined them, then?”

“Yeah.” 

“Bugger. They at least replaced your machine, I hope.” 

Your head bobs. “It took a couple weeks, but they did.” 

“That’s good.” James smiles. He feels better now that you’re able to speak in full sentences, your breaths not quite so ragged. “They’ll be here for us sooner than that, I’m sure.” 

You nod again, your unoccupied arm wrapping tightly around your legs. “I’m sorry. I don’t do well in small spaces.” 

James figured as much. He tries to look confident. “That’s alright, lovely. I think you’re doing remarkably well, all things considered. We can just chat for a few minutes longer, and then I’m sure we’ll be out of here.” 

You give him a watery smile. “Thanks.” 

He’s about to tell you not to mention it, but a knock on the metal door clangs through the space. Your eyes go big and frightened. James tightens his fingers around yours. 

“Maintenance.”

“Hello!” James calls back cheerily. 

“I went ahead and called the fire department. We won’t be able to get this moving for a while, but you should be able to crawl out once they open the doors. Just a few minutes.” 

“Oh, there, see?” James smiles at you, squeezing your hand. “Just a few minutes.” 

There’s sweat glistening at your hairline, but you let James talk you through those few minutes as the doors squeal open and your metal cage rattles in protest. You end up pressed close to James’ side and with his arm hugging you firmly around your back. An absolute sweetheart, you thank him more than once as your trembling ebbs and flows. 

He makes sure you’re out of the lift first. Fights the urge to hold onto your ankles for added security as the fireman lifts you down to the floor, but feels as relieved as if he were out too when he hears you let out a long breath. James gets manhandled out just the same. When his head comes through he realizes Sirius is there waiting for him. 

“Hey,” he says, smiling as he’s set gently down. 

“Hi.” Sirius grins back at him. He stands out, in his dark jeans and grey t-shirt and blushing slightly surrounded by all the firefighters in their suspenders. 

“Sorry I’m late.” 

“Yes, I’m very cross with you. Remus is making us wait to start the film. I came out here to scold you, but it seems you have an excuse.” 

“Yeah.” James glances at you, speaking with the maintenance man with your arms held tightly around your ribs. “Had some issues with the lift.” 

“I gathered. She alright?” 

“Yeah, she’s…I think she’s okay now. Not a fan of small spaces.” 

“Ah, that’s shit luck.” 

James knows Sirius means that it’s your shit luck to be trapped inside a lift as well as James’ to be trapped with you. And he agrees that he wishes you didn’t have to endure what you did. But if he’s honest with himself, James doesn’t feel that his luck was very shit at all. 

“One second.” He goes to you, touching your elbow with perhaps a too-familiar hand. “Hi. You alright?” 

You look over as though surprised he’s still there. Not unhappy, just surprised. “Hi,” you say. James is somewhat bowled over by how lovely your voice sounds when it’s not choked off. You’re a bit shy now, embarrassed, but nothing more. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for all of your help. Really.” You give him a tender look, heartwarming in its sincerity. “I appreciate it a lot.” 

“It was no problem at all. My mate, Sirius, he’s in 14B,” he gives out Sirius’ address thoughtlessly, but a quick glance at his friend shows he’s not paying attention, “he has my information, in case you ever…I don’t know. Yeah.” 

“Okay.” You smile faintly. “Thanks.” 

“I’m going to go. It was nice meeting you.” James walks backward, giving a lame wave which you return. Somehow it looks better when you do it. 

He goes to collect Sirius, who’s flashing a rakish grin at a fireman standing nearby. “Hello,” he says. 

“Boyfriend,” James reminds him. 

“Yes, I know.” Sirius sounds harried, but allows James to tug him along by his elbow. “Christ, where’s the fire?” 

“Is that an intentional pun?” 

“No, but I’ll take credit.” 

“I thought Remus was waiting for us to start the film.” 

“Ooh, do you think we ought to tell him?” Sirius looks wistfully over his shoulder. “He might like to come out and have a look.” 

James considers calling his friend a degenerate, but he needs him in a half-decent mood to ask a favor. “Hey, you know that girl from the lift?” 

“The one looking all freaked and bambi-eyed? Yeah, I’ve seen her around.” 

“If she ever comes to your place looking for me…” 

“Oh, Jamie. Save it ‘til we’re inside, I can already tell Remus is gonna love this.”