#I'm pretty pleased with how this turned out

[madamechrissy]

Escort! Satoru- part three

Pairings- Escort Satoru Gojo x shy CEO F! reader

Warnings- eventually explicit sex, freaky but fluffy- this part- obsessed ass/whipped ass Gojo, mentions of sex work, oral (f receiving) panty stealing hehe, fingering, reader is HELLA rich and Satoru is almost a sugar baby lmao, fluffy/sweet, tension - lots of it- he becomes lowkey/highkey Yan tbh, pretty woman vibes 🤭

This will be a fun set of drabbles in this style! I hope you all enjoy them lmk if you wanna get tagged in the next parts <3

<<<Part Two

Escort! Satoru 'How much for twenty minutes of your time?' your words halt him now, his hand on the doorknob, cock immediately hard, throbbing at just the sound of your voice, the intent there behind it something he's just been fantasizing about day in and day out since he first met you. 'Twenty minutes?' He puts a smirk on his face, turning to face you now, lowering those black Gucci shades just a bit, as you sit there on that desk like a whole fucking meal, sexy business skirt slipping up your thighs just so. 'Twenty minutes of my company?' he turns the lock with a resounding click, dress shoes clicking on the hardwood floors slowly, as he steps closer, until he's leaning over you. 'And what do you want in this twenty minutes?'

Escort! Satoru watches as your eyes lower, nervously shifting, as his hand slips up a thigh, gently pushing it down, so he can step right between your legs. 'Anything you're comfortable with, Satoru... I'd never ask for anything you don't want to do' why do your sweet words have to make his heart race!? Even faced with finally getting more of your time, he also can't take just how much you mean to him, how deeply he fucking feels for you in this moment already. 'I'm comfortable doing anything to your pretty body' he says then, watching your eyes dilate, your lips part, his hands slipping your skirt up just a bit over your stockings. 'So you just say what you want, sweetheart' your hand trails down his abdomen, as you whisper 'I want you to make me cum, please'

Escort! Satoru has your back pressed right on your desk now, shoving stacks of papers out of the way, you gasp at the quick motion, when he shoves your skirt all the way up, revealing black garters adorning your thighs, and already soaked black panties, which he peels down. 'Your eyes... let me...' you take off his glasses with a shaky hand, setting them next to you, revealing those baby blues with snowy lashes lowered. 'They're so pretty... Satoru, are we...' he chuckles, but inhales when he sees your perfect cunt, the strings of sticky cum attached to the panties, moaning at the sight. 'We're not fucking in just twenty minutes, no sweetheart, even if you beg, I'm not busting that fast' your thighs are shaking then, breaths quicker as he pulls those panties fully off, you don't see that he tucks them in his pocket, all you see is him get on his knees.

Escort! Satoru parts your swollen lips with two long fingers, revealing the wetness just drooling from your little hole, he feels your hands grip his expensive black suit as he breathes on it, then inhales your scent, watching the little clit twitch just from that, hearing your soft little whimper. 'Satoru um... you're... ah!' You have to slam a hand on your mouth, what if someone fucking heard you!? This is insane, you're acting so crazy for this man. You see Satoru's brilliant blue eyes looking up, lidded with desire, when he presses a kiss right over your hood, letting your lips slip back together, his fingers now shoving your thighs farther, pressing into them. 'I'm going to have you cum all over my face, sweets, you can pay my fee after' you're done once he's slipped a tongue up your slit, screaming out into your hand, cunt clenching around nothing.

Escort! Satoru is clearly a fucking expert, you've not been with anyone in so long, that just a flick of his tongue destroys you, blood rushing in your ears while your other hand grips his silky white locks. 'Mmm, taste s'fucking good, fuck...' your hips arch, as he starts lapping up your slit, to your little clit, sucking it into his hot mouth now, you're gasping in pleasure, cunt pulsing and pouring more and more arousal for his hungry mouth. 'Oh my god, Satoru... mnh!' your soft, pleading whisper makes him so hard it hurts, he's rubbing himself over his pants then, leaking precum, while your thighs close in on his head. 'Lemme see how many times I can have you cum, set the timer' he says, grinning when he stands, slipping two fingers in your snug little channel.

Escort! Satoru watches you grab your phone with shaky hands, eyeing the time. 'fifteen left, sweets' he murmurs, leaning over you as he curls his fingers up in gummy walls, slick coating you, and you set it, his lips so close to you, you can damn near taste yourself. 'You don't kiss, but you...' Satoru sighs, breath tickling your lips as you bite your lower lip, hand pulling on his tie now. 'This is five star treatment, reserved for very...' he presses a kiss on you neck, your breasts that are peeking from your blouse, 'very.... very special clients only' his fingers curl just so, you scream out against your palm again, as Satoru's close to busting watching you, tasting your sweetness on his lips. 'there's once' he's sitting you up higher as you're spasming around his fingers, sitting right in your office chair now, burying his face back between your thighs again, yanking you against him.

Escort! Satoru has the next orgasm all over his face, fuck he's drowning in you, lewd, wet squelching sounds echoing in your pretty bright office. 'That's it, cum again, let me drink you up, slutty little cunt loves it, huh?' no one has ever spoke this way, no one has devoured you like this, your hoarse voice cries out when his tongue flicks over and over again. 'Satoru, oh my god, t-too much I...' he laughs a bit, fingers scissoring in and out of your soppy hole, raising a brow. 'C'mon, you can give me one more, can't you baby?' baby, the word echoes as you nod, helpless, trying to remember, this was his job, his career, that it's just that, nothing more. But how can you when he's pulled you by the fat of your ass, and his face is fucking buried against you!? As he's drinking your soaking wetness all up, as you shatter, cumming so hard you almost fucking faint, you can't even see.

Escort! Satoru presses one more kiss, smirking as you twitch, thighs shaking, your breaths coming so quick, your grip so tight on his hair it hurts, but it hurts so good. 'Satoru, fuck you're... some pussy eating prodigy like...' he snorts in laughter now, easing his fingers out, coated and dripping with you, making you heat up, when he places them against your lips. 'Open' you eagerly listen, sucking his long fingers, as the timer sets off, you hastily shut it off, tasting your sweetness on him, as he watches your flushed face, your glittery eyes. 'Look at you, so pretty, so fucked out, already...' you pull back your lips with a pop, running your fingers down his hard abdomen, dying to know what he looks like. 'Let me make you cum' he pauses then, because one fucking flick of your tongue and he'd probably bust all over. 'twenty minutes is over, I'm afraid'

Escort! Satoru earns a cute little pout, as you close your thighs, grabbing the phone, that bracelet glinting. 'How much?' you ask softly, Satoru eyes your bare ears, thinking next he'll buy you pretty earrings to dangle off them. 'Twenty minutes? Four hundred.' His price should freak you out, but you don't bat a pretty eyelash, his phone dings, and you've sent eight hundred instead, making him eye you. 'I said four-' you shake your head. 'Worth it' you hop off your desk, wobbling just a bit, he has to steady you now, pressing kisses against your head, so affectionate you can hardly stand it. 'Why does a girl like you need me, hmm? Have you fucking seen yourself?' He tilts your chin up, some underlying feelings pour through then, you hate how he fucking talks about himself suddenly, like he's nothing. 'Have you seen yourself, Satoru?' he blinks a bit then, lips just a centimeter apart, Satoru doesn't kiss clients, right, Satoru doesn't kiss anyone really, not when he knows that is what really means something, all he can thing of is kissing you.

Escort! Satoru watches you adjust yourself a bit, and you try to gather your papers, your things, putting them back in their rightful places. 'I have an auction I could use a date for, same price as the last charity event okay?' you say softly, Satoru's heart pounds in his chest now. 'Discounted, you're tipping me entirely too much' you giggle a little, brushing your hair back. 'How about I buy you something at the auction you'd like?' Satoru shakes his head. 'shit there is thousands...' you shrug a shoulder. 'And? If you want something I'll buy it, if not I'll just pay the normal. Are you booked Friday though?' Satoru looks at his phone now, you keep repeating to yourself - he's just doing this for his job, his money, that's it- don't get too attached. 'Nope, nothing' Satoru says, as he clears three jobs away, high paying, but he damn sure wouldn't turn down another time with you.

Escort! Satoru takes your hand, kissing the back of it with glossy, plump lips - fuck they're glossy from you - winking and playing it off so cool, like his heart's not pounding in his chest. And he tries to remember- he's just a convenience, right, he's just good at pleasing, good at acting. He can't fall so deep to think he could be more for a girl like you, watching color decorate your precious cheeks as you smile. 'Next time... if you're comfortable after...' your hand brushes against his cock, eliciting a whimper you think you must have mis heard, eyeing him now. 'I'd like to please you back' he clears his throat, precum making him stick to his boxers. 'Oh would you, shouldn't I pay you for that, baby?' you're giggling now. 'What!?' he just shakes his head. 'I don't think I could take pay for you pleasing me, but... we'll see, I'll be there.' You nod a bit. 'It's a date, then.' your casual words make you both pause, but he grins now. 'Mhmm, see ya sweets'

Escort! Satoru doesn't know why but the thought of charging you to suck him, charging you for anything, feels... off. weird. wrong. You're still going over it all in your mind, when suddenly you realize you don't have your panties. You're trying to find them, panicking, what if a client walks in and they're thrown somewhere!? You pause then, surely he... 'Satoru...' he picks up the phone, already in the back of his driver's car, stroking a hard cock. 'What is it, sweetheart? need twenty more minutes?' you laugh a bit. 'It's gonna sound insane, but... where are my panties? did you put them somewhere?' your whisper makes him pause, mid stroke, pulling them out of his pocket now. 'Panties... I think I just... had them on the desk?' you curse a bit, as he grins, putting them against his face and biting back a moan. 'Shit, I don't know! Okay... I'll text you the details from the auction.'

Escort! Satoru considers your panties the real tip, hanging up the phone and lapping that wetness off them, flavor coating his tastebuds with you, the phone blings with a location. But Satoru has trouble focusing, instead whining out at the thought of being inside of you, pretty little CEO, who's paying him far, far too much, so much so he's canceled his appointment that day too, he can't focus on anything but you, anyway. You give up searching for your panties, surely he wouldn't have taken them... but little do you know he's using the silk to stroke himself, busting his hot white load all against the fabric, shaking as he looks at the mess he made. He needs some practice, is all, before he can handle you, that's all it is, practice... right? He can't stop thinking about you, like a madness, until he's ready to see you again, and one thought rushes through his head as he meets you that night in your gorgeous red dress -

He wants to kiss you.

taglist 1 - @shydroid3000 @thisisew @twinkling-moonlilie-reblogs @aducksmokingquack @miya4life @ravenbc @yenayaps @nezukuwu @etsuniiru @ieathairs @kenqki @princess-bblgm @belovedxiao @ninikrumbs @ieathairs @myahfig4 @theelegantpotato @vvaoo @aldebrana @celestep004 @whoisteona @ladyneisa @lililovely78 @gamerhere @wstaley2 @allthesqueaks @slut4donghyuck @maisiefrancesca @yittten @femaholicc @jjknanamin @that-b-word-lol @devastyle @mat-mat-mat @jkslaugh97 @ovela @mxgnolia @rikiswifeyyy @kaayyhunnyy @gojos1wife1 @arabellasolstice @01ve3rz @jud3thedude @firemoonlightfly @vyluvs @artist1936 @kyelikesanime @mistytojigetolover

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

aND tHen OnE thInG LEd tO AnoTHeR ThINg...

THEIR KARAOKE NIGHT OCCUPIES EVERY CORNER OF MY BRAIN!!! HE👏FUCKED👏THAT👏TRIANGLE👏

(This is my first ever Patreon exclusive print! Details + ramble + how to purchase below the cut:)

I'm so excited to share this drawing!! Originally, I had drawn this doodle last year, and I've always wanted to come back to it, make it into something better. And so, THIS IMAGE was born in my mind. This is a visual I've had stuck in my head for MONTHS and I'm so glad I finally got it out of there. 😭

It wasn't easy. I knew I wanted to make this a digital drawing, because I felt like the medium would lend nicely to an airy, soft vibe, as opposed to the pencil texture that's usually in my work. But I'm NOT used to digital art, especially when making full illustrations where you're aiming for perfection. I'm pretty sure this is the longest amount of time I've ever spent on a digital drawing, and "trusting the process" was hard because it's not a process I'm used to. But a week and 172 layers later, I'm happy with it! It turned out SO gaudy, SO gratuitous in it's mushy colorful-ness. Rainbows and sparkles and shit everywhere. Truly the gayest karaoke night ever.

(People on the patreon discord liked the updates I shared, and the possibility of doing a companion piece came up - Bills pov. So that's a potential goodie on the horizon!)

Now onto the print:

This is a patreon exclusive 8x10 inch print with no bleed on semi-gloss photo paper. If you're interested in buying this print, it's $20 + shipping for those in my $5 patreon tier! Purchases are made through paypal invoices, but I'm open to other payment methods as well. International shipping is available, but shipping cost will be higher outside the US/Puerto Rico. To buy this print, send me a DM on patreon. Please ask if you have any questions!

A link to my Patreon!

[flaminhotlili]

regular things that get them horny.

synopsis — what the title says <3

warnings — implied nsfw content mdni please or i will steal ur kneecaps, afab!reader, teasing... i might've missed smt lmk if i did !

featuring — xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, & caleb (separate fics)

notes — i was not expecting the flurry of notes i received in my first ever written post ... thank u sm for the likes and reblogs they're much appreciated ily all sm <3333 this is still unedited because i'm tired :p - feedback is much appreciated btw !

Xavier gets incredibly turned on whenever he sees you stretch. Thanks to all the reports you need to fulfill after missions, he often spots you at your desk with your arms up and your back arched. You would let out a little groan after stretching, which doesn’t help his running imagination. Your uniform, which you often unbutton while doing paperwork, lifts up with your arms, giving Xavier a peek of the skin underneath your clothes. He could barely look away, let alone tell himself to calm down before he embarrasses himself. Your eyes would meet his, and Xavier gulps when he sees you smirk. “Enjoying yourself, partner?” you teased. Xavier doesn’t respond, instead deciding to adjust how he sits at his desk, hoping his bulge would calm down eventually.

Zayne can never control himself when he sees you wearing his clothes. Whether it’s a t-shirt, a button-up, a jacket, it never fails to drive him up a wall with how intimate it is for him to be sharing something that's his. The material is always too big on you, hanging a few inches above your knees - and you know that he knows you rarely ever wear anything underneath either. He loves seeing you walk around the house, to which he pulls you onto his lap with a deep kiss. “I had been looking for this shirt for a while now.” he said against your lips, his tongue darting out to lick at your neck. You shivered, “Well, it’s mine now. Unless you try to get it back.” Zayne smirked, taking on your little challenge as his hands slid under your (his) shirt.

Rafayel gets excited whenever you wear glasses. While you looked pretty much the same with your wire-framed glasses, he swears up and down that you looked like a completely transformed person. “I’ve never seen you this serious, cutie.” he said, staring at you from across the table with his cheek resting against his palm. You ignored his comment, probably because you were too engrossed in your work and you didn’t hear him, or you were purposely ignoring him to stay focused at your work. Either way, he bit his bottom lip to prevent a moan from erupting out of his mouth - the concentrated look on your face was like the cherry on top.

Sylus can’t help himself whenever you touch him casually. Your relationship had come a long way, and it clearly took great effort on your part to finally be able to feel him without flinching. It could be as simple as holding hands under the table, or your head resting on his shoulder, it would be more than enough to have him breathing in heavy sighs. “Keep doing that, sweetie.” he gently demands you as you trail your hands over his shoulders and over the expanse of his wide chest. You bit your lip as you settled more comfortably on his lap, allowing your hands to travel more over his body. “You like that?” you asked, your fingers grazing over his cheek. Sylus takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it firmly; that was his answer.

Caleb can’t help but get turned on when you cook. It’s something about the domesticity of it all, and the intimacy of you making a meal with him in mind. You rarely ever get the chance to cook something for him, because he loves being the chef in the relationship. Caleb wraps his arms around you from behind, breathing in the scent of your hair as well as the scent of the braised beef you were preparing on the stove. “Smells pretty good, Pipsqueak.” he murmured against your head. His hands slowly travel south, and he can’t help the grin on his lips when he feels you squirming under his touch. “C-Caleb, you have to eat…” you sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder. Caleb hummed and began placing kisses over your exposed neck, “Mmm, I think I want to taste something else first…” he whispered.

[sketchs-trashcan]

(this got a bit long, so for the sake of not clogging everyone's dashboards i'll stick the rest under a read more.)

you're not wrong about people needing to read the fine print more thoroughly. i left it in my tags initially, but i also commented on how people need to at least skim these things (though it absolutely sucks to wade through legal jargon in any amount and i can't really blame people for not wanting to do that. that's a separate discussion though).

i also had enough spoons to do some light research and yes, it does seem like states do require dna screening within 48 hours of birth that are designed to check for genetic disorders (notably, i couldn't find anything that said they check/gather data on ethnicity), which is in of itself a slightly different can of worms i don't have the willpower to open at this point. while i wouldn't trust the current government to not sell the information, i would like to think that back when they were at least vaguely constrained by laws they were at least a little bit better about not selling information like that to the highest bidder.

however, no one said anything about not focusing on the unjust arrests and deportations. that is an entirely different sentence, and quite frankly, i'm pretty sure anyone with their head on straight and either hates the current administration, is not white, or both is very concerned about what's happening.

back to the matter at hand. if i understand it correctly, a lot of people who used this type of genetics testing genuinely didn't know some or even all of their family history, and you can't fault people for wanting to learn about themselves or find biological family. sometimes these tests can reveal information people are unaware of (and if they're unaware of it, how can they answer census questions in a way that reflects the information?).

i'm not going to doxx my own personal info for the sake of a tumblr argument, but when my dad took a dna test (thankfully not through 23&me), it spat out specific info that made me have my own little identity crisis for a bit. using that as an example, what if someone found out they had mexican lineage? or arabic? this country loves harassing people of those descents, and even more so under the current administration. that information could very well be used to put them in a new wave of targets, should things continue to spiral out of control.

the long and short of it is that these issues are not mutually exclusive. both can be bad without detracting from one another. selling private citizen's very personal data is bad, and rampant unjust arrests and deportations are also bad.

additionally, saying you don't care about one issue (because you don't have to worry about it) and then turning around and saying we have to care about this other issue (because you do have to worry about it) is hypocritical. please keep in mind that not everyone lives in california. there are a lot of fires going on right now, metaphorically speaking (and quite possibly literally). each person can only focus on so much before they get crushed under the weight of the dread, especially on topics where they have little to no power on their own. the dna issue at least has something people directly affected by the situation can do for themselves (whether or not it'll actually be effective is a separate story). let people decide on their own what their #1 worry is going to be.

not to be all i told you so about ancestry tests but 23 and me went bankrupt and can now legally sell human genetic information to the highest bidder, as per their privacy policy which was signed by approx. 15 million test takers

[noheadcanons-juststories]

Vampire!141 x fledgling!reader, who was found abandoned and starved. meeting 141

“Who called you?” you demand to know.

“Amos,” the man with the chops answers.

Boss called them?

“Are you from the Night Council?” you dread.

“Not at all. Amos is an old friend of ours, back from service,” he explains. His voice was soft yet weathered, like an easy thunderstorm on the countryside. “He informed us that one of his employees was possibly attacked. Asked us to come help.”

So these men were not from the Night Council as you feared. But you were still weary to open the door.

“I didn't ask for help,” you retort with a raggedy cough. “Whoever you are, just… just tell him that I won't be coming in anymore.”

“Listen, lass,” a new man spoke up, very much Scottish with a very nice mohawk, “Amos called us in fer a favor. But once he explained the situation, we let him keep it. He's worried, and ye need someone to take care o’ ye. So we're here to help you.”

“Please…” you beg. “I don't wanna be treated like some charity case. So unless you're gonna kill me, just leave me alone.” You were tired, in pain. You could barely stand anymore.

The tall man in the skull-plated mask approaches your window, looking you dead in the eyes. “You really wanna die, fledgling?” a rougher voice asks. “‘Cause I can arrange that.”

“Simon,” Chops quietly reprimands.

“No, Cap, we need to get this outta the way,” ‘Simon’ persists. “‘Cause m'not gonna come all the way here for a fledgie too weak to live.”

“Bit harsh, dontcha’ think, Lt.?” Scot frowns.

Simon ignores him. “The reason we're here is because our friend is worried about his employee,” he tells you. “He fuckin’ cares about you. Now, we can be civil, and you let us in. Or we can cut to the end, and I put you out of your misery, quick and painless. So what's it gonna be?”

As he speaks, you slowly slide down to the floor. Pulling your blankets tighter around you. Truthfully, neither option sounds appealing. You don't know these men. Childhood lessons on stranger danger and accepting help from strange men never prepared you for the undead. But on the other hand, did you really want to go out a pathetic, dehydrated corpse? There's only two outcomes with two different paths leading to either. Die or find a clan. The Night Council does not guarantee anything except your immediate end. Meanwhile, Amos got a clan on speed dial for you.

John sits down by your window. “Listen, love…” he speaks softly. “We're here because Amos refused to call the Night Council on ya. And I don't blame him. They're diligent, but they're still pretty ruthless. Especially towards those abandoned. He called us because he knew we were the better choice.”

 You lean against the wall. “You could've refused…” you whisper.

“Could’ve,” John shrugs. “But didn't want to.”

“Why not?”

There were a few reasons…

“‘Cause I’d hate for a fledgling to die without bein’ given a chance,” he responds.

…One of them being that he was once in the same boat as you when he was first turned, albeit through uglier circumstances…

“Regardless of how you got here, you need someone to show you the ropes.”

…He was looking to sire another vampire after Kyle, despite his own reservations about immortality. Amos just happened to call while he was brewing in his thoughts, surprised that the old faun still had his number…

“And it'd be a shame to lose a sweet soul like you.”

…And Amos had only good things to say about you, practically gushing as if you were his own kid. Kind yet firm with a bit of confidence, you were.

You let out a sigh, frowning as you reconsider your options. Your expression worsens when you remember that you only have two. “What's your name?” you ask the vampire.

“John Price.”

“What do you do, Mr. Price?”

“I hunt vampires.”

You giggle after letting the thought simmer for a bit. “You hunt vamps?”

“Only the bad ones,” he smiles.

“Do I… I don't fit that criteria, do I?” you question.

John shakes his head. “No. Not at all.”

“...Mr. Price?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I'm scared,” you admit.

“I know,” is all he says. “That's why we're here.”

Kyle joins John's side beneath your window. Then Johnny, who doesn't want to be left out, and lastly, Simon, who doesn't want to be left behind at all. The men sit underneath the glow of the Half Moon. Small chirps in the grass and distant hooting in the trees bring a peaceful ambiance to the evening. Coupled with the bipolar winds of Spring gently weaving through the grassy fields.

“Whaddya wanna do, lass?” Johnny asks you.

“I don't know,” you say, trying not to cry for the umpteenth time.

“Well then,” Simon speaks up again, “whaddya not wanna do?”

“...Not hurt anyone… and not die.

John nods once. “Alright… that's a good place to start… Think you can unlock the door for us?”

It's silent for a bit, but you don't go to the door. Instead, you unlock the window and crack it open just a tad. The four men look back to see you stick your hand out, pale and spindly, which Kyle takes into both of his.

“We're right here for you, fledgie,” he comforts you, gently squeezing. “And we're not leaving you behind.”

And for that moment, you believe him.

Role Call!: @boy-pussyyy

[kilojulietsierra]

Send Me An Angel (Dr Jack Abbot x NurseWife!OFC)

Summary: The darkness didn't just go away because he was home, especially after a night like that, but it did start to feel a little less heavy. Eventually.

TW: 18+ content, canon typical content warnings apply, mentions of suicide and characters making light of suicide because that just how they deal, some smut, established relationship, age gap but barely mentioned (yet) , dark thoughts, angst, some fluff, nobody you love dies ... barely proofread or edited. Y'all I came out of fanfic retirement for this grumpy asshole because I love him (and Robby) so be gentle

~~~~~~~~

7:40am

Jack opened the door between the house and garage and immediately smelled breakfast cooking. He dropped his backpack by the washer and dryer and stripped his shirt off over his head. "Babe!" He dug through his bag for his scrub top and kicked out of his shoes. "I'm home!" He pulled his ID badge off his pocket, slipped his silicone wedding band back on, then took out his extra pen light, three pens he didn't remember taking and the knife out of his other poket before he dropped his pants, pulled off his socks and shoved the whole pile into the hamper labeled 'work' before he picked up his bag and headed inside.

"Clean up and come eat!" She called back from the kitchen.

"Yes ma'am!" He walked down the short hall and ducked through a door to the master bedroom. He dumped his bag on the floor by the closet and went straight for the shower where he spun the knob as hot as it would go. By the time he stepped out of his boxer briefs and stared at himself in the mirror for a minute steam was rolling over the doors.

The water burned but he didn't touch the knob. For a long moment he didn't move, just let the water run over his head while he held his breath as long as he could. Once his head began to swim, his pulse pounding in his ears and his chest tight he stepped back and took a deep breath. The darkness didn't just go away because he was home, especially after a night like that, but it did start to feel a little less heavy. Eventually.

Once he scrubbed himself clean he put on a pair of sweats and a shirt to head out to the kitchen, which smelled like biscuits and homemade gravy. Sam was in front of the stove barefoot, in a pair of what must have been very short, shorts hiding under a baggy ARMY t-shirt he was pretty sure was his. She must have actually got off work on time.

He walked up behind her to wrap his arms around her, "Hey baby" Jack kissed the side of her neck and buried his face in her still damp hair so be could breathe in the smell of her eucalyptus shampoo and antibactial soap.

Her response was cut and dry as she stirred the contents of the pan, "Robby called."

"God damn it" He dropped his forehead down to her shoulder.

"Don't be mad, he's your best friend."

"Not right now he's not." Jack looked up and turned to lean his temple against the back of her head.

"You realize if you deep throat your pistol or yeet yourself off a building I don't get your benefits right?" She still hadn't looked at him.

"Yeet?"

She scoffed, "Avoidance. Nice. Yes, yeet, just a friendly reminder that I am, technically, younger than you and I could remarry if I had to."

He stroked over her ribcage, the material of the shirt well worn and smooth against the rough pad of his thumb. He kissed the crown of her head, "Do it for the money this time."

His wife leaned back into him with an annoyed sigh, "Please don't make me get married again, Jack."

After a long, deep breath Jack pressed another kiss to the back of her head, "I won't." A kiss to the side of her neck, longer and lingering this time. "You're makin' biscuits and gravy."

Finally, she turned around to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Thought it might make you feel a little better." On her tip toes she pressed her lips to his once, and then a second time.

Jack hummed appreciatively as he kissed her back. He let his grip loosen on her enough to slide his hands down over her waist and her hips. He coaxed another, longer kiss from her as he moved to slip his hands under her shirt. He pulled up abruptly and groaned into her mouth as he touched bare skin. "You're not wearin' anything under here."

With a smile she nipped at his bottom lip, "Thought it might make you feel a little better."

With something between a chuckle and a groan he pressed his forehead down into hers. He kissed her again, with more intent this time, as he reached over to turn the stove burner off with one hand. He made her giggle as he picked her up by the waist and set her on the counter. His voice was quiet, rough as he spoke, "You're the only thing that could."

Sam let out a long, shaky breath as she pulled him closer and kissed him harder. "Don't ever leave me Jack, not like that."

His only answer was to nod and claim her mouth with his once more and drag her hips tight to his own.

"Promise me." She mumbled against his lips, her fingers tugging at the waisband of his sweats.

"Promise." He moved his kisses to the soft spot at the hinge of her jaw, and then lower, down her neck to her clavicle. When he felt her tremble slightly he smoothed his hands up her thighs and then moaned into the side of her neck as she wrapped her fingers around his cock. The fingers of her other hand were buried in the curls at the back of his neck and for a split second he couldn't imagine a life, or lack there of, without this in it, without her in it.

"Jack…" Sam's voice was breathy as she tugged at those curls, drawing him back to the present moment.

He moved back to kiss her, "I'm right here baby," Jack swept his tongue through her mouth and tugged her impossibly closer, "I'm right here." His hand pulled hers away from him, even that brief touch, the couple of minutes he'd had her in his arms, and he was already hard as a rock. As her hands moved to tug and pull at his tshirt he actually cracked a smirk, just a twitch of his lips as more of the darkness slipped away. Jack did as she wanted and stripped his shirt off before he went back to shove his sweats down just low enough to pull himself free. "Ready?" He asked the question with his lips against her ear and she shivered and nodded into his shoulder.

All the years they'd been together, the thousands of times they'd fucked, made love, fooled around, and every fucking time he slid his cock home it knocked the fucking air out of his chest. Her pussy was tight, hot and wet, already quivering around him and he finally felt alive again. Sam wrapped her legs around him tight, locked him in place and he grinned.

"God you feel so good, always feels so good." Her words snapped him out of his head again and sent a jolt straight to the base of his spine.

Suddenly alive, happy even, Jack reached to take her face in his hands and tip her up to look at him as he began to move. One slow thrust after another he kept his brown eyes locked on hers so bright and sunny, even after hearing her husband had been standing on the edge of a roof less than an hour ago. She didn't look away from him, not until his hips were snapping into hers hard enough for her eyes to roll back in there head. Her mouth open, filthy sounds falling from her lips as her fingers clutched at his forearms. "Look at me."

Her eyes flew open, bright but unfocused, and she held his gaze once again.

"Good girl," He let her see him smile this time, really smiled for the first time since he got home, and then he kissed her. Deep and sloppy and he hoped it showed her he was okay. Her legs tightened around his hips and her hands began to scramble over his arms, shoulders, his back. Still with that same smile he fucked her harder, dropped one hand down to the small of her back to hold her tight. "Go ahead, go ahead baby. I'm right here, I'm right here." The position pressed her against him just right and the sensation of her clit rubbing against him and the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot deep in side her made her gasp.

"Oh shi…God, Jack, shit!" and then every muscle in her long, lean little body seized tight and her nails dug into the back of his neck. The little bit of pain and the sensation of her falling apart around him dragged him over the edge. That falling sensation he had craved with every bone in his body finally coming to a realization. Except at the bottom of this fall, the cold hard ground was replaced by the feel of his wife's lips against his neck, her fingers twisting and toying with his curls still damp from the shower, and her happy little moan as her body relaxed against him.

He couldn't look at her just yet, so he pressed his face to the crown of her head and breathed her in as he wrapped her up tight. He couldn't pull away from her, not yet, and he hummed appreciatively as he felt her arms and legs wrap tighter around him. Jack didn't really think about how long they had stayed there, his dick going soft inside her, the mess they made. Eventually he sniffed and breathed in deep and whispered, "I love you."

Samantha, the love of his life, smiled against his neck and pressed a kiss against his slowing pulse, "Love you too."

The ding of the oven timer startled them both and after a second they broke into soft chuckles. Jack stood up straight and dropped his head back between his shoulder blades, the darkness gone, grumbling as Sam's teeth nipped over his corotid. "Biscuits are gonna burn if you don't let me go."

He grumbled again, face back in it's normal scowl, "Only 'cause I'm starving." He bent down to kiss her a final time before he finally, slowly, stepped away from her. One hand still on her thigh as he reached for a paper towel to clean up the mess they'd made so they could eat breakfast and go to bed.

5:43pm

When he woke up later that afternoon Samantha was still sound asleep beside him, her back to him, bare because they'd gone to bed after breakfast and made love, softer a slower than in the kitchen that morning. He turned onto his back to look at the alarm clock. He could go ahead and get up.

"Go back to sleep." Her voice was soft and raspy, barely awake, like she was trying to fight it.

Jack smirked to himself as he twisted back to kiss the back of her head before he slipped out of bed for the bathroom. He'd never slept well, even before the Army, before Afghanistan and Iraq, even before med school or the switch to nightshifts. On his way back from taking a leak he stopped by the dresser and flipped the switch on the scanner. He'd go back to bed, because she was there, but he doubted he'd sleep. He would have to get up soon anyway. At first there was silence, then the radio chatter picked up.

Back in bed his wife grumbled and pulled the blanket up tighter as she turned towards him. "Sleep okay?"

Jack stretched, arms over his head, and grimaced as his bad shoulder popped, "Slept fine." He laid one arm out and she immediately moved to his side and tucked herself in, twisting her head so she could press a kiss to the scar under his clavicle. "Close your eyes," He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Go back to sleep." She didn't have to work tonight and he didn't want to ruin her night off. His own eyes slipped closed as he stroked his fingers up and down her arm. He focused on each of her breaths as they ghosted over his chest while he listened to the static and clicks as mics were keyed on and off, officers called in traffic stops, dispatch relayed reports from callers.

When he'd come back from his last deployment and they were finally able to live together longer than a few months at a time, Jack had been shocked how quiet everything was. Even in base housing, there was silence. Sam told him him he'd acclimate, he'd get used to it. She said she listened to podcasts, audiobooks, something to drown out the silence. No jets or C130s screaming ovehead and howling on the tarmac, no chop from blackhawks or chinooks at all hours of the night, no yelling, fighting or roughhousing on the other side of plywood walls.

He hadn't acclimated.

Audiobooks didn't help, he'd lay awake all night because he needed to know how it ended. Podcasts just annoyed him, even the true crime ones she seemed to favor and somehow was able to fall asleep to within the first ten minutes. It wasn't until they'd moved off base that she'd thought of it while they unpacked the den. Sam had pulled out the radio and charging dock, the one they had 'just in case', turning the knob to see if it still worked and it had. So, they'd listened as they unpacked. "Maybe this would help you sleep." She'd been right.

For a moment, with the radio chatter, the blackout curtains and her pressed close against him he thought he might fall back asleep.

A series of chirps followed by long, highpitched tone sounded through the room followed by, "Shots fired, shots fired! All units…" the unmistakable sounds of rifle rounds popped and crackled over the speaker, "Shots fired!" Screaming, distant and garbled. Louder pops, closer, the officers handgun as it rang out. He or a partner maybe as they returned fire. Bang, bang, pause, bang,bang, "We need units now, we have an active shooter at Pitt…" The thirty second emergency call cut short and then the radio chatter exploded with answering officers and dispatchers.

Jack had sat up straight, Sam did the same beside him. Together they listened. Sam combed one hand through her hair as they waited.

Pittfest.

"Jesus," Sam looked at her husband, "That'll go to you guys."

Jack was already out of bed and pulling on underwear, before Sam could finish her sentence.

Less than 10 minutes later Sam met him at the garage door wearing just a hoodie and holding a shaker bottle. "Take this." She shoved it at him as he grabbed his truck keys. "And call me. Anything, just call me."

Jack ignored the protein shake for the moment instead sinking his free hand into her mess of dirty blonde hair and pulling her into him for a kiss. When they finally pulled apart he looked her dead in the eyes. "I love you."

She didn't blink, didn't breath as she pressed a hand over the center of his chest, over his steady beating heart. "I love you."

Then he grabbed the protein shake, gave her one last kiss and climbed into his truck.

6:11pm

Jack wouldn't ever say it out loud, except maybe to Sam, but he lived for this. This, the blood, the gore, the fear and the chaos, the critical thinking all of it, this is what he'd been put to do. This was easy, this was routine. He felt alive.

"Where's Collins?"

"I need a chest tube!"

"How the hell are we out of chest tubes!"

"O pos! I need a bag of O pos over here!

"I need help with an airway!"

"Someone get me more O Neg!"

Robby appeared at his side as they worked together the slow the blood pouring out of an adomen. "Depot is running low."

Jack spared a quick glance around him, "Where are we on resupply?"

"Gloria says she's working on it."

"How long?"

Robby laughed in that self-deprecating way ER doctors specialize in, "Your guess is as good as mine. She says she's working on it."

"Fuck that." Jack mumbled as he stood up straight, "Bag him." He ripped his gloves off and dug his phone out of his pocket. God bless FirstNet, he had signal and when he hit send the call went through. "Yeah, I'm fine. Need a favor."

6:32pm

The Ambulance bay doors hissed open. Robby looked up, "Ohhh, you are the prettiest thing i've seen all day!"

Jack glanced to the side, "Back off Robinavitch, I saw her first."

Sam dodged gurneys as she approached. A duffle bag in each hand and a backpack. "I come bearing gifts!" She made a beeline for the nurses station and Dana.

"Sweetie, please tell me you didn't just pick the worst possible time for a visit?" Dana met her arms wide open.

The duffle bags dropped on the counter with a thud and Sam shrugged out of her backpack so she could return Dana's hug. "Courtesy of Pittsburg VA Medical Center." Sam unzipped one bag and then the other, "I've got chest tubes, I've got cath tubes, some of this tubing I'm not even sure what the fuck it's for, and as many bags and adapters as I could take. i've got CAT tourniquets, SOF turniquests, some surgical turniquets, hemostatic dressings, suture kits, a shit ton of gauze and tape. There's chest seals in that one and abdominal trauma kits if shit gets real western," She turned to Dana as she whipped her long ponytail up into a quick and well practiced bun, "and this," she dug in the pocket of her scrub pants and handed over a piece of paper, "Is a list of people ready and waiting to come if you need them."

For a second it looked like Dana might cry as she glanced down at the list of names and phone numbers written in all different handwriting, mismatched inks, marker, pencil. It looked like they'd all used whatever they had handy at the time. She looked up at Sam and smiled, "You're an angel. Have I told you lately that I love you?" She wrapped her up in another hug.

"Yes, but it never gets old." Sam squeezed her back. "Now, I slammed a Monster on the way here so put me to work."

Dana smiled, "Put those in behavioral, that's supply, then gown up and pick a body." she paused, "i'm glad you're here."

On her way by her husband he called out to Dana, "Tap her, she's O-Neg!"

Sam gave him a look, "What, am I just a blood bank to you?" She gave Robby a wink as she passed him.

Jack called after her, "Love you."

"You better!"

Jack and Robby exchanged a look over a patient, "She's still pissed about this morning. Thanks for that by the way."

"What are best friends for?"

With a scoff Jack stood up, "This one can go up. Bring me another red!" then turned back to Robby, "I don't have a best friend."

Robby laughed and got back to work.

Jack took a deep breath, stole a glance at his wife already helping Samira place an airway on a gunshot victim, and nodded to himself. He remembered why now. He remembered why he kept coming back. For the time being anyway.

3:58 am

The only reason Jack didn't jump, flinch or even move when he felt a hand rest on the back of his head was because he'd recognize that touch anywhere. He groaned, but did not look up from where he sat with his elbows braced on his knees and his head hanging low. Her fingers carded through his curls and she scratched her nails over his scalp in the way that he loved so fucking much. Blindly, with one hand, he grabbed the back of her knee and tugged her closer so he could rest his forehead against her stomach.

Long minutes passed while she played with his hair and he didn't realize the death grip he still had on the back of her leg until his fingers began to cramp. Jack relaxed his hold on her, but didn't let her go. DIdn't want to risk her stopping or stepping away.

"You want some of my coffee?" Her voice was so gentle, but loud in the darkness.

His gaze fell on her shoes, smeared with blood. He sat up straighter, tipped his head back to look at her. "Sure."

She handed him the cup of shitty, hospital coffee and he sipped it. Black. She must be exhausted.

"Hey," she moved her hand down to the back of his neck but continued to scratch her nails over his skin. When he met her gaze, she gave him a soft smile, "Think you should go check on Robby."

He took another sip of her coffee and rubbed his hand up and down the back ofher thigh, trying to ignore the feel of the dried, caked blood, "Where is he?"

Her pretty green eyes blinked and she nodded, fighting back tears. "GIve you one guess."

~The End ~

Hope y'all enjoyed. I love these two and have some back story that might see daylight soon so keep an eye out for that.

Also, if you saw the poll I posted yesterday you'll know that I have a second story idea that I'm working on that more focused on Jack and Robby and their not friends friendship, Sam Abbot features heavily in that one and spoiler, she has a cute nurse friend (reader) that she wants to set Robby up with!

[heavyhitterheaux]

Girl Errands

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You try to distract your husband from the multiple bags piled up in the back of your car, which was the result of you running "errands"

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Glancing down at your dashboard in your car, you saw that it was now around two in the afternoon and figured that Joe would probably be making his way home soon.

So, that left you with one task.

Beat him home so that he doesn't see the multiple bags that are a result of you telling him that you were going to run “errands”. 

You in fact did not run one errand according to Joe if you were to ask him since they consisted of Target, TJ Maxx, Starbucks, JoAnn Fabrics for more things to crochet, and last but certainly not least browsing the Savage Fenty website for new lingerie which you knew would end up getting torn and would make Joe buy you more. 

As you pulled out of the Target parking lot, you were met with a stop sign before turning on the main street and coming to a red stop light. You just so happened to glance to your right to see no one other than your husband drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and waiting for the light to change.

“Shit!” You muttered as you glanced behind you to look at the multiple bags in the backseat.

When you turned back around, Joe just so happened to catch your eye and you smirked before you gestured for him to roll down his window.

You might as well distract him.

“Hey handsome! You got a girl? I'm trying to go on a date with you tonight.” You said as you winked at him while he couldn't help but to laugh at your horrible attempt at a pick up line.

“I have a wife actually and I highly doubt she would like that very much.” 

“Well, I won't tell if you won't.”

“I'm trying to save us both from ending up being six feet under. She's short, but don't let that fool you.” He replied as you turned up your nose and glared at him.

“I'm sure I can take it. So what do you say?”

Before Joe could respond, he glanced in the backseat of your car and made a face before turning his attention back towards you.

“Uh oh.” You said quietly before you heard your husband's voice.

“Baby! What do you have in the backseat!?”

“Nothing! Bye!” You told him as the light turned green and you pulled off without another word.

But your luck ran out when you were once again caught at a stop light literally less than a mile from your house right next to Joe as he gestured for you to roll your window down and you shook your head no.

So as soon as you told him no, your ringtone for him started blasting throughout the car and you hesitantly hit accept.

“Princess….”

“Oh thank goodness. There's this weird dude who keeps following me in his car and pulling up next to me every time I'm at a stop light.”

“I am not doing this with you today. I refuse.” Joe said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Refuse what, babe?”

“Don't act dumb. Now what is in the backseat?”

“Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“For me to know and for you not to find out because I was supposed to beat you home and hide everything.” You honestly told him.

“Hmm, and how's that working out for you?”

“It'll be fine once I get home before you do.” You replied as you hit the gas once more and sped away from him.

“I am literally right behind you and you better slow down before you get a ticket.”

“I'm pretty and I'll be let off with a warning. Works every time.”

“Why do you love to stress me out on a daily basis?”

“You're the one who asked me to marry you so you did this to yourself.” You replied as you pulled into the garage with Joe right behind you.

Joe got out of his Porsche before coming over to the driver's side door of your car and opening it, seeing you smiling at him, but he did not look amused.

“Hi baby!” You greeted him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs wrapped around his waist.

Placing a kiss on his lips, he didn’t return it which made you frown. 

“Give me a kiss and fix your face.”

Joe rolled his eyes before kissing you and continued to make a face at you as he pulled away.

“Is this supposed to be serving as a distraction?”

“A little bit, but I can take my clothes off if it isn't working. Now how about that date you promised me?”

“I never even gave you an answer.”

“You're undressing me with your eyes so that's a good enough answer which obviously translates to yes.”

“We can go on a date... right after you show me what's in the backseat.”

“No.”

“Fine. I'll just get my hair cut and run errands in my gray sweatpants.” Joe told you as your eyes then went wide.

“I… Just get the bags please and I'll tell you.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

[romancherry]

caged in silk (3) — picnic date

pairings ➝ dark!joel miller x dark!javier peña x dark!marcus acacius x female!reader

summary ➝ a nice picnic during a perfect sunny day is turned into something unexpected when javier starts to seduce you. and when he is done, it's joel's job to clean it up.

warnings ➝ explicit smut, soft!dark content, fingering, oral (f!receiving), pussy eating, squirting, overstimulation, heavy praise kink, breast play, nipple play, pet names (especially good girl), guiding and talking reader through orgasms, kissing and making out, all of this happens out in the open in their backyard so it's immoral public behaviour, dirty talk, swearing, 18+, MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT.

word count ➝ 4.900

author's note ➝ hello everyone i'm back with another update on this story! never thought i'd make it lol. i've been busy with college and my inspiration dimmed but i finally gathered the time necessary to write another chapter. it's a bit on the longer and more descriptive side. i tried my best to incorporate every detail i had imagined and i hope i didn't confuse you. if you enjoyed this, please leave a comment or repost! my heart fills with love every time i read your supportive reactions 🩷

do NOT repost, reupload, translate or plagiarize my work.

it had been a week since your failed escape attempt. a week since you had fought tooth and nail, trying to slip away from them, only to be caught and dragged right back where you belonged. 

you had been defiant, full of fire, spewing curses at them and threatening to make their lives hell. but now? now, you peacefully sat between them in the backyard. 

a picnic. their attempt at smoothing things over, at making you comfortable. 

the checkered blanket beneath you was soft, and the spread they had laid out was impressive: lemonade, fresh fruit, cheese and pastries, along with some beer bottles for them to enjoy. 

it was domestic, almost normal. if someone looked from the outside, they’d think this was just a group sharing a lazy afternoon together.

but you knew the truth. 

javier sat on your left with a protective hand resting on your thigh, thumb lazily tracing circles over your bare skin. marcus was across from you, sitting comfortably on a folding chair, reading a newspaper through his sunglasses with a beer in his hand. and joel was just a few feet nearby, tending to a couple of pork ribs on the grill.

it was almost laughable how much they tried to make you feel content here. it’s absurd how they went back to playing house after filling your mind with honeyed threats. don’t try to run again, sweetheart. it won’t end well for you. your place is with us. you belong here, you just don’t see it yet. 

“you’re awfully quiet, sweetheart,” joel said, turning his head towards where you and javier laid on the blanket, studying you.

you stabbed your fork into a piece of fruit, shoving it into your mouth before responding. “what am i supposed to say?” 

“attitude,” marcus warned.

“looks like someone’s feisty today,” javier teased, and you could peak with the corner of your eye just how smug and amused his smirk was displayed on his stupid face.

“why don’t you try an’ relax, hm? it’s a beautiful day, baby. sunshine ‘n all,” joel suggested. and he wasn’t wrong. today’s weather is indeed the only reason to smile. the grass is greener, butterflies are in the air, the sunrays are glowing upon you, making your eyes hurt a little. the colours are vibrant and the ocasional breeze makes it a little easier to breathe through the smell of barbecue and smoke.

too bad the company’s ruining everything. this would’ve normally been the perfect day for you if you hadn’t been in the presence of your captors who changed the course of your life drastically and expected you to fall in line quickly. bend and mold to their every decision and routine while learning to not cross their boundaries.

“what’s in that pretty little head of yours, darling?” javier interrupted your train of thought, his hand smoothing over the plump flesh of your thigh, a bit too uncomfortable for your liking. “i don’t like seeing that frown on your beautiful face,” he added, his words almost genuine. with his hand still warming your thigh, his other hand came up to brush a stray hair off your face and lock it behind your ear, revealing more of your cheek to him.

“eres tan hermosa, mi amor,” he whispered sweetly, and you just realized how close he got to you.

you slightly and carefully turn your head in his direction, and your nose almost brushes his. his gaze immediatelly follows your mouth and studies your anxious breathing. the way your throat barely constricts when you swallow. how you try to make yourself seem unaffected by his presence; not only the warmth and confidence he emanates, but how he’s so open with his desire and admiration for you just by the expression of his eyes alone.

his eyes slowly rise to meet yours, and before you can shy away from the overwhelming eye contact, he gently cups your cheek and brings your lips to his.

your shock comes to life through a light squeak, a sensible moan, and javier proudly swallows it whole. he doesn’t wait for you to give him permission. the moment his tongue breaks the barrier of your lips and meets your own, his chest fills with lust.

he kisses you like he’ll never get another chance; greedy, passionate, posessive. he makes love to your mouth, worships your tongue and ocasionally moans shamelessly at how warm and familiar you feel, like you’ve done this a thousand times before. he laps at every inch you didn’t willingly give; teeth crashing, lips burning, noses touching – and before you can stop yourself, your hand unconciously grabs his shirt, and his body moves itself by instinct, scooting impossibly closer to yours, searching for more. demanding more.

he forces himself to break the kiss, and he does it so annoyingly slow. his teeth drag your bottom lip with him as if daring you to seek his touch further. his lips completely depart from yours and create distance between you.

his eyes run over your every feature, taking in your shaken state. you’re obviously dizzy and flustered, your glossy eyes and slightly red cheeks giving you away to his predatory gaze.

“seems like someone’s having fun,” marcus breaks the silence, the deep, intimidating tone in his voice snapping you out of the trance javier put you in.

you can see in the corner of your eye that joel’s attention shifted as well, from the preparation of the meal on the grill to the heated situation between you and his younger brother.

you search for a glimpse of jealousy and posessiveness in his gaze, but you don’t find any. he looks… interested. amused. curious to see if you will let your guard down again.

his eyes roam over your body and analyze the slight tremble in your naked thighs. you silently curse them for the creativity they put into choosing the delicate sundress for you today. yellow, thin… questionably short.

you realize the choice for your attire is no sudden coincidence. they planned on making you give in. how much, you didn’t know. it was up to them to decide on how many bricks they were going to knock out of your walls. their games of seduction were limitless, and if you weren’t careful… if you let them have their way with you – you know they’ll absolutely ruin you. and you didn’t want that. didn’t want them to have that power on you.

you snap out of deep thought and carefully shimmy away from javier’s body. but he’ll have none of that.

“where are you going, princesa?” javier asks, placing his hand on your thigh. he doesn’t need to apply any pressure to let you know you can’t go anywhere further.

“nowhere,” you fake confusion in your voice, trying to hide your true intention. trying to hide the fact that you indeed wanted to get away from his overwhelming attention.

of course your lies couldn’t get past him. he’s a former agent, for fuck’s sake. if you’re searching for a master manipulator in this house, first person you think of is javier peña. you play his games; he doesn’t play yours.

“now, now, hermosa… you gave me a taste, you know you can’t leave me like this,” he taunts, his intentions clear.

“what would you want me to do?” you question, your irritated tone making it clear you won’t break easily. that you’re not his puppet, his personal hooker that he payed for in order to forget about his problems.

“attitude, sweetheart. watch your tone,” marcus warns. of course he had to lecture you.

“it’s alright, brother,” javier excuses you. he is being suspiciously sweet. “i don’t think our sweetheart meant any harm. did you, baby?” his question is a test. a subtle dare – act impulsively on your frustration and feel the consequences. play his game, by his rules – and maybe you’ll have a shot. maybe you’ll rise in his eyes; make him proud. make yourself worth accounting for next time marcus wants to teach you a lesson.

“no. i meant no disrespect,” you comply. and you don’t miss the growing smile on javier’s face.

“good girl. very good girl,” he appreciates, running his hand through your flowing hair as gentle as possible. a gesture of kindness. a praise. a glimpse of what could happen – what could be – if you choose to submit. “why don’t you come sit between my legs, hm, baby? you’ll be more comfortable here.”

his invitation makes your stomach turn in disgust. you know what he wants, what he seeks. he moves his legs apart to make room for you and you don’t let him wait, moving carefully in the space he created. you’re grateful he didn’t demand you to straddle his lap.

you place your ass as far away from his crotch as you can while you gently lay the weight of your back on his chest. you position your head on his right shoulder, urging him to cradle you, which he does. he removes the barrier your hair created between your faces, guiding it on the opposite side. his breath is heavy and heated on your cheek, and as if the situation couldn’t get more overwhelming, he sneaks his left arm around your waist, circling it, sticking your body to his, making it harder to breathe, to move, to escape him.

you need some means of grounding. a way to cope with the anxiety buzzing in your bones and boiling your blood, your patience. how dare he touch you this way? make a show of your submission and compliance in front of his brothers, for the first time ever? what does he hope to accomplish?

you gather in fists the material of the dress which innocently rests on the side of your thighs, right below the delicate curve of your hips. it’s a way supposed to help you calm down and stop anticipating what’s to come next. to sway you from the overthinking train of thought which is threatening to keep rising your panic.

javier notices the way your body tenses, and he frowns. he doesn’t like it – doesn’t enjoy the fact that you’ll think he’s going to hurt you, violate your privacy and independence. he merely wants to take care of you and help you relax. he quickly figures that maybe this isn’t the best place to do it – in front of the watchful and hungry eyes of his brothers. but he can’t take it back now. all he can try is to make the pain go away. to coax you into opening up and become vulnerable for him – for them.

“shh, baby, relax. relax,” he whispers while carefully massaging the length of your arm with the unoccupied hand. gentle strokes of his fingertips rise goosebumps in their path while going up and down, up and down, doing a better job than you expected. “don’t be afraid, i won’t hurt you. i could never hurt you,” he promises, but his words feel empty to you. meaningless. deceitful.

you feel the wet press of his lips right on your temple and you shiver. he is so gentle, too gentle. treating you like a fragile piece of ancient, romantic sculpture. he surely must think of you like that – consider you something, someone, worth protecting and appreciating. worthy of love.

“you smell divine, mi amor,” he inhales ocasionally, taking deep breaths of your scent – the floral detergent in your dress, the remnants of the shampoo and conditioner in your hair. even the natural scent of your skin, though subtle, is enough to make javier’s head spin.

his hand removes leaves your arm and trails dangerously lower, tracing the line between the bottom of your dress and the inside of your thigh. the occasionally cool breeze flows in your direction, bothering your thin dress and lifting it merely an inch off of your legs. each time that happens, you’re sure that marcus can see the center of your panties and the way they stick like second skin to your pussy, squeezing your throbbing clit.

javier struggles to hide his amused smirk each time he touches you, teases and plays with your imagination by threatening to dip his fingers lower. to enter new territory and sink between your legs to where you want him most.

“so soft, baby. soft as silk,” he murmurs into your ear, his praise followed by a gentle peck to your earlobe, “can’t believe something as sweet as you rests in my arms. you like that, baby? feel safe?” he urges you to answer, to respond in kindly to his advances so he can take your pleasure as a sign to go further.

you shudder at his honeyed praise and force to swallow a lump down your throat so you can speak. “yes,” it’s more of a moan than a proper word, “feels… nice.”

“good, baby. i’m glad you like it,” he nips at your earlobe, and the unexpected distraction presents an open door for his hand to quickly trail further down your dress and dissapear right between your legs. you only notice the sudden intrusion when you feel your body moving without your own accord – your legs slightly parting, making room for him to graze the tip of his index down the center line of your pussy, nudging your clit, and then pressing on your hole, through your panties.

you gasp in both pleasure and anxiety at the gesture, so you try to protect yourself. to shield what little dignity you have left by ending things before they progress into something worse, more serious.

in a pathetic attempt to close your legs, he intervenes by syncing the tight hold his arm has around your waist with the quick move of his feet rising from the blanket and surround your own from the inside, preventing you to close them further.

once you’re securely caged between his frame, he nudges your feet to open up more. encouraging them to move, little by little, towards the edge of the blanket. towards the exterior.

you saw this coming. and that’s even worse than being clueless and not anticipating it – because you knew what he would do, and you did nothing to stop it.

“please, javi. you said you won’t hurt me,” you pleaded, and you hated the inevitable tremble in your voice.

“poor baby, no. this isn’t what you think it is,” he reassures, his words matching his attempt at grounding and soothing you in his hold by kissing all over your temple and massaging the inside of your thigh, backing away slightly from your dripping pussy to make you feel less threatened. “i don’t want to hurt you, baby. i swear. if you let me, i’ll make you feel so, so good.”

you feel the way his heart beats against his chest, the rhythm vibrating in your backbone. he is equally anxious too; he really wants you to enjoy this. to not view it as a punishment. because even if you did nothing extraordinary to earn this treatment, you deserve to feel good too.

“i’ll make this pretty pussy so happy, sweetheart. make you happy too, happiest you’ve ever been. if you’ll just let me…” his promise ends with a pause, giving you time to think if you really want to give in.

the question is – are you stupid enough to refuse, or so weak you just approve?

is it really a sign of weakness, though? to just give in? to let yourself be caressed by him and feel the pulsing desire of his brothers who are desperately waiting for their turn?

all of this is under your control, if you think about it. they punish you for your dissapointing behaviour and shower you with affection as a reward for behaving like a proper lady. like how their proper lady should behave.

you don’t need a gun to assert dominance or make them listen. you hold their wills in the power of your hands.

“yes, javi. please,” you whisper.

“what did you say, baby? please repeat, i didn’t hear it, i swear,” he pleads with you, sounding desperate, not taunting, like before. he genuinely didn’t hear you – or he did, but he just didn’t expect you to comply so easily. so willingly.

“please, javi. wan’ you to make me happy,” you lick your lips, turning your head so your lips ghost his earlobe, and he shudders slightly at the brief contact. “make my pussy happy. pretty please?” you plead innocently, the tone of your voice rising slightly, sounding as if you’re the spoiled daughter of a rich man. pairing your encantation with the submissive doe eyes you present, you give him an impossible deal to refuse.

“good girl, baby. the best girl,” he lets out a ragged breath in relief, his fingers making quick, delicate work of arranging your panties to the side, moving the obstacle out of the way. “don’t have to ask me twice, babygirl. would do anythin’ for you and your pretty pussy.”

a surprised gasp leaves your lips as he guides two fingers through your slit from bottom to top, gathering the wetness he encountered at your entrance to the surroundings of your clit. “oh, mierda, cariño. you’re soaked. is it because of me, hmm?” he presses a kiss to the corner of your eye while rolling your clit between his index and middle finger.

“ah, yes javi. yes,” you admit shamelessly, moans blessing his ears each time your little bundle of nerves receives additional stimulation when he pinches your clit.

“that’s right, baby, sing for me,” he urges you, his patience slipping with each passing moment as his resistance crumbles. the resistance implies forcing your legs even wider, making your knees bend abruptly before shoving you full of three fingers and making you scream while squirting all over his hand and the blanket below.

your eyes go wide when he eases his middle finger inside your tight hole. you’re both surprised that the act itself met not one single obstacle; his finger just made its way in like your walls were invisible, like your pussy saw it coming and decided to expand itself to make room for him, to accommodate everything he had to give.

“please, oh fuck yes,” you moaned shamelessly now, not bothering to hide the building pleasure javier caused right in front of his brothers in their own backyard. he responded in kind, loving the way you felt so comfortable letting yourself go – letting him know you love the way he touches you.

“such a tight pussy, baby. see how she hugs my fingers? hm? imagine it was my cock instead,” another finger joins in, making it two – stuffing you full, yet you can’t get enough. “would you prefer my cock, sweet girl? do you think it’ll fit?” his teases are back, but you pay them no mind. in fact, you love them. paired with the expert moves of his fingers fucking your vagina until your eyes roll in the back of your skull – it’s fucking amazing.

a soft laugh escapes his lips when you don’t bother to answer his question. you actually can’t seem to, really – he can tell you’re on the brink of orgasm by the way your chest rises and falls and your abdomen constricts along with your toes curling.

“no, i guess it won’t fit, cariño. not when you’re this fucking tight, sweet girl. jesus fuck,” the hand which was previously surrounding your waist changes its location to your right breast, squeezing it through the fabric and causing your soft nipple to rise to a little peak. it wasn’t enough, though. he needed to feel the softness of your skin and properly pinch your nipples. so his hand makes its way to your neckline and shimmies right underneath it in a desperate hurry to cup your naked breast and feel the angry little nipple in the palm of his hand. he gives you a squeeze which is a little rougher than intended before caging your nipple between his thumb and index to give it a proper rub and twirl, making you choke on your own moan.

“yes, javi, yes! please, more! don’t stop, don’t ever stop. gonna cum so hard…” you sob, feeling your vision blur and your cheeks getting wet a second after that.

fuck, you went feral. him and his brothers are so grateful they all witnessed the fact that you’re visibly into nipple play, and not only – breast play entirely. he makes quick note of that and stuffs it deep into his memory before continuing his rough administrations to your nipple compared to the loving strokes and poundings of his fingers in your cunt.

“then cum, sweetheart. go on. go on, little dove. thaat’s right, give me what i want. let go, let go. such a sweet little girl, lettin’ me take care of her. wanna see your poor pussy cry too, baby, not just your eyes. come on, baby, soak my fingers.”

he didn’t have to tell you twice. even though the rhythm of his fingers did not (thankfully) change, keeping you right where you’ve been all along, on the bridge of bliss and orgasm, his words were enough to send you over the edge as you closed your eyes and came around his fingers violently, your whole body trembling in his careful hold in contrast to your throbbing pussy pulsing out your release, gushing around his fingers and wetting the blanket with splash after splash as he guided you all the way through it, his arm tightening around your breast, making sure you never leave this safe heaven.

after you came down from your high, your body gradually relaxed and his fingers sadly parted themselves from their home. he let you close your legs and he even pulled the bottom of your dress as low as he could afford it, since most of the material was bunched underneath your bare ass sticking embarasingly to the wet blanket.

you open up your eyes to see marcus turning his gaze from you and back to his newspaper, trying his best not to seem affected by what just happened. but you know better, and judging by the immense bulge he unsuccesfully hides from you, you just know he wants nothing more than to make his way between your legs and stuff you full of his cum until you’re left shaking. he wouldn’t even need to take down his pants all the way through from how quick it would all be over. he practically witnessed how javier struggled to fit two fingers inside your cunt – his cock would basically choke.

joel was none the wiser. he was struggling to hold back even more than marcus; his fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw clenched, mouth closed shut along with a voluminous jugular vein pulsing furiously right beneath the tanned skin.

but you caught the red in his cheeks. he was visibly flushed, nervous and needy. eager to get a taste of you.

and so he did.

you stop breathing the moment he stalks towards you with a predatory look on his face, determined to dull the curiosity, grasping for something to claim from you.

all air is suddenly knocked out of your lungs when joel kneels in front of you and manhandles your legs apart, revealing your glistening pussy to his own gaze once more. she was all puffy and a bit swollen from before, the walls around the entrance pulsing and clenching around nothing as the opening looks much more evident and even wider than a few minutes ago.

“javier treated ya well, babygirl. took care of this lil’ girl jus’ right,” joel says, his deep, dominating tone making shivers crawl up your spine. “should clean her up. can’t leave her all messy.”

it’s all he says before diving head first into your cunt and licking all the juice dripping down your thighs and pussy. your ragged moan urges him to press on, despite your desperate attempts at begging him to take it slow on your overstimulated pussy. he doesn’t give a damn about your hands tangling and pulling his hair; he thinks it’s so fucking hot and it turns him on impossibly more, his cock aching for release in the confinement of his annoying boxers.

“mmm, ‘s right. goood girl,” he moans into your pussy, the vibrations adding more intensity to your building orgasm.

“you’re gonna cum on joel’s tongue, cariño? make a mess all over his face just like you did on my fingers?” javier whispers into your ear, the hand that warmed your breast starting to stir over the plump flesh to gather attention to your tortured nipple once more.

“yes… mmm, fuck yes. p-please, feels so, so… ah!”

“shh, that’s right, babygirl. let go. give it to joel, niiice and slow, thaaat’s it.”

your second orgasm practically makes you see stars. it comes fast and unexpected, crashing over you in the blink of an eye and lasting so long you wonder if you’ve gone blind. joel’s tongue fucks in an out of you, your poor hole trying to clench onto the thick muscle in an attempt to grab him and never let him go as he patiently laps up all your release with a content hum.

he presses a gentle kiss to your clitoris when he’s done. you can’t, won’t, open your eyes again. you don’t need to look at him to know the painful look he probably has on his face because he wishes he could do it all over again. never depart his face from between your legs.

his mind races to various ways and possibilities of making you cum on his face. next time, he’ll definitely make you ride his nose while making love to your pussy with his tongue and mouth. bringing you to several orgasms until you beg for him to put you out of your misery and sink himself into your tight warmth until you’re nothing but a whimpering toy.

one day, he thinks. one day, you’ll succumb to all of their wants and desires.

because you’ll be addicted. to how they make you feel, how they take care of you. to their smell and touch. to them. it’s all just a matter of time, which you and them have plenty of. because you’re never leaving them again.

[lyn31]

YOUR ZAYNE'S FIC ARE SOOO GOOOOOD. You cook so well😩. Now pretty please write MC in labor😩

I got carried away again as always..... but I like how it turn out! All this make me want to write about Zayne as dad now...... damn you guys! (read: Thank you) 🫶🏻😩

Oh and hopefully this is what you're thinking of! ✨🥹

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Labor

Summary

A quiet hospital room, the rhythmic beeping of a monitor, and a steady hand in yours. The tension lingers in the air—uncertainty, hope, fear—all colliding in the seconds before fate takes its course. And then, with a single breath, everything shifts.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader I'm no way near know what labor feel like, so I try my best!

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The hospital room is quiet, save for the steady beeping of the monitors and the occasional distant chatter from the hallway. The dim lighting casts everything in a soft glow, making the space feel cozier than it should—even with the sterile white walls and medical equipment surrounding you.

Zayne sits beside your bed, his ever-present clipboard in hand, reviewing something with a look of calm focus. He’s been like this for the past hour—checking notes, double-checking them, then checking them again, as if he personally intended to oversee every detail of your care.

You watch him for a moment before finally breaking the silence. “You know, for someone who isn’t my actual doctor, you sure look like one.”

His gaze lifts from the clipboard, cool and composed as ever. “I am a doctor.”

You snort. “Yeah, but not mine. You’re off-duty, remember?”

Zayne tilts his head slightly, a thoughtful hum leaving his lips before he counters smoothly, “Not yours?” He leans forward, resting an elbow on the bed as his cool fingers brush over your knuckles. “I seem to recall you calling me yours quite often.”

You narrow your eyes, catching the deliberate way he twists your words. “Oh, so we’re doing this now?”

His thumb brushes along your hand, his expression composed but undeniably pleased. “Doing what?”

You let out an amused huff. “Never mind.”

He doesn’t push, just holds your hand a little firmer, his touch steady. “Either way, I have no intention of being off-duty when it comes to you.”

You roll your eyes, squeezing his hand. “Wow, so controlling.”

His brow lifts. “I prefer ‘thorough.’”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “Right, right. Thorough.”

There’s a beat of silence, a comfortable one, before Zayne shifts slightly, his eyes dropping to your belly. He’s been doing that a lot—watching, his expression unreadable but his touch careful every time he rests a hand there.

You follow his gaze, smiling softly. “Getting impatient?”

His thumb brushes against your skin absently. “I wouldn’t say impatient.” Then, after a pause, he adds, “Eager, perhaps.”

The honesty in his voice makes something in your chest tighten. You bite your lip, fighting back the sudden wave of emotion, and instead lean back against the pillows with an exaggerated sigh. “I swear, if this kid doesn’t come out soon, I’m charging rent.”

Zayne exhales a quiet chuckle, the sound low and warm. “They do seem rather content staying where they are.”

“You think they’ll be as stubborn as you?” you tease, tilting your head toward him.

His gaze flickers toward you, amused. “I was going to ask if you thought they’d be as stubborn as you.”

You grin. “So, we’re both in trouble, then.”

Zayne hums, his fingers tracing absent patterns over your skin. He doesn’t say it, but you can see it in his eyes—the quiet anticipation, the depth of feeling he doesn’t always put into words. You feel it, too, this strange, overwhelming mix of excitement and nerves, the knowledge that any moment now, everything will change.

And then, as if on cue, there’s a sudden shift in your body—a pressure, a faint discomfort that makes your breath hitch.

You blink, startled.

Zayne immediately picks up on it. “What is it?”

You hesitate, then laugh lightly. “I think… my water just broke.”

His posture straightens in an instant, that calm, practiced focus settling over him. But you don’t miss the way his fingers tighten slightly around yours, or the flicker of something—something almost like nerves—that flashes through his expression before he reins it in.

“Well.” You exhale, shifting carefully. “Guess they finally decided to stop freeloading.”

Zayne’s lips press together in what might be a smile, but his gaze is already sharp, assessing. He reaches for the call button with his free hand. “Let’s not keep them waiting, then.”

The contractions start soon after, steadily intensifying with each passing minute. Nurses move in and out of the room, checking your vitals, monitoring the baby’s heart rate, and preparing everything for delivery. The air shifts—calm, but purposeful.

Zayne never leaves your side.

He holds your hand, his grip firm but careful, his other hand occasionally brushing over your forehead, pushing damp strands of hair back with cool fingertips. Every now and then, you hear the soft murmur of his voice—low, steady words of reassurance, though you barely process them between each wave of pain.

You squeeze his hand through another contraction, breathing through it as best as you can. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t complain, just lets you cling to him as tightly as you need.

When the pain eases slightly, you slump back against the pillows, exhaling a heavy breath. “You know, I’m starting to think we should’ve made a scheduled exit plan for this kid.”

Zayne huffs a quiet chuckle, though his eyes remain sharp, watchful. “That would’ve been ideal, yes.” His fingers smooth over your knuckles. “Unfortunately, they seem to have other plans.”

You groan. “Stubborn already.”

His lips twitch slightly. “Wonder where they get that from.”

You roll your eyes but don’t have the energy to fire back. Another contraction rolls through, sharper this time, stealing your breath. Your fingers tighten around his instinctively.

Your muscles seize, the pressure mounting unbearably. Each breath feels like dragging air through fire, your body fighting against itself in the desperate push forward. The contractions are relentless, but there’s no telling how much time has passed between them anymore. Minutes? Hours? It all blurs together, an endless cycle of pain and fleeting relief.

You gasp through another one, clinging to Zayne’s hand as your head slumps back against the pillows. Your limbs feel heavy, the exhaustion sinking into your bones, deeper than any mission injury you’ve had. For a brief moment, it feels like too much—like you can’t do this, like your body is failing you.

Your breath stutters. “I—” The words don’t come. You shake your head instead, a flicker of panic rising beneath the fatigue.

Zayne catches it instantly. His grip shifts, firm and grounding, his cool fingertips brushing against the back of your hand. “Breathe,” he murmurs, his voice steady, unwavering. He lifts your hand slightly, pressing his lips against your knuckles—a fleeting touch, but the warmth lingers. “You’re doing well.”

You force yourself to take a breath, then another. The haze doesn’t clear completely, but the panic eases—just a little.

You shake your head, barely able to get the words out. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” His grip tightens just enough to remind you he’s there, solid and unwavering. “One breath at a time.”

The room is a blur—rushed voices, the steady beep of monitors, the sharp scent of antiseptic and sweat. You can hear the doctor saying something, the nurses murmuring encouragement, but it’s all distant, muffled under the sheer weight of everything happening to you.

And then—another contraction crashes into you, sharp and all-consuming. You barely register the way your body tightens in response, instinct taking over as the doctor’s voice cuts through the haze.

“Almost there.” he says, quiet but firm. “Just a little more.”

Zayne’s hand never leaves yours. His voice, cool and certain, is the only thing anchoring you as the final stretch begins.

You don’t know if it’s minutes or seconds, but when the next contraction comes, your body takes over. You push—every muscle screaming, every fiber of your being focused on this one thing.

And then—weightless relief.

A newborn’s cry pierces the room.

Everything that just happened crashes into you all at once. The pain, the exhaustion, the overwhelming sense of finally. You let out a shaky breath, your body trembling with the aftershocks, your vision swimming with unshed tears.

Zayne exhales slowly beside you, and when you turn your head, he’s already looking at you. His eyes are unreadable for a moment, as if even he needs a second to process that it’s over. Then, something shifts—something so quiet, so deeply felt that words aren’t needed.

His fingers brush your temple, the touch featherlight, reverent. Then you hear it again—the cry, small but strong.

The sound nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. A choked, startled sob bubbles in your throat before you can stop it, your body sagging against the bed. You barely register the movement around you—nurses bustling, hands moving quickly, a soft, wriggling weight being placed onto your chest.

Tiny. Warm. Yours.

Your hands tremble as you touch her, brushing over impossibly soft skin, feeling the rise and fall of her first breaths. Her cries settle slightly as she squirms against you, as if already seeking the comfort of your presence.

Zayne doesn’t say anything.

You turn your head toward him, and for the first time since this all started, you see something unguarded in his expression. He’s staring, utterly still, his gaze fixed on the baby in your arms like he’s trying to memorize every inch of her. For someone always so controlled, so certain, there’s a flicker of something else. Like he’s seeing something impossible. Something fragile and new, and undeniably real.

His fingers hover for a second, hesitation creeping into his movements that are usually precise. Then, finally, he lets them brush over the delicate curve of her head. The warmth is unfamiliar, delicate, alive in a way that almost doesn’t feel real.

The moment his fingertips graze her skin, his breath catches—so slight it’s almost imperceptible. Then, as if remembering himself, he exhales slowly, his touch impossibly gentle. The baby shifts under his fingers, a tiny movement—barely anything at all. And yet, something in his expression tightens, a flicker of something deep and unreadable settling in his gaze.

For once, there’s an almost imperceptible delay in his movements, as if he’s afraid the smallest touch might shatter the moment.

It’s quiet between you, even as the room hums with movement. The weight of everything lingers, exhaustion, awe—something too deep to put into words.

Zayne leans in slightly, pressing a cool, lingering kiss to your temple.

“Thank you.”

It’s barely a whisper, yet it carries more weight than any grand declaration ever could.

The relief washes over you, but it’s tinged with something strange—a lightness in your limbs that doesn’t quite feel right. You blink, trying to shake it off, but the room swims slightly at the edges.

You turn toward him just as another wave of lightheadedness washes over you.

It’s subtle at first, a sudden wave of dizziness, sharp enough to make your grip falter, but then your vision blurs slightly at the edges. Your grip on the baby weakens for just a second—not enough to be dangerous, but Zayne notices immediately.

Immediately, his head lifts. His gaze sharpens. “What is it?”

You swallow, blinking hard. “I—” Your tongue feels thick and sluggish, like your body is struggling to keep up. “Feel weird.”

His hand is already at your wrist, checking your pulse. A second later, he glances at the monitors, his expression hardening almost imperceptibly.

“Get a blood pressure reading,” he orders, his voice cool, controlled.

A nurse moves quickly, wrapping the cuff around your arm. The numbers flash across the screen—too low.

Her expression shifts. “Her pressure is dropping.”

Zayne doesn’t hesitate. “Call the attending. Now.”

The room shifts instantly. Nurses move in taking your daughter away, adjusting IVs, lifting your hospital gown to check the monitors. Words blur together—blood pressure instability, excessive bleeding, immediate intervention.

Then—cool fingers brush your cheek.

“Stay awake.”

Zayne’s voice. Steady. Firm.

You blink up at him, trying to ground yourself. “M’not going anywhere,” you mutter, attempting a smirk. It’s weak.

His fingers linger for half a second before he pulls back. His gaze flickers toward the attending nurse as she steps in, then back to you. “It’ll be alright.”

It’s not a reassurance. It’s a certainty.

The attending doctor barely spares him a glance before issuing instructions. “We need to stabilize her before we proceed. Doctor Li, I need you to step out.”

You feel him stiffen beside you.

His grip on your hand doesn’t tighten, but you feel the hesitation, the way he lingers for just a second too long, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then, slowly, he exhales, his grip loosening like letting go is a battle within itself. He nods.

His fingers brush over your wrist one last time before he pulls away.

“I’ll be right outside,” he murmurs.

And then, for the first time since this all started—he’s gone. The space he leaves behind is too cold, too empty.

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The hallway is quiet. Too quiet.

Zayne stands just outside the door, his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders squared in that composed, unshakable way that gives nothing away. From a distance, he looks like a man simply waiting—patient, motionless, his breathing even. But up close, the cracks are there.

His grip is tight—so tight his knuckles press white against his skin. His shoulders don’t relax, don’t shift, as if held in place by sheer force of will. And then, after a long moment, his fingers uncurl, his hands drop to his sides. He exhales slowly through his nose, a measured breath that does nothing to ease the tension gripping him.

Still, the tension lingers, wound tight in his chest. And then—without thinking—he moves.

His back touches the wall first, cool against the tension coiled in his muscles. Then he lowers himself into a crouch, forearms resting loosely over his knees. He doesn’t bow his head—doesn’t close his eyes. He just waits, eyes fixed on the floor in front of him, unmoving.

Minutes stretch. Nurses pass by, but no one stops him.

Eventually, a different nurse approaches, speaking in a quieter voice, like she knows she’s interrupting something unspoken.

"Dr. Li, your daughter has been moved to the nursery," she informs him. "She’s doing well. She responds quickly, no signs of distress—breathing is steady, vitals are stable."

Zayne listens, absorbing each detail without a single wasted motion.

"Is she warm enough?" His voice is steady, measured. A doctor’s question—but something else lingers beneath it, quieter. Something almost hesitant.

"Yes," the nurse assures. "She’s in an incubator for now, just for monitoring, but everything looks good."

He nods. "And her blood oxygen levels?"

"Normalizing well."

Another nod. His expression doesn’t change, but his fingers twitch slightly against his knee. He exhales through his nose—measured, controlled. He has his answers. His daughter is being taken care of.

Still, he doesn’t move.

The nurse hesitates, then glances toward the closed door beside him. "Your wife should be waking up soon."

He knows. That’s why he’s still here.

The nurse doesn’t press further. She just offers a polite nod before walking off, leaving him alone in the hallway once more.

And when the door finally opens, when a different nurse steps out and says, "Doctor Li?"—he’s already standing before she finishes his name, walking inside the room.

The door clicks shut behind him, but he doesn’t move right away.

For a moment—just a moment—he stands there, gaze settling on you. A flicker of something crosses his face—not relief, not entirely. His fingers twitch, just slightly.

You’re propped up against the pillows, the soft glow of the monitors casting shadows across your face. There’s exhaustion written in every inch of you, but your eyes are open, meeting his—awake, breathing. Present.

His shoulders shift, a tension he’s been holding finally loosening—just slightly.

Then, slowly, he exhales, a quiet breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Only then does he step forward.

He moves to touch you, then hesitates—just for a second. His gaze lingers, tracing the IV line, the faint tremor in your fingers where they rest against the sheets. When he does touch you, it’s careful, as if making sure you won’t disappear beneath his fingertips. His thumb presses slightly against your wrist—a quiet reassurance. A confirmation.

"You were waiting," you murmur, voice hoarse, the words threading through the rawness in your throat. You shift slightly—just enough for the sheets to rustle—but even that small movement leaves you breathless for a second. His fingers shift slightly against your wrist, like he notices.

His lips press together faintly—not quite a frown, but not neutral either. "Of course."

You huff a tired breath, tilting your head just a little. "And our daughter?"

"She's in the nursery," he answers immediately, his voice steady. "The nurses assured me she's stable—no complications."

A slow, relieved exhale leaves your lips.

Zayne watches you, his gaze flickering over every detail—the way your fingers twitch weakly against the blanket, how you start to lift your hand but let it fall back to the sheets, your breath just a fraction uneven. He knows you’re alright now, you’re awake. You’re here.

His hand moves, fingers trailing up until they settle against your cheek. His touch is cool, grounding, and when you lean into it—just barely—his thumb skims over your skin in a slow, absent motion.

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You wake slowly, warmth pressing against your side, the rhythmic sound of beeping monitors lulling you into awareness. It takes a second to register everything—the hospital room, the soft weight of blankets over you, the faint scent of antiseptic lingering in the air.

Your body feels different than before—less exhausted, though a dull soreness still lingers, like a distant ache instead of the overwhelming fatigue from the first day. Manageable. Easier.

And then, you hear it.

A quiet, steady voice murmurs something too soft to make out.

You blink your eyes open, the room still dimmed by the evening light filtering through the blinds. And there, sitting beside the hospital bed, is Zayne.

He leans forward slightly, adjusting the tiny bundle in his arms—your daughter, cradled carefully in his hands. His voice is quiet, patient, as if he’s explaining something to her, even though she’s far too small to understand.

You don’t move at first, just watching. It’s rare to catch him like this—settled, no longer on edge, his focus entirely on her. His usually sharp gaze softens, tracing over every tiny feature as if memorizing her all over again.

You don’t know why you expected him to overthink this. The man analyzes data for a living, after all. But somehow, fatherhood has come to him as naturally as breathing—each movement careful but sure, each touch precise yet gentle. No hesitation, no uncertainty, just a calm, measured certainty in every move he makes. And yet, it’s not clinical. There’s something soft in the way he holds her, something instinctive. Natural.

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m not sure she’s ready to appreciate the commentary just yet.”

Zayne’s head lifts immediately, sharp instincts ever-present, but this time, he doesn’t tense. “You’re awake.”

“No, I’m talking in my sleep.”

His gaze flickers over your face, checking—because of course he is—but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he exhales, slow and quiet, before glancing back down at the baby. “She was fussing earlier.”

You shift, pushing yourself up slightly, but before you can get far, Zayne is already moving. One hand settles gently against your back, supporting you as he adjusts the pillows with practiced ease.

You give him a look. “You know, I did survive before you started micromanaging me.”

“And yet, here you are, letting me,” he murmurs, completely unbothered as he smooths the blanket over your legs.

You huff, but there’s no real bite behind it—because, well, he’s right.

His fingers brush over your wrist, lingering just long enough to check your temperature, before his gaze flickers to the baby. “You should feed her now.”

You glance at your daughter, her tiny fists barely peeking out from the blanket. “You’re giving her back just like that? Thought you’d keep hogging her.”

Zayne doesn’t react immediately, but the corner of his mouth twitches—slightly. “She does seem comfortable with me.”

“She’s a newborn, Zayne. She can’t even tell you apart from a blanket yet.”

He hums, clearly not convinced, but still, he shifts forward, carefully placing the baby in your arms. His movements are precise, ensuring she’s supported properly, as if she might shatter under anything less.

Once you’ve settled, he watches closely, like he’s analyzing every part of the process, committing it to memory.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re going to supervise the entire thing, aren’t you?”

His gaze meets yours, unblinking. “Obviously.”

A laugh bubbles up before you can stop it, tired but genuine. “You really are fussing.”

Zayne doesn’t deny it. Instead, he reaches over, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with precise care. “You just woke up. Someone has to.”

And, well—he’s got you there.

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

Notes:

Zayne as Dad is live rent free in my head now...... also I watch one of those video where everyone is literally fussing the baby and the dad is just waiting outside of the mom's room, like "why is my wife not out yet" it was so cute 🥹 so ofc I have to use it as well 🫶🏻😩 This is ended up connected ahaha either way, if we're going for chronological order here it is: (this is part 4) part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 smut one perhaps? ahahaha

[paniniani]

can u do a fix where yn gives shoto aphrodisiac as a joke?

aphrodisiac! shoto x f! reader

an: nsfw, female reader, teasing, praise, sub/switch shoto, aphrodisiac, dubcon (just bc of aphrodisiac), this took so long, a man who yearns is a man who earns 🗣️ 2.1k words!

hearing the sound of your giggling, shoto turned his attention away from the shitty reality tv show you were both watching, faintly smiling at the sight of you laughing at your phone.

"what is so funny y/n?" he gently asked, peeking over your shoulder to see... a box of chocolates on your screen? slightly tilting his head in confusion, he waited for you to explain. he was so sweet, so innocent, you almost didn't want to tell him.

"i doordashed these stupid sex chocolates that i've been seeing on tiktok, i'm pretty sure they're a scam but it's just so funny to me that i wanted to get them as a joke."

"sex... chocolates?" he asked, voice trailing off after his words. oh boy. i guess you were on different sides of tiktok. "theyre like.. these aphrodisiac chocolates that allegedly make you hor- i mean they increase your sexual desire. but i don't think they're real, and it just seems so silly with these stupid ads i'm getting all the time."

"hm.." he looked off, seemingly deep in thought. "i don't really understand why i'd need this because i already find you.. very attractive, but i'll try it for you, even if it's just as a joke." his honesty made you blush, you loved how sweet he was to you (but secretly wanted to see him desperate for you instead). "aww shoooooo" you doted, peppering him with tiny kisses.

a few hours later, you got a notification that your order had arrived. after opening the small box, you snapped one of the chocolate squares in half, still half laughing at how stupid of an idea this was. calling out his name, you told todoroki to come into the kitchen, smiling at his still confused kitten-like expression as he stood in front of you.

reaching up to ruffle his hair, your hand slowly traced down the back of his head, pausing at the intersection between his neck and jaw, causing him to swallow hard. "you hungry sho? open up.." he quickly followed your instructions as you fed him the candy, thumb gently stroking the corner of his lips as he chewed. a flush spread across his face at the gentle care you were giving him. perfect, you thought, you already had him blushing.

as you waited for the effects to kick in, you went back to your room to get changed, settling on an oversized, off the shoulder tee which was hiding the real surprise: a brand new black lacy lingerie set, two tiny pink satin bows adorning the joint where the two cups met and the the lace seam of your (extremely) cheeky underwear. you'd never worn this kind of thing around him, he was in for a real shock.

re-joining him on the couch, you didn't miss the way his eyes burned into your now exposed thighs, you knew they were a weakness for him and decided to exploit it-- poor guy had no clue what he was in for. as you continued your show, he softly placed a hand on your leg, rubbing gentle circles.

thirty minutes later, you were engrossed in the drama of the episode and somehow forgot about the situation you'd created. you didn't even notice the growing tent in his pants as your favorite character narrowly avoided getting voted off. you'd been ignoring shoto's uncomfortable shifting and unsteady breaths for too long, and he couldn't take it anymore. the constant touch on your thigh suddenly turned into a hard squeeze, causing you to jump as he spoke in a serious, uncharacteristically breathy tone.

"y/n..... feel funny.. need you to help. please." his eyes were squeezed shut, jaw clenched and eyebrows drawn together as if he couldn't bear to look at you. poor sweet boy, you really should just give him what he needed, but you decided to make him wait a little longer. "hm? sorry shoto, i don't know what you need, you're gonna need to use your words." blushing bright red, his eyes snapped open at the rustling of you slowly, tantalizingly stripping off your shirt. "it's a little hot in here isn't it?"

you heard his breath hitch as you revealed more of your thighs and hips, conveniently turning away from him as the black lace covering your ass became exposed. looking over your shoulder, your mouth formed an o at the sight of him. todoroki was pretty much eye-fucking you, his hand needfully palming at his pants as tiny flames occasionally rippled off of his body. oh fuck. he had it real bad.

"please. can't take it. need you." he choked out, a drop of sweat (or maybe a melted piece of ice) trailing down his neck. voice almost a whimper, he managed to continue: "need to be inside you. i'm not going to be able to control myself much longer. please y/n, please-" "mmm, i'll think about it" you cut him off as you continued to strip in front of him, finally revealing the matching black lacy bra you'd been hiding. shoto softly cursed-a sound you'd never heard from his mouth- you were just waiting for him to lose it.

when you made eye contact with him and let a brief smile flash across your face, something flickered in his expression. what was once a look of sweet yearning snapped into what could only be described as absolute need. in a flash, he grabbed you by the hips and nearly threw you onto his lap, your face inches away from his own extremely red one. pleading, he tried one more time, clothed legs uncontrollably bucking up into you.

"please.. y/n. it hurts.." he softly whined, voice cracking as his throbbing cock began to leak through his pants. you've never heard him so undone, or seen his eyes so clouded with lust. "oh poor poor boy, m gonna make you feel better okay?" you murmured as you pulled his sweats and underwear down his thighs, revealing his twitching, painfully hard dick. you took your time settling between his legs, which proved to be a huge mistake-- you'd teased him for too long, and he was at his wits end.

before you could process it, he gripped the back of your head and shoved his dick down your throat, causing your choked-out cries to echo around him. between whimpers and shaky breaths, he spoke as calmly as he could: "i'm s-so sorry baby, i can't control myself. always taking such good care of me, need-mmph need you so bad." moaning around his cock at the praise, you allowed him to use you as his own personal toy as his hips bucked wildly, thrusting faster and faster deep into your mouth. "oh f-fuck-nnngh gonna- gonna, i'm gonna-"

using all your strength to pin his thighs down, you managed to stop his movements. you slowly pulled your mouth off of his cock, tongue gently tracing the tip. shoto's jaw was on the floor, eyebrows drawn together and were those.. tears? "w-why'd you stop?" he quietly wailed, having had his orgasm ripped away from him. "because sho," you purred as you placed his hand on the elastic of your thong, his fingers gripping your hip.

"first, i know how good that fucking cock is and i need it in me right now. second, i know you love it when i take control and make my sweet boy beg to cum." if his face was flushed earlier, it's a complete tomato now. you giggled at his silence. "cat got your tongue or something? that just won't do.. wanna hear you nice and loud for me okay?" nodding quickly, he fell back on the bed facing you, hands pulling at the high waisted lace of your lingerie. he pressed a single kiss to the bow adorning your underwear, making your heart skip a beat as he looked up at you with pleading eyes.

"please love, you look so beautiful, i'm sorry i couldn't control myself earlier. please touch me use me r-ride me, still hurts s-so bad." despite edging him to the point of tears, his voice was still calm. he was always so gentle to you despite how you treated him. with slow motions, you removed your thong, watching how his eyes lingered on the string of slick that connected it to your dripping pussy.

straddling him with your plush thighs, you gripped him with one hand, watching how his eyes fluttered shut as you dragged his length between your soaked folds, relishing in the shaky breaths that even this slight contact caused. you couldn't help but let out a groan when his angry red tip brushed against your clit, you were feeling almost as desperate as he was.

you gazed down at his face twisted in pleasure, eyes still scrunched shut as if looking at you would be too much for him. taking advantage of this, you grasped his length in both hands. slowly guiding the tip into yourself, you pulsed with need at the stretch. his eyes snapped open, tortured breaths turning into pleading moans: "ahhmmph-please, pleaseplease put it all the way i-" taking pity on him, you sank all the way down onto his cock, shoto writhing with pleasure underneath you as he covered his face with his muscular forearms, piercing eyes shyly peeking out at you.

overwhelmed by the feeling, todoroki couldn't help himself--you felt way too fucking good--he tightly gripped your waist with one hand, scooping your ass up with the other. from beneath you, his hips stuttered as he attempted to fuck upwards into you, making you clench around him and throw your head back as he thrust deeper and deeper, reaching places that your fingers simply couldn't.

"s-sho- fuck. shot-o" you begged, thinking of your promise to make him feel good, but it was hard when you were reduced to a babbling mess as soon as he entered you. "w-wait, wanna fuck ride you, stop stop please let me fucking ride you please let me make you feel good-".

in an unbelievable act of self control, his hips stuttered to a halt, white-knuckled hands gripping your hips. he looked unreal beneath you, lips parted and abs shaking as he followed your instructions like he always did. "s-so tight y/n.. so soft so- hhng does it feel good? please tell me it feels good" he babbled as you played with your nipples, letting him calm down for a moment before you continued, gripping onto his shoulders.

leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, this sweet gesture turning sinful as you kissed down his face, tracing his jaw. when you got to his not-so-secret sensitive spot right below his ear, you sucked hard, accompanied by a roll of your hips against his own. his breathy, deep moans sound so pretty in your ear, you could hear the restraint in his voice as he tried to remain still for you.

"that's it, nice and good for me" you murmured into his neck, picking up speed as you began to slowly bounce on his dick, addicted to the sounds he made combining with the unholy sloshing of your pussy sucking him in. you could feel your high fast approaching, the friction too good to handle. shoto wasn't much better, you noticed his abs straining to hold out for you.

"love pl-please let me, so close please, m-gonna" he gasped, hips twitching but still letting you take control (just how he liked it). tracing your lips back up to his ear, you replied, barely coherent. "f-fuck yeah sho, fucking cum for me, so close, 'm right there with you yeah?"

quickening your pace, your eyes flutter shut as the overwhelming pressure in your stomach finally snaps, a shudder of pleasure exploding through the two of you like fireworks. hot sticky ropes of cum paint your insides, and you open your eyes to see shoto's head thrown back as he loses himself in his climax. eyebrows drawn together in pleading, tiny flames rippled across his body as he lost control. his body trembled as your cunt pulsed against him, milking him for all he had.

when the waves of pleasure finally subsided, you leaned down and pressed your mouth to his. slowly pulling off of his cock, cum spilled out of you, sinfully dripping down his defined v-line and onto the couch. "sho? you doing okay? that was a lot.." you whispered, wrapping around him like a koala. after catching his breath, he finally replied in a low whisper. "do.. do they make those in dark chocolate?"

[getaapologist]

More Geta x servant reader, how does he react when she’s upset? Like imagine reader trying to hide it cus she doesn’t think it should be such a big deal, but trying to suppress it only makes it worse, and she can barely hold it together to not cry in front of the emperor.

A/N: I'm not sure this is EXACTLY what you meant, but it's what came out. Hope you enjoy it!

[ prior servant!reader entry can be found here ]

“We have taken too much time, little lamb,” Geta teased, a large hand finding your hip, sliding slightly lower, around. Squeezing. “We will be late.”

A heat grew, as if it wasn’t quenched just ten minutes before.

“You will be late,” you corrected, pulling at the green fabric.

His amused grin could be seen in the mirror just over your shoulder. “Perhaps. But it is your fault.” 

A slight pull as he moved away, finally beginning to get dressed.

You looked down to the tray full of jewels, mostly his. Picking up a couple of smaller rings, you slid them on your fingers. Some thinner bracelets, too. Geta liked fiddling with them, spinning them where they sat on your wrists.

Lifting the necklace like it was the easiest choice in the world, you slipped it over your head. Because it was.

And it promptly clattered to the floor.

Confusion. Mild horror. 

It was painful to kneel down and scoop up the glittering strand, fingers combing through the embedded jewels to locate the reason. The cause.

A ring. Split. Almost as if wrenched apart, but how could that be?

“...Little lamb?” 

Geta’s voice was questioning, curious, as he stepped over to you.

“It is nothing,” you assured him, turning away, the gifted necklace’s broken clasp held between your fingers. You pressed hard, trying to force back the strange swelling of emotions at the sight of it.

It was just a necklace. You could imagine him saying that. You have others.

The amount of attachment you had to it was a surprise to even you. You wore it frequently without a second thought or awareness of how much it mattered to you. But as you felt the ring of metal that had split open pressing harshly into the pads of your fingers, you knew you would miss it terribly.

His large hands gripped your upper arms, turning you to face him, his face down near yours, eyes searching, fearful and cautious. 

“What is it?” 

As he spoke the words, his eyes fell to your hands, noticing what you held. How you were holding it. His fingers covered yours in an instant, gently prising the metal from them, examining it.

“It’s broken,” he commented.

“I do not know how it happened,” you mumbled, emotions bubbling up and spilling over, a few stray tears making their way down your face as you closed your eyes to the sight of it in his hands.

“Mea mellitula,” he soothed, a smile in his voice, “it is just a—”

Frustration. Sorrow. They were forced out as you interrupted him, eyes closed, brows drawn together. “It is not just a necklace.”

Silence filled the room. You missed the slight sting of the broken metal threatening to pierce the skin of your thumb. It was irrational, surely he wouldn’t understand. How could he?

The soft touch of his fingers to where your brows knit in anguish was unexpected. He pressed gently until the tension there dissipated. 

“This one in particular. It means something to you,” he realized. “Why?”

You opened your eyes, casting them down to look at the jeweled necklace, the pretty earthen tones matching quite a few of his rings. It took you a moment to piece it together, and a moment more to articulate it to him.

“It is the first thing you personally gifted me, Geta. I… It felt nice, knowing you thought of me.”

His face slid into a sly grin, the necklace set aside, forgotten. “Oh, my little lamb, I am always thinking of you.”

Your frown grew, the sentimentality lingering.

“Please, look at me,” he requested, his fingers finding your chin, your cheek, urging you to meet his amber eyes, glowing in the evening firelight. 

Reluctantly, you did. His hand on your cheek took the time to wipe away any lingering tears, swiping beneath your eyes gently, slowly. He didn’t speak until he was done.

“They can fix it. Would you like that?”

A slow nod.

He smiled, smoothing a hand over your hair. “There. No more tears.”

A gentle kiss was pressed to your temple before his hands left you. He stepped away, to where his clothing was stored.

Your eyes fell to where the necklace sat, still broken, on his desk, among papers and tablets. Drawings. Maps. As if it were another duty he was now responsible for. 

Looking over the tray of jewelry, the other options just felt wrong, even in light of everything. Not quite the right color. Too long. Too tight to the neck. 

This is ridiculous.

A thin wooden box was held before your eyes, interrupting your stewing.

“Here. I was saving this for… well, it doesn’t matter. Now’s as good a time as any.” 

You accepted the box. He sat on the edge of the vanity watching you, eyes darting from the box as you attempted to prise it open, up to your face, waiting for your expression.

As the lid lifted, the item inside glittered even more brightly than the other necklace. Stones of deep red, polished to shine, attached to a golden chain. It was beautiful. 

“Geta, this is…”

“Do you like it?” he asked, hopeful. 

As if you could ever dislike such a thing.

“I love it. Is this really for me?”

He smiled, something more than just affection in his eyes. “Of course it is. Here, let me put it on you.”

He pulled the shiny, new necklace from the box and stepped around you, pulling it slowly up over your collarbones, his knuckles brushing the back of your neck as he dealt with the clasp. Once it was secured, he smoothed his fingers along the golden chain, drawing the slack down until it sat right where it was meant to.

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled, bringing your hands up to touch it, adjusting it slightly. 

His arms wrapped around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder. His eyes moved from the reflection of the necklace up to your face.

“Yes. Beautiful.”

[lizardho]

The Halloween Story

As with most of my life stories, I have to clarify beforehand: Yes, this is real, and it is real because (and ONLY because) I am stupid. This is not something that happens to normal people because they wouldn't ever get close enough to a situation like this for it to happen. That being said, without estrogen my brain's "keep this idiot alive" switch was not turned on and I was, I think, biologically incapable of making good decisions.

Another thing to know is that I did not have a lot of friends as a kid because I'm terminally awkward; additionally, most of the friends I did have were maybe better described as "people who tolerated me but who I would take a bullet for." This is important for later.

Anyways, I was like 9 or 10 when this happened, and my littlest brother was like...5 or 6? This was his first Halloween where he was allowed to Trick-or-Treat past the end of our block, and he HAD to be accompanied by me or another older kid so he had begged me for DAYS to take him. And while I held the title of oldest brother, I feel like I put my whole pussy into being a good oldest brother, so I of course took the family's babiest of babies for his first ever trick-or-treat adventure!

I went dressed as Dartanian because I've been gay for a while, and he went dressed as a skeleton because he's adorable. We went trick-or-treating only in areas I knew, so mostly within the boundaries of our l'il Mormon ward, and we had fun. About a half-mile away from home, he started saying he was getting tired, so I told him we were gonna turn back and watch "Scary" movies, which was actually just two old VHS Scooby Doo episodes my mom let us watch because she only let us watch episodes where the monsters were fake because if they were real we'd get nightmares. So we start walking back. It's not too far and we know the way so it's going great. Littlest bro's first trick-or-treat adventure went swimmingly, we've got pillow cases full of candy, and we're about to watch scooby doo and eat skittles until we pass out. Life, for us, literally could not have been better.

BUT

As I walk around the corner of my old street, the far end of it, by a bush, I hear my best friend whisper-shout at me from a bush:

"Lizard, Lizard, stop, hide, quick!"

In most cases, my thoughts can be summarized by a humble: "Bwuh?" and in this case I'm pretty sure I said something like that out loud. I look into the bush, and I see it is JAM-FUCKING-PACKED with kids my age. Like 6 of them hiding behind this tall oleander bush shaking like they just saw a ghost. I wave to them, because I don't know what's going on, and tell them that Littlest Brother is tired so I'm going home. That's when one of them angrily grabbed me and littlest brother and tugged us into the oleander with them.

I think they thought we were hidden, but this was one shrub currently occupied by like 7 kids and despite how small we all were that was still more shrub-per-kid than the shrub could hide so me and littlest brother didn't actually fit. And I was squirming trying to get away because it was poky and scratchy and smelled bad and also I didn't know why I was being pulled into a shrub to begin with.

The ruckus of my squirming was freaking my friends out, who were all telling me to shut up and hide, and I was telling them I wasn't playing hide-n-seek and Littlest Brother was REALLY getting tuckered out so PLEASE let go so I can go home, when around the corner came three Big Kids on bikes.

These kids seemed HUGE and SCARY to me at the time, although realistically they were like in 8th grade and also dork-ass losers. They were on bikes with handlebar breaks, though, and they were wearing costumes ironically under hoodies, so they seemed scary at the time. They see me thrashing in a bush and correctly deduced that the kids they had been hunting down were in the bush too. This is when I learned that my friends were all scared because they'd been being hunted for sport by older boys. Like, actually, for real, we were being bullied on Halloween by kids who called us "dweebs" and shit, I cannot explain how that was actually happening in the early 2000s, that was a worn-out trope in the 80s, but it for real, actually, swearsy-realsies, happened to me.

They're bigger than us and have at least started puberty so they're a lot stronger than us. They fished us all out of the bush pretty easily and made us all line up. This was all happening on a well-lit suburban street in a Mostly Mormon neighborhood so again, I don't know how it all got this far, but it did.

Once we were lined up, they start quipping about our costumes and harassing us a little bit. Again, this is like STRAIGHT out of a shitty campy overdone 80s sitcom so I get that this sounds fake, but we were literally getting pushed around and called dweebs and nerds by some fuckass 8th graders who were all smoking a cigarette one of them stole from their mom. Finally they were getting bored so they told us that their terms to releasing us were that we give them our candy.

My friends, who are smart and wanted to be alive, immediately started grabbing fistfuls of candy from their buckets or bags to hand them. But I am stupid, and was trying to be a good older brother, and didn't understand the concept of mortality because HRT had not yet flipped that switch in my brain, and I saw littlest brother getting scared. His lips were trembling like he was about to cry, he was clinging onto me for dear life, and one of these kids comes over and is being all mean and calling him a baby (which he basically was, so like what even is the point?) and I got mad. So I took my prop rapier from it's sheath and started jabbing his ribs and head until he rips it out of my hand.

"Jesus Christ, you little faggot. I'm keeping this, you're not getting your sword back."

"K, fine, just leave my brother alone."

"I leave him alone if you give me ALL your candy."

He says it with this shit-eating grin, like he's got the upper hand. But I'm mad and suicidal in the same way a horse is suicidal, which is to say I don't care if I die as long as this fucker dies too, so I tell him if he wants my candy he can have it, and I wallop him with the candy sack. Hard. I put all 70 lbs of 9-year-old rage into that whump, and to my credit it caught him off guard. He steps back and rubs his face and the biggest kid in the group steps into his place.

"You wanna fight?" He's trying to act tough but he's also trying to square up with an unquestionably faggy 9-year-old Dartanian so it's tough. It's also a stupid, stupid question to ask, since I literally DID want to fight and he was just posturing.

So I hit him too. Again, all the rage my 9-year-old body possessed channeled into a pillow case filled with Dum Dums and skittles slaps into his face. I move to smack him again, because he's looking at me all incredulous like he doesn't think I'm serious. He tries to grab the bag but I kick his shin and he has to step back for a second because he was on his bike with only one leg on the ground and I had just kicked it so he was trying to keep balance. I took advantage of the momentary distraction and whapped him in the belly. That, I think, was the final straw for him, because he (seriously, yes, for real) took out an actual knife.

It was a real folding knife, I could hear the little mechanical click as he flicked the blade out and the locking mechanism secured it in place. He looks at me with murderous intent for like a tenth of a second before one of my other friends asks,

"Dude, are you serious?"

And it clicks that he just threatened someone with a real weapon. He takes a step back and tells me, trying to sound brave but now far enough out of his own comfort zone that he's starting to wonder what happened in his life to bring him here (which is dangerous, confused people do confusing shit).

But I'm horse-style suicidal and I honestly didn't think it was real, so I swing at him again. Full-body swing right for the face, and he slashes at the candy pouch and it tears. And I'm like "Oh shit, that's a real knife!" and he's like, "Oh shit, this kid is gonna beat me until I stab her or run!'' And that's when my Knight-in-Emo-Armor arrived!

The kid was like the archetypal "Bad Boy" of my childhood. He wore black hoodies to church and said "damn" instead of "dang" and "shit" instead of "shoot." He listened to metal music and told his grandma (who adopted him after his mom lost custody for drug use stuff) to shut up sometimes. He smoked. He was a moody goth/emo/scene/whatever enigma of rage from his shitty family life. He was also known for being actually real-life dangerous. The kid in front of me was contemplating stabbing me, but my Knight had actually broken someone's jaw in a fight before.

The whole time we were getting held up, he was just walking down the street listening to an honest-to-God MP3 player, stoned as all hell, angry at the world, and watching this all unfold. And he recognized a bunch of kids from church he barely gave a shit about, but then he recognized *me* and although he didn't know *me* super well, he fucking LOVED my dad because my dad was super nice to him at church, and he knew I was my dad's kid. And he knows the kids talking to us are bad news because he's friends with some of their friends and he knows they're all wannabe tough guys. And he makes a decision.

This guy, my knight, was tall, mean, scary, and crabby, and EVERYONE knew that, not just the Mormons in my life. And in all black, with black hair and black nail polish, he had remained almost perfectly hidden as he walked in the middle of the road on the tar-black Arizona asphalt until he suddenly emerged from the shadows right behind the kid with the knife.

"Bruh, what the fuck are you doing?"

This kid whips around and sees my knight and just blanches. Like, all-the-way white-as-a-sheet scared.

"Oh, Knight, h-h-hey, I didn't see you. You know these kids? We're just teasing them!"

"Hilarious joke, cocksucker. That's a real knife. Fuck off."

They almost left a cartoon dust cloud in the shape of their bodies as they left. My friend and "friends" from church all followed suit - Knightboy was BAD news with a capital B-A-D and they were probably more scared of him than the original trio. But I knew Knightboy because he teased me a lot in his last year elementary school and sometimes came over to talk with my dad so I knew he wasn't a bad kid. He bends down and picks up the plastic sword the first kid dropped and gives it back to me.

"This is yours, I think."

I took it, sheathed it, and said, "Thanks! You shouldn't swear."

"Man, I'm too stoned for this shit, just get out of here."

"Ok, thanks Knight! See you at church tomorrow!"

And I toddle off with Littlest Brother. I take him to some of the best houses on our street for a second round of trick-or-treating so he can calm down, and we go home. My mom puts Scooby Doo on and asks me how everything went - I tell her it was fine, it was fun. She said that Littlest Brother said something scary happened, and I said "Oh, I think he got spooked by Knight is all." And she just shrugged and walked off. By the end of the night, I honestly forgot it even happened. I was more invested in trying to figure out how to grow up to be like Velma and lining my skittles up by color so I fully did not even remember.

BUT.

My mom is friends with all the other moms at church - she has to be because she has a master's degree in a church that teaches that employed women are failing God and their families so she ended up as a high-achieving woman working as a stay-at-home mom and if she didn't make friends at church she would fully go insane.

And at church the next day, my mom is approached by a tiny pack of mothers all saying "Wow, Lizard is so brave, aren't you so proud of her?"

And because she's a Good Mom who Loves Me So Much, she says, "Yeah, totally, why do you ask?"

And they say, "Because she tried to fight off some muggers last night! She hit them with her candy bag!"

And my mom says, "Haha, Yeah, she's fierc-wait what in the fresh hell did you say?"

And they all tell her the story, and my mom is PISSED that I didn't mention, but she also knows I am capital-D Dumb, so she pulls me out of Sunday school and asks me,

"Lizard, baby, did you scare off some muggers last night?"

And I said, "Oh yeah, kinda! Knight was the one that actually scared them though."

And she says, "Lizard, baby, why did you not tell me?"

And I said, "Oh, I forgot."

And she just nodded and tried unsuccessfully to push my little "Alfalfa sprout" strand of hair down, and gave up, and then pushed me back into class. And later that day she made like 3 lbs of chocolate chip cookies and drove them all over to Knight's house to thank him. And basically ever since then I was in Knight-in-shining-armor's good books (although he wasn't very good at showing it for a bit), and I had an undeserved reputation among the kids in my church as a badass for like a year, which I felt pretty good about.

Anyways, the Halloween Story is so weird that sometimes I question my own memory of it, but I am telling it now based on my memory as best as I can recall and after fact-checking it with my mom a few times.

[vvifeys]

Mel smut??🙏🏻 Dom Mel preferably

look at me.

modern!au mel. tw: smut. dom!mel. sub!fem reader. fingering. praise. if i missed something, let me know. men dni! a/n: HELLO and thank you for the request anon!! this is my first time writing full fledged smut, so i sincerely apologize if this doesn't meet your expectations ㅠㅠ

"ah ah, eyes on me, darling. i wanna see your pretty face."

mel cooed, her free hand coming up to gently pull your face out of the pillow you had it buried in. her other hand was... occupied, currently two fingers deep in your pussy while you let out quiet whimpers of pleasure.

"louder. c'mon, you sound so pretty for me, baby, don't hide." she says softly, hand still working inside you as she roughens her thrusts. that draws a moan from you, your eyes still on hers as you arch your back. she's purposefully avoiding your g-spot, you knew that– she did that often. mel liked hearing you beg, she wouldn't give you what you wanted until she heard your whiny voice asking for it.

mel found it cute how embarrassed and flustered you got. she liked whenever she saw your face flush right after you let out a particularly loud moan, or how red it got after she–

did that. stopped fucking you just so she could lick your wetness off her fingers. you couldn't help but turn your face, burying it in the pillow again. you hear mel giggle, then feel the familiar touch of her fingers grazing your cheek.

"what did i tell you, baby? look at me. don't make me stop."

"no! no, no, no, i'm sorry. please don't stop." you begged, head immediately turning, your eyes finding hers. you were getting teary, your hands grasping the sheets as you got more desperate. the feeling of being empty was hitting you, you needed her.

"mel, baby, please- need you so bad. wanna cum for you, need it-" you were just rambling now, cut off by a high pitched whine whenever mel roughly shoved two fingers back into you. she picked up a steady pace, leaning down to kiss over your neck. it wasn't long before she was sucking hickeys into your neck, your head thrown back as she traced down your body- marking you from your neck down to your stomach.

you gave up on muffling yourself by now, head thrown back as your back arched. any words you tried to say were incomprehensible, even more so whenever you felt mel's other hand come to rub circles on your clit. it didn't take long for her to have you gripping at her shoulders as you came.

your body shuddered with your orgasm, eyes squeezing shut as you went stiff. mel stayed in the position she was in, taking her hand off of your clit so she could hold herself up. her other hand was slowly pumping in and out, helping you ride out your orgasm. she didn't stop until you pushed her hand away, flopping down and staring at the ceiling.

"you okay, honey?" mel asked, her voice quiet as she kept her eyes on you.

"yeah... god, mel, i love you." you turn onto your side to stare back at her.

"i love you too, so much. let's get you in the bath though, yeah?"

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Movie Week [review]

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Yandere Scale: 8/10

Overall Rating: 7/10

Fear does exactly what it's supposed to. Not perfectly by any means, but well enough that I don't mind spending an hour and a half in its world.

A very fun world too - cute fashion, a great score, pleasing cinematography and a male lead who slowly becomes more despicable the longer the film goes on. Alyssa Milano, Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon look incredible the entire movie. And I guess their acting isn't bad either.

We start off with a man out on a jog. And we know it's going to be a thriller because a) shaky cam and b) very dramatic music just two minutes in. Great start. After that, we're introduced to Nicole (Reese Witherspoon), a high schooler with a slightly strained relationship with her dad and teenage angst lite.

She's cute. The girl next door with a daddy's girl bracelet and a kid brother who loves her. If she didn't have the bad luck of running into a bad man, I'd say things would have worked out just dandy.

But no such luck. Not for you kid.

Enter David.

He walks on screen to audible screams from the audience (me). He's hot. And the way he's introduced is hot. Shady bar, music in the background, leather jacket delinquents playing pool. From the get go, he screams bad boy. Rubbing (read: jerking off) his pool cue - at hip height - while looking at our female lead? C'mon, that's too easy.

I won't go into detail, but they obviously end up in a relationship. And it's hot stuff. At one point, he has his hand up her her skirt while they're on a rollercoaster. Yeah, we all see the symbolism. Coming (down) must be pretty fun on a ride like that, huh Nic?

It's not great the entire movie - their first conversation is stilted and awkward, filled with clichés. But the build up in tension is what does it for me.

There are plenty of little things that tip you off from the get go. David isn't as nice as he seems, not by a long shot.

It starts with a few tense looks between him and Nicole's dad. Just a father being a bit picky, right? Nope. He turns back the office clock so he can have a little more time with Nicole before curfew. He flirts with her best friend. He tells Nicole to, "Get me a coke." Bossy. Commanding.

I'll be honest, if I didn't know the synopsis of the film, I'd say dear old dad was being overly protective. Nope. Those red flags are about as red as they can get.

When things start going off the rails, the movie handles it pretty well. The scenes are decently tense, even though they're missing that little bit of careful handling that would make them terrifying.

As a yandere, David does everything you'd expect. He's manipulative. He's violent. He doesn't know where to draw the line in anything. Oh, and he's hot. Did I mention that already?

He's a Levi's and t-shirt kind of guy, with a great car, a nice voice, and biceps you want to sink your teeth into. When it comes to deranged stalkers, you can do a LOT worse.

The third act is a ball of a time. There's room for it to have been a bit more tense - it suffers from being a little too short, the twists not having enough time to breathe. The pace doesn't feel quick in the so much happening, I'm at the edge of my seat sort of way, but in the oh no, we only have the budget for thirty more minutes of run time sort of way.

Still, it's very enjoyable. David says and does plenty of very yandere things. I'm absolutely stealing some of his lines.

In terms of style, the movie is a knockout. I think it's a big part of what carries my recommendation. The cinematography is really pleasing, with lots of reds and dark greens. Very 'Seattle on a rainy day.' The sound track is totally 90's, with a nice mix of rock, pop and indie. It gives the movie a sense of place and time that exponentially improves the story.

How does it hold up as a piece of yandere media? It doesn't do anything radical or new, but the classics it sticks to are done well enough that it's worth the watch.

Oh, and David is very hot. I don't know if I mentioned that. 

Day 1 - Fear (1996)

Day 2 - Secret Obsession (2019)

Day 3 - Hush (2016)

Day 4 - The Perfect Guy (2015)

Day 5 - The Boy Next Door (2015)

Day 6 - The Invisible Man (2020)

Day 7 - Til Death Do Us Part (2017)

[noperopesaredope]

So I Had a Dream the 501st Got a Dog-

This is the greatest thing I have come up with and my best contribution to this fandom.

So the 501st have just finished a battle, and unfortunately, a village was pretty much destroyed in the crossfire. They are currently helping out survivors, and Fives and Echo are looking around for people when they stumble across a big ol' dog. It’s basically an Irish Wolfhound. Actually, it straight up is an Irish Wolfhound.

The two of them decide to take it along with them and ask people if they know who it belongs to. One family says that it's their elderly neighbor's dog, but he didn't survive the fighting. So now this dog is without an owner. Fives and Echo asks if there might be anyone who can or is willing to take the dog in, and they are reminded that everyone literally just lost their homes and they have other things to worry about right now. Fives and Echo look at each other, look at the dog, and immediately sprint over to Rex with the dog in arms.

Fives: Captain, can we please keep the do-

Rex: No.

Echo: But sir-

Rex: We are not keeping the dog.

Fives: But just look at it! 

Dog: *Is adorable*

Fives: Do you have no kindness in your heart? Why would you do something so cruel to a homeless little puppy? Are you really willing to have it fend for itself in the middle of a war torn area with nobody to take care of it? Are you willing to abandon such a sweet, innocent dog?

Rex:

Rex: We'll take it back to Coruscant and find it a new home.

Fives & Echo: Yeah!

Rex: But don't get attached to it. We are not keeping it. This whole thing is temporary.

(Spoilers: It was, in fact, not temporary)

So they bring the dog onto the ship and into the barracks where Fives and Echo begin introducing it to everyone. Rex, meanwhile, is busy doing captain stuff and honestly forgets about the dog. But after they leave and are in space, he gets a call from Anakin about some reports or something. Rex suddenly realizes he completely forgot to tell Anakin about the dog or even ask him if it was okay, and begins to panic. He rushes over to the barracks and says they need to hide the dog.

Shenanigans ensue, and Anakin stumbles upon them in the middle of an attempt to hide the dog in the most ridiculous way possible.

Anakin: Um, what is going on here?

Rex: Sir, I can explain-

Fives: This is the 501st's new pet dog!

Rex: I already told you, we are not keeping the dog. We are just taking it to Coruscant to find it a new home.

Fives: General, can we keep the dog?

Rex: No, we can't-

Anakin: Sure, we can keep the dog.

Rex: *Stares into Anakin's soul*

Anakin: What? I’m technically the general, so my word is final. And I say we should keep the dog!

Rex: We’re in the military fighting in a war! We spend most of our time either on the battlefield or on this ship! How are we possibly going to be able to take care of a dog?

Anakin: We’ll figure something out!

Rex still tries to convince the others that they cannot keep the dog, but then Ahsoka comes in and immediately loves the dog.

Ahsoka: *Aggressively petting the dog* Who is this?!

Fives: We found this dog last campaign.

Ahsoka: Are we going to keep it?

Fives: You should ask the captain.

Ahsoka: *Turns to Rex with the biggest tooka eyes in existence* Rex, can we keep it?

Rex:

Rex: We can keep the dog.

...........

There's quite a bit more (and most of the funniest stuff happens after this), and I might want to post some other stuff for this, but I'll add that stuff in separate posts. Also, feel free to send me asks about it or something.

I'm probably gonna call this the "501st Pet Dog AU" and will tag it as such. Stay tuned for more!

Edit: (Guys, I added a second and third part, and will likely be adding the 4th tomorrow. Here's the link to part 3, which has links to all previous parts)

Edit 2: Link to Part 4, the final story part (unless I add more stuff)

[storiesaplenty]

The Walking Dead Masterlist

Part 2

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: a bit of swearing

Requested by no one.

WC: 1234

©️ storiesaplenty 2025: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work. All readers are female, unless stated otherwise.

Daryl Dixon's POV:

I couldn't believe my eyes.

There she was, standing there, pointing a gun at me.

"Holy shit, Flower is that you?"

She gave me a soft smile, which seemed to make my heart flutter, just like it did all those years ago.

"Daryl Dixon, I should have known that you would still be alive."

She lowered her gun, and I lowered my bow, walking inside the small cabin and placing it against the door frame, always ready just in case.

"Wait, you know this woman Daryl?" Glenn asked me, making me nod my head yes.

"Yeah, we grew up together." I simply stated.

"I don't have much in the way of food, but please make yourselves comfortable. I have one bed."

She said as she looked at Lori. "I insist you take the bed." She made it clear with her tone of voice that no one else should be sleeping on it.

"Thank you. My name is Lori. This is my son Carl, that is Rick." Each person started to introduce themselves to her, as I closed the door behind me, making sure it was locked.

I made sure the cloth that she had covering the peep hole was covered.

Rick walked up to me, as she showed them where everyone could sleep.

"Is this someone we can trust, Daryl?"

"I have always trusted her. I'm not going to stop now." I pretty much grunted at him.

"If you trust her, then I will too. Let's figure out who is going to be on the first watch."

"If we keep our noise down, and keep the lights low, then any biter usually just goes on by. Just make sure to keep each window covered like I have them now, and we should be good until morning. Besides, you're not going to be able to see much out there anyways, not with the storm coming in." At that moment a big strike of thunder happened.

"Everyone just stay near the center of the room as much as possible. Try to stay away from the windows." Rick called out as we got settled in for the night.

◇

I watched as her and Carol talked softly to one another, the two of them laughing amongst themselves.

I didn't realise I was watching them, until Carol nudged her.

"What you lookin' at Dixon?" Flower said to me, bringing flashes of us when we were younger, and her catching me looking at her.

"Nothin," I mumbled, making her shake her head in amusement, and stand up, leaving Carol to look at me, as Flower sat down next to me, shoulder to shoulder.

"How have you been treating yourself?" She asked me.

"Alright." Was all she got.

"Some things never change." Was all she said to me.

There was a bit of silence between us, not awkward, just content.

"You know, when I heard what happened at the hospitals, I thought you were killed."

I told her, finally breaking the silence. She turned her body to face me.

"Wasn't even there that day. Was my day off. When I heard what happened, I packed what I could and left, believing that the military was going to do something to the city, and I was right about that."

She told me how she met up with other people, and how she ended up here, alone.

"You know, you can always join us." I mumbled, already knowing that Rick would be fine with it, as she was a trained nurse.

"Daryl, I am actually enjoying being alone, but let me think about it."

I wanted to try and convince her to come with us. That she would be safe with us. We have the numbers.

That I finally found her, and that I couldn't let her go, but I didn't say that.

I didn't say any of that.

"Whatever man." I said.

"Now Daryl, no need to act like that. Tell me how you really feel." She could always read me. It was like she still knew me after all these years.

"You know you will be safer with us. We have more people, and what if it isn't just walkers that come through here?"

"Walkers huh? I like that. Daryl, I have thought about that, trust me I have, but your group is lucky to have even found this place, just like I was. This is so far out of the way, that no one knows it is here."

"If we were able to find it, then so will others, whose intentions may not be as good as ours." I crossed my arms over my chest, getting frustrated with her and her stubbornness.

"You talk it over with the person in charge of your group, and I will come with you, happy now?" She placed her hand on my bicep, and I swear she squeezed it, but just softly though.

"Yes." I gave her a soft smile, as she laid her head on my shoulder. The two of us dozing off to sleep.

◇

I woke up due to a loud clap of thunder, and found Rick at the front door, who pulled up a rocking chair he found.

"Glenn and T-Dog are watching the back." He quietly informed me.

"Rick, I was thinking," He knew what I was going to say.

"You want her to come with us?" He questioned, never taking his eyes off the front door.

"She was a trained nurse. She knows how to defend herself, and others. She knows how to hunt and track, and knows which plants are poisonous or not. Hell man, she did archery back in high school."

"Sounds like the female version of you." I snorted when he said that, actually making him break his eye contact from the door.

"She grew up rich, and not at all like me." I muttered.

"And yet, we are here, trying to survive. Doesn't matter who we truly were back then. The world has changed Daryl."

I agreed with him, but didn't say so.

I took over the watch a few minutes later, letting Rick get some sleep.

◇

The storm had passed by the time everyone was waking up.

I was handed a bowl of oatmeal, and I quickly devoured it.

"Like I said, not much, but." Flower started to say.

"It is more than enough, thank you." Lori said.

"Thank you." The other said.

"Daryl came to me last night, when I was on watch, asking if you could join us. If you would like too, then it is okay with me. He told me how you can hunt, track. Which plants are poisonous or not. Did archery, and you were a nurse."

I saw that Hershel perked up at that last bit.

"We can always use another medical professional. Even more so with the little one due any day." Hershel said.

"I'll join you. Just stay another day until the ground dries a bit. It is all mud out there, and we will not get away from any walker if they catch up to us."

The group agreed, and they settled in for another day of having shelter.

Flower walked up to me, "Looks like you are stuck with me Daryl."

I wanted to tell her I wouldn't have it any other way, but I just bumped her shoulder with mine.

"I never got to ask. Where is your brother?"

Part 1 ♡ Part 3 - coming soon