#Pregnancy is a dangerous business

[millieindeed]

Further research makes this funnier! Regular healing doesn't cure exhaustion and neither does Lesser Restoration. A Long Rest, with food etc, will reduce your level by 1, but of course you can't actually survive long enough to have even an Elf's long rest.

There are only two ways to survive labour:

Potion of Vitality: This is a very rare magic item, but it removes all levels of exhaustion, so if you have one every 2 hours, for however long your labour lasts, you should be able to survive. (base game suggest around 2500 or more gold per potion).

Greater Restoration: Don't worry, you can always manage health with a cleric (or druid or bard), right? Well yeah. Greater Restoration, which is a 5th level spell aka a 9th level caster or greater, does heal exhaustion. It heals 1 level of exhaustion per cast.

So you would need to cast Greater Restoration 2 times an hour. At a casting cost of 100gp Diamond Dust each time, to keep your pregnant character alive.

wasnt there a published third party book for dnd sex. hold on

[selfishpresley]

Listening to Lana Del Rey’s Honeymoon album and licking these photos…

This is Ultraviolence coded.

I neeeeed to be his young girlfriend with daddy issues!!

[butchviking]

one thing i truly do not know where i stand on is the ability 2 change legally documented gender. someone throw some opinions at me so i can figure out wtf i think abt that

[deadpresidents]

"What emerged in two interviews with Trump, and conversations with more than a dozen of his closest advisers and confidants, were the outlines of an imperial presidency that would reshape America and its role in the world. To carry out a deportation operation designed to remove more than 11 millions people from the country, Trump told me, he would be willing to build migrant detention camps and deploy the U.S. military, both at the border and inland. He would let red states monitor women's pregnancies and prosecute those who violate abortion bans. He would, at his personal discretion, withhold funds appropriated by Congress, according to top advisers. He would be willing to fire a U.S. Attorney who doesn't carry out his order to prosecute someone, breaking with a tradition of independent law enforcement that dates from America's founding. He is weighing pardons for every one of his supporters accused of attacking the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, more than 800 of whom have pleaded guilty or been convicted by a jury. He might not come to the aid of an attacked ally in Europe or Asia if he felt that country wasn't paying enough for its own defense. He would gut the U.S. civil service, deploy the National Guard to American cities as he sees fit, close the White House pandemic-preparedness office, and staff his Administration with acolytes who back his false assertion that the 2020 election was stolen."

-- "How Far Would He Go", TIME Magazine's interviews with Donald Trump, April 30, 2024.

I know we're saturated in coverage of Trump and it's easy (and probably better for our mental health) to usually ignore most of the articles when we see them, especially since he's so full of shit and infuriating. But it's also important to recognize that he is going to be the Republican nominee for President and he could absolutely be elected in November, and if you thought his first term was scary and dangerous, you need to understand that in a second term he's going to have people around him that are better prepared and VERY willing to do the crazy shit that he wants to do to this country. They aren't even hiding the fact that they are seeking vengeance against political opponents whom they feel have wronged them, and are ready to fundamentally dismantle the democratic foundations that are barely holding this country together after nearly 250 years.

Just look at what Trump says about the people who he incited to attack the United States Capitol in an attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 election and halt the peaceful transfer of power that has happened every four years since 1789:

"Trump has sought to recast an insurrectionist riot as an act of patriotism. 'I call them the J-6 patriots,' he say. When I ask whether he would consider pardoning every one of them, he says, 'Yes, absolutely.' As Trump faces dozens of felony charges, including for election interference, conspiracy to defraud the United States, willful retention of national-security secrets, and falsifying business records to conceal hush-money payments, he has tried to turn legal peril into a badge of honor."

Oh, and please note that Trump -- a former President of the United States and possible future President of the United States -- said on the record in these interviews with TIME: "There is a definite antiwhite feeling in the country and that can't be allowed either." We are at a point where political leaders are outright saying that in this country again, and it's because of Donald Trump.

So, take the time to recognize that Trump is straight-up telling us the country we're going to be living in if he wins again in November. And understand that your vote matters -- and WHO you vote for matters -- because, as I've been saying for years now, ELECTIONS HAVE FUCKING CONSEQUENCES.

[bluebellhairpin]

Cregan Stark X Wife!Reader

Summary: Preparation to leave to Castle Black for the winter months is well under way, and you're reluctant to be left alone in Winterfell. Cregan, having had the same worry, provides what could be a solution. A solution with a name. And fur. (wc. 2.3k>)

Warnings: Reader has she/her pronouns + fem bodied. Pregnancy. Assassination attempt. Unnamed character death. Blood + gore. Cregan wants to be a girl dad. Unedited (lol).

Listening to: 'Wolf at Your Door' by Chole x Halle - "When you're laying in your bed at night, when the air's just a little too quiet, better hope that you're saying your prayers."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi || AO3 link

Winterfell was a somber place when the cold rolled down from the north. 

Although only ten men were sent to the wall every winter, everyone left behind knew someone who was sent away. No matter how short of a life you lived, you also always knew someone who died there. Indeed, life on the wall was as harsh as the force it existence kept at bay. 

For you though, the man you lost always returned. The last three winters had you spend upwards of three months without your husband - and in turn rising to take his place as custodian of Winterfell. No matter how busy the role kept you, it never helped you miss Cregan Stark any less. 

With winter approaching once more, each moment with him seemed to not be enough. Yes, the Wall was dangerous, and even Cregan was never guaranteed to return, but this year there was something else that willed you to want him to stay. Something else that made him want to stay too. 

“Each day my resolve seems to crack,” he told you one night, fire cracked in its hearth as you both lay under blankets of fur. His hand rested protectively over your belly. “Already now I can see our babe grow, and I know I’ll not only be missing you but her too.”

“‘Her’?” you hummed, head turning to nose his cheek. “Such a confident tone, my lord.” 

“I am confident.” he replied, turning to press a soft kiss to your lips as his hand idlily rubbed along your stomach. 

“And if you needed an heir at the end of this cold winter, what then?” 

“If my lady wife deems me worthy, we might try for one again.” he said, sedating what could’ve been the start of your mood change with words almost too sweet to be coming from the frosty king in the north. “But that is something we can decide once all three of us are safe together when summer rises.” 

Cregan’s soft words and warm breath on your cheeks made your mind wandered to a time not so far away where you wouldn’t have his heat so close. A time when his comfort was going to be gone. 

“I’m going to miss you.” you said, turning into his hold more, and he let you snuggle into his chest. “This time will feel longer than all the others.”

“I doubt that will be the case for you.” he said, lips moving from their place pressed into your hair. “Winterfell will keep you busy, between that and resting for the babe’s sake, you won’t have time on your hands for much else.” 

“I may not want to rest.”

“You will. The Lord of Winterfell commands it.” 

“The Lord of Winterfell won’t be here, he cannot have a for sure say in what I do or do not do.” You felt him smile into your hair, and you pulled away with a twitch of your own mouth. “What?”

He pulled away a little too, shyly smiling down at where you still laid. He was acting far too coy to be considered normal. 

“I might not be leaving you completely alone.” 

“... Cregan.” you started, sitting up on our elbow. 

“I was going to show you on the morrow, but since you’ve forced my hand -”

“-I? Forcing your hand?”

“- Since you forced my hand,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he slipped out from the bedcovers, “I will be right back.”

“What…” You tried, but your voice tempered out as he swiftly made his way from your bedchambers. 

Sighing, you sat back in your pillows, arms folded, and refraining from pouting. It wasn’t long into your settled position of guessing what in the seven kingdoms your husband was doing before he was back. 

Cregan had clearly gone outside, snow settled on the top of his hair and along the shoulders of the fur cloak he snatched before leaving. In his arms was something squirming. You frowned, eyeing the movement under the cloak as he strode over. 

“What is that?” you asked. 

“A protector for the Lady of Winterfell, as per the orders of her lord husband.” Cregan said, and let the squirming mass break free from his hold onto the bed. 

It was a… pup? No not possible, it was too big. From how it acted it was a few months surely, but it was just so big. Then you thought some more. Could it really be? 

“A direwolf?” 

“Not any direwolf. Yours.” Cregan said, rounding the bed and settling back at your side. “A protector to be at your side when I cannot. I’ve been training him and he follows commands well already. By the time I leave he should be grown to the size of any regular dog - then at least twice that when I return.” 

While he spoke, the pup sniffed around your bed covers, curiously wandering on unsteady feet. You had to admit, he looked gorgeous, all black fur, with green eyes, and you didn’t doubt he would grow to be a fierce thing. But sometimes that wasn’t always good. 

“Cregan, are you sure about this?” you asked. “It’s… he’s a direwolf, not a dog.” 

“I’m sure,” he said, lending his arm out. The pup stepped closer, licking Cregan’s fingers and settling on its belly with its nose on Cregan’s knee. “They’re our house symbol. The direwolf are as Stark as I am, they know who we are, and they can be as loyal as they are fierce. That’s why I wanted to introduce you before I left. He’s going to be yours, loyal to you.” 

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, and like second nature you made yourself comfortable by his side. The pup shifted too, now his nose was itching closer to you, wanting to know who this new person was. 

“I supposed you ought to tell me what I'm going to be calling him then.”

“You can call him anything you like,” Cregan said, “But I’ve been calling him Striker.”

Five months passed, and Cregan was right. You were never without anything to do. 

The babe growing inside you made mornings rough, and you often weren’t seen before noon, especially in the earlier months. The rest of your day was spent catching up on what you’d missed while resting, and then catching up on what you missed while catching up. Then the evenings were spent with Striker. 

He had grown on you, just as he had grown physically. Cregan was still able to lift the wolf when he left, but now you doubted it. He was already well on his way to rivalling a regular wolf in size. Despite how intimidating that might’ve been, you couldn’t be more fond of Striker even if you tried. 

Your belly swelled, and with it so did the direwolf’s protectiveness. Your handmaids were tolerated, your guards struggled to be in the same room, and when the maesters dared tough you Striker had to be sent out of the room. Walks around Winterfell were soon out of the question, at least if you were to bring the direwolf along, since he took to growling at everyone who stood too close. 

Cregan really picked well, Striker surely was serving his purpose, and soon he earned his namesake. 

Word came from Castle Black that Cregan was going to return, that the Winter had been fended off once more. That brought joy foremost to you, but really all in Winterfell knew what that meant, even if Westeros didn’t. It was cause for celebration when they returned. 

It also gave a false sense of security. Winter was gone, and so was the evil - but evil didn’t just come from the north. It could come from anywhere. 

You’d settled into bed for the night, Striker laid beside you, head facing towards the door, and your hand rested on his flank as you looked over one last paper. He growled, and you petted his fur, silently reassuring him that it was just a guard passing outside - but then his head lifted, and turned toward your window. His sudden, still alertness put you on edge. 

He’d been hostile before, but this was aggressive. 

Candle flames flickered, Striker’s fur stood on end beneath your palm, the latch on your window clicked open, creaked open, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. A cloaked figure slipped into your room, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry for help - nor to remember anything Cregan had taught you. But you didn’t have to.

The figure, a man, unsheathed a knife, and with the glint of steel in the candlelight Striker struck. He surged off the bed with a vicious bark and bit into the man’s arm, snarling all the while and all but went to tearing the man to shreds. 

The commotion had people coming in through the door, and the sight had you still rendered motionless and speechless. 

The man’s cloak was torn away, and by now he was pinned to the floor, blood pooling on the stone as he fruitlessly tried to get Striker off him. You barely registered your guard, Gunther, asking you what was happening.

“He came in the window. He had a knife.” was all you could say. You could guess he was saying things to calm you down as he pried your fingers off your bedsheets that covered your swollen belly - he was probably trying to get you out of the room so you didn’t see the mess. It was too late for that. The man was a whimpering, bloodied mess on the floor by now, and no one had yet been brave enough to pry Striker’s jaw off his shoulder. 

Gunther had an arm around you with your hand in his, guiding you away. Others attempted to move closer, either to help the man or take him away - but Striker was still growling. 

“Striker, here.” you called, just finding your voice enough for it to carry over the commotion. The direwolf looked up, and seeing you being led away, he relented, fitting into your side with ease. 

The three of you walked away. Now you were away from the scene you could think again and guess you were going down the hall to another room, one you decided you’d stay in until Cregan returned. 

You looked down at Striker, threading your fingers though the fur at his neck. 

“Good boy.” you said, stroking between his ears. 

“He sure is, my lady.” Gunther said, “Who knows what could’ve happened if he didn’t act so fast.” 

You smiled a little at that, at how right Cregan was in leaving the direwolf for you. He was meant to be company, a protector second - but tonight he proved to be as good, as loyal as any of your guards. He proved to be the real sigil of House Stark - just as Cregan told you he was. 

You reached the door of your new room, and as your hand lifted off Striker’s back you noticed it chill with the cold night air. Turning your palm over, you saw red - and Striker’s nose made home in your fingers, licking away every drop as if it wasn’t ever there to begin with.

A week later, Cregan returned. 

You had been in a foul mood for the past three days, since the maester had put you on strict bed rest because of the babe. Therefore you had been deemed unfit to greet your husband at the gate as he finally came home. In your defense, it definitely seemed like a good reason to be sour. 

So you waited, sat on a chaise, with Striker’s head in your lap pressed to your stomach. 

You could hear a commotion outsider, which only made your face scrunch in annoyance - not just at missing out but also at the pity looked you knew your handmaiden would be giving you. She offered to go fetch Cregan, and you nodded her leave with a wave of your hand. 

“He will be here soon.” you said, cradling Striker’s muzzle in your palms. 

“Indeed he will.” Cregan said. 

“Oh, Lord Stark!” your handmaid said, startled. Your head turned, and you saw him standing in the doorway. 

“Cregan!” you said, grin covering your face - and even after such a long time away, Striker seemed to recognize him, for he didn’t growl, and his tail started thumping against the rug. 

“My love,” he said, shedding his great sword carelessly, and sunk to the floor beside where you sat. You heard your handmaid mumble a goodbye before stepping out and closing the door behind you. “Are you alright?” 

“I couldn’t be better now.” you replied, feeling tears welling in your eyes as you took in your husband's face for the first time in months. He looked tired, older, but as you took his face in your hands his cheeks felt exactly the same as they were when he left. “I missed you so much.” 

“I heard about what happened the other night. I -” he said, mouth hanging open in what could’ve been shock, in his eyes there could’ve been anger. Vengeance would do nothing now, the man was dead, he bled out before anyone could decide to give him mercy - undeserved or otherwise. But as Cregan leant forward to hold you into his arms, his warmth felt like nothing else except fear. “I can’t believe I could’ve lost you.” 

“You didn’t.” you said, taking an arm away from being wrapped around his shoulders to pull his face away from your chest. “You provided the means for me to stay safe long before you left. Striker was better than any guard. He was fearless when I was frozen. I owe him my life, all because of you.” 

Cregan’s face turned soft, and he smiled at you. He leant forward and kissed you. For the first time in too long, his lips move against yours. You felt his jaw move beneath your palm as his fingers grazed your neck and held onto your hip. When he pulled away, he kept your head cradled close to his. 

“I love you.” he said. 

“I love you too.” you replied, and he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips, then your cheek. 

“Now tell me all about how my little girl is growing.”

[monzabee]

prison for life - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you. 

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.  

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.  

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.  

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.  

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?  

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems). 

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.  

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”  

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” 

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?” 

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”   

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?” 

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.” 

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”  

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”  

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.” 

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you. 

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.” 

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.” 

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”  

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.  

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. 

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.” 

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.  

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”  

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”  

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.” 

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–” 

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.” 

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.” 

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. 

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.  

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father. 

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.” 

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.” 

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”  

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?” 

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews. 

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?” 

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?” 

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.” 

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.” 

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.” 

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course. 

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead. 

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you. 

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture. 

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.” 

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.  

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead. 

“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.” 

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. 

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.” 

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”  

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.” 

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that. 

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.” 

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?” 

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.” 

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”  

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.” 

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.  

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?” 

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.” 

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.” 

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.” 

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.” 

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.” 

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?” 

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?” 

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!” 

[gremlingottoosilly]

Pregnant!Reader X Mafia!Konig??

Bring a baby to the boss wasn't something you wanted. God, you didn't even want to meet Konig in the first place - but a fleeing one-night stand, a simple contact because both of you were quite drunk and incapable of thinking, ended up with you sitting in his mansion, clutching to the pregnancy test in your hands. Now, Konig was ready to just give you money for an abortion and call it a day - he had done it before since babies aren't really his forte...then he starts to think. You hate him, you don't want to be with him, your only desire is to run away from him - but a baby will keep you clinging to him like a live leash. Pregnant girlfriend if a liability for a man of his status and reputation, so he keeps you locked up. Always make sure to wash away all the stray blood and gore from his body and clothes before entering your bedroom - a pregnant woman's nose is very sensitive, so he doesn't want to make you needlessly uncomfortable. He doesn't know how to take care of a lady like you, but he has servants for this - and he is willing to learn if that means that his adorable little lover can't do anything. It might be the only time when Mafia Konig isn't parading you around on his business meeting and doesn't make you watch the executions of his enemies. Call yourself lucky because this dangerous man is only soft with you. Presses a fleeting kiss to your baby bump and promises to come home soon as he goes to transfer drugs or do whatever else he does - poor thing, you're always so worried about him( even if only because you don't want the father of your child to die and leave you alone... He would only be even more gentle if you don't know about his job. Never allowing himself to be open about his work, he does his best to protect your adorable pregnant self from the truth - and if some enemy family decided to kidnap you for the purpose of threatening him, you might be sure that the illusion of a nice and kind husband is going to shatter, forever...at least he is still soft as he cradles your trembling body in his arms.

[justagalwhowrites]

Can't Stay Away - A QZ!Joel Miller Fic

Years after you turned to Joel for help getting out of a bad relationship, he can't seem to stop coming back to you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Angst (duh), Joel is a bit of an asshole (that's the point and it makes him even hotter, I fear), mention of past domestic violence (not described), injury from past domestic violence, threat of continued domestic violence. unprotected P in V sex, breeding kink, fantasizing about pregnancy (doesn't actually happen.) Minors DNI 18+ only, no use of Y/N.

Length: 4.1k

A/N: Shared for the Joel Miller Birthday Celebration found on Tumblr here. This is QZ!Joel with Secret Relationship and Breeding Kink. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist | AO3

“Where the fuck else is there to go?” Tommy asked, shucking his mud-covered boots and leaving them in a pile by the door. 

“Just got business to take care of,” Joel said, voice rough. 

“It’s pourin’ rain, man,” his brother said, dropping his drenched pack to the table as if to make a point. “We didn’t even know we were makin’ it back tonight until fuckin’ tonight. Just stay home.” 

“Wanna get this done,” Joel said, taking his portion of their haul from his pack and piling it on the table. He left just one thing inside the pack. “Probably won’t be back ’til morning.” 

Tommy just pursed his lips, shaking his head a little. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid, Joel.” 

Joel didn’t say anything back. What did he have to say? 

Tommy had every reason to worry about him being stupid. Every reason to believe that Joel was going to do something that would hurt their smuggling operation. Every reason to believe that Joel was going to do something that would hurt himself. 

Which, he supposed, wasn’t particularly far off. 

You were, indeed, something stupid and something that would hurt him. 

You were his biggest indulgence and his biggest risk, the thing that was the largest threat to him here in the Boston QZ. 

Ex-wife of a FEDRA guard, Joel should avoid you. 

His work was dangerous enough as it was, he shouldn’t make it more dangerous by messing around that close to the people who could execute him if they really wanted, especially not with someone they seemed to take pleasure in tormenting.

But he couldn’t seem to stay away from you. 

He couldn’t put his finger on what it was. It wasn’t that he loved you. Not that he’d ever really loved a woman - he’d tried with Sarah’s mom and was sure he’d come up short - but he knew he didn’t have it in him to love anything now. The aching wound of loss took up too much of him, there wasn’t space for anything else.

But he did care. Whether that was because he was attached to you as a person or because you made him come so hard he forgot the world ended for a moment, he didn’t know. 

He supposed the why didn’t matter. He cared. He cared enough that he couldn’t lose you without it adding to that wound, one that had damn near killed him and had seemed to have only grown worse with time. 

That should be enough of a reason to stay away from you. Hadn’t he learned his lesson by now? That giving a shit only led to pain? That if he was going to keep surviving any of this, he had to be far, far away from something like you? 

Still, he made his way through the QZ, the pouring, cold rain fitting the grim environs. Everything here was slightly wrong. It looked something like a city from before but not. It appeared as though things could be normal, somewhere, except they weren’t. It seemed as though Joel had been tailor made for this place, this time. Living some kind of half life where everything was shades of gray, nothing left to live for but - apparently - not able to die. The last gasp of humanity left in him clinging to this world. 

That made you a shade of gray, too, one he wasn’t sure what to do with. 

It had started years earlier, when you were desperate and willing to trade sex for a gun. 

Joel hadn’t taken you up on the offer then, frowning as you watched him with wide, desperate eyes. 

“The hell do you need a gun for?” He’d asked. “If you don’t already got one, hard pressed to see someone like you startin’ in on a business that needed one.” 

“Does it matter?” You asked. “I’ll give you what ever you want, please.” 

“Matters to me,” Joel said. “Not about to arm someone looking to move in on my business.” 

“It’s not for that.” 

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem tellin’ me what it is for,” he replied. 

You looked around, cagey, before lowering your voice further. As though talking about an illegal weapons trade wasn’t enough of a reason to keep quiet. 

“I’m leaving my husband,” you said, those wide, soft eyes watching him so closely. “He’s FEDRA and he’s made it clear that he won’t let me go without a fight. I need to be able to protect myself, please, I can give you ration cards as I earn them, I can… I’ll do anything else you might want, I…” 

“Stop,” Joel cut you off, tears starting at the edges of your eyes. He took his hand gun from its place tucked in the small of his back and passed it to you as discreetly as he could. “There, now you got somethin’. Meet me here tomorrow, same time, I’ll get you more ammo. Know how to use it?” 

“Don’t I just point it and pull the trigger?” You asked, brows raised. 

He just sighed. 

“Think you can keep from usin’ it until tomorrow?” He asked. You nodded quickly. “Good. I’ll show you.” 

“Thank you,” you said, stashing the weapon quickly. “What… what do I owe you?” 

The fear in your voice made his stomach turn.

“Nothin’,” Joel said. “Fine on ration cards at the moment. Don’t trade in the other shit. Tomorrow. Don’t be late.” 

 You just nodded quickly, thanking him with too much earnest hope in your voice for something being spoken to him.

Joel spent the afternoon the next day teaching you how to shoot as best he could inside the QZ. Turns out, the reason you didn’t already know how is that you’d been in Boston during the outbreak. You’d just moved there with your shitbag of a husband a few weeks before it all came crashing down. You’d never really needed to fight, let alone shoot or kill. You never needed a gun. 

Until your husband started hitting you. 

Joel learned quickly exactly why you felt like you needed to be armed. He’d put a hand on your ribs to adjust your stance and you hissed in pain. Joel pulled away quickly, frowning as you tried to hide your pained expression but it didn’t work. 

“You gonna tell me what that was?” He asked, brows raised. You clenched your jaw and stared at the ground. 

“It’s not your business.”

“I’m helpin’ you, your husband is a fucking FEDRA officer, if you’re about to haul off and kill him I should know why,” he said, voice heated. “So tell me, he do that?” 

Your eyes finally met his and he didn’t need to ask again. 

“Lemme see.” 

“Joel…” 

“Show me,” he said, voice sharp. 

You sighed and lifted your sweatshirt, revealing discolored and swollen skin along one side. 

Joel clenched his jaw. 

“It’s gotten worse,” you said quietly. “I can’t keep pretending it’ll be OK if we just get through this, I can’t pretend like he hasn’t been building toward this for years. I need to get out before he kills me.” 

Joel stepped back and you lowered your shirt, your eyes on his. 

“He bigger than you?” He asked. You nodded. “Alright, gonna teach you a few more things, too…” 

He showed you how to protect yourself without a gun and how to end a conflict with one. He hoped you wouldn’t need to use either. After a few days of showing you how to do the things he’d assumed just came with the territory of surviving the end of the world, you went your separate ways. 

But Joel still thought of you, an odd twinge in his chest when he did, something like concern. He wanted you to be OK. He couldn’t put his finger on why that would matter to him but he wanted that, he wanted you to be safe and happy. 

So when he ran into you on the street a few months later, he couldn’t help but ask. And you smiled at him, brighter than he’d ever seen you look, when you told him that you had your own place now, that the gun he’d given you had never been fired. It was hard, but you’d survived. 

The two of you went to the speakeasy and you bought Joel a drink, saying you owed him for helping you get out of your situation. He let you buy the first round. He bought the second. Before too long, he was in your apartment, pulling off your clothes and touching your body without you flinching away from him. 

You became like a drug to him then. Every few nights he found himself outside your door, desperate for the reprieve you and your sex gave him. Some sense of normalcy, the ability to feel something beyond the crushing weight of loss, that brief moment when he was buried inside you and reaching his peak that the rest of the world fell away and he existed on a plane where nothing bad had ever happened to him and he’d never done anything to deserve it. 

He tried to pretend like that release is all it was. But then there were moments where he couldn’t deny that it was more. The time where he passed you on the street and your eyes met his and he wanted to go talk to you, to see why your eyes seemed dark and sad, but there was a FEDRA guard watching you from the corner and he couldn’t risk it, not for either of you. The time he showed up at your door and heard yelling and he pretended to be a neighbor to intervene. All the times he held you as you fell asleep nestled against his skin, soft and beautiful and trusting, all things that should have been driven out of you in the QZ. All things you should never have been with him in the first place. 

He swallowed those moments, tried to not let the fear and panic they sparked inside of him take over. The last time he loved someone, they died. The last time he loved someone, it almost killed him. He couldn’t love you. He couldn’t risk it. 

But here he was, at your door again, anyway.

He tried to stop himself from knocking but all it did was make his hand stutter before he did what he always did: wait for you to let him in. 

“Joel?” You opened the door in an oversized t-shirt and boxers, looking groggy. “You’re back.” 

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him inside, pressing your body against his, burying your face in the hollow of his throat and he let himself breathe you in, remind himself that you were safe. 

“I was so worried about you,” your voice was muffled in the wet fabric of his shirt. “I heard some things from people at the gate and…” 

“The gate?” He frowned, pulling back from you. “The hell were you doin’ down there?” 

You looked at him, your lower lip going between your teeth, fingers twisting on themselves. 

“What. Were you doin’. At the gate.” 

“I heard something at work,” you said quietly. “About a patrol getting overrun by infected and… I wanted to see if there were signs of other people getting hurt, I’m sorry, I couldn’t just sit here and wait for you and not know…” 

“You can’t do shit like that,” he said roughly. “It ain’t safe, your fuckin’ husband is always looking for a reason to make your life hell, he would have me and Tommy killed if he knew about us, you can’t just…” 

“I know.” 

“Then why’d you do it?” He smacked his hand against the tabletop, making you flinch, hating himself for scaring you even for a moment. “I know you fuckin’ know better!” 

“Because I care about you!” You yelled, your voice thick. “Is that such a crime?” 

Joel crumpled at that, shoulders slouching. 

“That’s…” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That ain’t what this is, honey, you know that.” 

“I know,” you said again, voice soft. “I’m not expecting anything from you, Joel, I know better than that. I just… I’m not just going to pretend that you’re nothing to me. Life is too short for that.” 

His heart thudded against his ribs, so hard it felt like a bruise. 

“I can’t…” 

“I know,” you whispered, reaching up and cupping his cheek. “It’s OK. I know.” 

He should have turned to leave then, he was smart enough to know that. But your hand was soft on his skin, your body was warm next to his, your eyes were welcoming and understanding in a way that nothing else had been since he’d lost the only thing that mattered. 

So he kissed you.

It wasn’t something that was soft and romantic, nothing like what you deserved, nothing like how he would have kissed you if he’d known you before. Instead it was fierce, devouring, harsh enough that he knew his stubble must be scratching your skin and he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting more of you. 

You tugged him back toward your bedroom, Joel stepping out of his boots as he went. He dropped his pack on the floor and tugged your shirt up and over your head, casting it aside. He ran his hands over your bared skin, your flesh pebbled where the cold, wet of his shirt touched you. He pulled that off, too, before he could do anything that hurt you, even for a moment. Christ knew you had enough of that behind you, the look on your face when he’d lost control just a minute before already a scar in his mind, adding to the scars on your skin from your marriage he wished he could go back and stop. 

You undressed each other quickly, desperately, and he all but threw you on the bed once you were naked. He followed you there, shedding the last of his clothes before crawling up your body, his finger tracing your slit to spread you open just enough that he could get his thick, hard cock inside. 

He should be more careful with you, he knew that. But he didn’t have the patience and you’d never, even once, asked him to slow down or be gentle. So he pushed himself inside with one sharp, hard stroke, making you gasp and arch beneath him as he groaned at the feeling of your tight cunt. You whimpered as he stilled deep inside, adjusting to how you held him, fighting to keep from coming too quick because you felt too goddamn good but he couldn’t waste it, not this fast. 

“You’re OK,” he panted, his mouth against your shoulder. “You can take it, baby, know you can, take it so well.” 

He felt you nod against him, your hands trembling as they went to his back, holding him close. 

“Just take it,” he said as he started to fuck into you, caving to his baser instincts and letting himself have you the way you seemed so willing to give yourself to him. “Just take it, honey, just let me… let me…” 

Your hips rolled to meet his, your nails digging into his skin. 

“Feels so good, Joel,” you whined against him. “Fuck, I missed you, you feel, you feel, I…” 

He kissed you, swallowing your babbling before you had a chance to complete your thought. He couldn’t hear what he was afraid was coming, a line he couldn’t bring himself to cross. There was so much he couldn’t give to you, so much that he knew you deserved but was too selfish to give you up so you could find it. 

But fuck, did he wish he could give you that. In another time, another place, another reality entirely, he could. He knew that. In some other world, one where humanity wasn’t gone and his daughter was still breathing, he would give you everything. In that world, he would love you. He would open your car door and share inside jokes and care for you in a way no one else could. In that impossible world, you and him lived in a little house with a garden out front and a spare bedroom where Sarah stayed when she came for a visit because she would be an adult now, with a life of her own instead of forever frozen at 14. In that reality, you were his in every way. His ring was on your finger, his roof over your head, his baby in your womb. He wouldn’t need to hide it then, wouldn’t need to tiptoe around FEDRA, wouldn’t need to be afraid of what loving you might mean. He could fuck you until you were full of him, so full that you carried part of him inside of you for months, your body growing and changing with it and then no one would ever question that you were his, fucking his. 

Your pussy drew tight around him as your fingers wound tight in his hair. Your nipples were hard against his chest, the plush of your breasts pressed to his front as your thighs tightened around his hips. 

He pulled his mouth from yours to kiss and suck his way down your neck to your chest, pressing himself deep inside you and letting himself pretend - just for a moment - that the reality he occupied was one where he could have you, really have you. That the two of you were in a cozy bedroom with furniture he built for you with a room a few doors down that you’d already started looking at cribs and changing tables to fill it with. 

“Gonna come,” you panted, your hips stuttering against him as he pressed inside, forcing the head of his cock against the soft, tender place deep within you. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m gonna… I… I…” 

He was so close to his peak that he almost wanted you to say it. He wanted you to say it while he came deep inside you, leaving himself there so it could take, so he could watch you grow his child and take care of you through it, so he could take care of both of you after. Claim you so thoroughly that when you were in the QZ there was no question that you were his, not with his baby inside you and his arm around your shoulders. 

He wanted it. He wanted it so bad that, in that moment with his cock buried inside you as you keened below him, he didn’t care if it fucking killed him. 

Joel came apart when you did, the fluttering of your tight little hole sending him over the edge, the high of nothing else in the world mattering outside of you and the hot clutch of your body swallowing him whole for one glorious moment. 

But, as always happened, he came back down to earth, still held in the cradle of your hips, still breathing the scent of your skin, still lost in the wasteland that was once the world. 

He didn’t kiss you as he pulled out of you, collapsing on the bed next to you, closing his eyes for a moment to keep from looking at you too long. 

“You gotta be more careful,” he said after a moment. 

You were silent long enough that he looked over at you, finding you on your side facing him but staring down at the mattress. 

“I know,” you said eventually. 

“I’m not trying to be an asshole,” he said, his voice gentle. Or as gentle as he seemed to be able to make it now, anyway. “But you know what happened the last time he thought you were seein’ someone. If killing him would fix it, I would, but I can’t kill every fucking FEDRA guard who’d take it out on you and I’m not gonna be the reason you get hurt.” 

“I know,” you said again, looking at him this time. “But I… I just…” 

“I know,” he said it this time, his stomach twisting. 

You just nodded. 

“You deserve better,” he said eventually. “Shouldn’t let me treat you the way I do.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“You should,” he snapped and then sighed, staring at the ceiling again. “Sorry for scarin’ you before. When I hit the table. I… I would never…” 

“I know,” you said, more confidently then. He looked back to you, frowning. “I’m not afraid of you, Joel. I know better about that, too.” 

He was silent again, going back to staring at your water-stained ceiling. 

“Should probably take a break,” he said eventually. “Not see each other for a bit.” 

“It wouldn’t change anything,” you said quietly. He frowned, watching you again. “I know myself. I know how I feel. It’s OK. I don’t expect anything from you. Not even this.” 

His eyes searched yours and he let himself try to reach some other version of him on some other plane, one where things were safe and he was in the bed you shared with him in the home you made together. A version where he could be honest with you and it wouldn’t destroy him. 

“I’d give you more if I could,” he said instead. 

You smiled ever so slightly, a gentle curve to your lips. 

“I know,” you said softly. “Believe it or not, I know you, too, Joel.” 

He let himself look at you for a moment, let that terrifying wound at the center of him hurt where he could really feel it, to feel the horror of what letting himself love you would be. 

“It’s OK,” you whispered as you reached out and brushed his curls back, your fingertip grazing the scar at his temple. “I’ll just love you, anyway.” 

He stayed in your bed that night, lying awake as you slept against him, ignoring the scream of panic at the core of him to run while he still could. He knew it couldn’t last. He knew he couldn’t rest like this, not with you this close, not in this awful place with that awful hurt. But he couldn’t leave you either. Not like this. 

“Oh,” he said the next morning when it was still dark so he could slip back to his own apartment before some FEDRA prick was awake to see him leaving your place. “Almost forgot.” 

He pulled a scarf from his pack, the one thing he hadn’t left at home after this run. It was thick, the knit heavy, a color that made your eyes shine. Not that he had pictured you wearing it with those eyes of yours when he’d picked it up. He held it out to you and you frowned, confused, as you took it. 

“Winter is around the corner and you were cold all the time last year,” he said gruffly. “Don’t want you freezin’ to death.” 

You smiled a little, running your fingers over the pattern knit into the yarn. 

“Thank you,” you said, holding it to your chest and looking back to him. “I really needed this, Joel.” 

He just grunted, pulling his pack on and heading for the door. 

“I’m gonna stay away from you for a while,” he said, trying to ignore the pain in his chest at that. “Don’t want anyone catching on.” 

“OK,” you said, eyes searching his before you stepped close to him and slowly, cautiously, pressed your soft, warm lips to his own. “Take care of yourself for me, OK?” 

You said it like you would say I love you. 

“You, too,” he said. He wondered if it sounded the same to you, too. 

 Staying away from you took work. He wanted to see you, be next to you, get lost in you. But he knew where that would lead and he couldn’t let it, not now, not like this. 

So he stayed away for weeks. He stayed away until the first snowfall of the season in Boston and he made an excuse to go stand outside your job. He couldn’t help it. He needed to make sure you were warm and safe so he stood there and watched you leave, his scarf around your neck, You caught his eye with a small smile as you passed a FEDRA guard and he knew, with sinking certainty, he’d be back at your door that night. 

He just couldn’t seem to stay away from you. 

[beneathstarryskies]

Omg your requests are open 🙏

Could I please request some breeding kink headcanons for some of the RE men? Chris, Leon, Wesker, Ethan and Karl? That would be awesome! Thank youuuu

Warnings: breeding, pregnancy, female reader, obviously unprotected sex.

Chris Redfield

Chris didn’t even realize he had a breeding kink. He stays so busy and is often so far away, he doesn’t see himself as necessarily being ‘father material.’

However, one day, he goes with you to a family function. There, he gets the rare chance to see you interacting with your small nieces/nephews/cousins and he imagines you with your children. Would you be as patient and loving as you are with the small kids in your family? 

Chris knows this isn’t a decision to make lightly, but he also is a man who acts a lot on passion and instinct. 

When he gets you home that night, he can’t stop thinking about putting a baby in you. 

You can’t do anything for the next few days without Chris pawing at you, kissing you everywhere he can reach, begging to cum inside you every time he can. 

Are you bending over to do laundry? Oh, now you have his bulge pressed against your ass! Are you lying in bed reading? Guess who is slowly peeling your pants off and pressing kisses on your inner thighs! 

Finally, he lets it slip. He has you bent into a mating press while he’s pounding into your soaked cunt with reckless abandon. 

“Let me put a baby in you,” he growls against your ear. 

Leon S. Kennedy

Leon has been on his own for a long time. He loves the idea of having a little family of his own, and he doesn’t hide it at all. 

Every time he’s fucking you, he is going to cum inside of you whether you’re on birth control or not. He just can’t imagine not spilling his load inside of your waiting walls. 

Leon will slip up and call you ‘mommy’. He says it sort of as a joke the first time, but then the name just fits you so well. He can’t resist telling you how much he wants to make you a mommy. 

He always keeps his cock sheathed inside of you after you’ve both finished to keep his cum plugged inside your little hole. 

If he goes soft he’ll just use his fingers to push his cum back inside and keep it inside. 

For all of his big talk, if you do end up pregnant he will panic a little bit deep down. His work is dangerous and has earned a lot of enemies for him. It might take him a while to let the news set in. 

Once you are pregnant and Leon comes to terms with the reality of parenthood, he becomes so protective. You will never be out of his sight, even if it’s just him tracking your location or calling in a favor to have an agent look after you while he’s away. 

All in all, he’s very happy to have bred you. 

Albert Wesker

As an Umbrella operative/double agent, Wesker didn’t have a breeding kink. He was constantly plotting for his gain and looking out for his skin. Being a parent would only complicate matters further and give him yet another piece to move on the chessboard. 

However, when he realizes the true potential he holds within himself, to dominate the world and rule as a god, something snaps within him. 

The need to carry on his superior genes and establish a legacy grows strong. 

He can’t breed with just anyone, however. He goes to painstaking lengths to find someone who has genes compatible with his own. Oh, and once he finds you he wastes no time making his way into your life. 

You’re his precious little lover, and he goes to any lengths to make sure you’re as smitten by him as he is with you. 

He gets off to the idea of knocking you up every single time you’re intimate. Even if you’re just giving him a blow job, he will bust as soon as he imagines breeding you. 

Not to worry though, because Wesker has stamina for days. He’ll wear you out with his libido. All the while he’s growling and grunting in your ear, making sure to tell you how much he loves breeding your little cunt. 

If you beg for him to cum inside of you, good fucking luck. He will go absolutely feral. 

Ethan Winters

It’s no secret that Ethan loves being a dad more than anything. He has so much love to give, and he is naturally doting on those he loves. 

That being said, with everything he’s been through it will take him some time after your relationship begins to think about having a family with you. It will first cross his mind when someone mentions how good you are with Rose. 

The thought sticks with him for a while, and then it morphs into the idea of having another baby…

Soon, he’s picturing you swollen and round with his baby growing inside of you. He can practically hear how sweet you’d be explaining to Rose that she’s going to be a big sister. 

He’s trembling with excitement when he brings up the idea of having a baby to you. If you agree, he is going to be hard immediately. 

Ethan doesn’t do anything half-assed. The man becomes OBSESSED with breeding you. 

He’s tracking cycles, he’s pulling all the positions that are the most effective for conceiving, and most of all he is fucking you every single time he gets the chance. 

Karl Heisenberg

Karl gets the idea to breed you for entirely selfish reasons if we’re being honest. 

When Alcina is allowed to create three daughters, he grows a bit jealous of that. Why does she get a family? Why does Donna get her stupid little doll? And when he learns of the possibility of having a strong, powerful child…Oh boy. 

He won’t exactly tell you his intentions. He just starts pumping thick loads of cum into you every chance he gets. 

One night he’ll let it slip, “I’m gonna put a baby in you.” 

He doesn’t really care if you want a baby or not, the idea of it just motivates him beyond anything else. He becomes insatiable, especially during a full moon. He’ll have you bent over every surface or folded into a mating press all night long. 

The problem with Karl though is he doesn’t actually consider the reality of having a kid. When you start showing signs of pregnancy, he kind of starts to panic. He might push you away a little bit, not fully wanting to take responsibility even though he wanted it so badly at first. 

However, when certain people begin questioning how you became pregnant his protective instincts will flare up. Then, he’ll never let you leave his sights.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku NSFW Profile

Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, mentions of non-con, dub-con, breeding, non-consensual touching, dry humping, masturbation, panty sniffing, a brief mention about virginity being sacred but no explicit mention of whether reader is a virgin or not, Kyojuro is a virgin tho so corruption kink kind of, pillow humping, coercion, allusions to lactation kink and pregnancy kink, choking, spitting, Kyo gets sex advice from Tengen, Kyo picks you up at one point but remember he's literally a Hashira and could pick anyone up no matter their weight, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

HABITS:

In general, Kyojuro isn’t an incessantly horny man. Not only does he hold women in a high respect and doesn’t inherently sexualize them, but to be quite honest he simply doesn’t have time to be regularly indulging in sex or even masturbation. He’s a busy man, and when others are settled under their covers, either sleeping or moaning in another’s ear, he’s out in the dark, dangerous night hunting demons.

And so despite being in the sexual prime of his life, Kyojuro doesn’t have a huge amount of experience. He’s never considered actually touching a woman before, mostly because he didn’t feel the urge to and because he firmly believes in the idea of saving himself for his wife and life partner.

And even once you step into his life he doesn’t magically become some sex-crazed monster – eventually he is, sure, but it’s gradual. It takes a while to reach that stage, for him to both desire you enough and desire sex enough to be wasting his time fantasizing about you and your body.

Little seeds will be planted in his mind as the weeks and month pass, his obsession slowly developing and leaving him floundering when small, inappropriate thoughts begin seeping into the edges of his mind.

He’s noticing the way your kimono dips down just a bit one day – your collarbones are pretty, and he can’t help but have a fleeting thought of how soft the skin of your neck and shoulders must be.

(He’ll return home that night and try to forget that thought, going through an even more extensive training regime than normal, but even by the end of the some four hour session, he’s still imagining how the skin of your collarbones must taste.)

He’s suddenly noticing that your voice gets higher when you get flustered, the pitch raising just slightly, enough for him to notice and mentally file away for future reference.

(Would your voice get higher if he were to fluster you? How would you sound when he’s just kissed you, your lips swollen and your eyes dazed? How would you sound when he’s touching you, his hands settling at your waist or cupping your breasts, or perhaps even slowly, carefully dipping his fingers inside of you, feeling you tighten up and clench down and gasp and writhe and moan his name - )

He becomes acutely aware of the way you always seem to bend over to pick things up, your clumsiness coming into play as he finds himself unconsciously moving to stand so that he has an unobstructed view as you bend over, his eyes blatantly fixed on the curve of your ass, his lips slightly parted.

(He’s definitely thinking of that image later that night, one of his rare nights off, with his hand wrapped deathly tight around his cock as he imagines you bending over for him - perhaps over his dining table, or maybe even over his knee as he gropes and squeezes and plays with you.) 

The thoughts feel largely out of place initially, more often than not leaving him slightly dazed and confused because he’s never thought about how soft and smooth a woman’s thighs must be, nor about how your hands feel so small in comparison to his: less calloused and rough and warmer.

It’s strange, but as his delusions grow deeper and his feelings for you only intensify, Kyojuro finds himself rationalizing that it isn’t so disrespectful to be thinking this way – you’re practically already courting, and while you may not yet possess the Rengoku name, you will soon enough.

And once you’re wed?

Well, surely you must know what married couples do – pleasuring one another, loving one another, spending hours tangled in the sheets with gasps and cries ringing through their ears, sweat and kisses and cum covering every inch of their bodies. And if that’s your future – which he’s positive it is – then what’s the harm in imagining it?

He imagines all sorts of domestic scenarios with you, so why should it matter if the clothing is removed and your pretty smile is replaced with a pretty moan?

It’s fine – and so, while he still doesn’t wring himself dry to you every day, he’s sure to settle down and explicitly imagine being with you in an intimate way at least three times a week – even if that means unzipping the pants of his uniform with a demon’s blood still staining his hands, freshly killed and sending adrenaline through his veins.

(Adrenaline that then gets channeled into imagining the way you’d be so proud of him for outsmarting the demon and successfully eliminating it – perhaps you’d be so proud that you’d be willing to get on your knees for him, your soft lips wrapping around him and sucking, your little moans making his head spin and your nimble fingers kneading and groping at his balls. Ah yes, what a lovely thought…)

So while he’s not the most horny yandere of his comrades, he’s certainly no saint. But really, how could he be when you’re so damn alluring?

When it comes to actually touching himself, Kyojuro finds that his pleasure comes easiest when he’s actually doing the work, actually putting effort into getting himself off. It feels okay to simply pump his fist up and down, but it’s not enough – because being with you would be so much more overwhelming, even just your body heat alone making the experience ten times more powerful, more intense, more enjoyable.

He wants to immerse himself in the fantasy of actually having your soft body to kiss and touch and love, and he finds the best way to really achieve this is to fuck something rather than fucking his fist. But he’s a loyal man, and would sooner end his life than fall into the arms of another woman, even if only for a night.

And so, he compromises by fashioning a pillow – one with a covering of your favorite color, of course – into a substitute for yourself.

And while it feels good to have the pillow at all, Kyojuro finds that even just the simple pillow isn’t enough – it needs more, to be more representative of you, to just be better at convincing him that it’s really your wet, warm cunt he’s sinking into with every thrust rather than the dense plush of the pillow.

And so, with dark ink, he musters up every bit of artistic talent he possesses and carefully, oh so carefully draws in your features as much as he’s able to. He’s certainly no artist, but he’s slow and methodical with bringing to life this poor stand in for your own body – paying attention to every small detail, wanting everything to be as life-like as possible.

Your eyes are drawn on, correct down to the shape, even going so far as to try and ink on every eyelash, the flecks of color in your irises, any eye bags or wrinkles you may have.

He’s drawing your nose, the outline of jaw and neck, and, of course, your lips. He’s drawn them so that they’re permanently parted, leaving you looking like you’re gasping in pleasure, even going so far as to try and shade them so that they appear to be wet.

(Presumably with spit, or perhaps something a bit thicker, a bit hotter – it depends on the fantasy.)

The drawings continue down your body, making sure to outline your neck and shoulders, even down to your hands and fingers. (One hand is drawn with all your fingers curled and your thumb touching your index finger, so that a circular hole is made.)

He’s drawn your breasts, nipples, the swell of your tummy, your hips and thighs, even your calves and the arch of your ankles.

(He’s drawn you so that your thighs are spread slightly, giving him a view into what lies between – he’s not entirely sure of the technicalities of female anatomy, so he’s negating drawing any specifics and instead simply leaving the area blank, not willing to misrepresent your lovely, gorgeous figure – that’d feel disrespectful to you, as if the fact that he’s essentially created a sex doll in your image isn’t. He’s seen enough mothers breastfeeding children to have an idea of the upper half of a woman’s body, but he still shivers in excitement at learning how your upper body looks – though he thinks he has a good idea based upon how your clothing fits you, his eyes greedily observing the way the material is taut around your chest.)

Once everything is drawn, it’s easy to tear holes in the pillow – one between your legs, one in the curled circle of your hand, one between your pretty, parted lips.

Once he’s completed his work he'll eagerly, gingerly bring the pillow to his bed, gulping excitedly and immediately stripping off his clothing. His cock is already rock hard, swollen and pressing against his lower stomach, the tip a bright red and shining in the firelight of the room, precum soaking the skin.

He’d managed to get a guaranteed night off-duty this evening, which means there won’t be a single interruption. He’ll set the pillow down flat, excitement already licking at his every muscle, the room feeling incredibly hot already. He’s quick to settle himself above the pillow, his weight resting on both knees and his forearm that’s pressed against the ground. His free hand comes up to lightly trace at the drawn-on curve of your jaw, his face mere inches from where he imagines yours to be.

My flame, you are so beautiful… He’ll tell you, tongue flicking out to lick at his lips.

His cock twitches as he leans down to softly press his lips against your drawn ones, the kiss soft and slow and meaningful, the Hashira pouring every ounce of affection he feels for you into the action.

He imagines you kissing back; would you be hesitant, embarrassed and shy? Or would you be just as eager, perhaps wrapping your arms around his neck and running your hands through his hair, maybe even pulling on it, biting his lip and letting him know how badly you need him?

He groans, his eyes closed, lips working harder against the pillow, his tongue coming out to dart against the hole cut out, imagining your own tongue tangling with his. His hand wanders down from your jaw to your breast, fingers groping and squeezing at nothing but cotton, but the motion alone has his hips bucking, cock brushing slightly against the pillow. It makes him hiss, pulling back from the kiss and licking his lips, his eyes already half lidded and dazed.

Forgive me, I can’t wait any longer, I must be inside you.

His voice is breathless, and as he shimmeys upwards slightly, he’s spreading his legs a bit, thighs flexing as he leans back, audible inhaling as he nudges his tip against the hole between your drawn on legs, already smearing precum against the material from just a bit of contact.

His fingers are trembling slightly as he pushes in inch by inch, going slowly just like he would if it was really you, wanting to make sure you adjust to him and he feels good, so that you’ll be ready for him to absolutely ravish you.

He’s groaning as he bottoms out, balls pressed tightly against the pillow, his chest heaving as he stares wildly at your drawn on face. You feel – you feel amazing, my flame, oh –

He presses his forehead against yours as he slowly pulls back, the muscles of his ass and lower back going taut, before sinking in slowly again, an uneven sigh of your name slipping past his lips.

You feel so tight around me, does it feel good? Does it feel good to have me inside you?

Just the phrasing of that makes his head spin, the idea that he’s inside of you (even if he’s really not) making his hips snap to life, his previously slow pace picking up quickly.

He’s panting already, all the breathing control he’s mastered flying out the window because this is different – it’s your body underneath him, your pretty pussy sucking him in over and over and over, your moans ringing in his ears as you cry out his name again and again.

Kyojuro Kyojuro Kyojuro, please it feels so good!

He’s imagining the way you’d moan his name, how your voice would get so breathy, your fingers raking down his back, your legs wrapping around his hips.

He groans your name again, hips snapping into yours hard enough to push the pillow up with every thrust, his mind running wild as he imagines how your breasts would bounce at the force, practically begging to be squeezed and sucked at. A hand comes up and begins groping at nothing again, his thumb brushing over where he’s drawn on your nipple, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as the pleasure begins mounting.

It just feels too damn good – it’s so easy to imagine you below him, crying out his name as he fucks you hard enough to leave you utterly destroyed, your perfect little cunt massaging him in just the right ways.

He’s chanting your name under his breath, his eyes wide and staring down at your inked face, his voice getting faster and more strained as his muscles start clenching, his balls tightening and his hips stuttering and his heart racing because oh god oh fuck oh fuck –

He’s pulling out at the last minute, cum spurting all over the pillowcase, his moans of your name filling the room as his hand quickly tugs, wrist twisting and moving so fast it’s nearly a blur. The pleasure is immense, leaving his toes curling and every hair on his body standing up straight, feeling as if fire is running through his veins.

After the last few sad spurts dribble from his oversensitive, swollen tip, he’s left gasping, swallowing hard and letting a broad grin slip across his face. With still heavy breaths, he pushes back any stray hair from his forehead, the bit of sweat gathered there leaving him sighing. He’s quick to lean down, pressing a soft, long kiss against your drawn-on lips, a whispered I love you murmured against the pillow.

He has to swallow hard as he pulls back, euphoria still swimming in his veins at the intensity of his orgasm. Pleasuring himself to the thought of you is nearly too much - it leaves him breathless, feeling a high that doesn’t fade for hours after, and as he lays down beside the pillow, still stained with cum as he pulls it against his chest, imagining spooning you, he can’t help but shiver.

Because if it feels this good to simply imagine, how would the real you feel?

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your thighs

In general, Kyojuro thinks you’re absolutely beautiful.

He finds you to be the single most attractive woman on Earth, and even if he’s never seen your body in anything more form fitting than a kimono or a slayer uniform, he’s absolutely sure that whatever awaits him beneath the cloth will be heaven, the thing of wet dreams.

And the moment he finally, finally has you bare below him, your pretty skin on display and waiting to be kissed, fondled, marked as his, he finds that he’s not disappointed in any way.

You’re gorgeous – and, naturally, the most gorgeous part of you is your thighs. There’s something about the sight of them that gets him swallowing hard, his eyes growing a bit brighter and wider.

His palms get a bit sweatier when he sees the way they splay out when you sit down, the fat jiggling with every step you take, the way they just look so touchable and squeezable. He nearly has a full body reaction the moment your thighs are out on display, his body temperature rising to extreme heights and his attention straining to stay on you rather than your pretty legs.

Even in settings where soft, loving affection is occurring, he's still eyeing them, appreciating the way you look in his clothing, the simple overshirt you’d put on that morning stopping mid thigh and leaving very little of your upper legs to the imagination.

 (You’ll notice the way his fingers slowly creep down from your waist, moving inch by inch until they’re finally laying over the curve of your thigh, idly rubbing and pressing into the warm flesh, marveling at just how soft you are.)

And when you’re both intimate with one another, his enjoyment of your thighs will be more than apparent – he’s always touching them, his hand coming down to squeeze and stay there, almost latching onto you as he throws your leg over his shoulder, his hips never stopping the brutal pace he’s established.

Every position he fucks you in involves your thighs somehow – he’s forcing you to wrap them around his hips when he's hovering above you and pressing down on you so tightly you’re only able to breath in him.

When he’s folded you into the deepest mating press possible, he’s holding you in position by pressing directly against the back of your thighs rather than your knees, often leaving fingertip shaped bruises there from the sheer force and strength he has to keep at bay every time he slips inside you.

Even when he’s fucking you from behind, your pretty ass on display as he sinks so deeply into you that it drives him crazy, he’s making sure to line his own thighs up to press against yours, relishing in the way his balls clap against your clit and the soft, plush fat of your upper inner thighs.

He’s paying extra attention to nip and tease you when he’s got his head between your legs, sucking hickeys and pressing kisses against your inner thighs as he slowly trails up from the inside of your knees.

He wants you to cage in his head when you’re nearing your orgasm, to squeeze as tightly as possible while he licks and moans and thrusts his tongue into you, the only thing he can see and taste and feel and hear being you you you.

Even when you’ve got your lips wrapped around his cock, his eyes are fixated on the way your thighs look splayed out while you kneel on them, his hips bucking as he zones out slightly, the pleasurable feeling of your mouth making him moan and struggle to maintain his composure.

He just really, really likes that area of your body, and while there’s certainly no part of you that he doesn’t like, his penchant for touching you there and always having a hand on your thigh will be very, very apparent to you.

So if you want to tease him, to see the way his eyes darken a bit and his smile grows a bit sinister, sit down with your legs slightly spread, stare at him with those pretty, pouty eyes of yours, and tell him that you’ve been feeling sore, will you please give me a massage, Kyo? I miss your touch…

You’ll have trouble walking the next day, and the littering of bruises, hickeys, and bite marks against your thighs will serve as proud trophies for Kyojuro, who will insist you not cover them up.

His mouth

In the context of sex, Kyojuro lives to please. He’s being completely honest when he firmly tells you that your pleasure is his, because he really does feel that way.

When you touch him it makes his head spin and his hips involuntarily buck, but when he touches you?

Well, more often than not he’s coming alongside you when he’s fingering you, that telltale groan of o-oh and the wet warmth you’ll feel against your skin letting you know exactly how watching you fall apart is affecting him. And similarly, he gets very, very into it when he’s got his mouth working at you, his talented tongue drawing tight circles over your clit and his hair tickling the inside of your thighs.

Every sexual encounter with Kyojuro will involve him eating you out in some capacity, both because he wants you to feel good, and also because he genuinely enjoys the taste of you and the feel of you against his tongue.

And he’s good at it too – he starts off slow, teasing you with playful nipping and smiles against your skin, his eyes looking up at you the whole time, forcing you to keep eye contact because he wants you to see how he pleasures you, for you to see how right he looks between your legs.

He’ll ghost around where you really need him for a while, making sure to pepper kisses at the juncture between your pelvis and thigh, the area right above your clit, even your lower tummy and hips.

He’ll kitten lick at your folds, humming against your skin and letting the vibrations send shivers up your spine, his tongue dipping just a bit deeper each time, until he’s using his thumbs to physically spread your lips, lewd slurping noises filling your ears as he licks and sucks, pleasure making you sigh his name.

After he’s sufficiently teases you, he’ll press a few more kisses to your thigh, then move upwards, still staring you in the eyes, before licking his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your clit.

He’ll tell you that he loves your body, my flame, especially this special spot that always makes you moan my name, before flicking his tongue along it, enjoying the way you jerk at the acute stimulation.

He’s perfected the art of keeping a steady, consistent pattern against you, making sure that the rhythm can let the pleasure build, a dull warmth spreading through your entire lower body.

Meanwhile, he’ll always slip a finger inside of you, curling and pressing against areas he knows you like, feeling the way your thighs twitch and your moans get louder.

He likes when you run your hands through his hair as he uses his mouth on you, especially if you lightly tug or pull; the pleasure tinged with slight pain makes him blindly hump at whatever is closest to him.

And he’ll always, always keep going until you’ve reached your high, even if that means spending hours between your legs; anything to feel the way your cunt flutters against his lips, how you gasp and practically wail his name, your thighs seizing up and your slick coating his chin and lips.

His eyes close as he eagerly laps it up, addicted to your taste – and as he pulls back, his lower face glistening with your arousal and spit, he’ll kiss you, pulling you into a passionate, tongue-heavy kiss.

Even outside of going down on you, Kyojuro finds ways to utilize his mouth in regards to you in every situation he can – he’s always pressing kisses against your lips, cheek, forehead, neck, and knuckles, liking the way that it flusters you and leaves you biting your lip.

He’s taking your hand in his and pressing kisses against your fingertips, singing your praises between presses of his lips, until he’s eventually slipping a finger into his mouth, holding your gaze as he sucks and runs his tongue up and down your skin, the intensity of the moment making you simultaneously aroused and uncomfortable.

He’ll even go so far as to share your toothbrush, just because he likes the idea of a little bit of him being in a little bit of you.

(You’re very aware of this, even without the whole toothbrush misfortune – his penchant for always, always finishing inside of you makes this abundantly clear.)

DRIVE:

Despite Kyojuro’s delusions about your relationship and how you feel for him, even he can’t misread the way you react so negatively to his mentions of being sexual with you. You always freeze up, eyes going wide, your head shaking no and your voice hurried as you tell him please, please no Kyojuro, I’m not – I’m not ready for that, please don’t!

 He’ll respect that, firmly nodding and tell you to not worry, my love, I can wait for as long as it takes!

He doesn’t really understand it, however, because in his mind there really shouldn’t be a reason why you aren’t ready – you’re his, and you know it.

 You’re living together (even if that wasn’t your choice) and you share a bed together when he’s home. You bath together (something that Kyojuro enjoys very, very much, his hands always wandering, his breath hot in your ear as he tells you that you’re beautiful, something hard pressing against you when he’s washing your hair), share a toothbrush, eat together and wear his clothing – you’re a couple, a partnership between a man and a woman, and wanting to express your love physically is a natural urge.

It’s normal and healthy, and something he wants so, so very badly to do with you. But he understands that perhaps you’re not comfortable with that level of intimacy quite yet – he’s aware of how society views women who’ve lost their virginity (he’d never explicitly asked you if you’ve touched another person, but he assumes you’ve saved yourself for him as he’s saved himself for you), and although you’d be giving it to the man you’ll spend the rest of your life with, he can respect that you might simply be afraid to lose something you’ve learned is cherished.

He’s disappointed by your rejection of sex, but he means it when he says he’ll wait for you to be ready and won’t force it upon you. That does not, however, mean that Kyojuro will completely abstain from interacting with you sexually. He just can’t help himself – sure, he may not be actively fucking you, but he finds other ways to placate the carnal desires practically begging him to rip off your clothing and press you against him while he makes you moan and writhe and fills you with him him him.

It starts small – he’s kissing you every chance he gets, letting them get longer and deeper, lasting sometimes minutes at a time while small moans and groans slip from his mouth into yours. His hand initially starts at your shoulder when he does this, but as time passes he gets bolder – it moves to your waist, your cheek, your hip, even over your ribcage right below your clothed breast, the edges of his fingers brushing against the underside of the pudge fat as moving up slowly, up until he pulls away from the kiss for air.

When kissing you becomes not enough, he moves to hugging you for longer periods of time, getting tighter and purposefully pressing parts of his body against you. He’s always been touchy, and you’ve been getting hugs for nearly as long as you’ve known him (even before his infatuation formed, back when his feelings for you were strictly platonic – now, though, they’re anything but).

But these hugs are different – he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and forcing you flush with his body, smiling at you with those wide, unsettling eyes while his breathing picks up ever so slightly, his pelvis pressed tightly against your own so that you can feel something – something warm, big, almost feeling like it’s moving against you, like it’s throbbing.

He’ll ask you to give him a pair of your panties when he leaves for missions, smiling so brightly and boyishly when you hesitantly deliver the piece of cloth to his outstretched palm, licking his lips and bringing the garment up to inhale deeply before stuffing it away into one of the many pockets of his Demon Corps uniform, telling you with a laugh to choose a pair that’s been used next time please, my flame.

(You never ask why he wants the underwear while he’s gone, simply because you think you know the answer already, but somehow hearing it from him would be worse, like confirming a truth you desperately wished to be false. Plus, you’re sure he’d tell you in extreme detail exactly how he uses them, too, perhaps even giving you a visual demonstration because he’s just so eager to interact with you, to feel your pretty eyes on him.)

It’s disturbing, but it’s a small comfort to know that he may be pushy and make you uncomfortable but he’ll never truly force you into sex. Kyojuro may be many things, but he’s at least a man of his word – even if he very, very badly wishes he wasn’t sometimes.

And so as wonderful as kissing you deeper and hugging you tighter and fucking his fist to your panties is, Kyojuro eventually decides that he needs more. He needs to get as close to actually fucking you as he can without being inside of you, just as he promised.

And so the perfect solution is really just that simple – running through the motions without violating your wishes. Kyojuro is ecstatic just thinking about – which is why, when the mood strikes him, his cock straining against his trousers and his fingers itching to reach out and touch, he’ll strip off his clothing, smiling at you and running his knuckles against your cheek while telling you to take your clothing off please, love, I want to make you feel good.

And really, as much as you don’t want to, it’s easier on both of you if you just do – your options are let him hump you like a dog, or be forced to touch him, your own hand wrapped around his cock as he moans and sighs and thrusts into your hand while telling you how good you look. And so, once your clothing is off, Kyojuro will look at you with those eyes, licking his lips slowly and walking up to you, pressing himself against you again and letting his hands sit firmly at your waist.

My flame, he’ll murmur to you, his voice low and his breath a bit hitched because his cock is pressed up against your thigh and god, even that touch alone is enough to make his knees feel weak. Lay down for me.

He’ll have you lay on your back, your legs spread for him and your arms over your head. He’ll stand for a while, simply staring at you, the sight of you in such a provocative position making his cheeks tinge pink and his throat feel a bit dry. But soon there’s too much precum dribbling from his tip to ignore, and he’ll climb over you, hovering over you and wrapping your leg around his waist, so that his face is mere inches from yours and his cock is pressed against your navel.

He’ll swallow, leaning down a bit to press his lips against yours, relishing in the warmth of your body pressed against his own. Kisses are pressed against the corner of your mouth, then down the length of your jaw, down your neck and finally to your shoulder, the movements slow and meaningful despite the near painful aching between his legs. His hips seem to move on their own, slowly rocking forward and backwards, the friction of his cock rubbing against your skin and against the tufts of hair making him hiss slightly.

His lips find purchase at your ear, deep sighs and heavy pants impossible to ignore as he slowly picks up his pace. The stimulation feels good, but it’s not enough for him - he has to move faster, harder, be better, because this is really a chance for him to show you exactly what you’re missing out on. This is his opportunity to show you that if he were to do this inside of you, it would feel so much better for you – it’s his opportunity to convince you that sex with him would feel good, that you’d be satisfied, that he could please you.

And he commits to that desire – one forearm is pressed against the bed right beside your head supporting his weight while the other wanders from your waist up to grope and squeeze at your breast, deft fingers pinching and rolling your nipple between them. He’ll groan your name, leaning down to lick at your lips and tell you that you’re so very beautiful, his voice strained. He’ll bring the hand down to ghost over your stomach, right above where his cock is grinding and thrusting, moving to bury his nose against your neck while he chants your name. His voice is a bit slurred, the pleasure making his brows draw tightly together, his hips snapping and flexing harder and harder.

He’s close, and he tells you as much – muffled against your neck, his low groan of f-feels too good, you feel so good love…

 With his orgasm approaching, he resorts to kissing your neck again, his hair tickling you and the feeling of his cock dragging against your skin over and over making your toes curl involuntarily, because even as humiliating and uncomfortable as this is, isn’t there something oddly sexy about this big, strong man making himself a fool on you, losing him mind from just the feel of you?

He’s desperate for the pleasure he’s right on the brink of as he blindly reaches out to find your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours tightly, the moan that rises in the back of his throat high and uneven and raw. His whole body shakes as something warm and thick spurts against your stomach, a few drops landing on the undersides of your breasts, his breath heavy in your ear as he slowly, oh so slowly thrusts, riding out the last waves of his pleasure.

His hand is still gripping yours, and after a moment he pulls back and kisses you again, his tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and insistent, the red on his cheeks even more pronounced now.

It’s still not ideal, grinding and humping against you like this, but Kyojuro is content to do it as many times as it takes until you finally, finally feel ready to let him love you like you deserve, to let him make you gasp and cry out his name and gush around him until you’re too incoherent to even think.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

Kyojuro is very vocal in bed. He’s constantly talking to you – telling you how good you feel, telling you when something in particular feels best, warning you when his orgasm is dangerously near, just producing a constant stream of commentary as he fucks you. His voice is breathy the whole time, always turned up at the ends of his sentences because the pleasure is too strong, forcing him to slur his words together because fuck you feel good.

A lot of his vocalness stems from the fact that he’s just so excited to be intimate with you – he’s been fantasizing about this for a long time, long nights spent with his eyes closed and his cheeks a bit pink,

imagining the way you’d look underneath the pretty kimonos and clothing you wear.

He’s imagined what your face would look like when he’s cupping your breasts, thumbing at your nipples and making your brows twitch, biting your lip as you tell him to squeeze just a hair harder, pressing yourself against him because having his hands on you feel too good.

He’s imagined how your thighs would tremble when he’s got two fingers buried in your cunt, curling and scissoring and rubbing against your sensitive walls while you curl your toes and whine his name.

He’s even imagined the way your pussy would feel as he’s fucking you, how it would clench down on him hard, practically begging him to stay inside, begging for every last drop of cum he can possibly give.

He’s fantasized and daydreamed and imagined for months on end, each scenario only making him more anxious to finally have his hands on you, the buildup to actual intimacy with you leaving him wildly excited. And so, now that you’re finally with him, your perfect body warm and soft to the touch just as he knew you’d be, Kyojuro can’t help himself from telling you every little thing he’s thinking and feeling. He’s rambling on about how pretty you look when you’re underneath him, your body spread out for him and completely bare.

He’ll smile at you and kiss at every available inch of skin as his hands squeeze and knead at your sides, leaning back to admire the view of a flustered, bashful you underneath him all with a dreamy sigh and a small you’re so perfect, my flame, exactly as I imagined you’d be. And really, it would be sweet if it weren’t for the way he continues on to tell you exactly what he’d imagined, explicit details about how he'd fucked to his fist to the thought of you writhing below him, what pace he’d used, how he’d tightened up his grip to simulate how tight you’d grip him, even going so far as to tell you that this particular fantasy had him producing much more cum than normal when he eventually came.

It’s too much information and will leave you feeling disturbed and a bit scared, but Kyojuro doesn’t seem to notice – he’s too deeply enthralled with the pleasure you’re giving him, the words seeing to slip off his tongue without him even realizing it as he thrusts into you with an almost inhuman speed.

But of course, even as lovely as it is to detail all of the fantasies he’s had of you, what you’ll most often get with him is praise. He generally thinks that you’re enchanting, viewing you as something perfect and lovely and so, so very wonderful, but when he’s intimate with you this perception of you only intensifies.

Every small burst of pleasure you give him only solidifies his infatuation with you, and he can’t stop himself from telling you how beautiful you look on your knees for him, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock and your eyes prickling with tears because he’s too big for you to take down your throat. He’ll just smile, hand cupping the back of your hand and slowly easing you down his length, biting his lip at the sight and sighing out that you’re doing so well, you feel so – so good, yes love oh, suck just like that, it feels amazing when you do that.

He’ll have you perched on his lap, tits bouncing in his face while his hands clutch at your hips and move you up and down his cock, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and a moan of your name falling past his lips, small chants of yes yes yes and gasps of your name filling the air between you.

He’ll lick and suck at your clit with his head buried between your thighs, a lithe finger working in and out of you as he moans appreciatively against you, your taste on his tongue forcing him to pull back a moment to lick a long, flat stripe against your folds, his chin and lips visibly glistening as you tells you that you taste so delicious, I can’t get enough of you, give me more please my flame, I need more of you.

And when you’re gushing around his fingers a few minutes later, desperately grabbing at the pillow under your head and his hair, Kyojuro can only brokenly groan, his own orgasm not far behind yours as he thrusts his hips against the floor. You’re just so pretty and perfect and wonderful, and how can he not tell you?

And after he’s emptied himself inside of you, he’ll curl you into his arms and hold you, breathing into your ear and telling you how good you did, how you did so well and made him feel so good. Kisses are pressed against the crown of your head while he does this, his compliments sounding so genuine and reverent that you’ll be equal parts flattered and uncomfortable because god, he really means it when he says you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, doesn’t he?

Kyojuro of course loves to be praised in turn – any positive comment from you is met with eager and wide eyes, his ministrations and motions only increasing, his desperation to please you and make you feel good nearly palpable. Your moans of his name and cries of yes and right there and please making something smug and warm swell in his chest, his obsession only deepening because you just look so right when you’re falling apart on his cock.

He lives to please you, so please praise him – he’ll return the favor with so much passion and vigor that you’ll almost be embarrassed for him at how high and whiny and lewd the groan he lets out when he spills inside you is.

Almost, because he’ll follow it up with heavy breaths and a stuttered that – that was for you, because of you, because you feel so fucking good.

Oral Fixation

There’s something about the taste of you that he simply can’t get enough of. Even before he stole you away, Kyojuro was quick to snatch any small item of yours that could potentially taste like you.

He managed to snag the small vial of lip balm he’s seen you use – the one that his eyes always get stuck on, watching the way you pucker and pop your lips, the smacking noises obscene and provocative and sexy. You’d left it on the table after a lunch he’d invited you to, and Kyojuro – ever the gentleman – had pocketed it with the intention to return it to you later. Only, he didn’t – it stayed in his pocket until later that night when he’d fished it out, carefully opened it, and pressed the nearly empty balm against his own lips, closing his eyes and sighing because oh, if he licks his lips now he’ll taste you…

He’s got a cloth he keeps in his pocket that’s reserved specifically for you – when you’re eating with him, going on outgoings that are strictly platonic to you but are anything but to him, he’ll use the cloth and wipe off bits of food sitting on your lips, some stray sauce on the corner of your mouth. The cloth is kept in his pocket until later, when his cock is bright red and swollen and drooling precum for you, his lip caught between his teeth as he uses the cloth to tug and twist at his sensitive head, the friction of the cotton against his skin making him shiver and writhe and curl his toes all the while your name falls from his lips.

And once he’s done, he’s quick to bring the cloth up to his mouth, tongue lolling against the material as he tastes his cum and you mixed together, a flavor that gets the last sad little spurt of cum oozing from his swollen tip, the sensation making him groan lowly.

Really, he just likes the taste of you – and once your physical relationship begins, this penchant he has for tasting you only increases.

Now, he doesn’t have to be sneaky – no longer does he have to rely on placing your used utensils in his mouth in order to get even the slightest bit of you on his tongue.

Now he can just wrap an arm around your waist and press you close, mouth dipping down to slot his lips against yours, a moan muffled against your mouth because god, you’re so sweet and warm and he wants to drink in everything you can give him.

(Yes you’ve watched him kiss you and pull back, swallowing and licking his lips, telling you that your spit tastes delicious, my flame, please give me more before diving back in, kissing you and sucking on your tongue so hard you can practically feel his desperation.)

Now he can press kisses against your neck and jawline, tongue lathing up and down your collarbones while he licks and sucks, the dark bruising making his eyes light up and his breathing a bit uneven.

(Normally Kyojuro is strictly against harming you, but there’s something about hickeys that makes him sway ever so slightly on this rule. Perhaps it’s because he’s the cause of the dull pain, or maybe it’s because every time he’s working at your neck and shoulders you always let out these little whines that go straight to his cock, your fingers gripping tighter at his hair. Sometimes, when he’s particularly pent up and desperate for you, he swears he can even feel your cunt throbbing through the layers of clothing separating you, as if you’re just as needy and frantic for him as he is you. Ah, what a lovely thought.)

Now he can just gently press you against the wall, getting to his knees and throwing your leg over his shoulder while he pushing the pretty robe he’d bought you up to your hips, exposing the skimpy panties he'd bought for you as a present.

(They’re red, of course, with pretty lace details around the edges and a little bow at the very top, almost as if you’re a present for him to open and play with. He’d bought them for you before he’d stolen you away, gifted them to you with a bright smile and not an ounce of shame, and had insisted you wear them despite your discomfort after noticing an odd stain on  them – one that left a dark spot that Kyojuro refused to explain, only laughing and pressing a kiss to your cheek when asked.)

He’ll lick over your clothed cunt, humming against you and chuckling when you squirm at the vibrations. He’s suckling at your clit over the cloth, those eyes of his staring up at you from between your legs, the taste of you strong and making his mind spin even before he’s actually touching you.

But soon, Kyojuro can’t settle for just your phantom taste – he needs more, needs you, and so he’s suddenly standing up, picking you up with no effort and settling you down onto the bed, immediately laying between your legs. He’s spreading your thighs and licking his lips, rolling your panties down and off your legs before absolutely devouring you – he’s licking and sucking loudly enough to make lewd, wet suction noises fill the room.

There’s wet schluck-schluck noises ringing in your ears as he pushes a finger inside, all the way down to his second knuckle and curling them, the pads of his fingers brushing against the spot that gets you moaning and your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. All the while he’s playing with your clit, tongue tracing shapes and spelling his name, humming and moaning and sucking at you like a man starved. His stamina is high, and he’s keeping up the pace until you’re clutching at his hair and moaning his name like a prayer, the pleasure making you writhe and gasp and gush all over his fingers and chin.

But once Kyojuro gets a taste of you, he’s not simply satisfied with just one orgasm – he needs more, to feel you clenching down on his fingers and your clit throbbing as he fucks you through the high.

He’ll simply laugh at your whines of too sensitive, I can’t Kyo please, keeping his steady pace and pressing a kiss against your clit that makes your hips jerk.

You can do it, he’ll tell you, slick and your cum smeared all across his lips, chin and cheeks. You can give me another one, let me make you feel good, my flame.

And even while he’s fucking you his fixation doesn’t decrease – you feel like heaven around his cock, sure, with your warm, soft walls clenching down on him and your slick coating his thighs, but that doesn’t stop his fingers from snaking up and pressing against your lips.

He'll push them inside two at a time, hot breaths against your ear telling you to suck, ngh suck for me, his hips snapping into you with more fervor as he feels your lips close around him, throat tightening and your little gagging noises as he thrusts his fingers in and out.

You’re just so beautiful, and although his fixation mostly manifests as him using his mouth on you, he certainly won’t deny you if you were to flip the script. You get on your knees for him, licking your lips and pawing at his cock over his pants?

The pants are off faster than you can blink, his hand already at the back of your head and guiding you down his length, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lets out a low groan of yes, o-oh, you’re so warm, I’ve been thinking of this all day-!

He won’t deny you when you press kisses against his exposed chest, your tongue tracing around his sensitive nipple and feeling the skin pebble, even grazing your teeth against the sensitive skin just to hear his breath hitch and the audible gulp that follows.

He just thinks the ultimate form of intimacy is to taste each other, and Kyojuro is always eager to get closer to you, and to prove just how much he loves you – and, of course, just how depraved you make him.  

Breeding

Kyojuro will get you pregnant. It’s not even a matter of discussion as far as he’s concerned – yes, it’s a sexual fantasy for him to stuff you so full of his cum that you’re literally leaking it, but it’s more than that. He genuinely wants to build a family with you, to have you as his sweet little housewife that he dotes on and provides for and cares for, and to complete the fantasy he needs a few children running around.

He gets this dopey grin and blushing cheeks when he imagines you with a toddler clutching at your leg and a baby nursing at your breast, something inside his chest swelling with pride and happiness. And so, every time he fucks you he will be finishing inside, stuffing you as full as he physically can.

The image of you pregnant gets his breathing shallow; something about seeing you round, your breasts swollen and nipples so sensitive you sharply gasp when he so much as brushes against them making him shift his pants, his skin feeling hot and clammy. He likes the idea of knocking you up so that you’re completely, utterly dependent on him for every little thing – you���ll be so sweet and lovely and incapable, allowing him to attend to your every need. You’ll need him to walk any significant distance, to reach things on high shelves, to help you get up and out of chairs, to help with anything, really, and Kyojuro is more than happy to aid you in your time of need.

But even outside of actually getting you pregnant, the kink also satisfies some of his more shameful needs, some of his more masculine and carnal needs. After all, breeding you means coming inside you, filling you to the brim with his cum, something only he can provide you.

There’s just something about the idea of leaving you full with something so utterly him that gets him hot under the collar, his fingers twitching eagerly because just the thought makes him desperate to get his hands on you. He's not too terribly possessive, all things considered, but something about the idea of his cum settling inside you just feels right in a way he can’t describe, almost as if you were made to take it. As if you were made to take him, really, if the way your perfect little pussy sucks him in so well is any indication.

Besides, every time he finishes inside he’ll pull back and just stare, watching with bright eyes at the way his cum slowly dribbles out of you, white staining against the curve of your ass, his fingers coming up to scoop up the leaking bits and stuff them back inside you.

(And he will finish inside every time he fucks you, and even when your fist is wrapped around his girth or your lips are pressed against his base, tip making you gag at how deep he is in your throat. He’ll warn you with a near-yell of ‘m close before pushing you down and spreading your legs so quickly that it knocks the breath out of you, nestling his tip just inside you and coming, the sheer volume and force of the spurts making you squirm because you can feel it.)

There’s lots of talk about how you mustn’t waste anything he gives you, how you must keep every last drop inside you, his voice strained and breathy as he groans that into your ear, a thrust punctuating each word and making you clutch onto him for dear life because he’s fucking you meanly, every clap of his hips against yours making you physically scoot up until you reach the edge of the bed.

There’s something about the idea of stuffing you full of his cum that makes Kyojuro near feral, his hips seeming to have a mind of their own as they snap and pound against you, his cock pushing deeper and deeper and deeper, tip nestling further inside you with every thrust.

While he’s fucking you, the only thing running through his mind (aside from the constant stream of compliments towards you and the indescribable feeling of how fucking warm you are) is a mantra of needing to get deeper, to go as far inside you as he can, to press right up against your womb so that when his abs flex and his pace stutters, a shallow gasp and low groan rolling past his lips, his cum can shoot directly where it needs to go. It can spurt and splatter and flood your cute little pussy, each twitch of his cock giving you more and more and more, until it’s literally leaking out of you, even while he’s still stuffed inside you.

And Kyojuro, ever the talkative lover, is more than happy to narrate the process – his orgasms always follow a rather wanton groan of your name, his voice strained and uneven as he tells you to take it, o-oh take it take it take it, take every fucking drop ngh yes yes yes!

He’ll press down on your stomach as he finishes, the sensation making you impossibly tighter, the motion forcing his cum to shoot even deeper into you, his eyes wide in wonder and lust as if he can see the way his cock is twitching and throbbing, pushing out everything it can give you.

His voice nearly awed as he asks if you feel that, my love? I’m breeding this lovely pussy, does it feel good? It’s feels likes heaven for me, and soon you’ll be rounded and glowing and carrying my child.

He’ll pause to press a kiss against your nipple, tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive skin, before cupping it with his hand and squeezing, his own voice turning a bit darker as he tells you that soon your breasts will be so swollen and heavy, you’ll be feeding our child, nursing our baby…

He sucks at your nipple, hard. I’m sure you’ll taste divine – you’ll give me a taste too, I’m sure.

He’ll run his hand along your stomach, sucking in a sharp breath and telling you that you’ll be full soon, that you’ll be swollen and big and his, your body proving to him exactly who you belong to, exactly who kisses you and fucks you and gives you what your body is made for.

He just really, really wants a family with you, so don’t be surprised when he forces you to lay by his side for hours after sex, his cock keeping you stuffed full, not allowing a single drop of cum to leak out, his hand pressed firmly against your stomach as he rambles on and on about baby names and how he’ll be there for the entire birth, how he hopes the baby has his hair and your personality, how he’ll protect the both of you from demons until his dying breath.

It would be sweet, really, if he wasn’t so insistent, if he didn’t have twenty names already picked out for you to choose from, if he wasn’t telling you that according to Shinobu the part of your cycle you’re currently in is your highest window of fertility, if he wasn’t clutching onto you and saying when you’re pregnant instead of if.

And when his cock slowly hardens once more inside of you, you’ll feel the palpable change in the air as he kisses your neck again, his hips slowly starting to move as he tells you that he has to make sure it took, I have to make sure you’re carrying my child… Open your legs for me, my flame, let me give you more of me.

And when he comes with a gasp of your name a few minutes later, even more cum flooding you and sending some dripping down over his cock and onto his pelvis, Kyojuro can only lick his lips, the sight of you with a rounded belly and swollen breasts making him near feral.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Marking

While Kyojuro isn’t the most possessive, there’s something about the idea of physically marking you as his that gets his blood rushing, heat blooming on his cheeks, a wide grin splitting across his face.

Just the thought get him eagerly pulling you closer, nudging his nose against your neck, sighing heavily and letting you feel the way his pants slowly grow tighter, his breathing growing heavier as he groans your name.

There’s just something about the idea of claiming you as his own that makes some primal, animalistic part of him light up, so be prepared to be absolutely covered in marks as your sexual relationship progresses.

Hickeys will cover nearly all of your skin, leaving no area untouched by his lips and teeth. He’ll leave love marks (as he calls them) in the shape of a heart situated on the plane of your chest, nestled right up your breasts. As he’s fucking you he’ll kiss over the area again, his hips never slowing their pace as he starts whispering your name under his breath, nearly chanting it with every clap his balls against the curve of your ass.

A ‘K’ and an ‘R’ are placed on your inner thighs, so that when he sits beside you he can reach over and grip the area, sending you a blinding grin and telling you that even under all the layers of clothing he can feel your love. Once the marks fade he’ll spend hours between your legs again, remaking the hickies so there’s a letter per leg, so that every time he spreads them, excitement bubbling in his chest, he’ll see his letters, a mark of ownership, a reminder that you’re his and his alone, that your pretty skin and plush thighs and that lovely little pussy of yours is completely and utterly his.

It’s just fucking hot to Kyojuro, so when he pins you down, your body nude and bared for his eyes, know that he’ll kiss you, lips working eagerly against your own, tongue coaxing yours in an effort to get you to engage, groans and grunts tumbling into your mouth as his hands wander down to grope at your breasts, squeezing your side, toying with the pubic hair settled on your navel.

He’ll kiss you, then let his lips travel down, dipping to your neck to suck harshly against the skin, then down to your collarbone to lick and suckle, then to your nipples to bruise the area beside your areolas, then down your stomach and to your thighs, mumbling praises and sweet words of affirmation as he goes.

You’ll wince and avoid looking at yourself in mirrors after he’s through with you, but just know that Kyojuro does it all out of love.

He doesn’t enjoy hurting you, but the pleasure and pride that swells in his chest when he sees you with his markings outweighs his small worries at your bruising.

Just let it happen, really, because he’ll be getting his way, one way or the other, and while eventually the dull throb and sting as he works section after section will grow slightly painful, at least his fingers are talented – after all, you can handle the hickies when he’s making you gasp his name, cream on his fingers and beg for more, more, more, right?

Choking

While Kyojuro is generally the more dominant partner in bed (regardless of your personal tastes – he likes to feel like your provider, so even if you want to peg him until he’s a sobbing, begging mess, little mewls of your name and p-please, need to come so bad slipping past his lips, you’ll likely be the one trapped below him), there’s a certain allure to letting you take charge for a night every few weeks, letting you take the reigns for a few minutes.

There’s something oddly sexy about watching the way the power slowly goes to your head, how your eyes grow darker, your actions more passionate as you bounce up and down on top of him, your hands planted against his chest, pinching at his nipples, shoving your tongue down his throat all while he groans and enjoys the view.

He just likes to see the way you use him, his body simply a toy for you to get off on. It’s the ultimate form of caring for you – and seeing the way you’re so unabashedly pleasuring yourself gets his blood pumping so hard he can hear it in his ears, the sight of you so raw and natural and not at all the shy little thing you were when he first spread your legs all those months ago making him lick his lips in anticipation.

And yet, there’s a certain habit you’ve developed in these moments that Kyojuro absolutely cannot get enough of – that is, when your soft fingers wrap around his throat, your skin against his, pressing just hard enough to disrupt the blood flow to his brain, the feeling dizzying and disorienting and wonderful.

His eyes literally roll to the back of his head when you do this, your hips snapping and scooping above him as you tell him to hold it in, be a good boy, don’t come yet.

He’s groaning and wildly bucking his hips, face turning slightly red as you lean down to kiss him, your lips harsh and demanding, the kiss rough and forceful.

It’s heaven, Kyojuro thinks, as you clench around him, your fingers following suit, his cock twitching inside of you, his hands coming up to grope and knead at your ass as he bounces you harder and harder, the desire to come inside you suddenly washing over him.

It’s something he finds himself craving as time goes on, and so while he’ll more often prefer to be the one on top, in charge, calling the shots, be prepared for the nights where he wants to let you do all the work.

But really, once you’re straddling him, sinking down onto his drooling, leaking tip and grinding, your hand wrapped around his throat, he’ll often do most of the ‘work’ – desperate, sad little humps up into you with his heels planted against the futon mat that’ll leave you gasping and going limp, his cock reaching parts of you unexplored by your own fingers.

And when you lean down over him, your pretty face just inches away from his own flushed you’re your fingers wrapped around his neck, Kyojuro will eagerly obey when you tell him to open wide, his cock throbbing inside you as your spit lands against his tongue, your taste and the lewd sight of you spitting in his mouth making his orgasm hurtle towards him. As soon as he eagerly swallows his eyes are going wide, his words rushed and slurred and strained as he tells you that it’s so fucking good, oh here it comes, shit it’s coming, it – it’s-!

He just really, really likes the way it feels to have your pretty fingers around such a vulnerable area, so get used to it – because Kyojuro is a passionate man, and as his lover, you must be just as passionate, too. 

BIGGEST FANTASY:

As a general rule, Kyojuro is vocal about every sexual desire he has with you. He doesn’t believe in keeping secrets, especially in the context of sex where you could both be benefitting.

He wants to share every explicit, lewd fantasy he has of you simply because he thinks you might enjoy it – you might have even been dreaming of doing the same thing, you were just too shy to tell him.

(He knows how you are – how you’re so very shy, always seeming to skirt away from him when he nears you, your wide-eyed looks you send him when he’s talking to you, how your hands are clammy and you’re shaking ever so slightly when he pulls you in for a kiss with far too much tongue.)

And so, Kyojuro is open and honest; painfully so, really. He wakes up one morning with you in his arms, your eyes already open as he leans in and kisses the shell of your ear, sighing and pressing his navel against your ass, telling you in that husky morning voice of his that he’d dreamed about tasting you until you cry, my flame, doesn’t that sound nice?

(And of course, you’ll not be leaving that bed for hours after the fantasy is spoken out into the air – Kyojuro is nothing if not determined, and his tongue seems to never tire.) After returning home from a mission, he’s announcing to you that he’d passed by a risqué local shop and saw a drawing of a man and a woman where the woman was on top and oh, why didn’t you tell him that women sometimes enjoyed being the more dominant partner?

You’ll be left to flounder, unsure of how to respond, but it’s too late because Kyojuro is already laying down on his back, his pants pulled down to his knees and his expression eager, the smile across his lips blinding as he tells you to come here, my love, the woman in the drawing looked to be enjoying herself, and I want to see that on you as well!

However, because he has no sexual experience before you, he doesn’t harbor any particularly intense fantasies for you. He’s excited and aroused by the simple, straight-forward sex that he knows produces a child – missionary, mostly, or positions that involve spreading your legs and maintaining eye contact while he slides in, a hand cupping your cheek while he groans and tells you in a strained voice that you’re so beautiful, you feel so – ngh, so good!

And so, after a one-off chat with Tengen about wifely matters (he’s announced to the other Hashira that he has a wife, though none of them have met you or know that you aren’t actually his partner, just the woman he considers to be his wife), Kyojuro asks with complete sincerity if his friend has any advice in the bedroom.

Tengen had just laughed and clapped Kyojuro’s back, telling him that sex should be flashy, so don’t do the same things over and over! Mix things up – women love variety, so try some new positions, or a different method of pleasuring her!

When asked what other positions to try, Tengen had grinned, his eyes widening a bit as he said bend her over, she’ll feel you deeper and the view will drive you crazy.

And so, that night after coming home to you, he’d gulped, his eyes narrowing in on your ass, his voice a bit gruff as he told you to come with me, my love, I want to try something new.

“Are you comfortable?” Kyojuro asks, though he sounds distracted.

Swallowing, you nod, embarrassment clear on your face. This position was beyond humiliating – Kyojuro hadn’t explained much when he approached you earlier in the evening, simply looking at you with those unblinking eyes and telling you to get undressed because he had something new he wanted to try out.

And now, here you are, on your hands and knees on your shared bed, clothing neatly folded in a corner of the room. It’s cold, and the air is making goosebumps prickle along your skin and your nipples stiff.

If Kyojuro notices you shiver, he doesn’t say anything – instead, you hear him gulp, the sound suddenly much closer.

“You’re very beautiful…” He whispers, so quiet and unlike him that it makes you glance back over your shoulder. The sight you’re met with makes your embarrassment deepen, a mixture of shame and bashfulness seeping into your every bone.

He’s standing behind you, those wide eyes of his fixated on your exposed cunt, with his cock in hand. Thick fingers wrap around his base, visibly squeezing, his balls periodically twitching even without being touched. He looks entranced – awed, almost, presumably by the sight of your ass presented on display like this.

“Kyojuro…” You start, anxious to just get started so he’ll stop staring at you like you’re something holy and sacred. Wiggling your hips, you hope he’ll get the message.

Instead, you hear a muffled groan and suddenly feel air brushing against your sensitive folds, the sensation making your arms feel a bit weak. You feel a sudden slimy warmth, and wet noises ring in your ears as Kyojuro presses his tongue against you, dipping in briefly to taste and rub at anything he can reach. Heavy breaths are muffled against your cunt, but the insistent press of his chin against your clit makes it difficult to focus.

“Kyo – oh, Kyo please need you to fuck me, don’t tease me.” Your whines make him pause for a moment, before he slowly pulls back, pressing a single long kiss against your folds that has you biting your lip.

“Very well, you’ll have to tell me how it feels, love. Tell me everything you’re feeling.” He asks, gripping his base again and rubbing the tip through your folds, collecting your slick at the tip. His breathing is still loud, the way he’s sucking in air through clenched teeth making it obvious just how strongly the sight of you bent over and exposed like this is affecting him.

You look gorgeous – he’s intimately familiar with what’s between your legs, of course, but this view feels so lewd. He can see your pretty hole clenching every few moments, tufts of hair decorating the pretty sight, and he can even see your other hole, the one you always tell him not to touch with a squeak and a slap of his hand.

Soon he’s swallowing hard and pressing himself inside, the breath sucked out of his lungs because somehow you feel tighter like this, your cunt seeming to suck him in so tightly that it almost hurts, the sensation making his knees buckle slightly.

And you’re certainly not helping, either – as you’d promised him you’re gasping, telling him in an airy voice, “It’s so big – you’re so big, Kyo, fuck you’ve never felt so big, I can’t – you have to wait a second, please, ‘s too much-!”

And he does, with bared teeth and hands that find purchase at your ass, just as Tengen had told him to do. He’s groping at the soft flesh, grabbing handfuls and pulling them apart to get a full view. A whine slips out of him at the lewd sight of his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, the angle letting him see just how you stretch to accommodate him, even seeing the edges of his balls pressed against your thighs. It’s just too much, and as soon as your shaky ‘okay’ registers, Kyojuro’s immediately thrusting.

And the sight of him moving is even more erotic – pulling out of you and seeing the ring of white coating his base makes him lean more of his weight against you, trying to get more leverage as he thrusts back in so that he can fuck you harder, wanting to get impossibly deeper to feel more and more of you. He’s entranced, watching with wide eyes the way he appears and disappears inside of you again and again, almost lost in a trance.

Your noises have him grunting, the desperate whines and rhythmic gasps every time he sinks back into you making his orgasm come creeping up much too quickly. He’s just too overwhelmed, your pretty moans and cries of his name making his head spin.

Soon he’s bringing a leg up and pressing his foot flat against the ground, gaining better leverage and an angle that makes you scream, your cunt squeezing down on him so tightly that he struggles to pull back to just his tip. He’s seen animals do this in the wild – he’s fucking you like an animal would, mounting you and grasping at your waist to pull you back against him harder, anything and everything to get him deeper inside, to reach a part of you that he’s sure no man or even you have touched.

You’re just too damn pretty, and as he gasps your name and clutches onto you tightly enough to leave bruises while ropes of runny cum fill you, Kyojuro decides that he needs to try out all the other positions Tengen had told him about – perhaps he’ll try something called 69 with you tomorrow.

Maybe that’ll get you to scream his name like this ‘Doggy’ has.

[suikung]

The Uchihas all have breeding kinks. I don’t make the rules, it’s the truth. However with their breeding kinks they develop darker yandere tendencies towards their darling. They are now carrying their child. Their darling will not be allowed to roam past their home. Honestly, he’s still a bit iffy on even letting you leave your room, he can’t have the possibility of anything happening to you. His mind swirls with every possible scenario of danger when he’s away on business. The Uchiha are already possessive of their darlings and pregnancy will only make them spiral into a deep abyss.

[tinynerdycthulu]

ranking svsss characters on how likely they are to get an abortion

shen qingqiu/yuan: 0/10, obv he would never if it was binghe's. as far as i know the only major character to have a stance on abortion at all (if he was binghes mom hed never abort him) how can anyone deny him the chance to live out his milf dreams

luo bingmei: -10/10, its literally shizuns child, how could this lowly disciple ABORT it???? hed probably get jealous of his own unborn kid tho

liu qingge: 3/10, he'd probably keep the baby due to his personal sense of honor/morals but if his life was in danger he'd pursue an abortion. the baby might just like. die on its own tho. this man cannot take care of himself

shang qinghua: 7/10, would keep it if mobei-jun asked him to. otherwise has no parental instinct. is probably actively terrified of both pregnancy and having a kid for valid reasons.

mobei-jun: 5.5/10, would probably keep it prior to airplane extras if it was politically beneficial and post airplane extras if it was sqh's but otherwise feels no sense of obligation to a fetus

shen qingqiu/jiu: 9.9 repeated/10 bordering on 15/10, this man gets abortions regularly. in fact he is the sole reason why there is a dedicated abortion clinic on qian cao. he wishes probirther fearmongering was real and abortions actually caused fetuses to scream and bleed so he could personally be witness to his child's 'life' being snuffed out. the only reason he isnt a 10/10 is bc after aborting like 10 yqy fetuses he realized it actually caused yqy more pain if he KEPT the baby. unfortunately the baby is kinda useless (sorry its not shen yuan) and he just. ditches it.

yue qingyuan: -5/10, sj demands that he does but this man does not have it in him to abort sj's child. paradoxically this leads to them somewhat fixing their relationship.

liu mingyan: 8/10, too busy writing yaoi to parent BUT she might keep it for shits and giggles and to use as a reference when writing bingqiu mpreg kid.

ning yingying: 9/10, shes baby not mommy. also shes neither qualified nor willing to parent, maybe in the future she could deal with the responsibility

ming fan: 6/10, he wouldn't want to but it would be forced upon him c-drama style. hes the shu son and the main wife cant stand his kid being the first grandchild. do you see my vision.

luo bingge: 10/10, this man doesnt believe life begins at conception OR at birth hed perform post-natal abortions if his kids annoyed him enough.

[steor-ra]

Yandere Superfam x Reader

The pregnancy was quite unexpected. Clark was so busy saving the galaxy this past month that he didn't have much time for Lois.

So when Clark discovers that Lois is pregnant after attempting to tell him several times and being ditched before she really had a chance, he feels terrible. How could he not have known his gorgeous wife was pregnant all along? Clark should have known, given his superhearing abilities.

He is also disappointed with Jon for not telling him sooner.

It's a given that as soon as he discovers of the pregnancy, he will pamper Lois to make up for every time she tried to tell him and to support her throughout her pregnancy.

Jon is thrilled to be a big brother; he has always wanted a younger sibling. It gets lonely when Damian isn't there to spend out with him, so the idea of having someone to hang out with every day is exciting. Jon has so much to teach his younger sibling.

When you are born, they're immediately in love. You look so cute and little in their arms, and they never want to let go. You've got them wrapped around your chubby little fingers.

Your nursery room is abandoned as soon as they take you home; you don't need it anyway, you could just sleep in your parents room, just cuddle in their arms safe. You would sometimes sleep in Jon's room if they'd let him

Their hearts fall into pieces everytime you cry especially if you get hurt by something or someone. It barely improved Superman's morale in the world and ensured that the planet would be the safest place for his baby to walk, if yk what I mean.

And don't get me started on the day you received your first shot as a baby. Jon was crying harder than you ever have, and Clark, who is holding you, is glaring so intensely at the doctor that if it's not the laser burning holes at the doctor, I don't know what it is, Lois is there to make sure that Clark doesn't actually burn holes at the doctor.

Jon is the best brother you'll ever have, and he will make sure of it. He dislikes sharing your attention with folks his age, save for his friend Damian, who may also be your friend! Just don't go too far and treat his friend as a brother figure, otherwise Jon will go insane. As I previously stated, Jon dislikes sharing his baby sibling; he is the only one you may refer to as brother; no one else.

Your father, Clark, will do everything in the world to make sure that his baby is happy at all times; if not, at least more frequently. He can't stay strict on your adorable face, especially when you make grabby hands to get what you want. It takes all to resist cooing and kissing your chubby cheeks, which he eventually can't take it anymore and just ends up doing anyhow.

Meanwhile, Lois is a little strict with you; she doesn't want you to grow up bratty, although she believes you will never be since her little cute baby is too gentle and nice to be that kind of child, so her strictness is not as frequent. She will also spoil her baby in the same way as the boys do; her baby deserves the best. Period.

They love you so much that they're willing to give up on everything if it means saving you from any danger

They also have all of the documentaries of your first time events, from the day you were held by your mother to the first day of school.

As you grew older, they became more paranoid

There are moments when you are put in a life-or-death situation, but luckily for you, there are many superheroes who are willing to save you because they are terrified of Superman, the man of steel, turning into bunkers.

The heroes connected to the league already know a lot about you, most likely because Superman can't stop talking about his baby whenever he's with someone or in a meeting. It's terrible, especially since the league is discussing some serious dangers, and then Superman comes in and says, "This is bad for my baby; I wonder what they're doing right now."

The joker kidnaps you one day, frightening your family to the core. Clark and Jon are both unable to hear or see you. They have no idea where you are. Lois was already crying when she couldn't find you in the house; she cried till her throat hurt, and that's when you understand something is serious when Superman calls Batman for help, dilated eyes, disheveled hair, and hyperventilating. Which Batman tried to calm him down and called for the league help him find you before Superman goes insane and starts flipping the world upside down. And when they finally found you, your family locked you up in the house forever.

Lois hugged her babbling baby who is unaware that you're never ever going to have a glimpse of the world ever again. It's the only way to make you safe, if you don't want them to lock you up in a bubble.

(A/n: send requests!)

[megalony]

Danger Zone

This is a new Buddie imagine I had an idea for, I hope you will all like it. Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700

@ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii

Buddie Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: When Captain Gerrard takes charge of the 118, he targets each of the team. Specifically (Y/n), because she's pregnant. And his actions put her at risk.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tossing the clipboard down on the gurney, (Y/n) twisted on her heels and unlocked the medicine cabinet in the corner of the ambulance near the emergency door. Her fingertips grazed along each glass bottle, counting each one in every row and checking the labels to make sure they were in date.

Once they were all accounted for, she ticked them off on the check sheet and turned around.

That was the ambulance restocked and ready to go again. Not that it needed checking and restocking today after Evan had already done it yesterday, but (Y/n) needed to keep busy.

She had been told to 'make herself useful' and she knew what that meant. If Gerrard caught her doing nothing, even if she was just taking a break, he would have her for it. And (Y/n) couldn't be dealing with his fluctuating temper. She would rather appease him and keep him at bay than give him any reason to single her out.

"Diaz, you've shrunk."

A jolt ran through (Y/n)'s chest and her heart shuddered like a bird in a cage. She pinned the clipboard against her stomach and took a deep breath, glaring down at Hen who was leant up against the back door with her arms folded over her chest and a smirk playing on her lips.

"Pardon?" She raised a brow and looked down at Hen, waiting for the punchline of her joke.

For a dreaded moment when she heard her voice, (Y/n) thought it was Gerrard come to antagonise her for something.

"Your shirt says Diaz." Her shoulder slumped against the door a little more so she could cross one leg over the other while she pointed at the shirt (Y/n) was wearing. Not all of their uniforms had their names on the back, but some of them did. And right now, (Y/n) was wearing a shirt that said Diaz on the back, and that wasn't her name. Not yet, anyway.

"My stuff doesn't fit me anymore." (Y/n) tilted her head down, trying to hide the smile that was desperate to spread across her lips. She couldn't afford to be smiling and looking cheesy in case their Captain happened to pass by.

She set the clipboard down on the gurney and moved her hand to indicate her stomach. Not a lot of her clothing fit now she had a baby bump in the way.

The first few months had been fine, (Y/n) only had to disclose the pregnancy to Bobby- while he had been in charge of the station. No one else knew until she started to hang back on the larger calls and Bobby started giving her different orders like telling her to hang back at the truck or go and assist as a medic. Then when her stomach started to go round, it was an easy giveaway.

Being four and then five months pregnant was okay, (Y/n) had still managed to fit into her work clothes no problem. But now, being just over six months, (Y/n) couldn't stretch her shirts anymore without ripping them. They wouldn't go over her bump or tuck into her trousers anymore, and she'd had to go up a size or two in trousers so the buttons actually did up.

It was a change that both Eddie and Evan loved, but one that made (Y/n) self-conscious around their new Captain.

Gerrard liked to single (Y/n) out. He made jibes because she was pregnant, he tried to test her and see how far he could push her on the job.

All of them thought he would treat (Y/n) the way he treat Chimney when he first joined the station. They thought he would confine her to the station and change her job role to cleaner, she had been prepared to be stuck inside, mopping the floors, cleaning out the trucks and restocking the cupboards.

No one had expected him to keep (Y/n) on all of their callouts. He barely played things by the book, he got her on every call out and got her handling equipment and the truck or the ambulance. Gerrard kept things just on the line of the rules so he couldn't be reprimanded, he pushed (Y/n) as far as he could because he knew she wouldn't back down.

(Y/n) couldn't say no and have him call her weak or tell her she should be on maternity leave if she 'wasn't going to do any work around here'.

"No kidding," Hen muttered with a smile that made (Y/n) feel at ease.

She grabbed the door and carefully climbed down so she could follow Hen across the station floor, unsure where they were actually going. There hadn't been a callout in almost two hours, which left everyone pondering around, wondering what they were supposed to do with themselves.

(Y/n) had started to feel useless at the station while Bobby was in charge because he didn't let her assist on a lot of calls, for safety. But now with Gerrard here, (Y/n) felt like she was at her wits end, she was wearing herself thin and it was draining the patience both Evan and Eddie had.

Both men could see the toll the job was taking on (Y/n) and they were starting to worry about her.

"So, how's you and the little guy doing?" Hen aimed towards the stairs and when she pointed to the kitchen, (Y/n) nodded. It was almost lunchtime and there was nothing else for them to be doing. While they had the time, they may as well see if they could get something to eat with the team before the bell sounded and they were all off again.

(Y/n) moved her hand down to her stomach, rubbing circles over her shirt as she smiled softly. "We're good, I think he's asleep right now. We've got another scan next week."

"Hm, I think Buck may have mentioned that once or twice." Hen bit back a laugh when (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

Evan told everyone whenever they were going for a scan. He and Eddie both tried to be there for all of (Y/n)'s appointments if they could and of course, he told people when they were going for one. He was always telling Maddie first though because she loved to see and have a copy of the scan photos.

He took pleasure in telling his parents just to see the way his mother looked drastically ill at the thought of her first grandchild having three parents rather than the conventional mum and dad.

Eddie's parents were still taking time to adjust to Eddie's relationship, but they couldn't be as cold or uncaring as they first felt because they both had a soft spot for Evan and (Y/n). And they knew that Eddie and Chris were happier than they had ever been so it was hard to dispute.

(Y/n) aimed for the table and took her usual seat while Hen went to grab a drink from the fridge. Both of them clocked Evan in the kitchen, moving from one counter to the next, first with a dish in his hand, and then with a wooden spoon, and then with a tea towel tossed over his shoulder.

Without Bobby here, Evan had silently taken over with the cooking. It just seemed to make sense. He loved cooking, it was something he enjoyed and took his mind off of the crude, callous Captain they now found themselves with. And everyone loved his cooking. They all let him get on with it. The only person who was grumpy about Evan's food was Gerrard because he couldn't find anything wrong with it no matter how hard he tried.

"Hey mi amor,"

A grin spread across (Y/n)'s lips and she tilted her head back, slouching down in her seat when she felt a familiar pair of hands on her shoulders.

"Hi." She reached up to give Eddie's hand a squeeze and her chest fluttered when he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Clearly Gerrard wasn't around if Eddie was dolling out the affection. The three of them had to be careful when they were on shift together. If he caught them so much as standing too close to one another he either made a snide joke or tried to reprimand them and pull them up on being professional while on shift.

But when he wasn't around, kisses were shared in quiet corners and touches were shared behind closed doors.

The only times Gerrard couldn't say anything was when they sat together at lunch or in the fire truck. He couldn't say anything about proximity when they were all sat next to one another, on their best behaviour about being professional. And they took full advantage. In the back of the truck while Gerrard sat up front, he couldn't see or say anything about Eddie's hand wandering up and down Evan's thigh or Evan's hand on (Y/n)'s stomach or his lips against her temple.

Eddie took a quick glance towards the stairs before moving his lips further south and capturing (Y/n) in a quick kiss. He savoured the touch and relished in the feeling of her hand slithering up to cup his neck.

But his lips crinkled and his nose twitched when he swiped his tongue across her lips and was met with a familiar tang. Blood.

Eddie's eyes snapped open and he pulled back just enough so his lips were hovering an inch above hers so their breaths mingled together. His brows knitted together and his chest tightened when he saw the dark rouge colour running down her nose and across her lip.

"Mi amor, head forward for me." He gently gripped (Y/n)'s chin and tugged her head down, causing her to sit up straight and lean over when she realised what was happening. "Buck, paper towel please." Eddie clicked his fingers in Evan's direction until their partner looked their way.

A quiet "Shit," passed Evan's lips and he spun around, grabbing a wad of paper towels from the side before he headed over to the pair of them.

(Y/n) pressed her hands down on the tabletop, feeling Eddie's chest pressing down against her shoulders and his chin hovered near her neck so he could look over her shoulder. His hand stayed cupping her chin and he gratefully took the paper towels from Evan and held them against (Y/n)'s nose.

Nosebleeds had been (Y/n)'s enemy since she got pregnant, she seemed to have them frequently now, but they didn't last long.

The worst one she had was last month during the night. Evan woke up with (Y/n)'s head on his chest and a river of blood running across his skin. He thought for a dreaded minute that he was having some kind of accident like he was waking up from anaesthetic in the middle of an operation.

A headache started to roll in behind (Y/n)'s eyes and she swallowed down a groan, closing her eyes as she concentrated on breathing through her mouth. She kept her head tilted forward like she was going to headbutt the table. At least this one didn't feel heavy, she wasn't coughing blood everywhere like she had last time.

"Let's have a look, sweetheart." Evan slumped down into the seat next to (Y/n) and took the wad of tissue from Eddie's hand, dumping the bloodied tissue on the table.

He gently held (Y/n)'s chin and lifted her head up, a smile fluttering across his lips when he saw that the bleeding seemed to have stopped now.

"You good?"

"Yeah, sorry." She grabbed another paper towel and swiped it across her lips, trying to make sure all traces of burnt orange were clean from her face. The last thing she needed was a certain someone making a comment or telling her to go clean herself up.

Eddie kissed her hair and rubbed his hands up and down her arms but when he heard those thunderous boots hitting the stairs, he audibly growled. Just what they needed, Gerrard coming to make a scene.

"Buck, is this done?" Hen motioned to the tray of piping hot lasagne in front of her, both because she was hungry and to get Evan back to his cooking station. They didn't need to have another argument break out, they all argued almost every shift with Gerrard and it was doing them no good.

With pursed lips, Evan tried to smile. He gave (Y/n)'s chin a light squeeze and tilted her head in his direction so he could have a kiss. His fingers brushed across her cheek and when he pushed up, he paused midway to let Eddie lean over and snatch a kiss as well. He darted back to the kitchen just as Gerrard stomped up the stairs, his usual unimpressed look painted over his face.

His eyes set on Eddie immediately and he rose a brow, clearly disgruntled to see Eddie standing so close to one of his partners.

Gerrard didn't like different. He didn't like anything that challenged or differed from the old ways, the generic and safe boundaries of society. He didn't like Chimney for racial reasons. He didn't like Hen for homophobic reasons. He had a grudge against Evan for being in a poly relationship and finding out he wasn't part of the 'white boy' gang Gerrard used to have when he first came to the station ten years ago.

He didn't like Eddie both for his poly relationship and because of his heritage. He wasn't a fan of him being with two people, one of them being a man also hit like a bullet.

For the same reason, he didn't like (Y/n) for her relationship, for being a woman, and he liked to think of her as weak now she was pregnant.

They all had targets on their backs, but the three of them had bigger markers for Gerrard. He liked to rile them up and see how far he could go, he had more reasons to go against the three of them and being in charge of them gave him a power trip.

For once, Eddie didn't make a move to sit down. They had all agreed to stand up to Gerrard by catching him out. Whenever he made comments, they noted it down and sent a report. When he treated them unfairly, they documented it and then sent a copy to the chief. If he tried to be out of line with them, everyone made sure to drag the conversation somewhere public. As long as they had at least one witness, Gerrard had to watch what he said.

But Eddie wasn't in the mood to play nice right now. His hand stayed on (Y/n)'s shoulder and he stayed standing behind her chair with one leg crossed over the other and his other hand on his hip.

"Diaz," Gerrard nodded at him but when he went to approach the kitchen, presumably to try and take a jibe at Evan, he paused. His head turned to the left and he locked eyes on (Y/n), taking note of the paper towel in her hand and the scrunched up, bloodied pile on the table. "Jesus, not another one, or has there been a disagreement I didn't know about?"

He took a quick look around as if expecting to find someone with bloodied knuckles, indicating a fight had taken place. The quirked smile on his lips made Eddie shiver and had him ready to start a disagreement right here and now.

Before anyone could comment, the alarm bell sounded and dispatch came through the tanoid speakers.

Right when they were going to sit down to eat.

A chorus of groans sounded throughout the kitchen as everyone put down whatever they were doing and listened to the announcement to see what kind of call they were going on.

"Okay, you all know what to do, don't you?" Gerrard pointed his thumb over his shoulder and took a step back to watch them filter towards the stairs. He paid particular attention to Evan who frowned and planted both hands down on the counter while he listened to the dispatch describing the call.

"Uh, that's a high code building fire."

"Yes Buckley, it is." The sarcasm dripped from Gerrard's voice and he moved his hand, motioning for Evan to leave the kitchen and aim for the stairs. His tone caused Evan to roll his eyes and hunch up his shoulders, trying to draw in a deep breath to control himself.

"So (Y/n) shouldn't be going on this call." They all knew the rules. (Y/n) was on light duties. She couldn't go into a fire, not even if she was suited up and with her team. She couldn't assist on fires, on multi-car pile ups or any calls where there was a dispute with weapons involved.

She was a spare set of hands only. She helped as a medic or to get equipment set up or to direct people on scene. (Y/n) was effectively a shadow on a lot of calls but it was to keep her safe. She would be on maternity leave next month because after seven months it would be too dangerous to go on any call outs.

They had everything agreed and in place with Bobby. Why did Gerrard have to turn up and tip the scales?

(Y/n) took a deep breath and snook a glance up at Eddie behind her when his hand tightened on her shoulder. She didn't want to be an issue or cause problems. If Gerrard wanted her on this call she was happy to go, she would only be sorting the equipment and the hose and looking after the casualties anyway, she wouldn't be suiting up for the fire.

She pushed up from her seat, scrunching up the used tissues to throw in the bin. The moment Eddie's touch left her body, (Y/n) felt bare and unprotected and it made her conceal a shiver.

Passing Gerrard made her feel worse. She could feel his eyes scoping her up and down with a raised brow. His nose crinkled and his upper lip curled in distaste as he looked at her like she was a nuisance he didn't want around.

"Are you in charge now, Buckley?" When Evan didn't answer, Gerrard looked at (Y/n). "You're part of this team, that means you pull your weight. You can handle doing your job, can't you?"

Something snappy and sarcastic was on the tip of (Y/n)'s tongue, but she pushed it away like a foul taste in her mouth and settled for nodding her head, muttering a quiet "Of course," under her breath.

"See."

"Isn't it your job to oversee everyone's safety? She's on light duties-"

"She can do the job as background support. I oversee the smooth running of this place and I make sure my team pull their weight. If she doesn't mess up, she won't be in danger, will she?"

(Y/n) shuddered when Eddie kicked the chair under the table so harshly all four table legs scraped against the floor. She felt his hands on her waist and she forced her feet to move, hoping Eddie would follow after her and not stop to start a fight. They all needed to go get ready before one of them said something that would get them disciplined or suspended.

They could hear Evan throwing the tea towel across the counter and huffing as he made quick work of following after them.

They didn't give a damn about Gerrard or his orders. If he wanted the team to work, they would all continue to look out for each other. If (Y/n) couldn't do something, the boys would do it for her. They would 'pull her weight' in the team as it were and shield her behind them. They would do the job for her so Gerrard had no means to pick on her.

***

"I can't go in there." (Y/n) could feel the palm of her hands beginning to sweat as she looked up at her Captain who she had a growing distain for.

She didn't like standing up to him. She preferred the boys or Hen to point out when Gerrard was wrong and tell him the codes of conduct to prove that his actions weren't justified. They usually left that to Evan, his ADHD gave him a good memory for facts and visuals and he had all but memorised the handbook. He could pull out any rule, section or code to call Gerrard up on.

And right now, (Y/n) couldn't remember the specific codes, but she knew Gerrard was trying to break them.

"I'm telling you to suit up and get your ass into gear, (Y/l/n) we need to get this fire under control-"

"I can't go in there and if you order me to you're making me a liability on the team. Please." Her head started to shake and her hands ran up and down her overalls.

She was going to be sick. Her head was pounding. She was going to have another nosebleed.

If (Y/n) went into that building she was putting herself and her unborn baby at risk and she would become a liability because if she fell or tripped or went dizzy she would waste precious time. The team might have to spend more resources and effort to find her and help her out and she would become one of their casualties rather than one of the team.

(Y/n) wasn't supposed to be here, she shouldn't be on site of this building fire, it was a risky call and Bobby would have made her hang back at the station if he were in charge. Hen would of made the same call too. Gerrard was taking his leadership too far and breaking the boundaries.

She could see the rage bubbling up inside his eyes and his hands clenched into fists and for a moment, (Y/n) wondered if he was going to step forward and hit her. But then his finger pointed between her and the truck and his curved nose crinkled and twitched like a rabbit.

"You being on this team is a liability in itself." His words made her shoulders quake and she coiled in on herself, holding back tears. "Now suit up. If you won't go in the building, then you can man the hose from the doorway and get this fucking thing under control, or I will reprimand you. Understood?"

Her legs started to shake as she spun on her heels and stormed towards the truck.

Everything was shaking. Her heart was hammering against her chest. The baby was twisting and threatening to make her sick. Her fingertips turned numb and she could barely feel her hands when she reached out for her helmet and shrugged on her jacket.

Putting on her gloves made her hands feel like blocks of ice, unable to bend or move the way she wanted them to.

(Y/n) swallowed a few times to try and calm herself down and make sure she didn't throw up. That was the last thing she needed right now. She looped the hose over her shoulder and trudged towards the building.

Chimney and Eddie had gone up on the ladder to evacuate the top floor and put out the separate fires up there. Hen and Evan were inside the building with most of the 138 team to get it under control. (Y/n) was supposed to be on standby, getting things off the truck and helping as a relief medic when the patients started to filter out.

She wasn't supposed to be anywhere near the building itself. This was dangerous, but as long as she wasn't going inside, (Y/n) would do what she could to help. She never worried about feeling useless on the job until Gerrard came in charge.

"Hose!"

She motioned the hose on her shoulder when she saw Hen hurrying out the doors, presumably for more resources like this.

A deep frown set into Hen's features when she saw how close (Y/n) was and (Y/n) realised it looked a lot like she was about to rush into the burning building as back up. That wasn't what she was doing. She wouldn't put herself and her baby at risk like that.

"What are you d-"

Whatever Hen tried to say drowned out when a blast shocked the foundations of the building. All the windows on the first floor burst. Gusts of air and billowing motions of smoke soured through the windows and out into the open air.

The surge and the backlash knocked everyone within a ten foot radius off their feet, including the girls.

(Y/n)'s eyes snapped closed and her hands tightened around the hose as if it would somehow work as a harness or a rope to hold her up and prevent a harsh fall. It didn't. The blast sent her backwards and took her feet from beneath her. She went down on the pavement with a thud and she was relieved she had her helmet on or the force would have knocked her out.

All the oxygen escaped her lungs and (Y/n) laid on her back, jaw hung down, lips murmuring as she tried to suck in a proper breath and get her chest working again.

"(Y/n)? (Y/n)… you with me?"

She felt Hen kneeling beside her and it made (Y/n) wonder how long she had been laid there, gasping for air. Her eyes opened with some force and she blinked through the smoke that made it look like midnight rather than midday.

Hen's worried expression came into view and (Y/n) managed to nod and wrap her hands around Hen's arm that was stretched out in front of her. She let her friend reel her up into a sitting position and she took a minute to shake her head and gather her senses.

Just a little fall. A relatively small blast considering the structure was still standing and the building foundations hadn't been wrecked. (Y/n) hadn't even broken a bone.

When Evan got hit by lightning, the force had been so great that (Y/n) fell backwards and toppled off the truck. She dislocated her shoulder and broke a rib from that impact. This was nothing compared to that.

"I- I'm good."

Hen looked doubtful. She rose a brow and quirked her head to the side as if to say she didn't believe (Y/n). She reached out for (Y/n) and did a quick assessment, trying to gage whether she had any cuts, bruises or dreaded broken bones.

When Hen's gaze dropped down to (Y/n)'s stomach, she tilted her own head down and followed her gaze.

She hadn't landed on her stomach or her side, she had fallen straight on her back which was relatively lucky if (Y/n) had to fall at all. Her stomach hadn't been jostled, she felt okay and she could feel the baby wriggling too which was a good sign.

"Let me take a look at you." It sounded more like a question than a statement and (Y/n) found herself nodding along.

She felt okay, she had had a lot worse over the years and she had done more damage with harsher falls. But she had never been pregnant before and (Y/n) knew it would put both their minds at ease if Hen just gave her a once over. Just to be safe.

"Both of you, walk it off and get back in there." Gerrard pointed over at them before he grabbed the radio on his shoulder and presumably sent a snarky order out to someone else or to dispatch.

"I need to examine her-"

"Do you see her screaming in pain, Wilson? She's fine, get up and get back to work before this whole place goes under. Now!"

Twisting her head, (Y/n) looked up at Hen and tried her best to smile and hold back a flinch. She was fine, as long as she could get up with no obvious pains she would be okay to carry on.

(Y/n) gratefully accepted Hen's arm, smiling weakly when Hen took her weight and easily helped her up to her feet. She could feel her head starting to swim and float when she was up on her feet and her knees trembled but after a few seconds, her body started to level itself back out again. Just like hitting a reset button on a computer.

(Y/n) dusted her gloves across her jacket and over her knees, getting rid of the sprinkles of glass that dropped down on them like the first fall of snow. She was okay. She didn't even feel sick or any pain anywhere and when she danced her hand over her abdomen, she smiled. The baby was wriggling and kicking. He was fine too.

"Are you sure you're good? If not tell me and I'll-"

"No, no fussing, come on we've had worse." If the baby was moving and (Y/n) didn't have any pain except for a few twinges and bruises, she was good to go. They were in the middle of an emergency and Hen had a job to do, (Y/n) wasn't going to get in the way and distract her and provoke Gerrard's wrath.

"What the Hell are you doing?!"

A shiver tore down (Y/n)'s spine and her eyes darted around, frantically trying to find where that voice came from. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or frightened when she realised it was Evan calling out to her. If it was Gerrard again she would be in for a disciplinary talk, but knowing it was one of her partners only made (Y/n)'s worry spike.

Evan stormed over to them like a God walking amongst humans and the demanour glowing around him made him tower over the people he bypassed to get to them.

His clenched hands uncurled and reached out for (Y/n) the moment she was within reach. He gripped her upper arms, pulling her closer whilst simultaneously nudging her back so she was away from the building in case a secondary explosion rocked the street.

"Evan-"

"You shouldn't be anywhere near the fire-" Something dawned on him and flashed across his pupils before he was looking her over frantically. "Are you okay?"

"The blast knocked us off our feet-"

"But I'm okay." (Y/n) finished for Hen, looking between the pair of them before she gripped Evan's shoulders to try and get him to look back at her.

"Get back in the truck."

"Stop this mother's meeting and get your asses back to work I've already told you once. Top floors are evacuated and simmered down, we need that ground floor fire under control before the foundations are burned to cinders." Gerrard's voice barked like a rabid dog and his teeth flared and flashed in the glimmering sunlight trying to break through the smoke.

He pointed his hand towards the building before he clapped his hand and pointed someone nearby to turn on the hose on the truck. They needed this situation under control, standing chatting in the street wasn't going to help.

(Y/n) shivered when Evan's voice cut across the top of her ear, telling her again to get in the truck.

His hand found her lower back and he pointed her in the right direction. He didn't care if she sat in the truck or the ambulance. Hell, Evan didn't care if (Y/n) sat on the pavement or if she went and sat with some of the other medics and helped the casualties. He just needed her away from this building so her and their baby weren't in any danger.

He tried to get (Y/n) to walk over to the truck but he felt her shudder and back up into his chest when Gerrard looked directly at her. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. The blazing fury in his eyes told them all if they didn't move right now, he was going to be spitting feathers and his next words wouldn't be pretty.

(Y/n) didn't know what to do. She didn't want to stand back and do nothing, but she couldn't go near the building until it was cleared and coded as safe. And she could feel Evan's hands on her arms, squeezing tightly before he nudged her to walk in the opposite direction.

Evan didn't want to, but he let go of (Y/n) once she took a few steps away. His body rattled in frustration, panic and an overload of adrenaline that was fueling his anger.

His fingers shook through his gloves as he reached down and grabbed the hose, tossing it over his right shoulder so he could get back to work.

"(Y/l/n) where the Hell are you going-"

"She's not going near that fire." Evan tilted his head back and kept his eyes straight ahead, trying not to spare one little glance towards the shorter man on his right who was grating on his last nerve.

"(Y/l/n) I gave you a direct order and you, Buckley, aren't in charge here. Get back to your original post."

The hose on Evan's shoulder slid down to the crook of his elbow and he turned sharply until he was face to face with Gerrard. His left hand reached out and gave him a rough shove in the shoulder while his nose crinkled and his jaw locked so tightly Evan thought his teeth were going to break.

"Your orders are bullshit."

"Think carefully about your next words."

"Your orders are bullshit and violate the handbook by putting a pregnant worker at risk. And by picking on her because she's pregnant, you're discriminating against her. She stays in the truck or I go and get a second opinion from Captain Truman, this is his callout, not yours."

Evan was begging for a fight. His shoulders tensed up and his head tilted back as he prayed, willed, hoped, for Gerrard to disagree with him. He wanted Gerrard to bite, to snap and shout and scream and show his true colours because then Evan had some leverage.

He could go over to the Captain of the 138 and ask for his orders and tell him there was a worker on this scene who was pregnant and in the line of duty. The 138 got to this callout first and it made their Captain the lead in this operation, he had the discretion and the control here.

Evan could see a vein throbbing in Gerrard's neck and he was quite sure that his new Captain was on the verge of combusting like a molecule. But he didn't. Gerrard didn't say anything. All he did was point towards the building, and Evan took that as his win.

He knew they would be having words when they got back to the station, but he was already formulating his defence and if that didn't work, Evan would be finding the number for Chief Simmons.

He wasn't going to stand for this any longer.

***

(Y/n) could feel her head beginning to swim as she leaned to the left until her burning temple was slumped against the window.

Her head was pounding. Her stomach was starting to ache and cramp and she was sure it was because they had skipped lunch and seeing Evan interact with Gerrard had put her on edge.

She felt Eddie's hand on her thigh and after a few seconds, she realised he was leaning down against her and his lips pressed into her temple.

Evan was sitting opposite them with a face like thunder. His jaw was grinding so much they could all hear the joint clicking back and forth. His hands were clenched into fists and pushing down onto his thighs, creating indents in his trousers. His knees were bent out to the sides and his back was straight against the seat while he stared out the window, not looking at any of them.

They all knew he and Gerrard were going to be having an argument when they rolled up at the station. Everyone was anticipating and dreading it. Hen was ready to call the Chief herself for back up. Chimney was ready to stop a fight from breaking out and debating whether or not to call Bobby to diffuse the situation.

And Eddie was waiting for anything. He was waiting for them to pull up at the station so he could tell Evan to go home. Go talk to Bobby. Talk to the Chief on his own, just avoid an argument at all costs. Arguing would only set Gerrard on the rest of them and if Evan spoke out of line, Gerrard would have his neck for it.

But Eddie couldn't help but worry about their girlfriend. She hadn't spoken since the fire had been put out and they were all cleared to head back to the station. She slumped in her seat in the truck and seemed to switch off completely and that wasn't like her.

Everyone jumped like they had been shocked when the truck started to reverse into the station.

They barely managed to fling their belts off before Gerrard was out the truck and his voice was compelling them forward.

"Everyone out. Now."

(Y/n) could see stars in front of her eyes when she tried to stand up. Her knees were shaking and her stomach felt like it was trying to drop down to her feet. And her back, oh her back right between her hips was aching with every throb of her heartbeat. She must have landed funny during the blast and taken a harsher landing than she thought.

She kept one hand on her stomach and used the other as leverage to slowly climb down from the truck.

"Alright, now everyone listen up."

Her limbs began to shake as she moved to stand in between her boys. Part of (Y/n)was desperate to run and hide. To hurry up to the kitchen or lock herself in the toilets to be away from Gerrard because this wasn't going to be good.

He was going to direct most of his anger towards her and Evan. He would give them all clean up duty, give them hard and pointless tasks, make them feel worthless. He was going to punish them for his own mistakes that he had made on purpose.

Tilting her head down, (Y/n) looked down at her boots and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other. She curled her right hand around the back of Eddie's bicep and leaned into him while her other hand rested on her stomach, something she hated to do in front of Gerrard, but right now she didn't care.

She felt sick. The baby was twisting and kicking and there was a dull ache she couldn't ignore.

She silently prayed for the baby to stay still so she could concentrate, but it didn't help. All (Y/n) could focus on was the pain in her back, the unusual ache in her stomach and her heartbeat that was thumping throughout every inch of her skin.

"Now that was a shit-show out there and every one of you ought to be ashamed." Gerrard's voice boomed around the station and echoed back to him, but (Y/n) barely heard him over her pulse rushing through her ears.

Panic and terror clawed their way into (Y/n)'s heart when a rather strong pain tore through her abdomen. She pressed her palm down harder on her stomach and twisted herself to the right so she could press her forehead into Eddie's bicep. She didn't care if Gerrard noticed and called her out on being so close to one of her partners.

She didn't feel well.

His words continued to rocket through the air and send them all reeling and most of them either looked up at the roof beams or stared down at their shoes to avoid his horrid gaze.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths through her nose but her shoulders tensed up when another pain ignited in her stomach and she realised it was similar to a cramp.

Her knees bent forward and she pushed down like she was trying to squat, although (Y/n) wasn't sure what she was doing or if she was trying to sit down or not. She was just trying to make the pain go away. Her teeth sank down into her lower lip but it didn't stop a small sound from escaping and she tugged on Eddie's hand while her other arm bound into her bump, pushing down to relieve the pain.

"Oow," Her face meshed into Eddie's arm causing her tears to trickle down onto his arm and she felt his free hand quickly gripping her left arm to stop her from going down to the floor.

"Hey, hey what's wrong? What's happening?" Eddie's nails scratched into (Y/n)'s elbow to try and keep her upright and his eyes flitted from her to Evan who was quick to hold onto her hips.

"Oh for God's sake what's the problem now?" Gerrard's hands found his hips and his foot began to tap against the polished floor. "If you're gonna start this (Y/l/n) then go home-"

"She needs a doctor." Hen snapped defensively before she turned her back on him and moved to stand beside Eddie, looking over at her friend.

They weren't going to let him belittle (Y/n) right now when she was clearly in agony and something was wrong. When she had her frequent nosebleeds he taunted her and made her feel like a child. He made everyone afraid to speak out if they felt ill or if they had a problem, but (Y/n) especially. She didn't dare complain or say anything because Gerrard wanted any excuse to tell her she was weak and if she was pregnant then she shouldn't be here. But this was different.

Evan was sure he heard Gerrard mutter "I don't fucking believe this," under his breath but when the Captain stormed off towards the bench, Evan felt a little better. He knew Gerrard was going to stay and watch, waiting for his moment to strike and tell them off or try and bark out an order, but everyone would ignore him for the time being.

"Okay, let's sit you down, hm?"

(Y/n) kept her face meshed into Eddie's arm, trying to stifle her tears but she managed to nod. She felt him move round so he and Evan both had one of her arms each and they slowly lowered down to their knees with (Y/n) between them.

Once she was down on her knees, she leaned over and tried to bury her face against Evan's thighs. The compressing weight on her stomach made her feel a bit better, but a groan mixed with a whine burned at the back of her throat when Eddie carefully reeled her back up. He couldn't examine her like that.

"What hurts, baby what's wrong?" Evan gently cupped (Y/n)'s chin and tilted her head back so she was looking up at him through tears.

"I- there, hurts there." She shakily moved Evan's hand from her arm to the lower side of her abdomen and her words set his heart rocketing in his chest.

He had been praying she wouldn't say something like that. He hoped she would have some sort of back pain or stomach ache, but not something to do with the baby. They couldn't have an issue now with the baby when everything had gone smoothly up to now.

"Let me look." Eddie's voice was soft and he glanced between both partners before he shuffled round so he was in front of (Y/n) with Evan pressed up on his right side.

He managed a weak smile when Hen grabbed a medic bag from the truck and placed it down beside him.

His hands shook as he reached out for (Y/n)'s stomach and started to prod around. He pressed the heel of his hand into various parts of her abdomen, trying to feel how the baby was laid and if he could feel anything out of place.

Part of him was hoping to feel a hernia because at least that wouldn't be an issue with the baby.

"Okay, let's check your BP."

He slid the strap up (Y/n)'s right arm that he placed over his thighs and clipped an oxygen pulse monitor on her index finger. He waited a few moments until the monitor beeped and his brow arched when he saw the numbers.

"Pulse and BP are high, I just wanna take a quick listen." Eddie's words confused (Y/n) until she watched him find a stethoscope in the bag and he softly lifted her shirt to reveal her abdomen to his eyes. "Baby's heartbeat is a bit low."

His words made (Y/n)'s shoulders quake and she leaned into Evan, unable to smother a sob.

She curled her left hand around Evan's arm, feeling his other hand cupping the back of her neck while she pressed her face into his shoulder as if trying to hide away would make her feel any better. Her right hand moved down to her stomach, pushing down to try and take away the cramps and she pushed up on her knees to lean more into Evan.

"No, no-" Eddie hooked the stethoscope around his neck before he reached out for (Y/n), grabbing her arms with alarming force. "Hen get the ambulance fired up. Baby, we need to take you down to the emergency room."

"W-why? Eddie, what's wrong?" (Y/n) didn't dare ask but she could see the panic in his eyes and the way he kept cracking his jaw and biting his lower lip. He was trying to put on his calm face, his medic mode to stop her and Evan from panicking, but it wasn't working.

They both watched Eddie's eyes dart down (Y/n)'s body before he held her gaze again. "You're bleeding and the baby's heartbeat is low, you need a scan."

Evan's fingers punctured into the back of (Y/n)'s neck and his chin perched on her shoulder so he could look down her back. Sure enough, he could see the blood patching into the back of her trousers and inner thighs. Blood loss and a low heartbeat meant there was some sort of internal problem, something wrong with the baby. They needed to get a scan to see what was going on and sort this before any lasting damage occurred.

Leaning over, Eddie held (Y/n)'s upper arms and went to try and help her up, but he stopped and looked over his right shoulder when he saw who (Y/n) was staring at.

She had locked eyes with Hen who wasn't moving towards the ambulance. Eddie told her they needed to go, either she or Chimney needed to drive the ambulance. Why weren't they moving?

"The blast, from the building fire today… we- we got knocked down." Hen looked between (Y/n) and the boys, guilt, panic and fear swirling in her pupils that looked like black holes.

"You fell?"

"I- it was only a tumble, I didn't- I felt fine-" (Y/n) clutched Evan's arms tighter, meshing her cheek into his shoulder as tears drenched her face.

Was this her fault? Had something happened because of the fall? She had felt fine, it wasn't even a proper fall, she just got knocked down on her back. That was it. She got up and dusted down and felt normal save for a few bruises, she didn't land on her stomach or bash her side or anything that would suggest there might be damage to the baby.

A sob bubbled past her lips while Evan tilted his head down to kiss the top of her head, carding his fingers through her hair to try and calm her down. This wasn't her fault.

"He didn't let me assess her." Hen turned on her heels and jogged towards the ambulance before she said something she shouldn't.

She should have insisted. She should have checked (Y/n) over anyway even if Gerrard told them both not to. She should have sent (Y/n) over to the paramedics on site and made sure she got checked, they might have picked something up or in the very least told (Y/n) to go down to the emergency room to be safe.

Anger seeped through every inch of Eddie's body but he forced himself to look down at (Y/n). If he looked over at his Captain he was going to lose control and start a fight that would get him suspended.

"Buck, up. It might be a placental abruption, we need to go."

Nodding, Evan slid his hands down to (Y/n)'s waist and looped his arms tightly around her. He let her shuffle further into his chest with her arms around his neck and with Eddie's hands on her hips, they both slowly pulled her up to her feet, sandwiching her between them. They could feel how badly (Y/n) was shaking and it was clear she wasn't going to be able to walk very far in this state.

They made an odd shuffle towards the ambulance but Evan's head snapped up to lock eyes with Gerrard when the Captain spoke.

"Wilson drives, Diaz goes. I'm not having my whole team disappear on this field trip. Han, Buckley, fall back."

That was a punishment. That was because Evan had spoken out against him earlier and pulled the rule book on him. This was Gerrard trying to get payback and his way of insulting them because he didn't understand their relationship. If Bobby was here he wouldn't hesitate to find cover for the remaining shift and let all of them go down to the hospital.

"You fucking caused this! We're taking her to hospital-"

"If you go there will be a record of action on your file and I can suspend you for your disobedience today Buckley."

Again, that wasn't fair and that was a punishment Gerrard couldn't enforce. Evan knew the rules. It was a record of conversation first and he couldn't be suspended on the spot without talking to the Chief, especially if Gerrard didn't have any backing or reasoning beforehand.

"After what you've done? I'm calling the union rep and the Chief from the hospital. We'll see who's ass gets fired for this." Eddie locked eyes with Gerrard for the longest moment before he turned away to face his partners again. Gerrard had put (Y/n) and their baby at risk, he wasn't getting away with this.

They all heard Chimney holler "All in," while he opened the back doors to the ambulance and it was clear what he was saying. They were all taking (Y/n) to the hospital. He wasn't waiting here for news, he was riding shotgun and taking one of his family to see a doctor. Hen wouldn't be coming back on shift until she knew if (Y/n) was alright or not. And the boys were staying with their girl.

(Y/n) managed to lift her head from Evan's arm to look between him and Eddie. She could see the thunder on their faces and the way Eddie's lips were snarling while Evan's lips were pursed and tense. But they both softened when they looked down at her.

Evan's arms squeezed around her and Eddie kissed the back of her head was they carefully eased her up into the ambulance.

They were going to look after her. And they were going to make Gerrard pay for what he'd done to them all.

[surielstea]

Beg For It

1k celebration request

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader (mafia au)

Summary: Reader is ovulating, enough said.

Warnings: Smut | minors dni | p in v | no foreplay | unprotected sex | heavy breeding kink | allusion to pregnancy | petnames (baby, sweet girl, brat) | bondage (shadows) | no plot, just smut.

2.4k words

I don't know what it was exactly that was wrong with me. I wasn't normally this clingy but for some reason, all I could think about was my very dangerous, very busy husband. He was all I wanted as of late, and if I didn't constantly have my hands on him I think I would collapse.

"Baby, I have to go to work," Azriel sighs, stumbling towards the door as I latch to his waist, draping over him and making him drag me along with him.

"Don't want you to," I whine, tightening my hold.

"Love," He sighed, stopping our game of push and pull, and rather turning to face me. I look up at him with a pout to my lips and his eyes soften, his hands coming up to my jaw. "My pretty girl," He admires, his thumbs rubbing over the tops of my cheeks. "What's gotten into you, hm?" He tilts his head and I shrug mischievously, knowing damn well what was making me so needy. "Tell me," He encourages and my frown deepens.

"I'm ovulating," I grumble and he smirks.

"Oh yeah?" He says, his voice dropping and I groan, playfully hitting his chest in a futile attempt to get him to stop teasing.

"Stop, you know what that does to me," I say and he chuckles, catching my wrists to stop me from pummeling him anymore.

"My poor baby," He hums as I wrap my arms around his torso rather than punch him and stuff my face into his chest, unable to get close enough.

"Don't pity me," I huff.

"Then what is it you'd like me to do?"

"Stay," I mutter. "Please, you can spend all day filling me," I attempt to coerce but he seems unwavering.

"You're insatiable," He grumbles, his hands meeting my hips.

"It's your fault," I huff into his chest, his expensive cologne enveloping me.

"Yeah? How so baby?" He said, pulling away to look at my expression, my brows crinkled with an evident pout painting my lips.

"You know how," I cross my arms defensively.

"I don't think I do, use your voice hun," He encourages and I curse, looking at him with a defeated expression.

"You and your pretty words get me all bothered and you know it," I confess and he smirks.

"Do they?" He leaned closer and I groaned, pushing him away and stomping down the hallway.

"Whatever, just go to work already," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Aw, don't be like that." Arms wrap around my waist and pull me into a chest. "It's alright baby, just say you want me," He hums, kissing down my neck, making me clench my legs together.

"Az," I sigh, my hand coming to his cheek. "You have to go to work." I push him away by the face but he twists out of the position so he is in front of me once again, blocking my path towards the hallway.

"Well, I can't just leave my needy wife all alone now can I?" He tilts his head and I close my eyes, cursing him for making this all harder than it had to be.

"I'll be fine," I mutter, lifting onto my toes and pecking his cheek before fluidly moving past him. "Go." I make a gesture with my hands that waves him away as if one of the most feared men on the continent were a child in need of directions.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you really want me to leave." Azriel's hands return to my hips before I can get too far, his grip tightening as he pulls me right back into his chest so I am flushed against him.

I grit my teeth, looking up into his hazel eyes. It was no wonder it was his job to interrogate whatever poor soul wronged the crime syndicate, it seemed as if it was impossible to lie to him when staring into those pools of hazel. Emerald and gold melded together, a rim of blue lining his pupil, and orange on the outermost edge. They were the first things I noticed about him, and they will always be my favorite physical features of his. He knew that, of course, he also knew that I was a terrible liar.

"Tell me you want me to leave," He encourages and I stifle a sigh, looking away because I unfortunately couldn't find it in myself to even attempt. I wanted him, and he seemed willing enough to give me him.

His smirk widens. "That's what I thought," He concluded in a snarky tone, but before I could manage a retort he picked me up by my hips and tossed me over his shoulder like a rag doll.

"Az! Let me go!" I pound my fists into his back but he was too busy trailing his large hand up the back of my thigh to care. "Azriel," I groan, now kicking my feet. But that didn't seem to phase him either, and he didn't put me down until we were in our bedroom and he could throw me onto the bed.

I recovered quickly, looking up at him with creased brows as I fiddled with the hem of my nightgown. "Oh don't act all shy now," He taunted. "C'mon baby, tell me what you want," He came to the edge of the bed so he was directly in front of me, his large frame looming over mine. "Or you could show me," He offers, holding out a hand and I look down at the hem of my nightgown and then back up to him. I grab his outstretched hand and push it under my dress, silently encouraging him to take it off. He seems to understand and does exactly as I wish.

The fabric falls to the floor within seconds and I fall back into the mattress, my head landing in the pillows as I watch him mount over me.

I hastily work at getting his shirt off, the silent thrashing of clothes filling the room as he kisses down my neck towards my collarbone.

"Az please," I implore, discarding his shirt down onto the floor with reckless abandon.

"What is it? Tell me what you want," He breathes into my lips. I arch up into him as the need in my chest intensifies.

"I can't wait any longer, please I need you now," I cry, my hands coming to the hem of his pants.

"Yeah? You gonna beg for it?" He incited and I whimper, attempting to press my legs together but he made the movement impossible with his hips settled between my thighs.

"Fuck, please Azriel," I fall deeper into the pillows, my need for him all-consuming as I allow myself to plead.

He leans closer as my pathetic voice fills the room, his nose running up the column of my throat before he begins placing sweet kisses down it. "More," He demands and my back arches up, my peaked breasts brushing against his chest.

"You can take me however you want, just gods, fuck me Az please," Tears fill my eyes as if I was begging for my life, yet that was what satisfied him.

"Turn around for me then, hips up alright?" He said and I nodded, quickly doing exactly as he said, my cheek going down onto one of the many pillows on our bed as I hiked up onto my knees. I can hear him sliding off his belt behind me, thrashing his pants off quickly afterward.

He hovers over me, lips pressing gentle kisses along the side of my neck in a soothing manner. I leaned into that touch, my head reclining to rest on his shoulder.

Shadows pinned me down onto the bed, dark tendrils twining around my wrists and ankles as he aligned his hips up with mine, his tip prodding teasingly at my entrance and I squirmed beneath him, writhing as I clenched around nothing, silently begging for him. "Shh, I know baby, I know it hurts," He runs a hand down my back, a soft caress to calm me. And then, he was pushing in.

"Az," I whimper as he finally sheathes himself, the wide head of his cock entering my core. I groan at the stretch, my back into his chest as he continues moving in, every inch making it harder and harder to breathe.

"So fucking, tight," He grits through his teeth, both his hands coming to my hips as he forces them back onto his cock. I screamed, clenching the sheets beneath me as he thrusts shamelessly deeper, with no caution to his movements as he picks up a steady rhythm. "This is what happens when I don't stretch you out first," He grunts. "So needy for me, impatient brat." His hands grip my hips tighter. "You gonna— gonna punish me?" I taunt, tears already forming in my eyes.

"I bet you'd like that hm? My dirty girl," He admires, pushing in all the way when I try to reply, cutting me off and replacing my words with a sudden moan, the sound ripping through me as he bottoms out inside of me.

I scream his name, the stretch so pleasurable that it brings pain. "Fuck, fuck Az I can't," I gripe, tears running down my cheeks.

"But you said you wanted this," He retorted, leaning over me so his lips were beside my ear. "You begged, remember?" He purred and a shiver ran down my spine as I flushed pink at the recent memory.

"Mhm," I nod, attempting to blink away my tears.

"Az." My back bows as he thrusts powerfully, deeper, so much deeper. Fuck, I could practically feel him in my womb. The thought alone left me clenching around him desperately, my body aching to be filled by him.

"Azriel," I moan, my tears cascading down my face like a waterfall but I didn't care anymore.

"What is it, baby?" He asked his voice half a groan.

"Breed me, please," I murmur, fully prepared to begin begging.

"Fuck," He sighed at my words, his forehead coming down to rest on my shoulder as he continues pulling out only to push back into my throbbing cunt.

"Az," I grip at the sheets, my need to release quickly turning overwhelming. "Please, I wanna have your babies," I whine and he smiles against the soft skin of my back.

"Yeah? You want me to give you more than one?" He purrs and I sigh in pleasure at the idea, sinking lower into the bed. "Mhm," I nod dumbly and within a moment his thrusts fold over in force, the strength doubling as his hips clap against the backs of my thighs.

My body screamed for release but I ignored it, I was going to draw this out as long as possible.

"Fuck, I'm gonna breed this tight cunt," He confesses and I squeeze around him at the idea, my core whirring with an uncontrollable need.

"Please," I cry, lying on the pillow pathetically as he continues stuffing himself inside of me. "Want you to come inside," I gripe, my voice fragile and raw but it only urged him to increase his speed.

"Is that right? Want me to get you pregnant? Get your belly all round with my kid?" He suggested and I quickly nodded, feeling beyond just agreement.

"Azriel," I arch deeper, my chest nearly flat against the mattress as I kept my ass up, making him feel all the more deeper inside of me.

I squeezed tighter around him and he twitched at the sensation. I smiled, prideful that he was close already. "Don't pull out," I whisper, reaching back and placing my hand on his cheek. "Want you to fill me," I throw my head back onto his shoulder while his thrusts continue, rocking the bed back and forth with the creaking of the headboard slamming against the wall. "You close?" He pants out and I nod frantically, unable to get the words out despite how badly I wanted to reach my climax.

"I can't," I manage but it was barely audible. "M'gonna—" I can't even finish my sentence before my orgasm takes me full throttle and I'm finding release on his heavy length.

The moan that rips through me is monumental, and the feeling of the moment, gods it was indescribable. A tidal wave of pure ecstasy swept me off my feet, and now I was drowning in the pleasure.

It took me a long moment to come down from that nearly celestial high, but once I did I realized I was clamped down around Azriel's cock so tightly that it was hard for him to move in and out of me any longer.

I knew he was close, the vein throbbing on the underside of his cock was proof of that.

"Fuck," He grunted lowly into the shell of my ear, my sensitive cunt twitching around his width at the sultry sound.

"C'mon Az, fill me," I whine and he nods, his forehead coming down onto my shoulder.

After one last stroke of his cock along my walls, his release finally spurted out into a direct line straight toward my womb. He groans at the feeling of his seed nestling deep inside my cunt, his small whimpers not going past my notice as he catches his breath and comes down from his high.

After a moment, ever so slowly, he unsheathes himself and allows me to fall down onto the welcoming bed.

"You did so well for me baby," He whispered, leaning down and placing pecks along the top of my spine. "My sweet girl," He hums and I mumble something incoherent about sleeping back.

"Not yet baby, I gotta clean you up," He soothes, scooping me into his arms and I whine clenching my legs together, not wanting any of his warm releases to escape me.

"M'tired," I groan but he ignores my protests and takes me into the bathroom anyway.

"Oh my poor girl," He hummed. "What am I going to do with you?" He tilts his head and I wiggle my brows suggestively.

"You could make me a mom," I suggest and he smiles, shaking his head.

"I'm already doing that, genius," He deadpans and the sudden realization overwhelms me. I wasn't pregnant yet, but that decision of being ready was enough to spur me into joy. I throw my arms around Azriel's neck and hug him tight to my bare chest.

"I love you too," He rubs my back, recognizing my silent form of affection. I nuzzle my face into his neck deeper. "My sweet girl," He sighs, his chin coming down onto mine. If everything goes well, we're soon to be parents. The idea alone at the moment was entirely perfection.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @mmg777 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @andreperez11 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna @imyherondale @salvawhxres @bookishbabyyyy @anuttellaa @breadsticks2004 @azriels-human

Comment a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

Comment a “🖤” to be added to the Azriel taglist!

[banamine-bananime]

Growing up I lived in an area with a lot of cattle farming and I was very scared of the cows. Do you have any cool facts that will make me either more or less afraid of cows?

oh hmm let me think on that!

facts related to how to interact with cows so all parties feel and stay safe:

they have a very prey herd animal mentality. they want to move with their herdmates. they want to watch any potential threats like people and move away from them. they don't like loud or unfamiliar noises (they're sensitive souls. sometimes if i visit a dairy wearing waterproof coveralls where the cows are only used to people wearing cotton coveralls, just the whisper of waterproof pants rubbing against each other can spook them) or abrupt movements or going into areas they can't see well (and they have difficulty with depth perception due to their wide-set eyes for 300 degree vision, and with high-contrast, so going from sun into shade or vice versa can look like stepping into a white or black void for them and they don't like it)

based on this, we know the keys to low-stress cattle handling are consistency in how you interact with them, calmness (small movements, quiet words to let them know you're there), moving cows in groups big enough to have friends but small enough you can control the whole group without them milling around or the ones in front stopping and causing a traffic jam, and slowly moving them by just barely getting in their "bubble" of "whoa, you're a little too close for comfort, i'm going to move in the other direction" without ever getting into their "YIKES RUN AWAY FROM THIS THING" bubble

the last point involves understanding pressure and flight zones and point of balance:

from Mississippi State University Extension:

from grandin.com (highly recommend as a source of information about animal behaviour and welfare!!! temple grandin my idol since i was like nine i love her so. and i tear up when i think about how much she's done for millions of animals ;_; she's a genius and no lie revolutionized low-stress handling):

pet cows that get doted on enough to bond with people may not see people as a threat so the normal ways we use pressure zones to iinteract with cows don't necessarily do anything for them. you would lead them more like a horse, using a halter. or lure them with treats.

beef cows typically have little contact with people, often just processing (vaccines, preg checks, quick exam for any health problems) a couple times a year, so they can be very wild. doesn't mean they're aggressive, the overwhelming majority are non-aggressive but they have very large flight zones, so if you don't recognize that and approach too quickly, getting deep in their flight zone, that can get you into a dangerous situation where they get aggressive as a last resort. that said, they do usually still choose flight unless their calf is with them. "never get between mom and baby" applies as it does with any species

dairy cows are in between beef cows and pet cows. they interact with people regularly, several times per day, and it's respectful but not doting. kind of a business relationship with their handlers. they're not terrified of people by any means, but they haven't been, like, hand-fed treats to get over their instinctive wariness of potential-predator-like animals, and they know sometimes handling results in unpleasant experiences like medical treatment or pregnancy checks, so they avoid touch and have a flight zone, though it's small (and sometimes they'll calmly let you walk right up to them unrestrained, or approach you and lick you out of curiosity). very very rare to have an aggressive dairy cow (as in, one that attacks you instead of moving away when you're bothering them a little. really bothering them and ignoring body language when they can't move away is much more likely to get you kicked)

bulls are not docile. not every bull will be aggressive, but you should assume that every bull has the capacity to become aggressive with little provocation, and always keep a respectful distance and know your escape route if you have to be in a pen or field with them

cows love exploring with their tongues. any time you're in a dairy barn there's gonna be at least one friendly girl mlem mlem mlemming who won't leave you alone

adding on to the above, there is a slight caveat that you still have to be a LITTLE wary of friendly cows. 99% of the time they're just friendly but sometimes cows in heat will try to mount people. you don't have to be scared of friendly cows but if they're right next to you just keep them in your line of sight so you can move away if they make like they're going to mount. again, not common, never happened to me, but something to be aware of

signs of a happy, relaxed cow: lying down, chewing cud or eating, tail hanging down relaxed, moving slowly with her herd

signs of a slightly wary cow (you have entered the "pressure zone"): standing still/stopping what she's doing, turning towards you, ears turning towards you (watching the ears is a very good way of knowing what she's paying attention to), tail swishing or raised a bit away from body

signs of a distressed cow: vocalizing (they also moo for other reasons though), tail swishing, fidgeting/pawing/looking like she wants to move but doesn't know where to, freezing up and intermittently making erratic movements (back away a little)

signs of an aggressive cow: head down with attention on you, pawing ground, turning to show you their broad side. (turn sideways and calmly but swiftly walk away diagonally)