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shroomyv · 2 days ago

Text

ᢉ𐭩-LET ME FINISH!

Pairing: mark Grayson x f!reader

Synopsis: your cooking and mark won’t leave you alone. He’s all cheesy trying to get you out of the kitchen and into bed, but you gotta get em away. You know just the trick.

Warnings: some cheesy dialogue, tit sucking (m!receiving), overstimulation!, cum consumption 😼

A/N: 2 fics in one day, wowza. Honestly was tryna pump these out incase my weekend is more packed than I expected it to be. Also also, thanks for all the love on the last 3 fics wthhhh im literally so fckin grateful dudes and dudettes 😞. I hope you enjoy this one as well but ngl it’s a bit all over the place. Trying to get better at writing I promise I promise. (Tryna get a bit better at describing some of the shi to, cus u guys can’t see my lil mind visuals)

Dishes piled in the sink, pots warming ingredients on the stove, and the aroma of something sweet floating through the air.

You are Mark were cooking together—usually you’d have takeout but tonight you wanted to get your hands messy and show off your cooking skills to your boyfriend. “Hand me that.” You say asking Mark to hand you any ingredients you need at the moment. He was zoned out, his mind on everything but the food. “Mark?” You say in a louder but curious tone.

“Huh, yeah?” He said finally snapping out of whatever trance he was in as he handed you the ingredient.

“You ok?” Usually, when he zoned out he always worried about something. For once it wasn’t that. He had something a bit more risky on his mind.

“Mhm, sorry I was just thinking about you or something.” He said with a soft smile before walking behind you. He towered over you—wrapping his arms around your waist as he started placing kisses on your neck and cheek. “Mark, I'm cooking, be normal. We can do whatever you're planning on your little brain later—just lemme finish cooking.” You said knowing how he got whenever he began kissing you up. Once he got started—there was no stopping him.

“What am I doing…?” He said cheekily as he kept going—beginning to suck on your neck now. You felt yourself starting to grow a bit weak to his lips, they were warm and it felt like your neck was just inviting them there. He was distracting and it honestly seemed like he was trying to get you out of the kitchen.

“You said you were hungry, if you do this I can’t cook mark.” You said trying to shew him away. You were failing miserably since you were just leaning into his lips more and more. It felt so nice—it felt right. However, you knew if he won this one he’d just keep it up. You had to figure out something fast to keep him satisfied and continue cooking.

“Yeah, I'm hungry…but I can eat other stuff too…” Mark was making hints about eating you out once again. He was so corny but you liked every second of it. You two eventually backed away from the counter as you leaned into his kisses more. You finally had a plan in mind—all you had to do now was put it in motion.

“If that’s the case, I wanna eat some other stuff too.” You said in a passionate tone as your positions were now changed. He went from behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist to behind the one pressed against the counter as you were in front of him.

You knew he was sensitive—it was honestly one of your favorite things about him. If he wanted to start something, you’d gladly finish it for once. “Well…what do you wanna eat.” He asked in a bashful tone as if he was ready to back out now since he was practically cornered.

“Just wait and see…” you say blissfully as you get his shirt off of him. His chest was practically staring at you as if they needed to be sucked. His eyes shot everywhere around the room trying his best not to freak out and cum on the spot.

“Mark…you gotta look at me or I'm not doing it.” He was in a tough spot now but he did exactly as he was told as his eyes tried his best to focus on you. Your mouth went to his chest as they softly began licking at the nipple. He gripped onto the counter beginning to whimper already. That’s what you liked to hear, it’s what you wanted to hear.

“Oh, oh fuck-“ he groans out as his head rolls back a bit. He was such a sensitive boy. You use your free hand to start rubbing and twisting at the other nipple feeling it perk up in a meer seconds. He was squirming a little bit already. He wanted this, he wanted to distract you from cooking. You’d give him what he wanted since he did exactly that. You kept sucking at his nipple moving your tongue around it

Pop—smack

The sound of your mouth on his chest as he was struggling for dear life. You could see his legs getting a bit shaky already and you loved the sight of it. “Baby…please-“ he said in a whiney tone—he was struggling to keep it together as you made sure you worked him up.

“You wanna cum?” You say in a snarky tone as you continue sucking at his nipple. You liked how pink it was like a little strawberry. He was so sensitive in this area—like a delicate little flower. You’d use that to your advantage. You move one hand off his chest—slipping it down to his sweatpants as you try to get it off. He begins to wiggle and squirm helping the process go faster as they slide down to his ankles.

The same process was repeated with his boxers until you were finally able to see his cock. You could see the precum already dripping down from his pretty pink tip. God, you were obsessed. First, you teased, softly moving a finger up and down his cock.

“Cmon…please don’t…” he cooed out as he felt like he was gonna explode already. You liked seeing him like this. You liked seeing him beg to keep going—it brought happiness to your horny little soul. Your viltrumite boyfriend was now at your whim just from your simple tongue on his chest. Finally, you cut the teasing out.

You began softly stroking his cock using any of his precum as lube while you kept sucking at his tit. You loved looking up and seeing his struggling face trying to keep any bit of composure. He kept squirming and twisting—he didn’t even try to keep in noises anymore. He moaned and whimpered so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole world heard. You loved it so much though, it was perfect.

“Nngh- oh…oh fuck-!” He huffed n whimpered out as he began to cum. Your mouth makes a popping sound as it lets go of his nipple. You bring your cum soaked hand up to your face licking it off each finger. Mark just stared in complete awe and astonishment. He was entranced.

You knew he had at least one more in him. You had to get it out of him so he could stay out of the kitchen and let you finish cooking.

Your lips popping back on his nipple—this time you give attention to the one you ignored the first time. Everything felt more intense to him this time. He felt like he was melting into the counter.

“Baby…f…fuck-“ he moaned out struggling to form full sentences. Your hand got back to work on his cock except this time, you wouldn’t let him cum as quickly—you had to make sure he was a little exhausted when you were done with him. Your hand going fast, then slow, then speeding up again as it teased the hell out of his cock. You could see tears swelling up in his eyes from being edged by you. He was biting his lip, trying to keep in any noise as your mouth popped off his nipple for a second to speak.

“Ah ah, lemme hear all of it” you commanded softly before going right back to sucking his chest. “Can I…can..” Mark was trying to huff out some wish. You began moving a bit faster by stroking his cock as you could just feel he was struggling. He felt overstimulated already but knew it wasn’t over.

“Can you what mark?” You said in a muffled tone as your mouth was stuffed with his nipple. You were honestly starting to grow wet from this yourself. Seeing him like this was like a reward. He was starting to become a pathetic little mess.

“Can…can-“ he couldn’t even form a full sentence. You saw drool seeping from the side of his mouth as he struggled to try not to cum. He knew you wanted him to ask for it first but it was so fucking hard. His hip staring bucking into your hand—fapping for dear life as if he was ready to explode.

“Can…can…I cum- ngh- please? I need…to finish-” He said with a tear of pleasure rolling down the side of his face as you began sucking harder and stroking as fast as you could. If he was about to finish, you were gonna make it worthwhile.

“Sure you can…”

You said with a smirk as you sucked harder on his nipple one more time before he came. He was practically laid out against the

counter. “Since I let you finish, can I finish to mark?” You asked in a teasing way as you did want to finish cooking with him trying to fuck or distract you now. He just gave a shaky thumbs up before trembling his way to the bathroom to clean himself up.

You licked the cum off your hand before washing it anyway since you had to finish cooking.

You finally got to finish not only that you got a little treat—overstimulating your boyfriend.

“Mark! C'mon come eat.” You call out to him from the kitchen as he comes. Before you could even set plates out he grabs you up—pinning you against the counter now.

“You finished cooking like you wanted…my turn!” Mark let you have a moment/second to win. Now he was coming back to redeem himself. You just leaned back into the counter knowing it was your turn now and he’d finish whenever he wanted to…

#mark grayson smut #mark grayson x reader #invincible mark grayson #mark grayson #invincible x reader #invincible smut #dividers by adornedwithlight #shroomyvfics

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angelltheninth · 1 day ago

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Can you write the Arcane women taking care of their girlfriend when she's on her period?

My own period is getting closer so I am feeling this ask right now.

Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Maddie Nolen, Grayson, Sevika, Mel Medarda, Ambessa Medarda, Cassandra Kiramman

Tags: fluff, periods, bleeding, feeling sick, period cramps, comfort food, massages, cuddles, working out, suggestive content

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: If there was a button to opt me out of periods for the rest of my life I would press it so fast. It's not fair.

Jinx would run around frantically, literally burying you in supplies that she doesn't even know if you need. The type to try to distract you by talking your ear off and making you laugh. She feels guilty when she sees you cramping up in pain and briefly considers offering you Shimmer to make you feel better. If she needs to she will break into Piltover medicine shops to get you some better medicine.

Vi hasn't had the best experience with periods herself so she doesn't know how to take care of you properly. She offers you messages that worked with her when her cramps were really bad and makes sure you have enough water to drink since you're bleeding a lot. Kisses your stomach when she feels it flexing from cramps. When she feels you relax under her touch she smiles, knowing she's doing it right.

Caitlyn knows when your period is close so she takes days off work to tend to you. Piltover won't fall to pieces if she's not working for a bit, taking care of her girlfriend is more important. She can get you anything you need, be it medicine, pads, food you're craving, just ask her and she'll take care of it. Doesn't want you walking alone when you're feeling sick so she always follows you to the bathroom.

Maddie always makes sure she has your favorite comfort food ready for when you're on your period. It's a small comfort maybe but it's something she always wanted to have while she was on her periods, someone taking care of her. To make sure you don't get sick again she feeds you the food little by little. When a bit of food stains your lips she leans in to kiss you, distracting you for just a moment longer.

Grayson gets worried when she wakes up and you're not in bed next to her but in the bathroom holding your stomach. She knows what's wrong right away and carries you back to bed, telling you to stay put while she goes out to buy what you need. Helps you change into clean pajamas and kisses your legs, hips and stomach while doing so. Makes sure you get lots of rest, and lots of tea to help with the pain.

Sevika thinks that a good workout is a great way to help with your period pains. Obviously she won't push you past your breaking point or push you if you're feeling sick but a little work out will do you some good. She rewards you with food and drinks she knows you like, and those that keep your energy up so you're not as sluggish. Kisses are on the table too, and more if you're feeling up for it later.

Mel prepares you a big, warm bath and yes she will take the bath with you once you washed up. Pampers and spoils you rotten while you're on your period, she's even more attentive than usual. She makes sure you know that she doesn't think the blood is gross or unsightly, she might look prim and proper but she'd seen her fair share of blood. And she would never be grossed out by you, especially not now.

Ambessa lets you see her secret softer side when you're on your period. Her duties can wait a bit, she wants to spend a good chunk of her day with you instead. Physical activity is a good way to help with period pains and you already know she's not grossed out by blood in any way, so if you want to spend the day in bed with her it's more than welcome. Or you can just cuddle, that's on the table too.

Cassandra didn't have regular periods when she was younger but she knows how painful they can be. The last thing she wants is to see you in pain so she always has tea ready, it's right next to your bed, might not be tasty but it helps. She cuddles up next to you on the bed or on the couch, constantly kissing your cheeks, your forehead, kissing you on the lips, comforting you. Will even take a day off from the Council.

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bbywriter · 2 days ago

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between us | c. sturniolo

masterlist

summary: you and chris go meet matt's newborn baby

pairing: christopher sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: none just fluff<33

notes: i really need to be studying but i just haaad to write this first

word count: 1k

—

The hospital room is still. A steady rhythm beeps quietly from one of the machines, interrupted only by the hushed conversations between Matt and his girlfriend. The morning sunrise filters gently through the curtains. It outlines the couple sitting on the bed with golden rays, completely wrapping them in their new little world.

Exhaustion is heavy in Matt’s features, but it’s soothed by something peaceful and soft. His girlfriend leans against him, her eyes half-lidded with a tired but content smile on her lips. And in his arms, held with the utmost care, is a tiny bundle wrapped snugly in a blanket, barely stirring except for the occasional sleepy wiggle.

Chris hasn’t taken his eyes off the baby since you walked in.

He’s been up all night, eagerly waiting since Matt texted at the early hours of 2am that ‘we’re in labour!!!!!’ to get the okay to come visit. But now that you’re actually here, he’s gone completely still beside you. Hands fidgeting as his sides, his earlier excitement is now replaced by quiet admiration.

Matt glances up, sending his brother a knowing grin. “You wanna hold her?”

The question pulls Chris from his thoughts and he hesitates, his gaze flickering to you for some sort of reassurance. You place a hand on the small of his back and nod, offering an encouraging smile. “Yeah, baby, go hold her.”

He looks back at his brother and lets out a shaky exhale before stepping forward. He carefully stretches out his arms, his usual confidence softened by a new uncertainty as Matt gently transfers her into his hold. For a second, Chris stands completely frozen, holding his breath. He’s afraid to move too fast or do something wrong.

But then as the baby lets out the softest little sigh and nestles further into his chest, his heart becomes hers.

“She’s so small,” Chris whispers. His voice is barely audible as he glances at his brother, and with a smile, Matt gives him a reassuring nod. Chris shifts naturally, adjusting his hold, his fingers tracing light, absentminded circles over the baby’s back. You can see the way his throat bobs and his lips part as if he wants to say something else, but no words come out. His eyes glaze over just slightly, and when he lets out a breathy laugh, your chest tightens.

You’ve never seen him like this before.

He's always been loving—caring in ways that go unnoticed, selfless and gentle towards everyone around him. But the pure adoration in his eyes as he stares at his niece is entirely different. It’s deeper and more profound and it stirs a warm feeling in your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever loved him more than in this moment.

Matt slings an arm around Chris’s shoulders, pulling him in as they watch the baby together. For a moment, neither of them speaks, just taking in the surreal moment.

Chris shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re a dad.” His voice is full of disbelief, still trying to process his brother’s new title.

Matt chuckles, his gaze never leaving his daughter. “I know, dude, it’s insane.”

Just then, like she knows they’re talking about her, the baby stirs in her swaddle, her tiny fingers twitching as she shifts against the blanket. She cranes her neck ever so slightly before letting out a slow, sleepy yawn, her little mouth opening wide, her nose scrunching just a bit. The sight is almost too precious, and their reaction is immediate. An identical “aww” slips from their lips in perfect unison.

Chris leans in slightly, studying her sweet features. “You literally do that too with your nose when you yawn.” He smiles at the realization.

“Isn’t it so cute?” Matt replies genuinely, his voice laced with pride and awe at his baby’s simple existence.

But Chris doesn’t hesitate. “Only when she does it.”

Matt scoffs, shaking his head with a smile. He doesn’t argue, but giggles softly instead. Chris is already grinning as well when his own laughter bubbles up. And just like that, the’ve fallen into the fit of giggles that’s been second nature to them since they were also babies.

You watch them closely, and suddenly, your own eyes fill with tears. Their triplet bond has always been something you’ve deeply admired. And now, with this tiny new life between them, you can see it’s only growing impossibly stronger.

“___, do you wanna hold her?” Matt’s girlfriend asks, her voice gentle, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

All eyes shift to you, and when Chris’s gaze meets yours, a soft smile spreads across his face. His eyes flicker with understanding as he notices the tears welling up in yours. You let out a quiet laugh, feeling a little embarrassed by the surge of your emotions, and quickly wipe at your eyes. You nod with a smile, and he gently places the baby into your hold.

The moment her weight settles into your arms, cradled gently between you and Chris, it feels as though you two have also slipped into your own little world.

Without a word, he steps behind you and gently rests his chin on your shoulder, his arm snaking around your waist. His body presses against yours, warm and solid, the closeness both grounding and instinctive, like he needs to be close—to share this moment with you.

You glance up at him, expecting to find him still focused on the baby. But his eyes are on you instead, so full of quiet devotion, full of love, and it pulls the air straight from your lungs.

In the softest voice, just loud enough for you to hear, he whispers, “I can’t wait ‘til we have our own.”

Your heart stutters, unsure if you heard him right. You turn toward him, searching his face, but he’s already looking at you like he means it with every fiber of his being. The words urge a new wave of tears to fill your eyes, and for a second, you forget to breathe.

A slow smile tugs at your lips. You glance back down at the baby in your arms, swaying slightly like it’s second nature. “Me neither.”

Chris tightens his hold around your waist, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. And although in this moment, you don’t know exactly what the future holds, it’s clear and without doubt that when the time comes, Chris is going to be the best dad.

—

a/n: thank you always for reading<3 ily guys<3 so much<3

#bbywriter ✍️#christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo

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kxsagi · 1 day ago

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hii are u able to do one where u share wired earbuds with rin, isagi, bachira (any other characters you’d like to do too ^^ ) and try to be sneaky by playing a love song / their fav songs but they notice or wtv

thank u !!

“𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮”

a/n: i love this request because it means i can show off my music taste 😼

writing about music is so fun that i included so many of them (all of them are set during a train ride home after school, where you play their favorite song and they notice)

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, kaiser michael, bachira meguru, mikage reo, karasu tabito, otoya eita, yukimiya kenyu

isagi yoichi 𐙚 “and there was something ‘bout you that now i can’t remember”

you pressed play on about you by the 1975, the soft rhythm filling the air between the two of you. as the first few notes hit, you glanced over at isagi, who suddenly straightened up in surprise, a wide smile appearing on his face.

“hold on... no way. this is my favorite song,” he said, his voice almost in disbelief. "i love this band, too."

you chuckled softly, glancing out the window. “really? i didn’t know you were into this kind of music.”

isagi shrugged, clearly trying to downplay it, though his grin didn’t fade. “i have my moments. guess we have more in common than i thought.”

the song played on, the relaxed beat weaving through the train car, and you could feel the growing connection between the two of you. isagi’s gaze lingered a bit longer than usual, his earlier surprise replaced by a more comfortable, almost fond look.

“you picked it perfectly,” he added quietly, the words lingering in the space between you.

you smiled, feeling a quiet warmth bloom in your chest. “i pay attention.”

itoshi rin 𐙚 “my heart, i never be, i never see, i never know”

you hit play on genesis by grimes, and rin’s eyes narrowed, his focus immediately snapping to the music.

“this is my song,” he said, more to himself than to you.

you glanced over at him, trying to keep your voice casual. “i had a feeling.”

rin met your gaze, a flicker of something almost soft in his usually guarded expression. “did you? i didn’t think you’d know this song.”

“well, i’m full of surprises,” you said, giving him a playful smile.

he looked at you for a long moment, his lips curling into a rare, small smile. “i see that.”

itoshi sae 𐙚 “i’ll mean something to you”

when you played nikes by frank ocean, you noticed sae’s reaction instantly. his usually confident demeanor seemed to shift, a soft smile creeping onto his lips as he glanced at you.

“i didn’t think you’d play this,” he said, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and admiration.

you smirked, trying to hide the excitement bubbling inside. “figured i’d try something new.”

sae leaned back, crossing his arms, but his smile never faltered. “you’ve got good taste. guess i underestimated you.”

(any frank ocean song would’ve worked honestly, especially “thinkin bout you”)

nagi seishiro 𐙚 “i could be the one”

you pressed play on CAN’T GET OVER YOU by joji ft. clams casino, and nagi’s lazy grin instantly turned into an excited one.

“no way, i love joji,” he said, his eyes lighting up.

you couldn’t help but laugh. “i guess we have similar taste.”

nagi shrugged nonchalantly, his grin only widening. “maybe you’re not that boring after all. i’ll give you that.”

the playful jab felt oddly sweet, and as the song played, the easygoing vibe between you two shifted into something more comfortable, like the music had just brought you closer in a way that was almost effortless.

(i see all of joji’s discography with him + “nuts” by lil peep)

shidou ryusei 𐙚 “i’ll swim down with you”

you chose cherry waves by deftones, and shidou’s expression immediately shifted from his usual cocky grin to one of genuine surprise.

“you’re playing deftones?” he said, almost in disbelief.

you smirked, crossing your arms. “you don’t think i could handle this kind of music?”

shidou laughed, but there was a new glint in his eyes, something deeper than his usual arrogance. “you’ve got taste. i’m impressed.”

the way he said it, with just the slightest shift in his tone, made you realize that there was more to him than his usual brash persona, and something about that felt like a challenge.

(he’s a playboi carti glazer too, it’s canon bc i said so and i’m muneyuki kaneshiro’s daughter/j)

chigiri hyoma 𐙚 “got me tripping, falling with no safety net”

as the first notes of safety net by ariana grande ft. ty dolla $ign played, you saw chigiri glance at you, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

“this song?” he said, his tone full of disbelief, but there was a spark of excitement there too.

you smiled, casually leaning back. “figured you’d like it.”

chigiri raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. “guess you know me better than i thought. didn’t expect you to get it.”

catch him falling without a safety net for you.

kunigami rensuke 𐙚 “breathe out, so i can breathe you in”

you pressed play on everlong by foo fighters, and kunigami’s face lit up in recognition.

“no way... i love this song,” he said, his voice full of surprise and appreciation. "even though it got memed like crazy."

you laughed softly, glancing at him. “i figured you’d be into it.”

kunigami leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, a grin forming. “you’ve got good instincts. i wasn’t expecting that from you.”

(mmm he gives me 80’s lover vibes)

kaiser michael 𐙚 “‘cause maybe, close just isn’t close enough”

you pressed play on TBH by partynextdoor, and kaiser’s eyes widened just a bit, his posture straightening as he recognized the song.

“TBH, this is my favorite track,” he said, his tone smooth and almost appreciative.

you glanced at him, a little surprised. “i didn’t know you were into this kind of music.”

kaiser let out a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on you with an almost teasing intensity. “i have layers, you know? i don’t just listen to whatever everyone else is playing.”

the way he said it made you feel like you’d unlocked a piece of his personality that most people didn’t get to see. “guess i’ve been underestimating you, huh?”

kaiser smirked, his eyes never leaving yours. “or maybe you’ve been paying attention more than i realize.”

bachira meguru 𐙚 “but is there something more than that?”

the smooth, psychedelic beats of nangs by tame impala flooded your headphones, and you could see bachira’s eyes flicker in recognition. his playful grin stretched wider, and he immediately leaned toward you, his voice full of energy.

“no way, this is my song! i love this track!” he laughed, his excitement contagious.

you couldn’t help but smile at how infectious his enthusiasm was. “didn’t know you were into tame impala.”

bachira shifted in his seat, his eyes sparkling with an almost mischievous glint. “i love tame impala. i thought you’d be all into pop stuff, but... this suits you more than i expected.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “what, you’re saying i have good taste?”

“definitely,” he replied, nudging you lightly. “you’re not just the quiet type, huh? i’m starting to think you’re way more interesting than i gave you credit for.”

mikage reo 𐙚 “all that money, the money is the motive”

when the morning by the weeknd started playing, you noticed reo’s usual calm expression shift, his eyes softening for just a moment before he turned toward you.

“this is my favorite song,” he said, his voice a little more sincere than usual, almost like a confession.

you met his gaze with genuine surprise. “i didn’t know you liked the weeknd.”

reo shrugged slightly, running a hand through his hair. “i’ve got a few sides to me, you know?” he said with a quiet smile. “i wasn’t expecting you to pick something like this, though. it’s... unexpected.”

you tilted your head, curious. “in a good way?”

“yeah,” he said, his smile deepening as he looked at you. “definitely in a good way. didn’t know you’d get me like that.”

karasu tabito 𐙚 “‘cause i don’t wanna be in love with another”

you chose heavy by the marias, and as the delicate notes drifted through the earbuds, karasu’s usual composed demeanor seemed to soften. he gave you a glance, his eyes narrowing just slightly in surprise.

“this song,” he murmured, “it’s one of my favorites.”

you turned toward him, surprised at how casually he had admitted it. “really? didn’t expect you to be into this kind of music.”

karasu shrugged, his voice softer now. “i guess there’s more to me than you think. i just don’t talk about it much.”

the way he spoke made you feel like you were seeing a side of him that few others did. it was a rare moment of vulnerability that felt oddly intimate, like the song had unlocked a part of him that was usually hidden.

“guess i’m lucky i got to hear it then,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

karasu smiled, a rare warmth in his eyes. “you might be.”

(MARIAS LOVERS WHERE ARE YOU??? i always go back to heavy, but i also love carino, loverboy, ruthless, hush, and calling you back, but jupiter will always be my first song from them)

otoya eita 𐙚 “i don’t even wanna fuck, i just like you”

when you pressed play on lust by chase atlantic, you immediately noticed otoya's expression change. his usual teasing grin faltered for a second, replaced by a look of surprise.

“wait, you’re playing this?” he asked, his voice low, clearly impressed.

you raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your own amusement. “you don’t like it?”

otoya shook his head, a playful smile forming. “i love it... i just didn’t think you’d be into this kind of stuff. and now you’re playing it? well, i must say i’m intrigued.”

you leaned closer, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “you think i’m too predictable?”

he chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. “not anymore. guess you’ve got more to you.”

(i also see justin timberlake and bruno mars on his playlist. fetty wap or any JBL speaker music works too)

yukimiya kenyu 𐙚 “merci beaucoup, just like moulin rouge”

you pressed play on sandman by a$ap rocky, the deep bass vibrating through the headphones. when yukimiya’s eyes flickered toward you, you could see the surprise in his gaze.

“this song... no way,” he said, his tone slightly incredulous.

you smirked, looking up at him. “i thought you’d like it.”

yukimiya tilted his head, his usually carefree expression turning into something more serious. “you picked this for me? didn’t know you were so good at reading people.”

you shrugged nonchalantly. “guess i’ve been paying attention.”

his smile was almost teasing, but there was an edge to it, something that made you feel like you were on the same wavelength now.

“maybe you’ll have to share more of your picks with me sometime,” he said, his voice low with a challenge.

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mejaemin · 2 days ago

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i’m sorry - lee jihoon

18+ mdni !!! wc: 1.8k summary: baby fever w jihoon >< warnings: unprotected sex, mention of birth control, lowk subby jihoon, small 👌🏽 breeding kink, a bit of arguing in the beginning, v little fingering, he’s kinda ooc in this sorry 😞, NOT PROOFREAD !!! an: my first time writing full on smut since summer and it’s also my woozi debut !!! enjoy !!! (srry if it’s kinda bad.. i did this in like an hr…)

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jihoon’s been zoning out all day, and yes, it’s partly from being sleep deprived, but a large chunk of it is because his mind has been elsewhere. even now, while you’re laying in bed when he knows you’re mad at him, he simply can’t get out of his head.

today, you and him went out for a visit to a music shop, fueled by your café drinks of choice. you were simply trailing behind him, humming tunes to yourself while he looked for a new studio keyboard. everything was fine, moving in silence just how you guys liked it, when he saw you pulling away from his arm to speak to someone.

when he turned to face you, you were crouched on the ground, talking to a teary-eyed little boy. he watched silently, eyebrow raising at the way you managed to calm him down so quickly. you had turned to him shortly after, apologizing before going to help the child find his parents.

he was so distracted by your ability to handle the child, and then disturbed by the way it was plaguing his thoughts, that he ended up buying the same keyboard he’d been using instead of buying a new one like he had wanted. when you returned to him, he was quiet, quieter than usual, stuck in his thoughts.

he tried to pretend like he wasn’t listening, ignoring the way you spoke to the boy so softly, in a voice he’d never heard you use before. you were handling him so well, so good at calming him down. it’s hard to determine whether or not he wants you to speak to him like that, or be cooing at a baby of your own. you’d look so gorgeous like that, and he’s sure he looks like an idiot, staring all beady-eyed at piano keys, picturing you with his baby, cradled in your arms, growing in your stomach…

that led to your current situation, where you’re both lying in bed next to each other in complete silence. the only noise in the room is your phone, various audios filling space as you spend the entire evening doomscrolling in your anger.

you’re upset because you’ve caught jihoon staring at your stomach multiple times since your date. typically you wouldn’t be one to feel insecure, but his gaze is so intense, so focused, so hard. it had you wrapping your sweater around yourself a little tighter, curling into yourself a little more. when confronted, he’d say the same thing every time; “you look fine. i can’t look at you anymore?”

he sounds so snippy with it too, and it got to a point where you ignored him the rest of the day. you couldn’t be bothered to deal with any of that.

that’s why you’re so surprised when he reaches over to shut your phone off, putting you on your back before straddling your hips.

“what the hell are you doing, jihoon?” you would’ve said more, but looking at his face, blurry behind a mask of fluffy hair, you can see the cogs in his brain turning, along with a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t miss.

his hands splayed over your stomach, thumbs pressing into and massaging the skin. his look is pensive, and his pale cheeks are turning pink. he leans down, placing his head in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses all over every inch of the skin.

“i’m sorry..” he says, gently nipping at your soft skin. his hair tickles your cheek, and you use a hand to pull it away from his face, simultaneously pulling him away to face you.

pulling the hair tie from your own wrist, you comb through his hair with your fingers before tying it back. “are you gonna explain yourself? why you keep drilling holes into my stomach, and then giving me attitude when i ask about it?”

he looks away, biting the inside of his cheek nervously. he breathes in a few times, like he’s gonna start talking, until he finally blurts out,

“do you want children?”

“excuse me?”

he grimaces, running a hand over his face. “sorry- that was.. not what i wanted to say…”

you just give him a look, not only bewildered but also still very annoyed, and he continues, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you feel insecure, i just can’t stop thinking about..” he pauses, embarrassed, “about us.. having a baby.”

you nearly laugh, or scoff, or maybe even both, but with the way he’s hiding in your neck, still running his hands all over your stomach, you know he’s serious.

“really, hoon?” you say it almost teasingly, and he grumbles, nodding into your skin. “you want to have a baby with me?”

you run your nails along his back, and he shudders, letting out a gasp, so sweet and so sensitive, that you start feeling your own body get a little hotter.

“yes,” your name spills from his lips, breathy and desperate, “please..”

“that’s why you’re staring at my tummy so much, hm?” you take his cheek in your palm, bringing him closer and closer, wasting no time in splitting his lips apart, holding them against yours and letting your tongue connect with his own. it’s sloppy, slow, and both yours and his lips are glistening with spit when you pull away.

“wanna fill me up, give me a baby?” you run your hands all over his face, tracing over all his hard, sharp features that soften when you talk to him like this, and he’s nodding almost aggressively, repositioning himself to be kneeling in between your legs.

slipping your pants off, he runs his thumb over the small wet patch in your underwear, hooking his finger under the waistband and letting it snap back before tugging them off as well. he looks so desperate, hands almost shaking as they squeeze, tug, and grip at your thighs and hips.

“please..” he mutters, leaning in to kiss your jaw, plush lips closing in on the skin, sucking at it until the skin reddens, purple marks making their way to the surface.

he’s quick, rushing the process as his fingers dip into your wetness, gliding over your folds before letting one of his fingers slip inside. he curls it, pressing into your walls the way he knows you enjoy, getting you used to the feeling before quickly adding a second finger. his palm presses into your clit, and you moan, arching your back into him and slowly grinding on his hand.

he hums, thrusting his fingers a little deeper, separating them and stretching you out before losing patience and pulling them out.

one hand pulls at his basketball shorts, nearly ripping them off his lower half along with his boxers while the other sits in his mouth, groaning as he cleans your juices off.

“so wet, baby, already.. i can’t wait anymore, i’m so sorry, wanna get you pregnant so badly..” he rambles, tensing when you wrap your hand around his cock.

“it’s okay, hoon, go ahead.” you stroke him a few times, squeezing his length, fighting the urge to moan at his face, nearly pained with pleasure. “go on, give me your baby..”

that’s all it takes, coaxing him on like that, for him to push his way in with one swift motion. as soon as the base of his dick meets your skin, your entire body rocks, a sharp moan forcing its way from your lips. he’s so still, so silent, not only letting you adjust to being stretched by his girth, but also holding himself together, avoiding an early orgasm with his pure desperation to be inside of you.

“hoonie..” you whine, squirming to try and get some sort of movement.

he hisses, sucking in through his teeth, before grabbing your hips and slowly pulling out, leaving nothing but the tip, before forcing you back down with nearly all his strength. he picks up the pace quickly, muscles flexing under his black tee as he drags you against his cock.

he’s too lost to fuck you with any rhythm, stifling his own moans and whimpers with his lip between his teeth. eventually he pulls out, flipping you on your back and pressing almost his entire weight on top of you before resuming.

the sound of skin on skin can likely be heard throughout the entire house, wet noises and the scent of sex potent throughout the entire bedroom. your hands tug at the pillows, just about ready to rip holes in them as jihoon pounds you into the mattress, the entire bed shaking with his lust ridden force.

“fuck, baby, i’m sorry, i can’t- i won’t last long, you’re so tight, i-“ he whimpers, tugging on your hair, squeezing your hips to ground himself, trying and failing to push his orgasm away.

you whine, moans staccato, being pushed out with every contact his hips make with your ass. “h- hoonie, please.. please cum in me, want your babies so bad..”

he gets impossibly quicker, propping himself up on his elbows to chase his high with everything he has. one hand slips between your body and the mattress, fingers finding your clit and frantically rubbing against it to bring yourself to the edge with him.

your head is spinning, reeling with the feeling of his dick slamming into you so rapidly, hitting that spot just right. his fingers move so deliberately, so attentively to how you want it despite jihoon being in his own world, and your body burns with pleasure at the sensation.

you’re so close, the string in your lower half nearly breaking when you feel it. it’s almost an itch, cold and tickling at your back, and you turn your head to the side to look at what it is when you hear a sniffle.

jihoon’s crying, failing to hide his own vocalizations, as he moans, tears spilling from his eyes. “so good, baby, gonna cum, fill you up..” he gasps, feeling your cunt flutter around him at the desperation in his voice. “squeezin’ me so good.. i’m sorry, i-“

he stops, stilling. his teeth find your shoulder, sinking into the skin as he cums. you feel it, warm and hot in your stomach, painting your insides, and it throws you into your own orgasm right after. your eyes are screwed shut, legs shaking as you cry out. his fingers never stopped, hips twitching as he rubs you through it, only stopping when you grab his wrist.

he pulls away, pulling out and rolling over onto his back. quickly and “discreetly” wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he rests an arm over his eyes and catches his breath.

you turn on your side, scooting closer until you can put your head on his chest. “hoon, you know i can’t even get pregnant, right?” you remind him, referring to the birth control he comes to pick up with you every month.

you can see his face get impossibly redder. he sighs, “yeah.. babies are kinda gross anyway.”

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svt 🏷️ @coquettejunnie @prettymoles

#mejaemin #svt #seventeen #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #lee jihoon #lee jihoon x reader #woozi #woozi x reader #lee jihoon smut #woozi smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #freaklia !!!#— reqs ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ

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andvys · 16 hours ago

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The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter eight

⭐︎ Dead-eyed. Dead weight.

Warnings: angst, angst, angst. hurt/comfort. sickness. mentions of death. post apocalypse au. grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Something happens that had none of you prepared and the fear of loss creeps up on your group... once again.

Word count: 8.5k

Author's note: Please read !! @hellfire--cult helps with allllll my chapters, we planned this story together, from start to finish. A lot of the things that happen here, are her ideas and I just write them. She not only brainstormed with me, she also writes with me and by that I mean, she writes a lot of scenes, like in the last chapter for example, there is a huge portion that was written by Roe, not by me. So please keep in mind that she is behind this story as well, don't forget her! Give her the love and the credit she deserves ♡

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

It started off with a sneeze the night before and a scratchy feeling in your throat before the nausea took over. It then progressed into a painful cough accompanied by a headache. You knew it would happen the moment uncomfortable shivers started running down your body but you tried to blame it on the cold weather, at first at least. You knew it wasn’t the cold. It was the rain you and Steve got caught in two nights ago.

Anxiety took over the second it dawned on you that a fever was rising up. You took some of the vitamin pills you found, hoping that they would help. They didn’t, of course.

You are freezing, shaking terribly even after putting on a thicker sweater under your leather jacket. Your nose is starting to feel stuffy causing your head to hurt even more. Your hands are cold and shivering. Your head pounds a little harder each time Nancy hits a bump on the road. So far, you were good at hiding the state you were in until now – until it really started kicking in and you put your hand to your head after a particular big bump on the road. A wince falls from your lips and Steve, who sits across from you with a book in his hand, instantly looks up at you, alarmed and worried when he notices the pained look on your face.

He lowers the book he is holding and places it on the bench he is sitting on. He furrows his eyebrows when he notices sweat coating your forehead and the trembling in your hand… the trembling in your whole body as his eyes scan you from head to toe.

“Sunshine?”

You don’t react. You place your palm against your forehead and lean back, clearing your throat before you break into a fit of coughs. Dry Coughs.

Oh no.

Steve gets up and nearly crashes to his knees as he crouches down before you. He places a comforting hand on your calf as he speaks your name softly, not noticing how the RV has slowed down and how Nancy and Eddie share worried looks.

“Are you okay?”

You sniffle quietly and push yourself up so you can straighten your back. You clear your sore throat and lick your lips that feel dryer than usual. You look down at him, noting the worry in his hazel eyes.

You open your mouth but don’t even manage to utter a word before he cuts you off.

“Don’t lie to me,” he warns as he glares into your eyes, making you cower back slightly.

Nancy rushes into the back the moment she parks the RV on the side of the road. There is a deep line between her eyebrows and a frown sinking into her features as she halts beside Steve. She reaches her hand out to you and touches your forehead with the back of her hand.

Steve looks up at her and sees the way her eyes widen.

“You are burning up!”

She already knew you weren’t feeling good, but she hoped that it was just a little cold and that it would pass in a few days after some rest, but instead, it got progressively worse over the past couple of hours.

“Oh shit,” Eddie mumbles, bringing his hand up to his face.

Steve and Nancy share a look, one filled with anxiety. And you don’t want that, you don’t want them to worry. You will be alright. You just need to rest.

“I’m–” cut off by another painful cough. You shut your eyes as you cover your mouth and turn in the other direction, not wanting to get them sick as well. You blink back the tears that make their way into your eyes and take a few deep breaths before you look back at them. “I-I’ll be okay, just feeling a little under the weather.”

“You’re not feeling under the weather, you are sick! Which isn’t a surprise at all considering you were running around in the cold fucking rain!” Nancy raises her voice as she glares at both you and Steve. “And we don’t have anything to treat you–”

“It’s just a cold, Nancy…” You reply weakly as you tug your jacket tighter around you. Sharing a look with Steve, you instantly look down again, not bearing to look into his eyes. “It’s gonna pass in a few days…”

It didn’t.

It didn’t pass.

It kept getting worse.

Worse and worse.

Two days later, your whole body was aching. Your muscles were sore and your throat was dry. Coughing hurt, and your head was pounding. You tried to hold yourself together, to keep your head high and your back straight, to pretend to be okay so they didn’t have to worry but when the weakness hit, your eyes turned glassy and your lips blue, they could see that you were getting worse and there was no hiding that anymore. You couldn’t even if you tried, not after this morning, not after you nearly collapsed trying to get a glass of water. Luckily, Eddie was there to catch you.

Eddie and Nancy were worried, that was obvious. You were unaware of the fear in Steve’s eyes though, even now as he crouches down before you, touching your forehead with the back of his hand.

He frowns deeply as he stares at you. Your blue lips are trembling, your eyes keep falling shut even when you try to keep them open. You are burning up and he knows that your fever is getting higher and higher. There is a light whistle in your throat as you keep taking deep breaths, struggling to do so.

The feeling in his chest is sickening. He feels the bile rising up in his throat, nausea sinking in more and more after coming back empty-handed from his run into the nearest town. The pharmacy was empty, completely wiped clean. He couldn’t even find painkillers.

It was the second pharmacy he tried his luck in.

He was gone for two hours, and your state got worse in the meantime.

Eddie is sitting on the bench, biting his fingernails as he stares at you. He’s not moving, he is just sitting there, watching you wide-eyed… like you had already left.

Nancy is pacing back and forth with the map in her hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed strongly, her blue eyes showing nothing but stress.

“Sunshine?” Steve whispers, brushing away the hair in your face. He winces at the hotness of your skin, he can’t imagine how bad you must be feeling right now. He moves his hands down to your blanket and brings it up higher, rubbing your arm over it.

“Hmm?” You open your eyes and squint them when your vision blurs, and he appears twice before you.

He places his hand on your forehead, cupping it.

“How bad are you feeling right now?”

You’re not in control of your body, it’s too weak. You can’t push yourself up and convince him that you are feeling fine, not even if you tried. You can imagine what you look like right now.

You clear your throat only to wince in pain at the soreness in you.

“I’m… still hanging on.” Your voice is hoarse. Barely. You are barely holding on. You’re in and out of sleep, your body is feeling weaker as the hours go by, and you are not sure how much longer you can go without medicine. “Still hanging on, Stevie.”

Your hand falls to his wrist, and he nearly flinches at the coldness of it. The sickness is spreading, claiming you entirely. It all happened too quickly. It happened in the blink of an eye.

Your touch is usually so warm, now it’s icy cold. The look in your eyes is always filled with happiness; now it’s… it’s pained yet empty. Your energy, usually so contagious, is now barely there, gone… dead.

The sickening realization begins to sink in the longer he looks at you.

You came into his life so suddenly. You came out of nowhere. You stepped into it and shone a bright light into his greying life. He was wilting, like all the flowers in this world, until you came along and gave him what he needed; the sun. Only recently did he begin to see the good in things, even out here in this wasteland. He was trying to see the good. He was trying to look forward to things. He was trying to live.

But now with you falling sick, he is already beginning to lose that part of himself once again.

Will he lose you suddenly too?

This is why he didn’t want to let you in.

He let you in just to lose you again.

He can’t let that happen, not again.

“Keep hanging on for me, okay?” He whispers, shaking you a little. There is desperation in his voice and also in his eyes.

Your mouth twitches, lips curling into a smile. You squeeze his wrist, even if weakly.

“Always.” You whisper.

Steve tries to smile, but it barely comes out as such.

“Promise?” He leans closer, missing the warmth of you.

You nod and hum softly.

“Promise, Stevie.”

He blinks a few times. The beating of his heart changes, becoming intense the longer he thinks about what will happen if he doesn’t find medicine in time. His chest starts to ache more and more.

He won’t bear it. He won’t.

“You will be okay,” he assures you, taking your hand into his own, he gives it a tight squeeze. “You hear me? I’m gonna get you some antibiotics and you will be okay again, sunshine.”

Your eyelashes flutter as you look into his hazel eyes. Even through your haze, you can now see the worry in them, the fear. The fear of having to bury someone else.

You take a deep breath and lick your lips. You rub your thumb against his knuckles, admiring the softness in his features.

“Is that… worry I see on your face, Cowboy?” You manage to ask, chuckling softly.

Eddie smiles behind Steve, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. He is worried, just as worried as Steve is.

“Get some more sleep, okay?” Steve whispers as he adjusts the pillow beneath your head.

Nancy takes another look at you. Not a single word falls from her lips, but her eyes say it all. She doesn’t want to lose another friend. She turns away and walks back to the driver's seat. She sits down and stares at the road with a blank look on her face. She takes a few deep breaths, trying to mend the fear that is building up in her.

She looks into the rearview mirror, watching how Steve refuses to leave your side, even after tucking you in already. His body is tense, she can see it in his back and his shoulders.

He cares about you. He is afraid to lose you – even if he won’t admit it out loud.

She looks down at the map in the passenger seat, she grabs it and unfolds it. She goes over the areas you have marked up as safe. Steve had already gone through two of those towns and he came back empty handed. There is another that hasn’t been checked out yet, about ten miles down the road.

She doubts that the pharmacy will be any different there.

What worries her is the areas that have been marked as unsafe – the red areas. The big towns and the cities that are crawling with infected. She has a hunch that that is where they can find the medicine that you need, that is where they will have some sort of luck but it’s dangerous. Very dangerous.

Even with her hunch, there is no guarantee that there will be any antibiotics or painkillers and even if, the chance to come back alive from a place crawling with the dead is zero to one.

She looks back at Steve once more, she knows that he will want to try, she knows that he will try.

But how will she let him, knowing that he will walk right into his death.

She can’t lose you. She can’t lose him either.

She can’t lose the both of you.

So she hopes, she really hopes that the next safest town is where luck will be on your side.

Eddie plops down in the passenger seat with a sigh. He turns to look at her, sharing the worry that is painted into her eyes. Nothing has to be said. They both feel the same thing. They both feel fear. They don’t want to experience another loss. They don’t want to feel the loss of you.

Eddie takes the map from Nancy’s hands. He squints his eyes as he looks down at it, at the next destination. Another small town.

Nancy can see the doubtful look on his face and the uncertainty in his eyes. She feels the same.

“It’s worth a try.” She whispers, shrugging as she starts the RV.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs as he sinks into his seat. “What if it turns out to be just like all the towns before though?”

She shrugs but she knows the answer to that. She knows where to look. But she isn’t ready for that. She looks into the rearview mirror one more time, watching as Steve settles into the seat closest to you. There is worry in his features but there is also something else now. Determination.

She breathes out shakily and holds the steering wheel tightly as she presses her foot onto the gas pedal.

“I don’t know.”

Just like Nancy had suspected, Steve and Eddie came back empty handed after yet another unsuccessful run into a town. Two days have passed since then and your condition only worsened.

She had tried her best to treat you with herbs, making you soup and tea. Keeping you warm with blankets and making sure that the RV wasn’t cold at any time. Though nothing was helping.

Steve’s state wasn’t great either. He slept less than usual, ate less and was mostly on his feet when not in the RV. He was searching and searching. But the longer he went without finding you the things that you need, the more he grew sick with worry but also with anger.

And it is showing now especially.

The anger has taken hold of him completely. Disbelief and pure rage lingers in his usual hazel eyes, now they are dark with fury.

Eddie stands beside Nancy, though he isn’t looking at the map spread on the hood of the RV or between them. He is busy looking down at the city before them. Red lightning curses over it, thunder rumbles in the sky and the earth beneath his feet shakes every few minutes. Chills run down his back. Red lightning is never a good sign. It means the affected city or town is infested with something, crawling with the dead.

It’s unsafe.

“We can’t go out there.” Nancy states, keeping her arms crossed. And it makes sense, it is stupid to go out there, dangerous.

She knows there is no point in arguing with him. But she can’t let him do this.

“This place is crawling with infected, with monsters and whatnot!” She snaps at him after a long moment of staring into his glaring eyes. “Look at it, Steve! Open your goddamn eyes!”

With his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face, he glares at her.

“My eyes are open, Nance. Are yours?” He snaps back, feeling the anger rush through his veins. “I don’t care what this place is crawling with, I don’t care what’s out there. I care about what’s in there!” He almost yells as he points at the closed door of the RV. “She’s sick and she is not getting any better. She won’t get better. She is barely hanging on!”

Nancy clenches her jaw, faltering a little.

He is right.

You won’t get better, not without antibiotics. She is not a doctor and she doesn’t know for sure but given the fact that you got caught in the rain and spent all night stuck in a cold car, it has to be pneumonia. Your symptoms align with the sickness. And she remembers what Mike looked like when he had it a few years back, at least until he got the medicine that he needed.

“How much longer does she have, huh?” Steve throws his hands up. He feels grateful that it’s anger leading his emotions now and not something else.

Nancy turns away from him, closing her eyes, she pinches the bridge of her nose. Frustration bubbles up inside of her but also fear of what will happen in the next few days or even in the next few hours if you don’t get the help that you need.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie mumbles, putting his hands up. He shakes his head at Steve. “Don’t.”

Steve scoffs as he turns to face him now. “Don’t what? Don’t speak the truth? You know I’m right, Munson. You know we have no other choice but to make that run. You don’t wanna go with me? Fine. I get it. But I am going–”

“No, you are not!” Nancy points her finger at him as she turns back around. “You are not making that run! It’s a death sentence! What good will it do to go in there?” She asks, pointing into the direction of the city. “You are not coming back. How is that gonna change anything?”

Steve can’t believe what he is hearing, what he is seeing when he takes a look at Eddie. He looks uncertain, like he is agreeing with her.

Disappointment fills his heart as he looks at his friends.

“I survived Starcourt, I survived the upside down, I survived this world. What makes you think that I’m not capable of coming back alive from this?”

He doesn’t care how he will do it, if he will have to fight his way through monsters or a hoard of infected. He doesn’t care if he will have to look all day if it means saving you.

He feels responsible for what happened. He keeps telling himself that this could have been prevented. If he just set up camp like he planned to do, none of this would have happened.

Seeing you like this now pains him and it reminds him of why he didn’t want to let you in, in the first place. He didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to like you. He didn’t want to have to worry again. The moment he started doing so, you were already tainted by his bad luck. You were already just another loss in his life. You were another temporary thing.

But he can’t let that happen. He can’t lose you. Not now.

They stay quiet. Both of them. It only fills him with an even deeper disappointment.

“I can’t believe you… You cared so much back in Hawkins. What happened to that?”

Eddie lifts his head, his eyebrows furrow in anger, his eyes flash with it too while Nancy looks down with a guilt ridden look on her face.

“I care, alright? I care but Nancy is right, this out there… is a death sentence! We are walking straight into it and we might not come back!”

“We can fucking try!” Steve yells, not caring about keeping his volume down any longer. “I will try, I don’t give a damn about what you will do but I’m trying–”

“Don’t fight…” Your weak voice cuts in and Steve’s head instantly snaps towards you. You’re standing leaned against the doorway to the RV. A thin blanket is wrapped around your shoulders. Your hair is hanging loosely down your shoulders, no sign of a braid there like usual. You look worse than before. Your skin is losing its color. Your eyes look dull. Your face looks thinner. You look even sicker out here in the daylight. And it makes his chest ache terribly. “Don’t fight because of me.”

You make your way down the steps on shaky and weak legs.

Eddie holds his hand up towards you and Nancy uncrosses her arms as she eyes you worriedly. Steve instantly takes a step forward, already holding his hands up just in case.

A cough breaks out of your mouth, causing your entire body to jolt in pain. You hold your hand up to your lips and clutch your stomach. Before you can even try to catch yourself, your knees buckle and you lose balance, nearing the ground as you fall.

“Whoa!” Steve mumbles loudly as he reaches his arms out to you, sweeping them under your armpits and catching you before the fall. He lifts you up and hugs you to his chest. “You’re supposed to be in bed.” He grumbles into your ear.

You sniffle, blinking away the tears that build up in your sensitive eyes. You can’t find it in yourself to fight him, to step away and stand on your own feet. You are weak. You hate it.

“I don’t want you to fight because of me.” You repeat in desperation, lifting your head and looking up at him with your glassy eyes.

This is why he didn’t want to care again.

This hurts.

The worry. The fear. The pain that takes over his heart from seeing you suffer.

Your body feels weak against him. Your eyes are so… lifeless. He can’t bear it. He can’t.

“Come on,” he whispers as he begins to lead you back into the RV. He wraps his arm around your waist and holds you tightly, helping you up the stairs. “Let’s get you back inside.”

You comply but not without looking back at Nancy and Eddie one more time. You part your lips, wanting to say something but no words come from your mouth when you see the way they look at you. Like they are worried, like they are sick with fear, like they are already grieving.

You blink.

Even through the haze in your mind, you realize the look on their faces. They care. They care because you mean something to them. Because you are not only their companion now but also a friend.

The tears that welled up in your eyes before were from physical pain, the ones now are emotional. For the first time in your life, you found people who see you as a friend. An actual friend. Not someone to use and toss away when you are no longer needed. They see you as their friend just like you see them too.

And of course you had to find them during the end of the world, getting closer and closer to them in the process, only to fall sick. It’s only a matter of time until you close your eyes for the last time. You can feel it. You can feel the sickness claiming you whole. You can feel death creeping up on you. This is just your luck.

Steve leads you back to your bed and helps you back down. He grabs your legs gently and puts them on the mattress carefully before he tucks you in, making sure the pillow is comfortable and soft beneath your head.

Even he started caring. Even he became your friend.

You look at his face, at his features that were always so covered in anger and defensiveness when you first met him. Now they are soft. His hazel eyes are filled with sadness and it doesn’t help your case at all.

A tear slips from your eyes and down your cheek. You try to lift your hand to wipe it away before he sees it but you are too slow.

His eyebrows knit together and he places his hand on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Did it get worse…? Are you–”

“I’m weighing you guys down,” you whisper, shakily. Your lips curl downwards as tears start falling freely. “Y-You were right. I am a nuisance. Now I am one.”

Anger bubbles up inside of him but also guilt for ever saying something like that about you.

He shakes his head, squeezing your shoulder softly as he brings his other hand up to your cheek, wiping away the tears.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he glares at you.

Your bottom lip wobbles and your chest heaves as you try to breathe. You clutch your blanket tightly.

“It’s the truth… You already slowed down because of me and made unnecessary runs–”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done it too.”

You would. Of course you would. You would do anything for them. For him.

You swallow and the scratchiness, the dryness in your throat makes you wince and causing more tears to build up in your eyes. You close them and try to take deep breaths.

Whatever he is saying, you know that you are right. You are weighing them down and they – he is taking unnecessary risks just to help you. You will never forgive yourself if something happens to him while he is trying to save you.

“Leave–” You pause when your voice cracks. You try to keep your composure, to keep breathing, to stop crying. You open your eyes again and look at him. “Leave me in the nearest house, I’ll be okay…”

Steve looks at you as though you had gone crazy. His eyes flash with disbelief as anger rushes through him. How dare you make him care only to give up so easily now?

“We are not doing that.” It’s not his voice that sounds through the RV, it’s Eddie’s. He is looking at you just like Steve is, though with less anger and with more sadness.

Steve is starting to breathe heavily as the seriousness of this whole situation sinks in more and more. His heart beats a little faster. Desperation clings to him.

“You have to… You are going off the main road for me,” you say with a heavy voice, looking between Eddie and Nancy, who now stands in the doorway too, shaking her head in disapproval.

Steve pushes himself up, getting back on his feet. He runs his fingers through his hair and he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to think, to think of a solution.

Nancy pushes past him and kneels down before you. Her blue eyes are troubled, filled with emotions you can’t all read. She brings her hand up to your forehead, cupping it gently.

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers.

Steve looks down at you as he paces around. He can read you so well. You, you are usually so hopeful. Filled with life and the will to live and fight your way through this world. You are now ready to give up, to find a place to die.

This is not what you want. This was never something that you wanted. This had always been something you were afraid of, you told him that before. You were afraid to die alone. You were afraid to lose your life before finding your way back home and seeing your family.

Now you are right where you never wanted to be.

“It does– My house, my address, it’s on my ID… so if you head there, tell my parents–”

“Shut up!” He yells, exploding. He can’t do this. He can’t listen to you talk like this. He can’t watch you giving up.

You flinch a little, staring wide eyed at him but with eyes still glassy like before. Nancy looks down while Eddie eyes him, scanning his face and the look in his eyes.

Steve clenches his jaw, pointing his finger at you as he breathes heavily.

“I– We are not leaving you!” He snaps at you, holding back his own tears. “Get that through that thick head of yours. We are not leaving you.”

He gives you another pointed look before he snatches the map out of Eddie’s hand and makes his way over to the driver’s seat, where neither Eddie nor Nancy can see him. He plops down and opens the map but his breathing is so heavy and his eyes burn so hotly that he can’t focus on it.

He leans back and closes his eyes, he swallows the lump in his throat. This moment reminds him of what he lost. This reminds him of what could have been if he just handled in time. This feels like he is living through it all once again and it kills him.

He made mistakes before. He won’t do them again. He won’t experience another loss. He won’t let anything take away from him again.

Never again.

It’s silent and peaceful. The RV has never been quieter than this. It’s dark inside, except for the small candle burning on the table he is sitting at. The fire outside where Nancy and Eddie sit around, isn’t large enough to shine through the windows. They had to keep it low to avoid unwanted attention from the city nearby. Monsters and infected probably don’t come out this far, but it’s always better to be safe.

He is staring at his backpack, at the nailed bat that has accompanied him for years now. He is tapping his finger against the counter, fighting an inner battle as his eyes flicker back and forth between you, his backpack and the red lightning in the distance.

He knows what he has to do.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

He leans his body in your direction, squinting his eyes as he looks at you, trying to see better in the darkness.

His heart leaps a little the longer he watches you. You aren’t moving. At all. Your chest isn’t rising up and down anymore. It looks like you stopped… breathing.

“No…” He whispers as he gets back on his feet, swallowing the growing nausea as he looks at your pale face. He feels like throwing up already, his heart is racing in his chest as he crouches down before you. He whispers your name, once… twice…

“Sunshine?” Steve whispers shakily as he brings his hand up to your face.

“Still here…” You manage to croak out. Your lashes flutter when you open your eyes as best as you can.

His head hangs low for a moment as his eyes close and he takes a deep breath. His hand moves down to your wrist and then to your hand, he holds it softly.

Thank god.

“I’m still here, Cowboy.” You whisper before your eyes fall shut again and sleep begins to lull you back in again.

Still. You are still here.

He knows what he has to do. He knows what he will do.

He tilts his head up again, watching how you take slow and weak breaths. But you are still here.

He is determined, desperate. He moves closer to you, running his fingers through your hair, he tucks it away and out of your face. He caresses your cheek, feeling his heart long, feeling it ache for something else entirely – though he pushes it aside… for now… or for always.

“You’re gonna be okay, Sunshine. I promise. You hear me?”

You only hum in response.

“Just hang on for me, okay? Hang on.” Steve whispers as he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it. A kiss you barely feel. A kiss you will forget.

He gets back up and puts his jacket on, no longer caring about Eddie’s and Nancy’s plans. Time is running out. Time that you don’t have. He won’t sit here and watch you wilt. He won’t sit here while you die. He won’t let that happen. Never again. So he grabs his backpack and Nancy’s rifle that she left inside the RV after swapping it for your gun.

He looks through the blinds on the window, making sure that neither of them will come in when he slips out but they seem to be in a deep conversation. They won’t notice.

Steve turns around to face you one more time. His soft eyes stay on you for a second. His heart pounds in his chest, his body fills with adrenaline at what he is about to do.

You will be okay. He will make sure of that.

He will fix this again.

“I’ll be back soon, Sunshine.” He promises and he prays to whatever is above to protect you, to make you hold on a little longer. He wishes he had something to keep you safe with.

Steve falters in his step when he remembers the hair tie around his wrist. He looks down at it, at the lilac colored hair tie that belonged to his best friend. It’s old. Back from the Family Video days. Robin always forgot to grab extra hair ties or clips and would then complain about her hair getting into her face and being unable to tie it back. At one point he bought a package of hair ties and would put one around his wrist until it needed to be used. The lilac one was her favorite.

He traces it before he takes it off his wrist. He tiptoes back to you and he picks up your wrist gently, placing the hair tie around it. He holds your wrist for a moment, tapping it softly.

He never believed in things like this, but maybe it’s a good idea to start now.

“Keep her safe for me,” he whispers to her.

Steve squeezes your hand reassuringly before he turns around and slips away from you and out of the RV.

The wood in the fire crackles, the wind blows through the trees around the place they set up camp in. The red lightning in the distance isn’t close enough to illuminate the sky above them but it keeps flashing in their peripheral vision.

Eddie is staring into the fire. He is quiet unlike usual.

Nancy doesn’t mind the silence but it feels odd not to hear his voice. She feels the tension radiating off him. She feels it herself.

A stack of books lies on the grass beside her feet. Books about herbs, about natural remedies for sicknesses. But everything she tried helping you with was to no avail. Not the eucalyptus teas nor the peppermint. You need antibiotics and fever reducers. Steve is right.

“I was thinking…” Eddie finally speaks up after hours of silence between them. Since they sat down to do night watch, they haven’t talked at all. Nancy was too immersed in reading the books beside her while Eddie had scanned the map over and over, and tried to come up with a plan.

Nancy looks up from the book, cocking her eyebrow in question.

He straightens in his seat, pressing his hands together as he leans forward, not looking away from the fire yet.

“I’m making the run into the city come morning,” he states, determined. “Those books won’t help,” he points at the ones she has read through already. “And we can’t rely on the smaller towns ahead of us.”

She opens her mouth to speak but Eddie holds his hand up at her and finally looks into her eyes.

“Small towns are usually safe, they’re not crawling with infected or monsters as much as big cities are. People like us, survivors go for places like these. They avoid that,” he mumbles, pointing his thumb into the direction where the city lies. “It’s crawling with fucking everything, so people won’t even try to get in there, which means we have the best chance at finding stuff there. Everything that she needs, antibiotics, pain killers, fever reducers.”

Nancy’s shoulders slump. Her eyebrows knit together as she looks at the RV.

He is right, just like Steve is.

He is right and she knows it's what needs to be done.

She nods slowly, closing the book in her hand, she throws it on the ground. Leaning back into her camping chair, she looks into the fire.

“Okay,” Nancy whispers, accepting the danger he is about to face. She is about to face. She won’t let you die.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, tilting his head down a little as his brown eyes scan her face.

She nods again and looks up at him.

“Yeah, but I’m going with you.”

He doesn’t protest. He works best with her.

“In and out, easy… right?” Eddie chuckles, though his heart skips a nervous beat.

Her lip twitches, curling into a small smile as she looks at the guy who became her closest friend. Her best friend.

“Easy.”

He takes a deep breath and nods to himself. He looks up at the sky.

“Sun is gonna rise soon,” he comments as he looks at the faint light behind the clouds.

“Yeah.”

He gets up with a sigh, “I’m gonna go tell Steve.”

“Alright.” Nancy gives him a tight lipped smile.

He turns around and starts making his way towards the stairs of the RV. He reaches his hand out to grab the handle. One step closer and he halts in his tracks when the sound of rustling makes him freeze.

A cold shudder runs down his spine when he turns back around. His eyes instantly lock with Nancy’s. Her blue eyes are troubled and she instantly pushes herself up, grabbing your gun from her belt.

“Whoa,” Eddie whispers, making his way back to her side after he grabs the axe he left on the ground.

“Could be an animal,” Nancy murmurs as she scans the area. She ignores the beating of her heart.

She parked the RV right next to a big forest, making sure that it was hidden behind trees and bushes, now it doesn’t seem to be the best idea as she looks around trying to spot the culprit who caused the noises.

Eddie squints his eyes, grabbing the handle of the axe tighter as he steps in front of her.

“It better be.” He mumbles nervously. He doesn’t want to get caught by an infected or a demo– something.

He feels his heart in his throat when he sees the figure descending out from behind the bushes, pushing its way out onto the field and in his and Nancy’s direction.

“Fuck…”

Nancy swallows. She clicks the safety off on the gun and brings it up a little, not aiming yet.

“Infected or Human?”

Eddie shrugs as he scans the way the figure carries themselves, the steps and the posture.

“What’s worse?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at her.

Nancy lifts one shoulder as she straightens her back, ready to take the shot if needed.

“You do know that if we shoot, everything that might be around will get drawn in by the noise…”

“I know,” Nancy sighs, cursing inwardly for not looking for silencers before. “It’s not an infected… it’s–”

“Put the gun down, Nance.”

“Steve!?” Eddie and Nancy gasp in unison.

He speeds up his movements once Nancy holsters her gun again and Eddie drops the axe. They don’t even manage to take in the sight of him, to take in the state he is in. He brushes past them so quickly, heading into the RV like he can’t waste a single second to get to you. His backpack is clinking loudly. He throws open the door and rushes in.

Eddie’s confused face meets Nancy’s, they share a look before they follow him inside.

They both notice how fast and loudly he is breathing as he sets the rifle down, leaning it against the wall. He hurries into the back of the RV, throwing off his backpack carefully as he sets it down on the ground beside the bed you are lying in.

Steve drops to his knees before you, not even giving that moment to himself to breathe, to calm down. He spent hours feeling on edge, worrying about you, worrying about making it out alive. And he ran, he ran all the way from the city to here, not stopping for a second, not stopping to catch his breath or look back to make sure that nothing was following. He just needed to get to you. That’s all that mattered to him, he didn’t care about anything else.

He places his hand on your shoulder, shaking you softly.

“Sunshine?” He whispers as he brings his other hand up to your cheek, tapping it gently. “You with me?”

A grumble falls from your mouth. You shift on the bed as you wake up slowly. Your eyelashes flutter as you blink, opening your eyes after a few seconds.

Steve’s shoulders slump in relief, and he breathes out a loud sigh. He closes his eyes for a moment. He takes a deep breath before he opens his eyes again and gets into action. He grabs his backpack and zips it open, taking out the medicine he found inside of a hospital.

Nancy stares at him, watching as he takes out one bottle after another.

“What–”

“You went out there by yourself?” Eddie snaps at him.

And if you weren’t so weak and delirious, you would have been surprised at the anger in his tone and in his eyes.

Steve ignores them both. He ignores everything, even the injuries he came back with. He clenches his jaw. Taking out the antibiotics and the tylenol, he drops them on the bedside table before he gets up and makes his way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and wash his hands before giving you the medicine.

He doesn’t even spare them a look.

“Are you crazy, Steve?” Nancy asks, crossing her arms over her chest as she inspects the dirt on his face, the blood dripping from the fresh wound on his cheek and one over his eyebrow.

“You could have died, man!” Eddie throws his hands up, glaring at his friend who glares back at him.

“She could have fucking died!” Steve yells, throwing his finger into your direction. He blinks in anger as he makes his way back to you. A huff falls from his lips, angry at his friends still.

He is tired and exhausted from hiding and running all night, from having to crawl on the ground to stay hidden from monsters and infected. A few infected still managed to creep up on him, and two or three demobats caused the wounds on his face. But he is fine. He is fine now.

They both fall quiet behind him, watching how he tends to you.

He places the glass on the table and leans down, scooping his arm under your back, “c’mon, you need to get up for a second.”

You don’t protest, but you are weak, and you would not be able to get back up by yourself. You squint your eyes as you look at him. Your mind is still in a haze and everything is confusing to you at this moment but you see the dirt and the blood on his face. The messy hair and the exhausted look in his features.

“What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it now,” he whispers.

Steve grabs the antibiotics, taking out a pill. He places it into the palm of your hand, “here, take it.” He mumbles and reaches for the glass of water.

He helps you bring your hand up to your lips, you put the pill in your mouth and take a sip of the water he holds out to you, swallowing it. You repeat the motion when he hands you one of the painkillers.

He watches you carefully. Wiping away the drop of water that runs down your chin and tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly when you pull away from him, eyes dropping from the tiredness again.

Steve’s eyes soften when you try to smile at him, even now, even when you feel like absolute shit.

“Anytime, honey.” He promises. The nickname falling from his lips so naturally.

He helps you back down and tucks you in again, just like he did before, just like he did all the days leading up to this moment. His eyes fall on the hair tie. He leaves it there.

Nancy and Eddie look at each other, their anger fleeting away more and more. Relief filling them instead but also still fear… for him now too.

“There’s… I got a bunch of stuff,” Steve explains as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Nance, can you place an IV for her? I got one of those bags but I don’t know how–”

She nods, “yeah… yeah, of course. But your wounds need–”

“I’m fine. Just a cut…” He murmurs tiredly as he gets up, walking away and towards the couch.

Eddie huffs at his friend when he brushes past him. He can’t help but slap him over his head.

Steve flinches, squinting his eyes at him.

“For being a moron,” Eddie glares. “I would have gone with you, man.”

Steve shakes his head, scoffing softly as he plops down on the couch. He grunts in pain when he takes off his jacket, throwing it on the ground. His eyes start dropping suddenly as the tiredness hits fully.

“I was sneaky… stealthy like a ninja.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at the comment that reminds him of who he once used to be.

“Didn’t even have to kill a thing… and now… I will sit here and I will see if she…” he slurs, eyes falling shut slowly. He mumbles your name before he passes out completely.

Eddie stares at him for a moment, noticing the cut on his arm and the blood dripping down from the wound.

“Stealthy like a ninja my ass,” Eddie snorts. He takes his own jacket off and pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows, ready to tend to his wounds.

His muscles are sore, aching in every spot in his body but his arms and legs especially. The cut on his arm strains against his skin, making him wince in pain when he stretches both arms out. A grunt leaves his lips as he peaks his eyes open when the sunlight hits his face.

He draws back in confusion when he looks down at the sheets covering his body, at the big window next to the bed. There isn’t one behind the couch. This isn’t where he fell asleep last night.

Steve presses his palms against the sheets beneath him, he pushes himself up and turns his head. His eyes widen in surprise when he finds you next to him, sitting up and looking right at him. A weak smile gracing your lips.

It takes him a moment to move. The words get caught in his throat when his heart skips a beat. The golden light of the sun kisses your face so softly, bringing out all the specks of colors in your eyes and the undertone in your hair that frames your face so prettily right now. You rarely wear it open, it’s always in one or two braids. He likes it like this. A lot.

You look so much better than the night before. The circles under your eyes are still there but your face has taken on a little color again and you can sit up straight once more.

“Hey…” Your whisper pulls him out of his stupor. He blinks a few times before he finally pushes himself up, reaching his arm out to you, he notices the bandage around his bicep and he realizes that Eddie must have taken care of his wounds before he carried him over to the bed to sleep next to you.

Heat creeps up to his cheeks and he blushes a little.

“A-Are you okay?” He whispers, placing his hand on your back. “Shit… what time is it?” He looks down at his watch, needing to make sure that you get your dose of medicine every eight hours.

You take his hand, filling him with even more relief when he feels the warmth in it again.

“I’m better.”

Steve looks away from his wrist and back up at you. Hazel eyes shining with hope.

“Yeah?” He leans closer, keeping his hand on you.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and nod, blinking as your eyes grow sensitive.

“Mhmm.”

You woke up confused this morning. Your body felt sore, and your throat still ached but you felt better, so much better. You didn’t understand why at first, not until you noticed him lying next to you, facing you. You remembered then what had happened the night before. How he gave you the medicine, how dirty he was, how wounded he was.

He went out there for you. He went into the city to get you medicine, to save you.

Steve risked his life for you.

Steve who seemed so cold at first. Steve who didn’t want you around at first. Steve who you thought didn’t care about you.

No one ever did that for you. No one ever cared enough to even do the littlest thing for you.

But he went out there, knowing that he could have died trying to save you.

It tugs at your heartstrings to know that he cares about you enough to do this. It warms your chest. It makes you feel safe. He makes you feel safe.

Steve creeps into your heart more and more every day and you can no longer lie to yourself or deny the feelings that grow for him.

You eye the mess on his head, the wild hair. The tiredness in his eyes. The wound he caught for you. You lift your hand up to his cheek, tracing his skin with your finger.

His lips curl upwards, his eyes flicker with something you can’t read.

You lean closer to him and close your eyes. You press your lips against his shoulder, giving it a soft peck.

“Thank you,” you whisper and look up at him.

Steve can see what flashes in your eyes. He knows what you are thinking, what you are feeling and it makes his heart ache.

He would do it again. Again and again.

No words leave his mouth but his actions speak louder. He wraps his arms around you and he pulls you into his embrace, hugging you softly.

You accept the hug instantly, grabbing his shirt, you press your cheek against his chest and let yourself fall into him and it doesn’t take you a minute, not even a second to understand why it feels so warm, why it feels so right.

This is more than just attraction.

This is more than what you thought it was.

And it scares you.

But you are not the only one scared, he is too. When he wraps his arms around you tighter and he presses his lips to the top of your head, he feels his heart warming in his chest when you curl into him.

Steve feels the urge to not let go, to keep you in his embrace, to keep you safe, to protect you.

But not like his other friends, no, he wants to protect you in a different way.

And that scares him too. Especially because he had never felt anything like this before. Never.

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #stranger things

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howlingmod · 1 day ago

Text

SIT NEXT TO ME!

summary - how some of the survivors and killers show their love ... giggles

misc - low quality content im so tire .... but i must write .... it is demanded of me .....

Noob - Physical Touch

-Simple pleasure, simple guy, what can I say.

-It's not even something they're aware of half the time, a big part of what probably tipped you off to their feelings for you in the first place was their touchiness. While they're more physical with everyone, it definitely lingered with you more. They'd stick closer to you on excursions and, more often than not, would be brushing shoulders with you when working on generators.

-They just like being able to feel your presence, it's grounding to them in a big way. A lot of the time they'll have a hand on you just because it feels comforting, usually it's on your shoulder or they'll reach for your arm if you've got one free (they prefer holding onto your arm/hooking arms more than handholding to be honest ... it just feels so much more secure and special !!)

-Late at night they'll frequently fidget with your hands, looking at all the lines in your palms and the little cuts and marks that litter your skin. It puts them in a trance, you're just so gorgeous to them, in that human, real kinda way. It's hard for them to put into words ...

007n7 - Physical Touch

-Before .... everything, he's a lot more varied. If anything, he probably leaned more towards acts of service- he likes making your life easier, especially with you (presumably) helping him raise c00lkid. It's not easy being a parent, he knows how stressful it and daily living in general can be. He feels good if he can make your day a little less stressful.

-Now though, he really needs that grounding. There's just so much missing. He's not really on great terms with anyone here and he knows he deserves it. You're all he has left. You're the only shred of his perfect life left.

-It's the little things when you guys are around others, the way he sticks to your side, the times where he'll subtly reach for your hand and squeeze it in reassurance, where he'll hug you when you get back from an excursion and look you over. It's the little bits of vulnerability he can spare to show you he loves you.

-Other times, it's more desperate, tight clinging to your form when you lay together because everything's suddenly clamped down on him like a million weights. It's those times that feel most like a perverted version of the ways you used to lay together when things were better, less suffocating and mournful. Sometimes you still expect the door to your room to open and c00lkid to crawl under the sheets with you two. He never does.

Shedletsky - Quality Time

-Ohhh my god this guy does not shut up. He's always got some story to tell you about, some little anecdote that something you said or something that happened reminded him of. You never really know how accurate he's being to reality, you can make your guesses but he'll only ever smile and shrug if you ask for confirmation.

-It could come off as egotistical or annoying if it weren't fairly obvious it was his way of keeping morale up. What, you think he's making things up? Why, he'd never! You'll just have to argue with him about it if you care so much. It's just a way of keeping your mind on something other than your current situation, even if it means he has to be the butt of a joke more than a few times. Besides, he just thinks playfighting with you is fun sorryyyyy <//3

-That being said, he can be serious. What you two are going through isn't exactly easy, you can't always ignore it, you have to face it head on sometimes. If you wanna talk about how scared you feel not knowing what's going to happen, he'll listen and admit he's scared too. If you wanna talk about how hopeless everything feels, he'll admit he's felt the same way a few times before. He might not be as emotional but he's forthcoming with his experiences, the last thing he wants you to feel is alone, if he can make you feel heard and helped then he's happy to admit to every bad dream that's ever haunted him.

-It'll always end with some little glimmer of hope, no matter how vague. He can't afford to lose you to apathy, he'll spin as many tales and sneak as many wishes he has for the two of you into your conversations as it takes for you to keep going just a little longer. He doesn't know what the future looks like, but he wants you to be there with him to see it.

Dusekkar - Acts of Service

-While they're more than good with their words and freely give out their praise to you, they also worry about your physical well-being frequently. Even if you're in good standings, they'll be keeping an eye on you. It's just a habit they've picked up protecting the others that's amplified tenfold for you. Perhaps they're a little biased with their shields, but they couldn't bear to lose you.

-They'll make your life easier in any way that they can, they know that the stress of everything can add up and they want you to stay strong despite it. They can't stand idly by and let you fall to the wayside, rotting in fear and pain. How could they ever truly protect you if they allowed for you to crumble right in their arms?

-It's little things- letting you sleep in longer, making sure you get a little extra food even if it means sacrificing some of their portion, hovering around you whenever you head out on an excursion. You're their world, their muse, their heart- they'll make sure you know how important you are to them and how deeply they care for your health in every way they can, it's what you deserve.

John Doe - Acts of Service(?)

-John's a weird one. He only has so much he can do for you without risking hurting you. If he sticks around you too often that could alert the other survivors and cause them to attack you. He can take bullets, you can't. Additionally, he has to be careful, that corrupted arm of his isn't exactly gentle. He knows fully that he could crush you, kill you in the blink of an eye if he isn't careful. So, he has to settle for little gestures.

-He'll leave you alone when he hunts. He'll heard you in the direction of generators, supplies, warm corners free from the chilling wind. If everyone else dies he'll walk you back home, paint you with their blood to make sure it doesn't look suspicious. He'll watch from afar till you disappear into the closed doors of your 'base.' Even then, you suspect he doesn't leave until later, hovering around as a spare set of eyes and ears on you.

-Even then, he's selfish, takes gambles when he hangs around you for just a little while longer. He'll contort, physically pulling the shoulder of his monstrous arm as far back as he can to avoid the chances of even brushing it against you when he reaches for you with the other. He'll keep it restrained, muscles pulled taut just to keep you to his side in a rare moment of peace. He's a man of few words, you can only imagine what his vocal chords have been turned into, but if you push your head close enough to his chest you just might hear him breathe out an "I love you" in between the pained labor of his lungs.

1x4 - Gift giving

-Likewise, he also can't stick around for very long. That doesn't mean he won't make a lasting mark on you. He's more risky, he knows that if the others found out and tried anything he could paint the walls red with them all before they could even lay a finger on you. He thinks he could take care of you far better than they could, provide a better home, protect you better than they could ever try to. More than once he's thought about faking your death, making a bloody scene for the others to find so he can take you from them. They're only a burden on you, a risk you (for whatever reason) worry yourself with.

-He won't force you, he's some humanity left, but that doesn't mean he won't show them up (to him, at least). He'll present you with enough jewels and gold to make an officiant pale with the dried gums of blood in between the joints, kick supplies in your direction and rip them from the hands of fallen survivors to give to you, he's offered up fingers, bones and heads as a show of his prowess and only grumbles when you turn them down.

-He'll never understand why you bother yourself in the ways you do, taking others under your wing when they can't do anything but leech off of you in return, so he'll have to make up for their inabilities instead. Where they can only take, he'll give you more than you could've ever dreamed for. It's his way of displaying how special you are to him, the pride he takes in you just as you do him. Consider himself a dragon and you the lucky singular he allows into his hoard.

+ (PLATONIC/FAMILIAL) C00lkid - N/A

-Well ... c00lkids always really liked spending time with you and dad! Dad always had cool stories about all the stuff he got up to when he was younger and you always had fun games to play with him and dad. Sometimes you'd draw with him and happily hang up his art to admire everytime you went through the kitchen before work and then he'd spend the whole day drawing more and more for you to look at, making up stories (that usually involved dracobloxxers) and worlds to tell you all about during dinner.

-Other times you guys would play tag! Usually it didn't last very long, at some point you'd get tired and have to sit down for a while and do something else with him (SAD!) but you'd been running a lot more recently! He hadn't been able to tag you in a whiiile, but he knows he will eventually! You've just been giving him another challenge to overcome like you always did, ducking around corners and over ledges. It's hard, he's scraped his knees pretty bad a few times and run into the walls more than he can count, but he always gets back up!

-It's a little weird to him though. He's never really played with anyone other than you and dad. He doesn't really know why those other people are there. You won't tell him. You never stop running. (He misses when you'd get tired, when you'd stop and hold him while you watched a movie together instead.) (He misses you and dad talking to eachother, telling him stories and dancing with him in the kitchen.) (Did he do something wrong? Are you mad at him? Why won't either of you just TALK to him!-) (If he stops chasing you, won't you be sad? Would he be disappointing you?)

-Sometimes he suddenly gets very sad. Sometimes you stand still and look at him from afar and you don't smile at him. Just stare and have this weird, long-gone look he's never seen before. He thinks about walking up to you, asking what's wrong, if you and dad hate him, why you always run but he knows you'll just run again. Instead he just chases after everyone else and wishes dad would order pizza again and you would put band-aids over the cuts on his knees from falling and the pricks of branches on his arms.

#forsaken x reader #I miss my son tails. I miss him a lot. sorry the last one is significantly longer i get so sad thinking about the possibilities #one day i will write happier hcs for reader/07 + c00l playing toys.....#007n7 x reader #shedletsky x reader #1x1x1x1 x reader #1x4 x reader #john doe x reader #dusekkar x reader #noob x reader #mod writes

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vyainide · 1 day ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤcoax me out, my loveㅤㅤ＼ㅤcomforting op menㅤㅤ𖥟

ワンピース၇⃪⃖ꪆ୧ㅤluffy, zoro & lawㅤ 𓊉 ㅤ~𝟣.𝟤𝗄—𝟣.𝟦𝗄𝗐𝖼ㅤ───gn! reader, canon compliant, angst/comfort, character study, can be romantic or platonic, marineford spoilers (luffy, zoro), thriller bark spoilers (zoro), dressrosa spoilers (law)᭮ ━─⠀ ❤︎ ㅤ2025©vyainide ㅤㅤ︶ིྀᩧㅤ1864lib

vyon's mouthpiece. sanji is not here because i haven't seen his backstory yet, i could write it bc it's impossible to avoid op spoilers for any arc and i essentially know the backbone of his lore, but i'm afraid i wouldn't do it enough justice so i'm just gonna not

sometimes, he gets distant— it's not then that you need to worry about luffy. you know to give him more credit now since you've become something to him; it's the times that he brands himself into you— stubborn and tense, even when it starts to hurt that you have enough basis to be worried.

the papers had ravished into every detail they could when it came to marineford, eager, eager, so disgustingly eager to find a physicality in ace's blood; they'd exaggerated every gory detail with a numbness that only those in their field are privy to. dug out open wounds where there were scars, tore wider cuts that were already stitched, ripped away the scab that had just formed— merciless.

you saw the news, everyone else in the crew did no doubt. and you'd have to give the paparazzi credit, they were there. you were not.

how the mighty whitebeard died standing, not bowing to any marine even in his death, stood as a shield for the sons he'd carelessly picked up over the years; how jinbei, shanks, all these big name pirates had shown up if only to cause enough chaos to make them regret; how ace— poor, sweet, loveable ace— died. you knew all the details, but you did not know the luffy that had lost his brother.

it was something that you did not quite know how to address when you'd come back from those gruesome years spent so out of reach from your captain, your crew, your family with only the trust you had in them that knew not one of them would go down. the return to saobaody archipelago was an undoing, the same way that it was when you'd been separated.

you worried a lot, and you're ashamed to admit that it was very much useless when you'd came across chopper first— and then he'd managed to coax you into buying him cotton candy like no years had passed at all. like time had been cut and sewn back together seamlessly and you were back to the day that camie and hachi were showing you around.

and from there, things speed up quick. you're allowed to sink into nami's arms when she offers you a hug, you laugh at usopp's stories of his mentor and an island that wanted to eat him, your stomach rejoices when it's finally satiated by sanji's cooking— you can finally smile at luffy, but there's no time for anything else. you've spent many nights grappling on how to be there for luffy when you were reunited, but he seems to return to you whole. toughened up, with that same smile that only reassures no matter what and after fishman island, you can't, in good conscious, ask luffy to slow down and force him back into the memories that no doubt haunt.

and haunt they do.

you've never reckoned luffy to be weak— no, he was your captain and he was the man who was going to be the king of pirates. you've placed your bets on him long ago, all in for this firecracker of a teen, but marineford had done something to him— to the luffy that has always stood so proudly in your memory like a god out of touch.

when you see a rival pirate sneak up on luffy from behind him, you see that photo that had been caught by chance in marineford. the luffy that had never bowed to any authority with his shaky arms, wrapped tight around his dying brother— not in the usual manner, the excitable way where he'd coil his arm around, once, twice, thrice. his fingertips barely touching as they wrapped around ace's middle, his head ducked down into the slope of ace's neck, shoulders closed in. this was not your captain who had taken down crocodile, who had punched a celestial dragon, who had saved countless members of his crew. this was luffy that had lost ace.

and you think, you've been thinking that luffy could have well died in that battle. it's selfish in a way that you know luffy would never quite accept, but you're a pirate. so you step in between the sword and luffy— and when you see the absolute horror that contorts luffy's vision, you think you can understand him a little bit better.

you wake up a little after less than twenty–four hours and nothing is out of the ordinary, except— except for the fact that your right hand is numb when the sword had driven through your stomach. hazily dragging your eyes over the lines of wooden planks that made up the ceiling of chopper's office until it pulls down onto a squeeze of your hand. "captain." your throat aches.

"you—" his bottom lip wobbles and his hand, wrapped around yours, squeezes again. you wince.

he sees it, he loosens up a little, but his fingers continue on, pressing between the meat of the bones in the back of your hand.

chopper comes in, sees you've woken up, and takes over accordingly.

you don't get to talk to luffy about this incident either.

things melt back into what they used to be and what stands out when you look at luffy is that expression that had degraded onto his face when you'd jumped in front of him. burdened by a shame and guilt, you let it be.

two days pass— not so normally as luffy has taken to becoming an unmovable extension of you and you let that be until it becomes a problem.

"luffy," he turns to you when you call for him, "are you okay?"

he makes a face that's as judgemental as he can fathom— it's similar to how nami's face twists, only his eyebrows are pinched more in a zoro–like fashion. "why?" sticks his face closer to yours and his eyes draw wide, deep and suddenly unfathomable, "you're the one in bandages," he says like it's an insult. you're surprisingly wounded by it though so maybe it was.

"it's not a competition." but if it were, you don't think you'd be winning. luffy doesn't dignify that with a response past a loud huff and shrugging away, his hands tightened around his ankle but the length of his arm is wrapped around yours. "i'm sorry, luffy." and it's obvious, far too obvious, that it would have been you that gives in first.

a good captain he is, luffy knows you have more to say— his ear twitches but he doesn’t turn back to look at you. amused, you reach out for his hand and pull it from his ankle. "i am sorry, captain. i think everyone is."

that interests him enough to incline his head back to you, the straw hat tipping with the slope. you leave it be and nod your head down to the material, resting against him. "for not being there." you can't see his face but you're shamelessly capable of imagining what it looks like right now.

"s'not your fault." he tells you, voice as even as he could make it. "it's," his chest puffs up like he was starting a sigh but it never goes back down. "i was right there 'n—" his voice cracks. "it was meant for me."

ah, you realise something, you've hurt him more than you imagined. the hand you've held loosely twists around and settles over your thighs; when he clenches down, violent in the blunt press of his nails softened over the material of your trousers, you don't wince. "ace must have been happy." you can say that confidently. "to see that his younger brother had come to save him— embarrassed too i bet."

cocky that you're trying to lighten the mood but luffy huffs a laugh so you know you must be right. "he was," luffy tells you, petulant and childish. "he told me to go away."

you let that rest for a while, let it dust off the still hurt that had been weighing luffy down and allow your captain to find that after his small laugh, something in his heart stretches outwards, then snaps back into place with an ease that he'd lost since marineford.

then you're at it again. "ace couldn't have lived with himself if you had died for him— and i know it well. if he had lost you and whitebeard at the expense of himself," you don't finish that sentence because you know luffy understands. it's in the way that his hand loosens around your thigh. "i'm sorry i wasn't there and that i stepped in the way of that sword, but luffy—"

"i know." solemn. "don't say it." demanding.

"okay captain." smiling, you push closer into luffy.

the captain and his first mate, and you say this with so much love in your heart, are two like minded buffons. you knew that they had sailed together in a little dinghy together before they had received the going merry from a friend of usopp's and you have to wonder how the hell they had survived. luffy was one thing, but zoro was another.

zoro's charmed you to believe in his competence. he's a monolith of a man— every part of him heavy, hurtful, mean, he carries three swords, his eyebrows set in a deep frown that is soothed by no name branded alcohol, steps silent and so sure. strong shoulders set back, the boredom on his face easily mistakable as an easy glare— they knew him as pirate hunter roronoa zoro before he'd crawled onto a pirate ship and claimed his title as monkey d. luffy's first mate.

you're disillusioned enough now by this untouchable man. he's one braincell that is easily swayed by anything powerful and it sometimes aligns itself with luffy's own singular braincell. zoro is little more than a simple muscle head that is aware, to a fault, of his own shortcomings. his reckoning had come to him on thriller bark; you've no idea what exactly it was. he maintains that nothing happened, sanji and brook (the only ones privy to this detail) refuse to blab about it. and you respect zoro enough to leave it alone, but you do not miss the look that he offers luffy's back sometimes, like he's discerning something deep in his itchy bones, teething around the ache to get to the rot.

you know his origins well. he's a force that had come, snarling and biting, out of the east blue— toppled whatever hierarchy they'd made there as a singular unit. you also know that east blue is the weakest of all four seas so it matters not that zoro was considered strong there. he may have had the strength to protect himself in that weak sea, but he was more than a lone wolf now and the rest of the world? it should not be underestimated.

zoro, prideful man he is, had to learn that lesson the hard way. saobaody archipelago was the hurricane after the storm; for a short moment after thriller bark, it had seemed like zoro had learnt how to live after nothing, how to cope with it. you're still curious as ever, but you know to leave well enough alone.

then, there's after saobaody, split into two very precise periods. before marineford and after marineford. you take it about as well as you could and though you're not one to compare, you know that zoro must have taken it harder. luffy and zoro's joining didn't begin with the latter pledging his loyalty, nami had dramatised the tale to express her woes of sailing with a group of brutes (and usopp), but it was enough for you to understand. after his first reckoning at baratie, zoro had prided himself as luffy's first mate, staked his claim as the man stood by his side. his own dreams weaved perfectly into luffy's.

saobaody happens again and zoro has only grown stronger in those two years— even though he's now missing an eye.

you recognise quickly that his pride, his ego is quieter these days. it's still as easy as ever for him to be riled up by sanji, but it's more stagnant. on nights where he's no reason to be awake, watch duty delegated to someone else— just as capable— he's awake, an overbearing presence that refuses to rest. on your nights, zoro hovers.

you don't take it personally. you know that zoro believes in your capability just as much he does his own, but recently, you've been doubting his faith. not the faith he has in you, the faith he has in himself.

"what's up with you?" you can't help yourself from asking one night, up on the highest vantage of the sunny where it's easier to see.

zoro peeks over his shoulder, levels his one good eye at you, and glares— wow he's good at using that eye. your hands slip from the purchase of his shoulders, the pressure that had been keeping him bent down against his calves lets up and he follows the singing relief, straightening up. "what'dya mean?"

there's a lightness to his words that you belatedly recognise from the past, he hasn't been letting you see that recently. whiplashed from the sudden realisation, you give him your own stink–eye, annoyed more when it only carries half the potency that zoro's does. "you're running yourself dry is what i mean." your hands settle onto your hips.

he's undisturbed by the attempt at dominance so you give it up quick. sighing as you slump down next to him; he continues to stretch without your help.

"who did you go to?" you ask after a moment, realising that you didn't know.

zoro, bent down against his right leg, body inclined away from you, answers easily. "dracule mihawk." his voice a grunt of effort with his organs crushed.

"woah. really?" you can't imagine that— or well, you can, but it wasn't very easy. he doesn't dignify that with a response, stretches his body to his left leg, his arm brushed up against your knee as he wraps his hand around his ankle. "you trained with that guy?" scrunching up your face, "can't imagine him offering to train you."

"he didn't offer," you eye zoro warily, like his back would split open and cymbal clapping monkeys would grow from his spine, "i asked."

"you did?" you wince when you hear the own surprise in your voice, even though you think that the cymbal playing monkeys wouldn't be so strange now. "when?"

"after."

you pathetically fight the urge to wack him, hands turned into fists. "after what?"

zoro can't eye you since you're sat on his left so he stretches an arm out to push away your face. "stop bothering me."

hitting his arm away, you lean into him. "you're bothering me. it's my night." intruding into his personal space, you push your arm through the gap of his torso and his knee, slapping his nose. "after marineford?" he bites your hand and you take it as a yes, though you're sure it could also mean fuck off.

you gag, pulling your arm away.

you know zoro well enough now to know that he's only at rest when he knows everyone is accounted for; never speaks it verbal though, does a rudimentary sweep of the sunny with his haki and settles when he feels the giggling chirp of his crews' heartbeat that soothes his own. you don't bother with words, zoro has no need for them.

shifting, you slide behind zoro. "okay," you relent, pretending that this conversation never happened. "thank you for keeping me company, mister pirate hunter." slumping over so that you can lean your side against his back as it straightens up, your head hits his shoulder as he grows, back to the steady obelisk that the sunny depends on.

"if you fall asleep on me, i'm telling luffy."

you wrap your arms around his neck, inner elbow against his adam's apple; you let him go when he taps out for the third time.

to live his life right, law needed a heavy hitting hand, a very forceful and demanding hand that knows no refusal. no one pretended that it wasn't necessary, not even the man himself; the task is delegated mostly onto bepo, who law has an unexplainable soft spot for, shachi and penguin, who can hide behind their self proclaimed roles as his seniors in life and grew up with him, and ikkaku, who law treats a little bit less rough on account of her being female.

that's why everyone was so disconcerted about being told to go to zou without him— it would happen ultimately because the heart pirates prided themselves on their selfless loyalty and what their captain says, goes. but the aforementioned childhood friends were a lot more vocal, could afford to be, about their dislike of his plan. everyone else silently sided with shachi and penguin, treated law like he might shatter for the following weeks leading up to the split, drove him up the wall with it.

despite it all, law is a good captain— too good, separates himself from the individuality that would intonate himself as anything but a captain, so he leaves his crew alone when they start treading 'round him like he's about a breath away from shattering. it doesn't last too long though, because after an entire day's worth of silent looks from his crew and then badgering from shachi, he blows like a poorly constructed pipe— you all blame it on shachi and he takes it as poorly as law did, if only more childish.

after yelling about anything and everything— unrelated things like the state of the kitchen, the stain that clione had been sporting all week, the state of bepo's fur (which the mink apologises repeatedly for), the scarce stock of coffee grounds, law is sober enough to glare at everyone, except bepo for whom he offers something of an apologetic look, and then makes a point of stomping to his room like a prepubescent teenager in the midst of his angst. following his outburst, everyone peeks around quietly at each other until someone gains the balls to speak.

ironically, it's ikkaku who throws her arms into the air and declares that she can't do it anymore. she's looking at you pointedly, which makes everyone else follow— even bepo, his two life seniors, jean-bart "traitors," you call them.

you follow after the quake of law's stamping, the metal panels of the polar tang squeaking under your careful feet as if forewarning your fate. you knock on the door of his quarters, forceful hand he needs, you don't wait for the answer that'll never come and come in swinging. "captain," you greet, acquiescently.

he looks all parts of a man that was mourning a loved one— the man he was before he picked up his idiotic and nosy crew. sat on the edge of his bed, knees locked as he stabilises his elbows on them and rests his head on his hands, fingers locked together. law doesn't even acknowledge you as you invite yourself in, overbearing and click the door shut behind you, ignore the fact that his two life seniors will come and press their ears up against the door.

a miffed huff leaves his throat when you take a seat next to him, the dip of the mattress makes you slide up next to him. "they're worried," you give him a pointed look that makes the sarcastic remark on his tongue shrivel. "that's all— we're not going to stop you if you're so insistent on going off alone."

your look doesn't stop him this time— incline his head away so that he can look up at you, something of a sarcastic grin on his face. "you seem hellbent on trying though." your eyes trace over the scruff of his face, up between the creases at the corner of his dry lips, catch on the honey gold of his eyes that flicker with his eyelashes.

"we physically can't," you sweatdrop, "you've built a crew of medics, who here can overpower you?" he shakes his head away, a small laugh, his shoulders loosening. "if only shachi hadn't been caught in his plans of procuring a set of seastone cuffs that we would've used to chain you to bed." you let out a faux sigh.

"don't try that again."

you eye his door, imagine the shiver that runs down shachi's spine with the veiled threat. despite how awful and strange the one–sided interaction ended, everything simmers back down and the crew is back to their usual idiocy when law leaves his room a half an hour after you've left and makes a point of not looking at anyone whilst making himself coffee, then dropping by the navigation room. the heart pirates bask in the coldness of their cruel captain's forgiveness.

when he leaves, it's full of tears and promises. law, as he usually does, looks about as emotionally constipated as ever and he can only take the dramatic farewell until shachi delegates himself as stand–in captain. he opens up a room, but doesn't shamble away until he tells you all that anyone— quite literally anyone— can be the stand–in captain if it means that shachi is not. you all wordlessly push the role onto penguin and then watch his room fizzle away after he shambles himself. then, the polar tang is off.

you all keep up with him the best you could. all you get is a newspaper headlining doflamingo's resignation as a warlord, it's hard to get news on zou, apparently. it's fine though— because even if law had not promised that he'd make it back in one piece, make it back at all, you knew he was a good captain and death was not as kind enough to take him yet.

when law comes back to you, he's smaller in a way you can't fathom. it's strange only because you feel like you're finally seeing him for the first time— everything redundant peeled back, the flesh that he keeps up to continue as a captain pinned away, bones shaved down, muscles melted, and you were staring at law. if anyone else in the crew sees it, they don't mention it.

when you're allowed to, your arms wrap around his middle— pat down his back as if feeling for his body and slide your ear against his heart. it's a hug that's too tender and intimate, less excitable than the ones that his oldest friends have offered him and law has since become a stranger to this kind of touch. he feels like an imposter when he lets his arms circle around you.

you don't say anything to law during or after that, don't bother giving him ammunition to be able to rationalise, nitpick, and dissect your words into anything less than it is. you leave him with a hug and make him grasp at the meaning.

if law is there, hidden around a corner or behind a tree, when you sincerely thank luffy for bringing him back— half–alive and less of a vindictive existence— whether it's by design or not, he does not know. but he's thankful regardless, for not being forced to come face with it.

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22ayla21 · 2 days ago

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hello! I love your writing style, it’s so warm and almost nostalgic. I wanted to request a fem!reader (prefect/yuu) x Leona, who is tired of being strong. Who people see as a rounded person, but who’s not a pushover, but she hides the fact she wants to be soft and protected for just a bit. Maybe a cozy visit to Ramshackle with rain? (Bonus Grimy cuddles)

A Moment of Vulnerability

She had always been strong, independent, supporting others, but Leona showed her that she could also let her guard down and be weak, but protected.

The rain drummed on the roof of Ramshackle, enveloping the old mansion in a soft veil of sound. The room was dim, illuminated by the warm light of a bedside lamp. She sat on the bed, hugging her knees, listening to the sound of the rain.

The day had been long. Exhausting.

As usual, she was the one everyone could rely on. The one who could handle anything. The one who would never break. No one even considered that she might also have a hard time. Everyone saw her as strong, confident, well-rounded. Yes, she might not possess magic, but she always found a way to overcome difficulties.

But sometimes, she just wanted someone to say, "You can be weak. I'll take care of you."

A sudden knock on the door made her jump. Who else could come in such weather?

Getting up, she went to the door and opened it slightly.

On the doorstep, soaked, with disheveled hair, stood Leona Kingscholar.

"Did you stand in the rain?" she asked, amazed by his unexpected appearance.

He didn't answer immediately. His amber eyes carefully studied her face, as if trying to catch something. Then he sighed and, without waiting for an invitation, stepped inside.

"Couldn't find someone easier to deal with?" he smirked, shaking raindrops from his hair.

She frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're always on your own, always trying to handle everything. I'm tired of watching you tear yourself apart."

She froze.

Leona looked at her intently, his gaze softening.

"You don't always have to be strong."

These words struck her soul. She felt something inside her tremble, like the lump in her throat grew heavier.

"But if I'm not strong..." her voice broke.

"What?"

She didn't know how to answer.

What if she broke, and there was no one to support her? What if it turned out that she wasn't really needed by those around her if she stopped being "that one"—reliable, stable, unwavering?

But Leona wasn't going to wait for an answer. He simply walked closer and, without saying a word, pulled her into a warm, firm embrace.

She stiffened.

His arms were warm, even after the rain. They didn't demand, didn't impose—they just supported.

She couldn't hold back.

The tears she had held back for so long slid down her cheeks. She buried her face in his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his uniform, afraid that if she let go, everything would disappear.

"Just be weak," he said softly.

And she allowed herself to be.

Allowed the tears to flow down her cheeks. Allowed the shivers to run through her body. Allowed herself to lean on someone, just once.

They stood like that while the rain raged outside.

When she felt better, she exhaled and said quietly, "Thank you."

Leona didn't answer, only cupped her head in his hand, gently smoothing her hair.

"Stop crying already, go to bed," he grumbled, but his voice was softer than usual.

She nodded, wiping away the last tears.

And then something fluffy nudged her side.

"Stop hugging Leona! Hug me too!" Grim declared indignantly, settling on her lap.

She laughed, hugged Grim, and Leona just snorted.

"Well, now you have another protector."

She smiled.

Today she allowed herself to be weak. And it turned out that the world didn't fall apart because of it.

#twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar

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galaxywannabe · 3 days ago

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Munch O'Clock

Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joaquín comes back from his morning run hungry. He really should just let you sleep, but how else is he supposed to make sure his day starts off on the right track?

Warnings: 18+ contains smut mdni. Joaquín being the goofball boyfriend we all deserve. Reader identifies as a woman and has a vagina but there are no other physical descriptors as far as I'm aware!

Word Count: Roughly 2.5k

A/N: Ahhhh okay! So the idea for this came from this post and my addition to it, and then @moonymeloncholymoney suggested someone should write it, so I said fuck it and gave it my best go! And this is that! Constructive criticism is always welcome, and if you have something nice to say about it or you liked it please let me know! It feeds my soul and keeps me writing! Anyways I'm done yammering your ear off, enjoy!

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Joaquín gets up for his daily run stupid early, like, before the sun is even all the way up early, even on his days off. So naturally, when he arrives back at your apartment roughly 45 minutes after he left it, thoroughly sweating through his cutoff t-shirt despite the early spring chill, you're still fast asleep.

You are decidedly not an early riser, even on the days that you really should be, and accordingly your alarm isn't set to go off for another 3 hours - hours you intend to spend blissfully unconscious, dead to the world. That is, until you're startled awake with a yelp as your boyfriend tugs you by the ankles down to the foot of the bed.

The transition from sleep to wakefulness is an abrupt one, the peace of unconsciousness ripped from your grasp in the span of a single second, and as you lift your head to meet the rich, brown puppy dog eyes of your boyfriend, you know there's only one culprit responsible.

“Joaquín, I was sleeping,” you grumble, reaching up to rub the grit from your eyes as his expression turns sheepish.

“I know, mi amor, I'm sorry. You just kicked all the covers off yourself, and you looked so pretty laying there, and then before I knew it…”

He gives you those innocent eyes again, like it was by complete accident that he ended up kneeling at the foot of your bed, your body dragged down the length of the mattress so your pelvis was directly in front of his face. You sigh, already knowing what's about to happen and resigning to your fate - as if it's such a chore being constantly lusted after by your beautiful boyfriend.

“Was there something you needed at-” you turn your head to the alarm clock on your nightstand, the glaring red numbers a cruel reminder of the sleep you should be getting right now, “-5:56 in the morning?”

He hesitates for a moment, chewing his lip as he flicks his eyes between your face and the space between your legs, obviously conflicted. You can tell that he desperately wants to ask, but he's not sure if he should.

He really does look guilty for waking you up, and you feel bad as you watch him actively consider suppressing his desire so he doesn't inconvenience you. You were only being grouchy in a playful way, not actually trying to dissuade him.

You reach down for his hand resting on the mattress by your hip, taking it and squeezing reassuringly. “If you do need something, you can ask me, angel. I was just teasing, I won't be mad.”

He looks up at you, his gaze holding yours as if he's searching for the truth in your words. When he finds it, he seems to relax. His shoulders loosen a little, and there's a more obvious glint of excitement in his eyes as he looks back down at the part of your anatomy hidden by the gusset of your little sleep shorts.

He looks so gorgeous right now, even moreso than usual despite the high standard he sets. The sun is starting to rise, soft rays of light breaking through the blinds of your window and reflecting off his deep brown irises, highlighting the desperation there. He's still absolutely soaked through with sweat from his morning run, dark patches in the grey fabric around his chest and armpits from the exertion, and you can smell the musky tang of it from here, sharp and masculine in your nostrils, 100% Joaquín.

Setting off the whole image, the perfect cherry on top to his already devastating appearance, is the backwards baseball cap on his head, a few dark, sweaty curls flopping through the opening in the front and touching his forehead.

The slightly shy smirk he gives you as he finally decides to make his request is absolutely panty-melting, one big hand coming up to grip your inner thigh beneath the hem of your shorts, warm and possessive. “Breakfast?”

You almost let out a groan, but you don't want him to misinterpret it as anything other than completely positive, so you suppress it. Instead you just give him an amused little smile, anticipation fluttering in your gut as you raise one brow skeptically.

“That's what you want for breakfast, Joaquín?”

He nods enthusiastically, his eyes dancing with humor as he bows to kiss the exposed skin of your thigh gently. “Absolutely. I wanna start my day off right, angel. Gotta get in my fuckin’ Wheaties or whatever, so I can go crush the rest of my day.”

You laugh, shoulders shaking at the ridiculousness of that entire statement, your gaze fond even as you roll your eyes. “Is that what you're gonna tell Sam later, when you meet him down at the ring for sparring? That you've got an extra spring in your step because you ate your girl's pussy this morning?”

“If it means you'll let me do it right now, then yes, I absolutely will tell him that,” he answers, the look in his eyes completely serious despite his smile.

Horrified at just the mental image of such an exchange, you shudder, wrinkling your nose but still finding your boyfriend's desperation amusing. “Ew, no, please no, do not tell him that. I'll let you have it, just please don't tell Sam anything about our sex life ever.”

Joaquín’s eyes light up, a dog with a bone as his fingers skate up your hips to hook in the waistband of both your shorts and panties, stopping short of removing them until he has explicit permission. “Yeah? Deal.”

You can't help but snort, completely enamored by both the excited glint in his eye and the way he's willing to agree to whatever the hell you want as long as it gets his mouth on you. If you were a more scheming woman, perhaps you'd use that to your advantage, but as it stands you can never deny him anything when he looks at you like this.

Some days it's hard to believe you have a partner who wants you so badly all the time, but then you have a moment like this one, where he's on his knees by the end of the bed, still soaked in sweat from his workout but too desperate to wait another second, and you know it's genuine. He couldn't fake that pussy-drunk look in his eyes if he tried.

“Alright then, deal. Go ahead, take what you want. It belongs to you anyways, you know that.”

You'd think you just offered him the keys to the city the way he's looking at you right now, a visible shudder wracking down his spine at your dirty words. He tugs your shorts and underwear down your legs like he's worried you'll change your mind, though over the course of your entire relationship you don't think you've ever given him reason to suspect you would.

The room air is a little cold against the heated, damp flesh between your legs, but in an instant he's so close that his warm breath is there on your skin, chasing away any chill. He looks up at you, waiting like he's giving you one more chance to back out. Like you ever would when there's head from Joaquín Torres on the table.

“Go ahead, amor, have your breakfast. I think we both could call this a great start to our day, yeah?”

It's all the permission he needs, but he doesn't dive in the way he so clearly wants to, the way a person might be expected to given the slightly crazed look in his eyes. Even in a heightened state of arousal, Joaquín is all about savoring things, especially where you're concerned.

He starts with soft kisses on your plush inner thighs, scattering them sweetly on each side, slowly approaching his ultimate goal. Your legs instinctively part further for him, falling open on the mattress in an involuntary reaction to his touch, and he pats the outside of your thigh in approval as he continues to work his way up, his pace unhurried.

Even when he gets there, he still doesn't partake quite yet, pausing to take in a slow inhale, a satisfied rumble going off in his chest at the scent of you. You can’t help but let out a small, flustered whimper, a blush rising to your cheeks; having a man be so unabashedly enthralled by your body is simultaneously incredibly flattering and a little embarrassing. There’s no shame on Joaquín’s face, though, just his half-lidded, hazy stare as he turns his eyes up to meet yours, dragging out the moment as you wait with anticipation for him to begin. Jesus.

Your boyfriend’s a bit of a hyperactive guy, always jumping around with boundless energy, but nothing shuts off his brain faster than eating your pussy. That’s not to say that he’s thoughtless about it - he’s not - or that he's not incredibly skilled at it - he definitely is. It’s just that when he’s doing this, it’s all he’s thinking about, and something about that sets every inch of your body on fire every time.

Either unwilling or unable to hold himself back anymore, your boyfriend lowers his face carefully to your center and licks a long, hot stripe from your hole to your clit, collecting the ample moisture you’ve already produced along the way, tasting it on his tongue. You know he makes a noise of satisfaction because you can feel the vibrations spread pleasantly through your skin, but you can’t hear it over the loud gasp that tears from your lungs, nor over your heartbeat thudding in your ears.

This burst of pleasure should not come as a surprise to you - Joaquín has probably eaten you out more just over the course of your relationship than most women experience in their entire lives, and it’s always incredible - but somehow despite their familiarity, his ministrations on your swollen flesh feel brand new. Rather than dipping low again for another taste, he lingers at the top of you, his tongue flicking against your clit this way and that, quick but gentle, careful not to overwhelm you. It’s a nice sentiment, but when he’s on you like this, it’s pretty much inevitable.

As he starts to work on you in earnest, suckling gently at your bundle of nerves and then shifting down to probe at your entrance to give you a moment of reprieve, you hit an infuriating conundrum. As is your instinct when in the throes of passion, you reach down to tangle your fingers in your boyfriend's hair, both to ground yourself and as an outlet for the restless energy thrumming through your veins. But just when your fingertips should be making direct contact with the soft, silky curls at the top of his head, you feel fabric beneath them instead, and you frown.

An indignant whine breaks from your lips and, god help you, your ever-attentive angel of a boyfriend catches it even in the midst of his favorite activity. His eyes flit up to yours, and his face pulls back just a hair so he can speak without muffling his voice against your folds.

“Okay, querida?” he checks, his voice rough as his tongue flicks out subconsciously to gather some of the nectar shining on his lips.

You're about to grouse and tell him that the stupid damn hat needs to come off, to get it out of your way so you can hold on the way you like, but now that you're actually looking at him you feel indecision rising in your chest. Shit. He looks goddamn incredible like this. His lower face is glinting slightly in the early morning light with your arousal, which is obviously a sight to behold all on its own.

But when you take in the rest of him - the residual beads of sweat from his morning run still dripping down the side of his face, the workout clothes that he's too occupied to notice are sticking to his skin - it's even worse. And that damned hat, as inconvenient as its presence might be, is the most important part of this picture.

It's just some old cap with the air force logo on it, probably pulled from the back of his closet and plopped backwards over his bedhead haphazardly before he left for his run. But goddamn, something about the fact that he's still got it on as he makes out sloppily with your cunt? It's debauched, it's filthy, and it's so incredibly hot.

Your mind spirals over this observation for several long seconds, wheeling between wanting his hair freed and needing the cap to stay on for the rest of his damn life, but to Joaquín it must seem like hesitation because he starts to pull away with concern. You shake your head urgently, reaching out in panic for the back of his head as if to keep his face back where it belongs.

“Shit, no- I mean yes, everything is great! Sorry, I just looked down and got distracted by how pretty you are for a second. Please keep going.”

It's the truth, but you decide not to mention the hat specifically in case he gets self-conscious about it and tries to take it off. He quirks an amused brow at you like you're the biggest weirdo on the planet - which is rich given he's the one who literally woke you up just to eat you out first thing in the morning - but he seems comforted by your reassurance, and with a huff through his nose he obliges your request, getting back to work without another word.

As you watch him fall back into his rhythm, that damned ballcap perched tauntingly over his sweaty curls, you resign yourself to gripping the sheets instead to keep you grounded through the onslaught of pleasure, just this once.

Joaquín makes you come hard on his lips and tongue twice before he's satisfied with his “breakfast”, and then he's dashing off to the shower to rinse off his workout, not even asking you to return the favor like the gentleman he is. As you listen to the water running in the other room, along with the muffled sounds of Joaquín singing off key, you reach your trembling fingertips out for your cell phone.

Despite your whole body still buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasms, you hastily add about 10 new baseball caps to your shopping cart, making a mental note to order them while he's away on his next mission. Your poor, unsuspecting boyfriend has no idea there's about to be a new staple in his wardrobe, though you have a feeling if he knew the reason, there wouldn't be any complaints.

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#marvel #mcu #captain america brave new world #cabnw #joaquin torres #joaquín torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquín torres x reader #danny ramirez #falcon

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helen-with-an-a · 14 hours ago

Note

please please please can you write out the bratty Alexia being tied up by Amor and amor riding her.

Hiiii - I hope you enjoy this, I know I enjoyed writing it ahahah <3<3

Night Out

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Description: Alexia is being bratty on a night out

TW: Smut, 18+, Strap (R riding), cunnilingus (R giving)

Manuela’s was your favourite place for a team night out. The air was alive with chatter as the bartenders crafted strong, satisfying drinks that always seemed to hit just the right spot. It was a precious moment of relaxation in the midst of a demanding season – a moment to truly relax, let your hair down and revel in the music

As you stood near the bar, waiting for your drinks, Alexia's hand rested on your waist, her fingers fiddling with your belt loop. She leaned in, her voice soft against your ear. “Mmmm, mi amor,” she purred, her arms encircling your waist and pulling you close.

You turned to look at her, smiling at the way the strobe lighting danced across her features. “Sí, baby?"

Alexia’s fingers traced a gentle path across your abs. “We should dance,” she said, her tone light as her hands lingered for a moment longer.

You chuckled softly, a grin playing on your lips. “Later, Ale. I’ll dance with you later, prometo. I just want to get a few drinks in me first.”

Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, and she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I could be in you,” she said boldly.

“Ale,” you spluttered, surprised at her words. Her boldness caught you off guard, and you turned around to face her fully, leaning back against the polished bar.

“I’m just saying, mi amor,” Alexia shrugged casually, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You chose to come out tonight. I wanted to stay in, but no. You wanted to go out with the team.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Oh, is that what this is? Is someone feeling a little…” You let your gaze travel down her body, savouring the way the strobe lights highlighted her curves. “Neglected?”

Alexia's expression was a blend of indignation and genuine vulnerability. She rolled her eyes in annoyance but couldn’t hide the soft, teasing smile that played at her lips. “Descuidada?” she echoed, her eyes raking down your body. “Maybe? Or maybe I’m just trying to remind you of what you’re missing out on.”

Her hands moved to rest on your hips. She shook her hair out of her face, smiling as pushed her chest out. You had wondered why she chose such a low-cut top tonight.

“Go and dance, beautiful. I’ll be over at the table with Ingrid.” You smiled coyly, winking as you took your drink off the bartender and sauntered away.

It was true, you and Alexia had experienced a noticeable dip in your sex life recently. The crazy schedules and mounting pressures of the season had taken their toll, and sex had inevitably slipped down the priority list. You could see the impact this was having on Alexia. Her usual warmth and affection had taken on a new depth. Her hugs had grown a little tighter, trying to keep you against her for just that little bit longer. The way she wrapped her arms around you, the extra squeeze, made you smile. Her hands, once casually resting at your sides, now often found their way lower, lingering at the small of your back or tracing the contours of your hips. And then there were her kisses ... they had grown longer, more lingering, more desperate.

You watched from the table with Ingrid as Mapí and Alexia swayed in time with the music, both singing along to the music.

Ingrid leaned closer, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. “Ale’s not usually so much of a dancer,” she remarked, nodding towards the floor.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Neither is Mapí,” you said.

Ingrid sighed, a touch of exasperation in her expression. “She’s in a mood tonight. Apparently, I haven’t been giving her enough attention.”

“Ah,” you said, a knowing smile spreading across your face. “At least María says it.” You chuckled softly. “It’s always good when someone’s honest about these things.”

“True,” Ingrid agreed, her gaze drifting back to the dance floor where Mapí was now playfully twirling around as Ale watched on with slight horror. “Better to know what’s on her mind than to guess.”

You took a sip of your drink, the warmth of the alcohol mingling with the warmth of the conversation. “Oh, I am well aware of what’s on Ale’s mind,” you said with a smirk, wiggling your eyebrows at the Norwegian.

Ingrid raised her glass, taking another sip with a teasing glint in her eye. “Well, at least you don't get into a shouting match because of it. I know it's just the stress of the season, by María has been so grouchy recently."

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Oh please, Ingrid. You’d have to be blind not to see the way Mapí looks at you.” You glanced over at Mapí, who was back to dancing and screaming the lyrics.

Ingrid's eyebrows furrowed. "Ingrid, c'mon. She looks at you like you hung the stars for her alone."

Ingrid followed your gaze and sighed, a rueful smile on her lips. “Maybe." She shrugged “But sometimes, it feels like I’m not quite meeting her expectations.”

"Look," you put your drink down, leaning closer. "I may not know much about women, or relationships, but I know you, and I know María. What you guys have ... that's real. You're both tired, it's a long ole season, and all the drama around your renewal isn't helping. But María is head-over-heels for you, you're the centre of her universe. She literally spent an hour gushing about you last international break. It was torture." You smiled, happy to see the frown on Ingrid's facing lifting. "Honestly, I don't know how you can put up with her yapping. It's all the time, yap, yap, yap." You laughed, Ingrid joining in.

"You're one to talk. It's always, Ale this, Ale that ..." She teased, pushing your shoulder. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "You really love her, don't you?" Ingrid asked sincerely.

"More than life itself, she's-"

“Amor, you should come dance!” Alexia’s voice cut you off. Her hand was outstretched towards you, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Mapí also appeared, flopping down onto Ingrid’s lap, her tipsy laughter drowned out by the music. Ingrid jumped at the intrusion, her arms wrapping securely around her girlfriend with a love-sick smile.

You glanced back at Alexia, her invitation impossible to ignore. You finished off the rest of your drink in one go, enjoying the last of the warmth before setting the glass down on the table.

Taking Alexia’s hand, you squeezed it three times. “Ok, baby,” you said.

As you stepped onto the dance floor, you could see Alexia’s face light up with joy. It was rare that you both danced on a night out. Usually, if you did attend, you favoured sitting in the booths at the back, a little quieter area where you could actually hold a decent conversation.

She twirled you around and pulled you into her, her front pressing firmly against your back as the beat of a new song enveloped you both. The world around you seemed to blur into a haze of dim lights and music, leaving only the warmth of Alexia's body against yours. Alexia's arms snaked around your waist, her hands resting just below your ribs. You could feel the heat of her breath on your ear as she leaned in close.

“You know, mi amor,” she murmured, her voice sultry that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m still thinking about my earlier offer.”

You felt her lips brush the shell of your ear, the teasing touch sending your heart racing. “We could go home,” she continued, her words a tempting caress. “I could make you feel really good.”

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your shoulders melting away as you relaxed into her hold. “Ale, baby,” you began, but even as you spoke, you knew how hard it would be to resist her. She had a way of making you feel like putty in her hands, moulding you with every touch and whisper.

“Sí, I am your baby,” she murmured, her lips grazing the sensitive skin of your ear. “I’m your baby, mi amor. I’m your beautiful girl. And I could make you feel so good. You know I could.”

Her hands drifted lower, teasing the waistband of your jeans, her fingers grazing the exposed skin in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Ale,” you warned.

“Just imagine it, mi amor,” she whispered, her words like a forbidden promise. “Remember how hard you cum? How good it feels?”

A rush of heat swept through you, and you felt your resolve waiver for a brief moment. “Behave,” you said sternly, willing yourself to hold firm despite the growing desire to drag her home and make good on her promises.

“But, mi amor,” she whined.

“Not if you’re going to be bratty,” you said more firmly.

She let out a frustrated little sound, her lips finding their way to the side of your neck. The touch was featherlight, enough to make your eyes flutter shut for a brief second. “Mi amor,” she tried again, her mouth moving against your skin, planting a series of soft, teasing kisses that made it harder to concentrate. “Please, mi amor.”

You knew what she was doing, how she was trying to wear down your defences. You pulled away slightly, turning in her arms to face her. Wrapping your arms around her neck, your fingers found the baby hairs at the base of her skull, toying with them as you met her gaze.

“Where’s my good girl gone, hey?” you asked sweetly.

“She’s still right here,” Alexia huffed, her brows knitting together in a small pout.

You tilted your head, considering her. “Hmmm, I don’t think so, beautiful girl,” you said, your tone dropping to a more serious note. “I think you’re being bratty, and you know it.”

She whined again, her lips pressing into a thin line as she squirmed slightly in your grip.

“I think you want to be bratty,” you continued, watching her reactions carefully. “I think you want to keep pissing me off so we can go home, and I can punish you.”

A flicker of something passed through her eyes – excitement, desire, the thrill of the game she was playing. She bit her lip, unable to keep the small smile from breaking through her feigned innocence.

You leaned in closer, pressing a swift kiss to the corner of her mouth, “But that's not how this is going to go, baby. If you want me to take you home, you’re going to have to show me that my good girl is still in there, waiting to come out.”

She inhaled sharply, her eyes locking onto yours with a mix of frustration and yearning. The tension between you crackled in the air. You quirked an eyebrow at her challengingly.

“H-how?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, eyes wide with lust.

“Just dance with me, baby,” you murmured. “It’s been so long since we’ve gone out.” Slowly, you rocked forward onto your tiptoes, closing the small gap between you, your forehead pressing gently against hers.

Alexia swallowed hard, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she absorbed your words. She nodded, the barest movement, and you could feel her breath hitch. You could sense her trying to rein in the desire swirling within her.

She tried, she really did. With a shaky exhale, she moved with you, attempting to surrender herself to the rhythm of the music, to let it wash over her, to enjoy the closeness with you. Her hands rested on your hips, guiding you gently as you swayed together. For a brief moment, it worked. She was caught up in the beat, the warmth of your body against hers, the feeling of you being close to her.

But it wasn’t long before the spell began to fray at the edges. The feel of your hands threading into her hair, your fingers curling into the soft strands at the nape of her neck, made her pulse quicken again. Her grip on your hips tightened reflexively, and you knew she was struggling, fighting against the desire to pull you even closer.

Then you kissed her. Slowly at first, a tender brush of your lips against hers. But the moment they touched, it was like a spark igniting dry tinder. The kiss deepened, and with it, her resolve crumbled. You felt the way her body melted into yours, the way her hands slid from your hips to your back, clutching you desperately as if you were the only thing keeping her tethered to the ground.

You refused to let her go, not even for a breath. Your lips moved against hers with a hungry intensity, a demand for more, for everything she was holding back. You could feel her restraint snapping, piece by piece, with every stroke of your tongue against hers, with every gentle tug on her hair. She was losing herself to you, unable to maintain even the smallest distance. You kept her flush against you, her body glued to yours, not allowing so much as a centimetre of space to come between you. Were you being fair to her? Not in the slightest. But you wanted this too, you wanted her to snap, you wanted her teetering on the edge, and desperate for you.

Alexia whimpered into your mouth. Her hands roamed your back, her nails lightly digging in. The music around you faded into a dull hum, replaced by the rapid beat of your heart. Every move, every touch, every breath was an electric current passing between you, filled with love and lust.

You knew she was on the brink, caught somewhere between surrender and restraint. This was what she craved – to be brought to the edge, to feel every inch of her skin alive and burning with desire. And you revelled in it, in the power you held over her, the way you could make her tremble just by refusing her that final release.

Your kiss broke only long enough for her to gasp for air, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed over with wild hunger. Her lips parted, a desperate plea already on the tip of her tongue, but you silenced it with another deep kiss, swallowing her moan as you pressed her even tighter against you.

“Mi amor,” Her eyes bore into yours, darkened with desire and need.

“Beautiful,” you echoed her, your breath coming out equally as frantic. You reached up, your fingers tracing the curve of her jaw, feeling the tension in the taut line of her muscles. She was strung tight, every fibre of her being focused on you.

“Take me home,” Alexia begged. There was no hint of her usual control, no playful teasing. Just a raw, honest need. Her hands gripped your waist with a near-bruising intensity, her eyes searching yours for a hint of mercy, for the promise that you’d give her what she was so desperately asking for.

You held her gaze for a beat longer, letting the moment stretch. Your heart hammered in your chest, desire coursing through you like lightening bolts.

“Ok,” you nodded, a slow smile spreading across your face. But instead of stepping away, you pulled her back down to you, your fingers tangling into her hair as you tugged her into a searing kiss.

Alexia’s breath hitched as she melted into you, her body pliant and soft against yours. The kiss was urgent, demanding, a clash of lips and teeth full of promise. You could feel her trembling under your hands, her grip on your waist tightening.

You pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against hers, your breath mingling in the small space between you. Her eyes fluttered open, glassy with a mix of relief and need, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. She didn’t need to speak; you could feel it in the way her body pressed into yours, in the desperate clutch of her hands at your hips.

You gave her a reassuring smile, your thumb brushing over her flushed cheek. “Let’s go,” you whispered against her lips, and you felt the shiver that ran through her in response. She nodded, a small, jerky movement that belied the intensity of her emotions.

Without another word, you took her hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. You led her through the thrumming crowd, Alexia stayed close, her body brushing against yours with every step, her breath warm on your neck. You didn't even bother waving goodbye.

"Now then, my beautiful girl," you murmured, your voice low as you adjusted the black strap against Alexia’s thighs, tugging it gently into position. Each movement was precise, a calculated tease that made her squirm beneath your touch. Her skin was flushed, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you fastened the last buckle, making sure everything was just tight enough to drive her wild but still comfortable.

You let your gaze travel up her body, taking in the sight of her restrained and spread out on the bed. Her eyes were wide and dark, pupils blown so wide they nearly covered the rich hazel of her irises.

“You’ve been nothing but a brat all evening,” you said, your voice calm as you took one of her wrists in your hand. You wrapped the silk around it, the fabric smooth and cool against her heated skin. She bit her lip, her gaze never leaving yours as you secured the tie to the bed frame. You repeated the process with her other wrist, taking your time, enjoying the way her breath hitched with every brush of your fingers against her skin.

When both wrists were bound, she gave them an experimental tug. You saw the moment realisation hit her, the way her eyes widened as she registered just how little movement she had. A flicker of uncertainty crossed Alexia’s face, but it was quickly replaced by a smouldering need that made your own pulse quicken. She was completely at your mercy, and you both knew it.

"Estás bien?" you asked, your voice softening for a moment. You needed to be sure, needed to hear her say it.

“Sí,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, but there was no mistaking the eagerness in her tone. She wanted this – wanted to give herself over to you completely, to be taken to the edge and held there until you decided she was worthy of release.

“Good girl,” you praised, letting the words wash over her like a warm caress. You could see the effect they had on her, the way her body relaxed slightly even as her arousal spiked. You reached down, your hand trailing along her torso until you found one of her nipples, rolling it between your fingers with just enough pressure to make her arch her back off the bed.

"You said you wanted to be in me," you reminded her, leaning down so your breath fanned across her flushed chest. "And that’s exactly what’s going to happen." Your voice was a husky whisper, a promise wrapped in threat, and you felt a shiver run through her as she processed your words. You licked between the valley of her breasts, smiling at her gasp.

You gave her nipple a sharp pinch, not enough to hurt, but enough to elicit a wanton moan from her lips. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, her body straining against the silk ties. You smirked, satisfied with her reaction, and slowly pulled back to sit up, giving her a clear view of you positioning yourself. Her eyes followed your every move, wide and pleading.

“I’m going to make myself cum,” you said, your voice dropping to a low, commanding tone that made her thighs tremble where they were spread before you. "And you’re not going to be able to do anything about it.” The words were cruel in their promise, a wicked smile dancing across your lips. You watched as her face contorted with a mix of frustration and desire, the reality of her helplessness sinking in.

"If you can show me you’re still a good girl, my good girl." you continued, your hand brushing lightly over her thigh, a teasing whisper of a touch that had her writhing beneath you. "Maybe... maybe I’ll let you cum too." She whimpered softly, her eyes darting to yours in a silent plea. You knew exactly what you were doing – dangling her pleasure just out of reach, making her work for every second of it.

You positioned yourself over her, adjusting so the strap nestled perfectly where you needed it. Her breath hitched, her eyes locking onto yours. You watched her face as you moved, as you sank down on her. You closed your eyes at the sting, not used to taking more than Alexia's fingers. You moaned as you bottomed out, thighs resting against hers, your breathing steady.

Alexia’s reaction was immediate – her hips bucked up, trying to find any semblance of friction for herself, but the restraints held her down, leaving her thrashing uselessly against the bed. Her eyes were wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she watched you pleasure yourself on top of her, the sight almost too much for her to bear.

"Fuck," you moaned softly, letting your head fall back, your eyes half-lidded as you rode the toy. You made sure to keep your movements deliberate, drawing out your pleasure in a way that made her squirm beneath you. You could hear her whimpering, soft, broken sounds that told you just how much this was affecting her, just how badly she wanted to be the one making you feel good.

But you had made it clear – this was about you, about her watching you take what you needed, about her being a good girl and taking the punishment for her earlier brattiness.

"Do you see, baby?" you panted, your eyes finding hers again, watching as they shimmered with tears of frustration. "This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To watch? To know how good you could make me feel if I let you."

She nodded frantically, her lips forming silent pleas, her body trembling with the effort of holding herself back. You bit your lip, the pleasure building inside you, the tension coiling tighter with every movement.

You reached down, giving her nipple another sharp pinch, making her cry out, her eyes squeezing shut. "Watch me," you commanded, your voice strained with your own mounting pleasure. "Keep your eyes on me, beautiful girl."

She obeyed, her eyes snapping open, glassy and desperate, locked onto you as you pushed yourself closer and closer to the edge. And as you felt the wave of your orgasm cresting, you smirked down at her, knowing she was right there with you, aching, needy, on the brink of falling apart.

Alexia didn't know where to look. At your face, where you gasped and moaned as you took every bit of pleasure from her? At your body? The way your breasts bounced with every movement, the way your abs rocked as you ground yourself down on her. At your pussy? Watching as you sank down, again and again, watching the plastic disappear inside of you.

"Remember," you gasped out, your body trembling. "This is what you wanted."

You lifted yourself up slowly, relishing in the moment, the anticipation that hung heavy in the air. Alexia's eyes were glued to you, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she watched, utterly transfixed. The slight rise of your hips, the way you paused at the top, the very moment of stillness before you lowered yourself back down – it was all a deliberate tease, a slow burn meant to drive her wild. And then, in one swift, decisive movement, you slammed yourself back down, the toy pushing deep inside you, brushing against that perfect spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

A guttural moan ripped from your throat, loud and unrestrained, your head snapping back as pleasure coursed through you. It was raw, intense, the kind of sensation that stole your breath and made you forget where you were, who you were, everything except the feeling consuming you. Your body moved on instinct, hips rising and falling in a relentless rhythm that sent shockwaves of ecstasy through your core.

“Oh, Ale. Oh my god,” you whined, the words tumbling out in a broken, desperate cadence. You ran your hands up your body, fingers trailing over the sheen of sweat that coated your skin, the muscles in your abdomen tightening with each movement. You needed more, needed to feel more, and your hands found their way to your breasts, squeezing them tightly, your nails digging into the soft flesh. You imagined it was her hands on you, rough and demanding, pulling you further into that spiralling abyss of pleasure.

You could feel her eyes on you, burning into your skin like a brand. Alexia was practically vibrating with need, her entire body taut as a bowstring. She tugged against the silk ties, the bed frame creaking in protest as she strained to free herself.

"Fuck," you gasped, the word escaping you as your hips found a faster rhythm, each bounce driving the toy deeper, hitting that spot inside you with merciless precision. You could hear her whimpering, her breath coming in shallow pants, the sound of her desperation only heightening your own arousal.

"Look at you," you managed to gasp out, your voice shaky but commanding. You opened your eyes, looking down at her, taking in the sight of her – wrist-bound, chest heaving, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears of frustration. "So pretty. All laid out for me."

Alexia whimpered, her head falling back against the pillow as she bucked her hips up, seeking friction, seeking anything to alleviate the torturous ache between her legs. But there was nothing she could do, no way for her to touch, to feel, to be inside you as she so desperately wanted.

"You wanted this," you reminded her, your hands sliding down your body again, fingers teasing the spot where the toy disappeared inside you. You let out a soft cry as your fingers brushed your clit, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your entire body. "You wanted to watch. To see what you do to me."

Her eyes locked onto yours, her lips parting in a silent plea, her body writhing in a way that made the bed frame shake. Alexia was losing herself, unravelling at the seams as she watched you pleasure yourself on top of her. The sight of her, so desperate and undone, only drove you higher, made you want to push her further to the edge of sanity.

"God, Ale," you moaned, your movements becoming more erratic, more frantic as you chased your release. Your hand found your breast again, squeezing it hard, nails scraping against your nipple, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you. "I’m going to cum. Fuck, I’m so close. You're fucking me so good."

Her eyes widened, her pupils dilating as she watched you hurtling toward the brink.

"You’re going to watch me," you gasped, your eyes locking onto Alexia’s, holding her captive in your gaze. "You’re going to watch me cum. Voy a correrme muy fuerte por ti." It was a miracle you could remember any Spanish with the waves of pleasure rushing through you.

She whimpered loudly, her head thrashing against the pillows. You could see the tears welling in her eyes, the desperate, unfulfilled need that made her chest rise and fall in erratic, shallow breaths.

You felt the tension in your body coil tighter and tighter, until it was a white-hot band of pleasure ready to snap. You rocked your hips one last time, hard and deep, and let out a guttural cry as your orgasm crashed over you, your body convulsing with the force of it. "Ale," you cried. Wave after wave of ecstasy ripped through you, your vision blurring as you rode out the intense, all-consuming pleasure.

Alexia’s eyes were glued to you the entire time, watching, taking in every quiver, every moan, every twitch of your muscles as you came apart above her.

As you came down from your high, your breathing ragged and uneven, you looked down at her, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. Her eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed, her body a trembling mess beneath you. She was so beautiful.

You leaned forward, your hand reaching out to stroke her cheek gently. "Good girl," you whispered, and the words washed over her like a soothing balm. "Now, let's see if you’ve earned the right to cum too."

You rose up again, wincing slightly as the toy slid out of you, leaving you feeling empty. Your gaze fell on Alexia, her flushed cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest telling you everything you needed to know. “Are you wet for me, Ale?” you asked teasingly.

“Sí, sí,” she nodded frantically, her eyes wide with desire, lips parted as she panted softly. Her hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat, and she looked up at you with a mixture of submission and hunger.

“Did that work you up?” you taunted gently, leaning down to press your lips to hers in a slow, lingering kiss. She tasted sweet, her lips moulding against yours as a soft whimper escaped her.

“Uh huh,” she breathed, her body arching instinctively toward you as your fingers moved deftly to find the buckles on the straps, undoing them one by one. The sound of the leather sliding against her skin sent shivers down her spine.

You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing a line down her cheek. “Do you know why you were punished?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur that carried the weight of authority.

“Porque era mocosa,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

“That’s right,” you purred, “you were being bratty at the club.” Your lips found hers again, softer this time in a rewarding kiss. “But you’re my good girl now, aren’t you?”

Her breath hitched, and she nodded fervently, eyes closing as you continued to speak, each word like a caress. “You’re my beautiful girl. Mi niña hermosa perfecta buena,” you whispered against her lips, feeling the way her body melted at your words.

"T-tu buena chica." She stuttered.

"And good girls choose their rewards, don't they?" You hummed, smoothing her hair off of her face.

"I-if they deserve it." Her eyes snapped open, betraying her eagerness. There was something so intoxicating about Alexia in this state.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You cupped her cheek, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to meet your eyes. "Oh, my beautiful girl, you definitely deserve it," you cooed, your voice dripping with affection. "You were a brat before, but you were so good for me. So good." You leaned closer, your breath fanning across her lips, teasingly close but not quite touching. "Did you see how hard I came?" you murmured your words a velvet whisper. "Did you see how hard I came for you? How good you made me feel?"

Her lips parted as she let out a shaky breath, the memory of your release playing in her mind. The way your body had shuddered and the sounds of your ecstasy still echoed in her ears, fuelling her own arousal. She nodded slowly, biting down on her lower lip, her eyes darkening with desire.

"Sí," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I saw."

"That's right," you continued, your thumb brushing over her cheek, feeling the warmth of her flushed skin. "You made me feel so incredible. You brought me to that edge and pushed me over it. That's what good girls do, isn't it? They make their partners feel amazing." You let your words hang in the air, the promise of her reward dangling tantalisingly before her.

"T’estimo," she sighed, her voice laced with a deep, heartfelt sincerity as she leaned into your touch. Her eyes fluttered closed, basking in the warmth of your palm against her cheek.

"I love you too, my beautiful girl," you murmured back, your voice tender yet possessive. She was yours, and you were hers. You closed the distance between you, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was long and hard, a passionate claim that left no room for doubt about how much you needed her. Your tongue swept across her lower lip before slipping into her mouth, tasting her, exploring her with a hunger that had yet to be sated.

She moaned softly into the kiss, her body arching toward you, craving the connection, the intimacy that was as raw and electrifying as it was comforting. Her lips parted eagerly, allowing you deeper access, her breath mingling with yours as the kiss deepened, turning into a dance of tongues and soft, hungry sighs.

Slowly, and without breaking the kiss, you reached for the knot in the ties that bound her wrists above her head. Your fingers worked deftly, pulling at the fabric with a slowness that only heightened her need for you. The knot gave way, and her wrists fell down onto the pillows below, the soft thud of her hands against the bed like a quiet surrender.

Freed, her hands didn't hesitate. They moved immediately to wrap around your shoulders, her fingers curling into the muscles of your back as she pulled you closer. Her nails dug in slightly, sending a delicious shiver down your spine as she pulled your body to hers.

The kiss became even more enthusiastic. You felt her hands roaming your back, sliding up to tangle in your hair, tugging you closer with a desperation that matched your own.

You broke apart, chests heaving, breaths coming out in ragged gasps as you both struggled to find air amidst the haze of passion. Her lips were swollen and glistening, her eyes darks, her cheeks flushed. For a moment, you simply stared at each other, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your mingled breathing.

You leaned in, your lips brushing the shell of her ear, hot and teasing. "Do you want my fingers, or my mouth, baby?" you whispered, each word a sultry promise that sent a shiver down her spine. Your hands traced a slow, tantalising line across her stomach, your fingertips barely grazing her skin in feather-light strokes that left a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt her muscles tense and then relax beneath your touch.

She swallowed hard, breathing heavily at the sensation of your fingers teasing their way lower. You could see the indecision flicker across her face, her lips parting as if to speak but no words coming out.

“M-mou– " Alexia tried to speak, but her voice broke off in a shaky breath, her cheeks flushing deeper. She was trying to be brave, trying to find her words while her mind was a whirlwind of want and need. "Mouth," she finally stuttered out, her eyes closing as if to brace herself for the onslaught of sensations she knew was coming.

A slow, satisfied smile curved your lips. "Mouth it is," you murmured against her ear, letting your warm breath wash over her sensitive skin. You dragged your lips down the side of her neck, pressing soft kisses along the column of her throat, savouring the way her body reacted to each touch. Her back arched slightly, a soft whimper escaping her as your mouth moved lower, leaving a burning trail of desire in its wake.

Your hands continued their journey down her body, caressing every curve, every dip, as you moved lower, your lips and tongue following the path you mapped out with your fingers. You felt her tremble beneath you, her fingers digging into the sheets, her body aching for what was to come.

With a swift kiss to her hipbone, you licked a broad stripe up her pussy, the suddenness eliciting a sharp intake of breath from her. The heat of her arousal was intoxicating, and the tangy taste had your eyes slipping shut in pleasure. Your tongue glided over her sensitive folds, the contact sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.

As you licked, you couldn’t help but moan at the taste of her, the sound of your satisfaction blending with the wet, eager noises that filled the space between you. The vibration of your moan against her core only heightened her own pleasure, making her body shudder and tremble in response.

You allowed yourself to savour the moment, exploring Alexia with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Your tongue traced the contours of her lips, dipping and swirling around her clit with a mixture of teasing light touches and more insistent licks. Your hands gripped her thighs firmly, holding her open and steady, your fingers digging into her flesh.

Her responses were immediate – her hips bucking involuntarily against your face, her fingers gripping the sheets and your hair, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Each moan you made seemed to draw out another reaction from her, her body reacting to the pleasure you were giving with an urgency that matched your own.

As you continued your exploration, you let your tongue delve deeper, flicking and teasing with a mix of skill and intuition. You could feel the way her body responded to each change in pressure or rhythm, adjusting your movements to keep her on the edge of bliss.

You knew Alexia was on edge before you started, but even with that knowledge, it was still a shock when you felt her thighs begin to shake uncontrollably beneath you, the subtle tremors a clear sign that she was teetering on the brink.

“M-mi amor,” she moaned, her voice a high, breathless lilt that sent a thrill through you. The way she said it, her words a desperate plea wrapped in adoration, made your heart race. “Oh, Dios mío. Tan buena.” Each syllable was punctuated by the rise and fall of her chest, her body arching and twitching.

“Tan buena,” she repeated, her voice trembling with intensity, a soft, almost delirious cry of appreciation. “No pares, por favor no pares.” The words spilt out in a frantic rush, her plea to not stop almost as potent as the pleasure itself.

The urgency in her voice, the sheer need in her words, drove you to push even harder, to let your tongue and lips work with an intensity that matched her desperation. You could feel her body quaking under your touch, her moans becoming more erratic as she neared her peak.

“Oh, Dios mío,” she gasped, the words mingling with her moans in a chant of pure, unfiltered pleasure.

You sunk a finger into her, the warmth and wetness enveloping you immediately. You could feel her inner muscles contracting around your finger, responding eagerly to your touch.

With each careful, precise movement, you felt her body becoming more responsive, her breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. You adjusted the angle of your finger, curling it slightly to hit that sensitive spot deep inside her. Her moans grew louder, more frantic, unable to contain her pleasure.

“Mi amor,” Alexia screamed, her voice a piercing cry of pure ecstasy that reverberated through the room. Her back arched off the bed, her body convulsing in a powerful release as she came. The sight of her arching form, the way her muscles tensed and then relaxed in waves of pleasure, was mesmerising.

Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her fingers digging into the fabric as she rode out her orgasm. Her moans and gasps filled the space between you.

You could feel the heat and slickness around your finger, the way her body responded to your touch, and you kept your movements steady, guiding her through the aftershocks of her orgasm. The moment seemed to stretch out, a soft smile on your face as you drew back, watching her succumb to the pleasure.

“Oh, my god,” she sighed, her voice a soft, sated murmur as she began to relax into the afterglow. The tension in her body eased, leaving her feeling blissfully languid. You carefully withdrew your finger, moaning as you licked it clean.

As you made your way back up her body, you traced a path of tender kisses along her skin, enjoying the taste and feel of her.

You started at her stomach, pressing soft, lingering kisses over the sensitive skin that was still tingling from your touch. Each kiss was a gentle reassurance, a silent conversation of affection and tenderness. As you moved higher, your lips brushed over her ribcage, then her chest, finally reaching her neck where you paused for a moment, planting a few more sweet, soft kisses. She responded with a throaty hum, a sound of pure contentment that resonated deeply with you.

When you finally reached her lips, you broke apart, letting a satisfied smile spread across your face. Her eyes fluttered open, a soft, sleepy smile playing on her lips as she looked up at you. “Hola,” she said, her voice soft.

You smirked, your gaze filled with adoration as you leaned in to kiss her nose gently. “Hello, my beautiful girl,” you replied, your voice warm and tender.

Her smile widened, her eyes closing again as she nestled into you.

"I love you."

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rosenclaws · 17 hours ago

Note

Okay—don’t know if this fulfills the type of prompt you’re looking for but: Marie asking Logan to play Barbie’s with her. He somehow ends up wearing a princess crown

Babysitting || Worst!Logan x Reader

warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns are used and the reader is referred as mom

a/n: Man I just love writing Wolverine being a dad omfggg anyways I hope you enjoy!!!

"You promise you don't mind?"

You're rushing around your apartment trying to get ready for work. Just your luck you got called in for an emergency and your babysitter wasn't able to come on such short notice.

In the midst of your panic Logan knocked on your door like a knight in shining armor. Though this knight was caring an empty tupperware that you had given him leftovers in.

Logan had heard you talking to yourself in a panic. He tries not to eavesdrop but you were being louder than usual so being the good...uh boyfriend? Friend, Neighbor? You haven't really figured that part out yet.

Anyways being the good person that he is he came down to see what was wrong.

"I'm sure, she's a nice kid how hard can it be?" He says with a shrug and you resist the urge to scoff. He was doing you a huge favor afterall.

"Pick up is at 3pm, I'll be home by 6 and I'll grab dinner." You grab your bag and hurry out the door.

Logan glances at the clock. It's almost 3 so he better get a move on. Maries school was a short walk from the apartment. He can't but notice just how much he stands out among the other parents here for pick up and drop off.

He winces when he hears the shrieking laughter coming from the playground. Parents come and go, collecting their kids and listening to them talk about their day. He glances to the side and sees a little boy staring at him with wide eyes. In his hands was a wolverine figurine. Logan just smirks, putting his finger up to his lips telling the kid to keep quiet.

"Kitty!" Logan looks up to see Marie running towards him.

"Hey kid, your mom had to go to work so it's just me and you for a couple hours." He lifts Marie up into his arms.

Taking her backpack and slinging it onto his shoulder. The damn thing fit just a little too tight around his biceps and shoulders. As he walks home she rambles on about her day. Logan listens as she plays with the collar of his shirt.

"And then we wrote about our favorite animal and we got to draw it and Ms. K put all of our drawings on the wall."

"Yeah? What's your favorite animal?" Logan asks as he digs around for the key you gave him.

"Kitty cats!" Logan flinches as she practically shouts in his ear.

"Oh yeah? I couldn't tell." As he opens the door he sets her down, placing her stuff near the door as she goes running to her room.

Logan sits on the couch and stretches out, pick up is done so now he just has to make sure Marie doesn't die or get a tattoo or do anything stupid. As soon as he reaches for the remote he hears the little pitter of her feet.

She pokes her head around the wall and looks at Logan with those puppy dog eyes. He groans, knowing she was about to ask him something he won't be able to say no to.

"Will you play Barbie's with me? Mommy promised me she'd play today." She asks. Pulling two dolls from behind her back. Logan just sighs, putting his hands in his head.

"Wouldn't you rather color or something? Or we can watch that show with that annoying blue dog." He tries to bargain but Marie stands firm. She wants Barbie's. It's that or nothing. So Logan just nods his head.

"Okay fine. But only for an hour. Max."

An hour max his ass because Marie wouldn't let him leave. Every time he tried to end Barbie dress up her little eyes would fill with tears and Logan would quickly promise to keep playing. Just the threat of her tears was enough to make him fold. So here he is. At the will of a 6 year old.

"Logan? Marie? I'm home!" He hears your voice and your footsteps get closer.

"Mommy!" Marie yells.

"I brought pizza it's on the counter..." Your voice trails off as you appear in the doorway.

Marie runs past you straight to the bathroom to wash her hands before dinner. Logan is sitting on the ground, having broken the small wooden chair Marie insisted he sit on at firs. A plastic princess crown sits on his head and he has pink glitter nail polish messily painted onto his nails.

"Barbie tea party?" You ask, trying to hide your laughter.

"Yeah. You've raise a very manipulative child you know that?" Logan says as he stands up.

"All you have to do is say no Logan." You reach over and fix the crown so that it rested evenly on his head. His hair tuffs sticking out of the crown just above the fake jewels.

"Well she's very convincing." He hums.

Your hands fall back to your sides but you don't move from the doorway. Something about seeing him so willing to spend time with Marie, to entertain her silly games and even let her paint his nails.

It just means a lot. Logan...he didn't sign up for all of this but he's willingly brought himself into your life and you don't want him to leave. But is he here for Marie? Or would he stick around for you too?

"How do I look?" He asks, snapping you out of your question sprial.

"Huh?" You ask. He shrugs and crosses his arms, his biceps bulging out of his flannel shirt.

"You're staring at me sweetheart, thought I'd ask if you like what you see." He purrs.

Your eyes widen as he slowly backs you against the wall. Even with the pink nails and the plastic crown Logan was all consuming. There's just something so attractive about his paternal instincts.

"You look good." You squeak out.

"Just good?" He asks and you swear your brain starts to short circuit.

"Mommy! I'm hungry." Marie's voice makes Logan jump back, his cockiness fades away as he reaches up and takes the crown off.

"I'll be right there baby. Just go sit down." You say with a smile. You glance back at Logan for a moment, a beat of silence as you stare into each others eyes. Your heart is still racing. He gently places the crown on Marie's bed and walks past you to the kitchen.

"Fuck." You whisper. What was that?

You pretend like you weren't pressed up against the wall by Logan just moments ago and serve everyone a slice of pizza. You listen as Marie tells you about her day and playing with Logan. It's so utterly domestic. But soon Marie's bedtime comes around and it's time to say goodbye.

"Kitty can you pick me up from school tomorrow?" Marie asks sleepily.

"Oh baby Logan's very busy-"

"I don't mind" Logan cuts in.

"Gives me something to do during the day. As long as you don't mind." he adds on the last part quickly. Before you can answer Marie does it for you.

"Yes!" She squeals.

"Marie wait!" You call but she's already gone to her room.

"Are you sure Logan? I know it's a lot. That we can be a lot."

"Sweetheart, I like spending time with her, with you." Logan says softly.

He's really grown to care about Marie and you. A lot. More than he's willing to admit out loud right now. The two of you aren't a lot to Logan. In fact you're just what he needs. This normalcy and kindness. Being around the two of you makes him feel like he really can be more than the man he used to be.

"Okay, thank you Logan. You don't know how much everything you've done means to us." You place your hand on his arm, squeezing it gently.

"See you tomorrow sweetheart." He throws you a wink as he shuts the door.

He stays for just a moment. He hears your footsteps get farther away and he lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding. As he heads back to his apartment he starts to feel dread creeping up his throat. Who is he kidding? Can the Wolverine really go and play babysitter? He's not...he's not good for you or for Marie. But he cares about the two of you and he's too selfish to let you go now.

"How was your date with the hot mom downstairs?" Wade asks as Logan steps into the apartment.

"It wasn't a date I was just helping out." Logan mumbles as he opens the fridge and searches for a beer, only finding a root beer instead.

"Hey we listen and we don't judge. Everyone has a type. Yours just happens to be MILFS."

Logan shoots daggers at Wade as he pops off the top of the bottle.

"Shut the fuck up." A surge of jealousy hitting him like a truck at the idea of Wade even thinking of you like that. Wade just smirks, loving just how easy it is to push his buttons.

"Man you're just racking up those father figure roles aren't you Hugh." Wade sighs. Logan choose to ignore whatever nonsense Wade was spitting from his mouth and head right to bed.

Closing his eyes he just wonders how far he'll let himself sink into your lives. A small part of him hopes forever.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #worst logan #worst!logan howlett x reader

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leashybebes · 2 days ago

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belated wip wednesday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard (😘) but i had nothing until juuust now. believe it or not, this came out of a conversation on the fluff server 👀

"I thought of something else we should talk about," Tommy says, as Buck steps into the kitchen with the last bag of groceries, hands it over and sits at the table.

They've been doing this since Tommy proposed - making a bit of a game out of it, finding listicles of Fifteen Things All Engaged Couples Should Discuss, Eight Essential Conversations Before You Walk Down That Aisle, stuff like that. They've talked finances, career goals, retirement plans, dream travel destinations, stuff like that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hm," Tommy says, opening the crisper drawer in the fridge. "Do you want kids?"

It feels like all the air has gone out of the room suddenly.

The silence stretches a beat too long and Tommy looks over from where he's filling the fridge, like this is - like this is a casual conversation. Like he can just - like they can just - have kids.

"No," Buck says, and he knows in the second of saying it that it's a lie.

"Oh," Tommy says, like he knows it's a lie too. Worse, like he's disappointed. "Really? I guess I just assumed - "

"Y-you can't assume, Tommy. It's a kid. You can't assume about a kid."

"Okay, sorry," Tommy says hastily, closing the fridge and stepping closer.

Buck shoves his chair back from the table because he feels like his chest is caving in and suddenly the last thing he wants is Tommy to get closer.

"Evan - "

"I need some air, I'm coming back," Buck says, practically tripping over the words. It's Tommy's line, usually, but it's something they agreed on: I need some air (I'm not mad, I'm overwhelmed), I'm coming back (I still love you, I'm not running).

"Evan, I - " Tommy stops, because he knows the rules. Don't try to talk the other person out of it, don't try to push the conversation, they'll pick it back up later. "It's dark out, will you take your phone?"

Buck nods, snatches his phone up from where it's on charge on the counter, and books it as fast as his shaking legs can carry him.

not onward tagging because it's nowhere near wednesday and i should be getting ready for work, not writing another manifesto on why they really, dear god, need to learn how to communicate

#bucktommy #my writing #wip games

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honeyslibrary · 17 hours ago

Text

Late Again | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Established relationship, angst, cursing, not sure what else, edited once.

Summary; Inspired by this request: Hi hi!! I love your writing, especially for Quinn and I was just wondering if you could write some Quinn x reader angst? Like maybe he's been coming home late and she reaches her breaking point w him? Tysm!! 💕💗

Word Count; 3.4k

Author’s note; This was requested sooo long ago n I'm so sorry for the wait, but nonetheless I hope you like it. 😊 I listened to the song The Exit by Conan Gray when I wrote this, it doesn't fit the vibe, but it's a great song I newly discovered. Also I have no idea if he likes chicken fried steak, I just chose something random lol -Honey

You poked at the dinner you'd carefully prepared—chicken-fried steak, Quinn's favorite—half-heartedly pushing the mashed potatoes around your plate with your fork. The food was getting cold, untouched. You couldn't even bring yourself to take a bite. A home game tonight against the St. Louis Blues—he’d mentioned it this morning, and you’d nodded, knowing the routine all too well by now. Quick meal, pregame nap, then off to the rink. You understood how demanding his schedule was, but tonight was supposed to be different. He promised. The effort you put in, starting dinner earlier than usual so he’d have time to eat before his nap, now felt wasted. The smell of the crispy steak and buttery potatoes filled the air, but it only made you feel emptier.

You sat alone at the dinner table, your eyes flicking toward your phone every few minutes, hoping for the screen to light up with a message from him. But it never did. The minutes stretched into an hour, the silence from your phone growing heavier with every second. He’d promised to be home for dinner today—said it with that familiar smile like he really meant it this time. But here you were, waiting, yet again. The clock on the wall ticked louder in the empty room. The sound seemed to amplify the absence, reminding you of just how late he was. You glanced at your phone one more time, willing it to show some sign of life—an apology, an excuse, anything—but the screen stayed dark. Not a text. Not a call. Nothing.

You took a deep breath, trying to quiet the disappointment clawing at your chest, but it didn’t help. The food, once so full of effort and care, now seemed like a mockery of your good intentions. You wondered if he even realized how much you’d gone out of your way tonight, or if he’d forgotten, caught up in his routine, his career, his world. You weren’t sure anymore.

An hour and a half late now. You stood up from the table, abandoning the cold meal as you walked over to the window, peeking outside as if expecting to see his car pulling into the driveway. Nothing. The quiet suburban street was empty, just as it always was. The sky had started to darken, and with it, the flicker of hope you’d been clinging to all evening. How many more times would you find yourself waiting, wondering if you were ever going to be a priority in his life again?

The more you thought about it, the more the dull ache of disappointment twisted itself into something sharper, hotter—anger. It started as a slow simmer in your chest, but with each passing second, the heat rose, spreading through your veins like wildfire. Was he serious? A bitter sigh escaped your lips as you walked back into the kitchen. You grabbed your plate first, then his—untouched, of course—and headed to the garbage can. With one swift motion, you scraped the food into the garbage, the chicken-fried steak falling in with a dull thud. It almost felt like a relief to throw it away, like you were getting rid of something that no longer had meaning. The mashed potatoes smeared against the sides of the plate as you tossed the rest, the food you’d spent time making reduced to nothing more than trash.

The pans on the stove caught your eye next, and before you even realized what you were doing, you were scooping the perfectly good leftovers into the trash as well. The scent of the meal you’d so carefully prepared—the aroma of rosemary, garlic—rose up as if to remind you of the effort you'd put in. It stung, but you didn’t care. Fuck that. He didn’t deserve your cooking. He didn’t deserve the time, the thoughtfulness. Not anymore.

His favorite meal, no less. What a joke. You felt ridiculous for even caring so much, for putting in the effort when he clearly couldn’t be bothered to be home like he'd promised, or even give you the courtesy of a text.

You slammed the pans down into the sink with more force than necessary, the clang reverberating in the quiet kitchen. You stood over the sink, glaring at the pile of dirty dishes, your hands tightening and un-tightening at your sides. The dishwasher was right there, but using it felt too easy, too detached. You needed something more physical, something to work out this simmering frustration before it consumed you.

So, instead, you grabbed the sponge and turned on the water, scrubbing the first plate with a force that made your knuckles whiten. The warm, soapy water splashed up against your arms, but you didn’t care. You scrubbed harder, as if each circular motion could somehow scrub away the resentment building inside you. The plate wasn’t even that dirty, but you attacked it like it was covered in grime.

Each scrape of the sponge against ceramic echoed in the quiet kitchen, filling the space where his excuses should have been. The more you scrubbed, the more it felt like you were scrubbing away the traces of him—his absence, his broken promises, his selfishness. If only it were that easy. If only a sink full of dishes could clean up all the messes he was leaving behind.

It was Quinn’s second year as captain of the Canucks, a role that had transformed him in ways you hadn’t fully anticipated. The weight of the 'C' on his chest seemed heavier this season, with expectations higher than ever after last year’s breakout performance. The team had exceeded everyone’s predictions, turning heads and silencing critics with a season no one saw coming. Now, all eyes were on them to prove it wasn’t just a fluke.

You knew Quinn was feeling that pressure—how could he not? He had something to prove, not just to the fans, the media, or his teammates, but to himself. The burden of leadership was always in the back of his mind, quietly pushing him to go harder, to be better, to set an example. And you understood that. You really did. You knew he was doing the best he could, managing the weight of it all in his own way. But even understanding had its limits. And so did you.

Quinn, on the other hand, seemed to have no boundaries when it came to pushing himself. It was almost like he didn’t know how to stop, how to pull back. Even now, he was still nursing that hand injury—an injury that should have sidelined him weeks ago—but he kept playing through it, insisting he could handle the pain. Thirty minutes a night, almost every game, skating until exhaustion blurred the edges of his vision. You’d seen the way he winced sometimes when he thought no one was looking, flexing his hand to work out the tightness, but refusing to sit out even for a single shift.

You admired his dedication. How could you not? His determination, his relentless drive to push through, to carry the weight of the team on his shoulders—it was part of what made him the player, the leader, that he was. But it was also the part of him that worried you the most.

You knew he felt like he had to do it, that as captain, anything less than perfection wasn’t enough. And while you respected that drive, it didn’t make it any easier watching him run himself into the ground night after night. Especially when you were the one sitting at home, picking up the pieces of what was left, wondering if he was going to come back from each game a little more broken than before.

You were patient. You’d learned to be. But your patience wasn’t endless.

The sound of the front door opening jolted you from your thoughts, the creak of the hinges cutting through the sound of the running water. You pause, your hands submerged in soapy water, your grip tightening on the sponge as Quinn stepped inside. He walks in, clad in his usual post-practice attire—Nike sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a black compression shirt clinging to the lines of his torso. He looked worn, as if the weight of the day hadn’t just been left on the ice but was still hanging on his shoulders, pulling him down.

You glanced over your shoulder, giving him a quick once-over, but you didn’t say anything. The words felt stuck in your throat, trapped behind the frustration and sadness swirling in your chest. Instead, you turned back to the dishes, resuming your task with more force than necessary, the clinking of the plates louder than before. You didn’t offer a greeting, and neither did he. It was almost as if the two of you existed in different worlds now—yours, filled with waiting and disappointment, and his, consumed by the game, by the pressure that never seemed to leave him.

Quinn, oblivious or perhaps just avoiding the tension, didn’t seem to notice your silence. Without a word, he headed upstairs, his footsteps soft but steady, the sound growing fainter as he disappeared into the bedroom. A familiar ache settled in your chest as you stood there, staring down at the soapy water swirling in the sink. You could feel the sting of tears threatening to rise, but you blinked them away quickly, shaking your head at yourself.

Anger had been your companion all day, burning hot and steady in his absence. It had been so easy to hold onto, so easy to let the frustration build when you didn’t have to see him, when you didn’t have to look into those hazel eyes that always seemed to make your resolve crumble. The anger had felt justified when he wasn’t there—easy to fuel when it was just you, alone, staring at a cold, empty dinner table. But now that he was home, the anger began to unravel, slipping away and leaving only the sadness behind. It happened every time. That familiar pang of disappointment mixed with resignation, the sharp edges of your frustration softening into something more complicated, something you didn’t have the energy to untangle.

You bit your tongue, holding back the words you wanted to say—the questions, the accusations, the things that would start a fight you weren’t ready to have. You’d been here before, in this exact moment, torn between wanting to yell and wanting to break down. But you didn’t want to argue tonight. Not again.

The dishes were your only focus now, your hands scrubbing mechanically as your mind raced with thoughts you couldn’t quiet. You wondered if he even knew how much you’d been waiting, not just tonight, but for weeks, months—for some sign that you still mattered in all of this, that you were still a part of his world. But it was getting harder to tell, harder to feel like you weren’t slowly fading into the background of his life, just like the sound of his footsteps fading upstairs.

By the time you finished the dishes and wiped down the counters, the kitchen was spotless, as if the day hadn’t happened at all. The room was clean, but the heavy silence remained, settling into the spaces between the freshly scrubbed surfaces. You paused for a moment, staring down at the empty sink, the exhaustion setting in—not just from the chores, but from everything that had been weighing on you lately.

When you finally made your way upstairs to the bedroom, Quinn had already begun his pregame nap. You stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame for a moment, just watching him. He was sprawled out on his stomach, the way he always slept, one arm curled beneath the pillow, his face turned slightly to the side. In sleep, the tension in his features was gone, the hard lines softened, and for a brief second, you felt a pang of something—nostalgia, maybe—for the way things used to be. Before all the pressure, before the distance between you had grown so wide.

You stood there, caught between wanting to crawl into bed next to him and knowing it wouldn’t make a difference tonight. He was already somewhere else, lost in the brief reprieve of sleep before the game. You let out a quiet breath and turned away, heading back downstairs, leaving him to his rest.

In the den, you curled up on the sofa, pulling a throw blanket over your legs as you flicked on the TV. The familiar theme song of One Tree Hill played in the background, but your mind wasn’t fully on the show. You watched the characters move across the screen, but their drama felt distant, unimportant compared to the real-life ache sitting in your chest. You’d seen these episodes a hundred times before, and yet tonight they felt like nothing more than white noise, a distraction to fill the space while Quinn slept upstairs.

Time passed in a blur of dialogue and background music, your eyes unfocused on the screen. You’d just started another episode when you heard footsteps approaching. You barely registered them until Quinn appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame just like you had earlier. He stood there for a moment, running a hand through his hair, before exhaling a deep sigh that seemed to carry the weight of everything unsaid between you.

"I missed dinner," he said, his voice quiet. It wasn’t a question, just a statement. The guilt was there, hanging in the air between you, but it didn’t quite land the way you wanted it to.

You turned your head toward him, feeling the familiar mix of emotions bubbling up—frustration, sadness, the lingering ache of disappointment. You nodded slowly, your voice calm but clipped. "You did."

That was all you said. Two simple words, but they carried so much more. The weight of your unspoken thoughts lingered in the air between you: You missed more than dinner. You missed me. You missed us. Again.

For a moment, Quinn didn’t say anything, just stood there, as if searching for something to say that would make it better. But nothing came. The silence stretched on, and you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the same exhaustion that you felt deep in your bones. Hockey had taken so much from him, and in its wake, it felt like there wasn’t much left for the two of you.

You shifted on the couch, turning back to the TV, not sure what else there was to say. If you opened your mouth now, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to stop the flood of everything you’d been holding back. So you stayed quiet, letting the distance between you grow a little wider, hoping—just once—that he’d be the one to cross it.

Quinn lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, the silence between you heavy and uncomfortable. You could feel his eyes on you, like he wanted to say something, to bridge the growing gap, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he just stood there, his shoulders slumped, the weariness from the day etched into every part of him.

You kept your eyes on the TV, pretending to be more interested in the show than in the ache inside you. You didn’t trust yourself to look at him right now—not when the quiet between you felt so suffocating, so loaded with everything neither of you were saying. If you looked at him, you were afraid the dam would break, and all the frustration, the loneliness, the resentment that had been simmering beneath the surface would come pouring out.

He took a deep breath, and you could hear the slight hesitation in the exhale, like he was on the verge of speaking but didn’t know where to start. "I’m sorry," he finally muttered, the words barely audible, but they hung in the air nonetheless. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t enough, but it was something.

You closed your eyes for a brief second, letting the apology settle in, but it didn’t ease the ache. You had heard it before—too many times now. It always came after the fact, always when it was too late, and it never felt like enough to patch up the cracks that were forming between you.

Opening your eyes, you kept your gaze fixed on the TV, though you weren’t really watching. "You always are," you said softly, your voice lacking the sharpness you intended. There was no anger left, just a quiet exhaustion that had taken its place. "But it doesn’t change anything, Quinn."

The words hung between you, heavy and final. You didn’t mean for them to sound so distant, so resigned, but that’s where you were now. It wasn’t just about tonight, or the missed dinners, or the broken promises—it was about the slow unraveling that had been happening for months, the quiet slipping away of the relationship you once had.

Quinn pushed off the doorframe, his expression unreadable as he took a few steps into the room. He stood at the edge of the sofa, as if unsure whether he was welcome to sit down. His eyes, those familiar hazel eyes that once made your heart skip, were full of something—regret, frustration, maybe even guilt. But none of it seemed to change the fact that he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

"I know," he said, almost under his breath. He rubbed a hand over his face, the fatigue obvious. "I’m trying, I really am. It’s just—this season… it’s a lot." His voice trailed off, and you could hear the helplessness in it. He didn’t know how to fix this, and maybe he didn’t have the energy to try anymore.

You nodded, finally turning to look at him, but the sadness in your gaze must have said more than your words ever could. You understood that the season was demanding. You understood the pressure, the expectations, the endless grind. But understanding didn’t make it any easier to deal with the growing distance, the nights spent waiting, the feeling that you were slowly becoming an afterthought in his life.

"I know it’s a lot," you replied quietly, meeting his eyes for the first time since he’d walked in. "But it’s not just about the game, Quinn. It’s about us. I’m still here, waiting for you to show up… and I don’t know how much longer I can keep waiting."

The vulnerability in your voice hung in the air, and for a brief moment, you saw the conflict flicker across his face—worry, a twinge of something else, maybe fear. He took another deep breath, his hands flexing at his sides as if he wanted to reach out to you but wasn’t sure how.

"I don’t want to lose you," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting it out loud made it all too real.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening at his words. For a second, you almost believed him, almost let yourself hope that this was the moment he’d truly understand how close he was to losing you. But then reality sank in, and you realized that wanting wasn’t enough.

"You already are," you said softly, the weight of your admission settling over both of you like a heavy blanket. You saw his expression falter, the pain in his eyes unmistakable, but there was nothing more you could say. You were tired—tired of the waiting, tired of the excuses, tired of being second to hockey and everything else in his life.

Quinn stood there, rooted in place, his eyes searching yours for some sign that he could fix this, that there was still time. But you didn’t know how to make him understand that you needed more than apologies, more than empty promises. You needed him to be here, fully present, not just physically but emotionally.

Without another word, he let out another sigh and slowly walked back toward the doorway, retreating once again into the space between you that had become too wide to cross. And you stayed on the couch, watching the TV, your heart aching with the truth you couldn’t ignore any longer: the Quinn you once knew was slipping away, and you didn’t know if he would ever come back.

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