#it’s a one off and he doesn’t really touch on it any more but it’s important to understanding him I think

[leighsartworks216]

Hello! Hope your days going great.

Saw you opened requests for Valentine's and honestly you're my go to blog for dealing with all the feelings Zayne gives me. 🫠

I tried to really think about a good proper fluffy Valentine's prompt, but I can't get the idea of Zayne's full body weight on reader.

Just full on flop, waist between knees, nose in neck crook, arms around an arched back type of full contact cuddle. 😩🤌🏼

Post date? Early morning? Maybe the first time he ever truly let's himself he held? Not worrying about crushing them?

I just want him to drape over me like a weighted blanket.

Bonus points if there's some scalp scratching type of melty action? I just want to smother that man in my love honestly.

All Night Forever

Zayne x gn!Reader

I will always drop everything to hold this man and give him the attention he deserves

Title from "All Night Forever" by TWRP (it suits him SO well)

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, slow dancing, cuddling, kissing, touch-starved Zayne, literal sleeping together, silly, teasing, banter

Word Count: 1,190

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Zayne smiles softly as he watches you twirl into the house. You hum a song aloud, mindlessly kicking your shoes away and following imaginary dance steps. It’s one of the songs they played at the gala tonight.

He toes off his own shoes. Crouching down, he sets his them in their proper place before gathering yours and neatly aligning them in just the same way. He doesn’t have a chance to grab your slippers before you’re tapping on his shoulder and tugging on his arm.

“Dance with me,” you say. Your movements have the familiar lag of exhaustion, lingering just at the very edge of your swaying hips. Your eyes are still so bright and excited, but the bags underneath are more prominent with the late hour. And yet here to are, pulling him back up to his feet so he can dance with you.

He chuckles as he steps closer, his hands settling easily on your waist. “Haven’t you danced enough for one night?” You wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers play with the edge of his collar, guiding him with you as you step away from the door and into the house proper.

It’s dark. The only light to guide the way comes from the ceiling light in the entryway, but its warm reach only extends so far. It’s substituted by the moon’s blue glow the further you go, highlighting the edge of furniture and the side of your face. Despite the lack of proper light, you move through the house with ease. You never have anything to fear; even if you were drunk and stumbling, Zayne would guide you away from any danger, protecting you from a stubbed toe or banged up shin.

You step back, he steps forward. Each step is reciprocated, timed out to the slow song you hum. You lead him into the living room. He quirks an eyebrow in question, but he follows. He would follow you into hell, swaying back and forth and never letting his eyes stray from your face.

He’s caught off balance when you hug him tighter and pull him down, though he should have expected such an act of mischief from you. You fall back onto the soft couch cushions, bouncing lightly with the impact. He has to let you go in order to catch himself. His hands cage you in, one knee between your legs. His other leg is extended out, standing on the soft carpet laid out across the floor to keep himself steady. He shoots you a glare, though it lacks any real upset.

“Lay with me,” you plead sweetly. You tug on him lightly, but he stays firm. “I want to hold you.”

He shakes his head with a soft, breathy laugh. “You’re going to be uncomfortable,” he warns, thumbing at the sleeve of your attire, “dressed like this.”

You shift so your knee presses against his side, urging him further to lay down between your legs. “That’s a Future-Me problem. Now-Me wants to hold my boyfriend.”

“Future-You is going to be complaining to Future-Zayne about this. He won’t say ‘I told you so,’ but he’ll be thinking it.”

You giggle. “Noted. Now, please?”

“You need to move over.”

“Nope. Just lay on top of me!”

He gives you a dubious look. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Never truly able to resist your antics, he relents. He brings his other leg up onto the couch. As he lowers himself down to lay on top of you, his legs stretch out behind him, toes nearly touching the arm rest. His arms are the last to adjust. You can tell by the serious, focused look on his face he’s concerned about resting his full weight on you. All it takes to remove that worry is, naturally, you: you hug him close, guiding his head to your chest and kissing his forehead, and he finally slips his arms under your back to hug you in return.

Once everything has settled into place, he rests his chin on your chest to look at your face. “Happy?”

Your smile puts the moon to shame. “Almost.”

Before he can ask what else you want - your dear Zayne, always ready to ask ‘how high’ when you say ‘jump’ - you’re taking it for yourself. You drag your nails along his scalp, immediately drawing shivers and a shuddering sigh from him. His arms curl tighter around your body. His ears turn pink with blush. But all this leads to what you really wanted, as his body relaxes further into yours and his weight presses you deeper into the cushions.

“Now,” you whisper, “I’m happy.”

You think he flushes deeper with embarrassment at being caught so off guard by such a simple touch, but he doesn’t fight it. He turns his face to the side, resting his cheek against you. “You still find ways to surprise me, even now,” he murmurs. “However, I won’t deny that it feels nice.”

You bite your lip to try hiding the wide smile that wants to break free. You watch his face as you tangle your fingers into his hair, scratching lightly across his scalp, from the nape of his neck to the crown of his head and back. It’s addicting, watching the way his body reacts. You can see the tension leave his shoulders and back. Feel the way he all but melts into you. His head tilts slightly into your touch, chasing after the sensations that tingle under his skin, even as he tries to lie still. His soft breaths, shaky and content.

Minutes pass by in comfortable silence, broken only by your shared breaths and synced heartbeats. You thought he was already asleep when he slowly shifts further up, adjusting himself so he can hide his face in your neck. His nose is cold where it brushes your skin. He murmurs a soft apology when you involuntarily jolt from it, but you don’t let him pull away. Instead it nuzzles into your pulse, replaced every now and again with his soft lips leaving tired kisses that linger as he counts each beat of your heart.

You brush his bangs aside to kiss his forehead. “I love you…” you whisper against his skin.

“I love you, too…” he whispers back, just before his breathing evens out and he falls asleep in your arms.

-

BONUS:

You sit up with a groan, rubbing at your neck and arching your back in hopes it’ll pop and steal with it the ache in your spine. Lines are imprinted in your skin from your clothes, that now feel like sandpaper against your skin.

Zayne, wet hair sticking to his forehead and fresh, comfortable clothes in place of his suit from last night, smiles down at you. He wordlessly passes over two pain tablets and a glass of water.

You glare at him as you take the medicine. “You can’t say it. You said Future-Zayne wouldn’t say it.”

“I did,” he concedes. His smile only grows wider as he leans over the back of the couch to kiss your forehead. “But I also believe I said he would be thinking it.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @hawtlineblingz @that-lost-one @always-just-red

[okwonyo]

日语─── BEST PART ❜

RIPIRDENRE ੭୧ 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾.

husband!enhypen & wife!reader 8OO non-idol au fluff established relationship 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏｡ mention of kissing

지아 ⠀⦂⠀credit to my amazing girlfriend kimibae for the idea ><

✶ rbs&feedbacks！ DAILY ˊᯅˋ archive

HEESEUNG it happens when he is talking to his colleagues— his phone rings inside of his pocket and, as if it was a national instinct, he takes it immediately. he doesn’t hesitate much before accepting the call when your name appears, leaving his colleagues hanging. “yes, baby?” he answers, in the softest tone anyone has witnessed him use before. it’s something he only does with you, picking up the phone no matter what. no matter where he is or what he is doing, if you call, you can be sure that he will always answer. his abrupt disappearance makes the people he was talking to a tad bit confused. they ask him who he was talking to as soon as he comes back. “who?” he smiles. “i was talking to my wife.”

JAY “what are you doing here, princess?” he smiles gently, resting his back on his chair’s backseat— getting comfortable as soon as he sees you. with a happy expression on your face, you walk toward your husband. you hold the lunchbox in your hands in a way that makes his heart swell, with such love and care that he might melt. “you forget your lunch at home, so i bought it to you.” he lets you settle yourself on his laps as you talk, “am i bothering you?” and he can’t tell you that he left his lunchbox on purpose, just to see you. “no, i love your visits.” so, it’s never really confirmed or said out loud (until a work party), but the way he looks at you, the shining ring on his finger says it all.

JAKE there isn’t a day where he stays quiet— he is always bringing your name up somehow. in every conversation he has, no matter how brief they can be, you will always get mentioned at some point of it. therefore, he is the first to find it a bit surprising when people find out that is married to you, several months after the wedding happened. people ask him with wide eyes about what he means by ‘my wife’ and he looks at them with the exact same expression. “well, i am married?” he answers, as if it was obvious. to his defense, he really thought it was. to his words, he adds the action of showing off his ring when he speak again, “i have a wife, i talk about her all the time. do you even listen to me?”

SUNGHOON doesn’t talk about you much. although, you are on his mind from the moment he wakes up to when he closes his eyes at night— he likes to protect his privacy at all costs. however, when he gets married, he assumes that everyone already knows about it. the ring on his finger accompanied by your picture on his desk makes it quite obvious (he even catches himself staring at either of them quite often). he discovers that it’s not the case at all when he tells his colleagues about how he has to leave early because he has a date. he’s bewildered when someone asks him with whom, he thinks they are joking at first, but it doesn’t seem like it. “with my wife?”

SUNOO your husband is handsome. you’d say that he is pretty, ethereal even. you know that already— how gorgeous he is and how magnetic is aura can be. so, it doesn’t surprise you when he tells you that his colleagues spend half of their time trying to match him up with someone and the other half hitting on him with barely any shame. he always denies their offer with a sweet laugh��until he comes back from his honeymoon. he looks refreshed, he can’t stop smiling whenever he thinks about you, which makes him ten times more attractive. this time, when someone tells him that one of his colleagues likes him, he denies again but with a brand new formula. “i am a married man, now.”

JUNGWON can’t leave home without the satisfaction of your lips touching his. even if it’s not necessarily his lips, he wants a kiss somewhere on him. your complaints about how it’ll ruin your lip combo or take off your lipstick doesn’t affect him at all. your husband gets a kiss from his wife no matter what. sometimes, he even leaves before you can tell him that your lipstick is on his mouth, because he shuts you up with another peck before running away. usually, he notices it and take it off but not today. this time, it’s when one of his colleagues asks him who he got those stains from that he remembers. “oh, it must have been from my wife.”

RIKI he doesn’t understand why people don’t believe whenever he brings you up. he always talks about you— while making sure the use the term ‘my wife’ ever since you got married. however, it doesn’t seem to get into his colleagues’ head, for some reason that he either doesn’t know or that doesn’t make any sense. “i can’t go out with you guys today,” he tells his colleagues, already looking for his car somewhere in the parking lot— his mind is only focused in on coming home to you. “my wife is waiting for me at home.” today he decides to directly show pictures of your wedding when they ask what he is talking about. he was right, ‘but you are so young!’ is a stupid argument.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[satorus-princess]

Late Night Cravings

cw: smutty themes, fem!reader, cunnilingus, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, petnames (minors please dni)

the lower half of his face was glistening, the smacking of his lips against yours mingling with the heavenly sound of your overstimulated moans. his cerulean eyes were closed in bliss, occasionally opening to glance up at your face contorted in pleasure – your bottom lip captured by your top teeth, eyes rolled back, eyebrows drawn together.

you aren’t sure how long you have been sprawled out on the bed, legs feeling sore due to being held open by his large hands pushing your thighs apart. and you aren’t sure how his jaw isn’t hurting from devouring you, his tongue running up and down, in and out; his lips sucking and kissing. He has drawn out so many delicious orgasms from you that you have lost count.

“stop squirmin’,” he murmurs against your heat, sending vibrations through your core. you whine softly, feeling sensitive to the lightest touches.

“can’t…” you pant, trailing off due to your ability to talk being snatched away after around the fourth orgasm.

“can’t what? can’t stop squirming? or can’t talk? can’t take any more for me?” the smirk is obvious in his husky voice – he knows the answer is “yes” to all of those questions. but he doesn’t seem to care as he uses his index and middle fingers to spread your cunt further out for him, licking up from your entrance to your clit. he rapidly flicks his tongue against the swollen and sensitive bud, making you writhe even more than before. incoherent words strung together into a jumbled sentence leave your lips as one of your hands grasp at the, once pristine, sheets and the other roughly tugs his snowy hair, eliciting a grunt from him. “can’t get enough of you, pretty girl. was craving you all day, all i wanted was to bury my head between these thighs and taste you again and again… and again. fuck, i wanna marry this pussy.”

your silver ring glints in the dim light of the lamp in your shared bedroom as your hand flies to grab at something else – something to ground yourself, to prepare yourself for the next overwhelming climax.

the noises of him eating you out are so obscene – loud slurping and smacking of his lips, the sound of him spitting onto your already wet core, and don’t even mention the squelching when he thrusts two of his fingers inside, the schlop, schlop, schlop. your back arches off of the bed when his fingers stroke your walls and that sweet spot he always immediately finds, whilst alternating between flicking and sucking your clit with his tongue. your mouth falls open in a silent moan, eyes rolled back.

“you gonna cum f’me?” he asks, moving with precision and speed. He stares up at you again, smirking against your pussy as your body shakes and convulses, and feels as if it’s going to explode. “gonna make a mess like the dirty girl you are?”

he suddenly feels your walls contracting tightly around his lithe fingers and a sudden wetness that gushes out of your pussy, making yet another mess on his face and he groans. your release crashed over you so abruptly that even you couldn’t sense it coming, but it left you squirming under his touch and crying out his name. glistening tears run down your flushed cheeks as you try to push him away from your very, very sensitive pussy, but you have no strength left in your body. each of your orgasms gradually made your limbs jelly and your brain mush.

“you really are a dirty girl, huh? such a slut for dirty talk.” he licks his lips clean, his chin still dripping with your juices. he lifts his head to get a good look at you, and when he shuffles up the bed to tower over your panting form, you feel relieved that he’s stopped. “such a pretty girl, too. my pretty girl. with the prettiest pussy.”

his lips mould with yours when he leans down and you weakly kiss him back, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. you gaze hazily at him once he pulls away and stares down at you with yet another smirk, his lips swollen from the devouring he’s done for hours.

“i hope you know i’m not done yet. i don’t know if my craving is ever going to be satiated.” he trails kisses down your cheek, to your jaw, neck, collarbone. when he gets to your boobs, he sucks and bites and then, kisses the spots he bruised with his marks. he earns a few sighs of delight from you as he continues to move down your body, littering your skin with kisses and marks before he ends up back between your thighs.

“please… can’t take anymore… so sensitive,” you say with a whine when he presses a kiss to your clit. It makes your hips jerk in overstimulation. “no more…”

“oh, baby, but you sound so sweet when you’re all sensitive and overstimulated for me... your whines drive me crazy. i’ve cum in my boxers about two times already, just from eating you out... i wanna live right here, between your thighs.” he moans when he dives back in, licking at your slit to gather your juices on his tongue, tasting you to his satisfaction. he’s addicted and it shows – he looks as blissful as you do and he isn’t gaining any direct pleasure. yet, his boxers are soaked from his own cum.

he’s licking and sucking at your pussy, barely giving you a break to breathe. he thinks you taste heavenly, completely drugged up from your juices smeared across the lower half of his face and his nose, which nudges your clit deliciously.

“too muchhhh…!” you whine. but your pleas and whimpers only give him the drive to keep going.

“one more time… just one more. want this pretty pussy to cum on my face again.” his words are slightly slurred as his lips and tongue pleasure your soaking core. that has been about the third time he’s told you one more time, so you don’t believe his words.

fresh tears stream down your flushed cheeks, your chest heaving with pants. your limbs feel too weak to even push him away, allowing him to have his way with you as he continues to devour you like he can’t get enough. your eyes close, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you try to hold back a scream of overstimulation when the tip of his tongue rapidly flicks over your clit.

“ah, ah, no holding back, pretty girl. let me hear you…” he breathes against your cunt. “doing so good for me, just… one more fucking time, please.” his tongue works overtime trying to make you make another mess on his face; he wants his tongue soaked in your honeyed juices again.

you moan out his name, fingers tightly tugging at his locks again, trying to pull him away but also bringing him closer, not knowing what you want. he groans softly against you, his own eyes rolling back.

“listen to her… so wet, so sweet… fuck, what did i do to deserve such a perfect pussy? she’s singing so sweetly.” he’s delirious, drunk on your cunt, rambling into it as he continues to drag his tongue up and down your slit as if he can’t get enough.

he pulls back slightly to look at your weeping hole winking at him, juices dripping out. it’s as if he’s in a trance, eyes glazed over with love and lust as they glue to the sight.

one of his thumbs comes up to rub small circles on your clit, watching the way it winks at him again. it makes him smirk before he dives back in, this time his tongue moves slowly, taking his time savouring you. the tip of his tongue pushes past your folds and he groans deeply at the way your quivering walls pulse around his muscle. he’s so agile even with his tongue, curling it just right while his nose nudges your over-sensitive clit once again.

you consume his senses and he closes his eyes, enjoying your essence on his tastebuds, the sweet, sweet musk of your pussy, and the sound of your crying walls begging for release as he slowly moves his tongue.

almost as if his body is moving automatically, his ministrations speed up and his thumb rubs firm circles on your clit. you shudder with pleasure, fingers tightening in his hair and the sheets again as your thighs threaten to close around his head but his hands quickly push them back down with a determined grip. his head moves energetically between your thighs, quickly bringing you back to the verge of release and you chant his name as if it’s the only word you know.

“g-gonna… cum… wait… ah!” you stutter and moan. with a few more curls and thrusts of his tongue and circles on your bud, you cum almost explosively. your vision blurs, black dots filling your view as your back arches completely off the bed as a strangled moan of his name leaves your mouth.

“mmm, that’s it, pretty girl. let go for me, give me every last drop.”

who knows if gojo's craving was finally fulfilled.

[moonmaiden1996]

If you're not a couple... How would Sanji react to you catching him masturbating and vice versa? 😏

Catching Sanji Masturbating 💛🔥

You weren’t expecting to walk in on him like this. Maybe you were looking for him in the kitchen, expecting to find him making a late-night snack, but instead, you find yourself standing frozen at the threshold of his dimly lit quarters.

And what you see?

Sanji sprawled out on his bed, half-undressed, shirt unbuttoned and barely hanging from his shoulders. Golden strands of his hair cling to his damp forehead, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. His fingers clutch desperately at the sheets beneath him, knuckles white from the strain, but it’s his other hand that really steals your attention.

He’s stroking himself—long, slow, deep strokes—hips bucking slightly, thighs trembling. And the worst (or best?) part?

"Nngh—ahhhh..."

He’s moaning your name.

A broken, needy sound that punches the air from your lungs.

The moment he realizes he’s not alone, everything stops. His entire body tenses, muscles locking up as his dazed, pleasure-clouded eyes flicker open. He meets your gaze, and the realization hits—his breath catches, face burning a deep shade of red, his mouth opening and closing like he’s scrambling for something—anything—to say.

"I-It’s not what it looks like!"

Oh, but it is.

Frantic, he tries to cover himself, grabbing the nearest object—which, unfortunately for him, is a thin pillow that does absolutely nothing to hide his straining, twitching arousal. His fingers tremble against the fabric, his chest still heaving as he struggles to regain any semblance of composure.

If you tease him? He might die on the spot. Stammering, apologizing, maybe even begging you to forget what you saw. But if you don’t leave—if you take even one slow, measured step closer—his breath hitches.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, muscles visibly tensing beneath his flushed, sweat-slicked skin. His hand twitches—like he wants to keep touching himself but doesn’t know if he can with you watching.

"D-Don’t just stand there looking at me like that…" his voice is barely more than a shaky whisper, hoarse and desperate. "You’re making it worse."

You own him now.

Because every time after this? Every single time he’s alone, needy and restless, his hand clamping around his aching cock his thoughts are going to go right back to this moment. To you standing there, watching him, teasing him, maybe even joining him.

Sanji was already down bad for you—this? This just sealed his fate, you are the one for him.

Sanji Catching You Masturbating—And Screaming His Name 🔥💛

You thought you were alone.

The ship was quiet, the night air cool, and everyone else had either retired or gone about their own business. It was safe. No one would walk in.

Or so you thought.

Your back arched off the mattress, fingers working over your heated skin, teasing yourself, chasing that sweet, blissful edge. Your breathy moans filled the room, growing louder, needier—until finally, the pleasure overwhelmed you, and the name on your lips spilled out in a sharp, helpless cry.

"S-Sanji—ahh—Sanji!"

And that was the moment the door slammed open.

"Merde—!"

A sharp, strangled inhale, followed by the thunk of something hitting the floor.

Your eyes fly open, panic spiking through your veins, and there he is—Sanji, standing in the doorway like he just walked into heaven and hell at the same time.

His breath is caught in his throat, his entire body locked up. His eyes, dark and wild, flicker from your flushed face to where your fingers are still buried between your thighs, glistening and trembling.

His cigarette slips from his lips. He doesn’t even notice.

For a moment, there’s only silence.

Then—

"Oh my god."

His voice is wrecked, deep, hoarse, and shaking as he grips the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him standing. His face is redder than his damn suit, and his chest heaves like he just sprinted across the entire ship.

*"I—I didn’t—I mean, I heard—*mon dieu—I thought you were in danger—" his voice breaks slightly, physically trembling now. His knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the wood.

And then? His knees buckle.

He drops to the floor like his legs have completely given out.

His gaze is glued to you, pupils blown wide with a mixture of shock, arousal, and something darker. He’s still trying—trying to be a gentleman, trying to look away, to respect you, but his hands twitch against his thighs, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, and—oh, he’s struggling.

"I—do you—" he swallows hard, voice dangerously low, "Do you need help?"

And if you nod? If you so much as whisper his name again?

He whimpers.

And if you order him to stay....To watch? To help?

Sanji—sweet, hopelessly lovesick, would be in heaven because he will die from the most powerful nose bleed to ever overtake him.

Eitherway Sanji is in trouble. He is screwed both literally and figuratively.

[steddieas-shegoes]

slowly, then all at once

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "as he read, i fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once." from the fault in our stars by john green

rated t | 731 words | cw: nightmares | tags: pre-relationship, feelings realization, literal sleeping together, cuddling

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

Steve’s nightmares aren’t a secret. The severity of them, along with the frequency, and how shitty he feels after, those are all secrets. Not even Robin quite knows how bad it gets sometimes.

The summer is worse: the memories of the Russians, the way the pool reflects off his window at night, the humidity clinging to his skin reminding him too much of the way dust and ash and mud clings in the Upside Down.

He feels stupid after spring break, that he should even still have traumatic memories when Eddie almost died. But he does. They’re worse now. He isn’t being tortured, Robin isn’t even in these ones. It’s always Eddie.

Eddie bleeding.

Eddie’s broken body.

Eddie not breathing.

Eddie dying.

It’s weird how quickly he took over Steve’s brain, how he went from being someone Steve barely knew from school to being one of his closest friends. Near-death experiences tended to do that, he supposes.

But it’s almost every night, and he rarely gets more than a couple hours of sleep before they hit, so he’s in a constant state of exhaustion these days. It’s not great for all the volunteering he does, and the usual taking the kids where they need to go, and trying to find a new job, and trying to convince Robin he’s fine. The bags under his eyes and the constant slump of his shoulders says everything.

She worries, but she knows he just has to get over the hump.

They all do.

Eddie stays with him late into the night a lot. It’s like he senses that being alone is the catalyst.

He finds excuses, tries to make it seem like he’s the one who doesn’t wanna be alone. Steve appreciates it, but he’s far past the point of feeling any shame for being afraid of being alone.

He doesn’t turn him away, though. Eddie sticks around for hours most nights, well past the point he should. Sometimes they watch movies, sometimes they just turn music on and sit quietly in the living room. Eddie is always moving a little, fingers tapping, leg jiggling, head bobbing. It’s good, though. It’s nice.

And sometimes he lays down in Steve’s bed with him until he falls asleep. He doesn’t touch him, or really do anything more than just exist in the space while Steve closes his eyes and drifts off. He’s always gone when Steve wakes up.

Tonight, he’s got a book open and Steve’s curled up under his blankets. His bones ache from how tired he is, and he wonders if his body will ever get to the point where exhaustion keeps the nightmares away. Steve’s eyes are closed, but he’s not asleep. Not yet.

Eddie’s voice is soft, accents coming through for some characters, colorful inflections describing the scenery. Steve smiles to himself as his eyes start to feel heavy.

It’s nice to be read to. He doesn’t know which book this is, but it sounds like a dream.

Maybe he’ll dream about this instead of bats circling a body he loves.

Oh.

His eyes open and he looks up at Eddie, who doesn’t stop reading, even when Steve knows he can feel his eyes on him. It’s a beautiful thing, to see Eddie so enraptured in a story that he’s probably read before, to see him still putting the effort into giving Steve a show even though Steve was mostly asleep.

He loves him.

Steve loves Eddie.

Not the way he loves Robin, or the kids. Maybe closer to how he loved Nancy, but even that didn’t feel quite like this.

This feels like a later sunset after a long winter, a fresh breath of air after being stuck in the Upside Down, a glass of cold water in the middle of summer.

It’s refreshing, and waves of calm take over his body.

He settles.

He reaches out, places his arm over Eddie’s stomach, curls his fingers into his shirt. He buries his face into Eddie’s side.

Eddie pauses for a moment, just long enough that Steve worries he shouldn’t have done this. But then one arm covers Steve’s body and he continues, voice softer but no less enthusiastic.

Steve closes his eyes and falls into a deep sleep.

When he wakes, it’s calm. There’s no crying or screaming, no thrashing, no fighting.

Eddie’s there, holding Steve against him.

He loves him.

[twistedpink]

nsfw below the cut! 1/2(?)

This is the rewrite because I BOMBED the first draft, thinking I’d be too vulgar,, But I’m hoping this is what the people want! Sooooooo many unrealistic sexpectations polute smut and I’m hoping to be more lifelike. The format is character/length (inches) /sex skill (is unaffected by length!)

Trey Clover - 6. Exactly 6. - 7/10

-First measured it as a late preteen, and left the ruler in his bathroom!!! Got caught right away, his family still jokes about it,,

-He’s trimmed but not shaven (can’t avoid razor bumps no matter how hard he tries), with little moles near the base that give him heart attacks whenever they grow. Once tmi’ed Cater drunkenly with a “They’re on my money makerrrr :(“ then threatened him into taking it to the grave

-Trey is FANTASTIC at fingering, and talks about ass like he’s kneading dough but in sexy way!! Loves doing it while spooning, he says there’s no better way to stay close <3

Cater Diamond - 5ish - 4/10

-Cater takes PREMIUM nudes, and knows how to hide them real easy! He’s got this alternate network rigged up by this ignihyde kid, and- Oh! More pics and less talking? Blocked :D You’re required to listen to his rants for any play (not that it’s good)

-He is FULLY shaven and always keeps moisturized- he looks wayyy too much at his own balls to be normal, but at least he tastes clean! (Also talks about being uncut a LOT, everyone knows)

-Your poor boyfie gets SO sweaty when he’s on top, it’s a mercy to let him lay back and get spoiled,, I mean, can you blame him? The closest he’s gotten to penetration was some blowie he paid for on snapspell.. Please keep touching him! He’s got a spankbank to feed!

Leona Kingscholar - 4 - 2/10

-You can describe sex with Leona in one word. Sloppy. There’s just sweat and slick everywhere!! He might not have the highest libido, or any creative positions in his repertoire, but he’s a professional at laying down and taking it!

-For any regular sessions, you have to be the one to initiate- It’s not that he doesn’t want it, but time passes pretty quickly when you’re asleep,, Some good morning fun’ll perk him right up! (He’s started to blame you for being late to practice. It’s getting harder to hide your “secret hacks” from Epel,,)

-Nobody has time to stay shaven when you only get six hours of daylight. You are SO lucky that the hair’s thin, but unless you’re doing it in the shower there’s no way to avoid the sweat :(

Vil Schoenheit - 6, closer to five - 4/10

-The ONLY reason his ss is so low, is his inexperience! He’s the perfect man in every other aspect, but do you really want to sneak off set after set for mid hookups? Is it even worth it?

-Once he’s in a groove, sex with Vil is amazing- But the aftercare is what you’re really after. A warm compress and fruity snack is just what you need after “oral” or “digital” (He doesn’t let you use the fun words like “blowie” or “handy”. Sex is deadly serious with him, excluding a few giggles!)

-Vil may start off with a slow sex drive and high standards, but the lure of quickies is too strong!! Suddenly he needs your mouth on his daily, and he feels pathetic :( So long as you don’t make fun of his “perfectly normal sexual appetite”, you’ll continue being gifted with his presence. Be very careful what you say and touch!

[thebigbadbatswife]

Finding You

Pairing - Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Summary - The night that You and Bruce first laid eyes on one another.

Warnings - Pre-Relationship, First Meetings, Dancing, Alcohol, Age Gap, Older Man/Younger Woman.

A/N - Same 'verse as Sippin' on Sunshine and Morning Glory. As always, this fic is a standalone and does not require any previous fics to be read in order to be enjoyed.

Word Count - 2.2k

From the second that you entered the room, Bruce has been unable to take his eyes off of you. It’s not the half a million dollar jewels hanging from around your throat or the matching set of earrings. Nor the designer dress that is way too scandalise for an event like this that has him staring. 

Sure, they drew his eye to you to begin with, but that’s true of the whole room. While most people have returned their attention back to what had hold of it before, his eyes keep coming back to you and he’s really doing his best to not appear like a leering old man.

In all honestly, he couldn’t care less about the jewels or the dress. He can certainly appreciate an attractive woman, but it’s not the sole reason he’s watching you. What has him enchanted is the way that you carry yourself. 

You’re what? Half his age? At the very least? Yet you don’t bat an eye at the gossiping or the remarks that everyone has about you or your dress. One too many people bringing up one of those playboy shoots you’ve done in the past, rather loudly at that, but you don’t care. In fact, you’re smiling about it. Thriving off of it even, but not in a narcissistic way.

Bruce isn’t a betting man, but if he was he would be willing to bet half of his fortune that his was the sort of rise that you wanted out of these people tonight. 

The only thing he can’t figure out is why. What do you get from all of the negative attention you’re drawing toward yourself? Most people try to avoid that, but here you are embracing it. 

And there’s the way that you hold yourself with such grace. A grace that most of his own kids still haven’t learned, but not for the lack of trying on Alfred’s part.

The woman in front of you has no idea that you tuned her out ages ago. Your ability to keep up the look that you’re listening, with a nod here and an “oh I know what you mean,” there is impressive. Your smile is perfect. It’s practised and one that Barbie would be jealous off. Not an ounce of boredom to be seen anywhere on your face or in your posture. You know every step to this boring dance and you haven’t drunk a single thing. At least nothing alcoholic. Even Bruce, every once in a while, finds that he needs a drink to deal with it all, but you appear to be completely unaffected.

There’s two ways how he knows you’re feining interest with the woman. 

The first one being because, unbeknownst to everyone here, he’s the World’s Greatest Detective. Noticing such things is second nature to him. The second one is because, more than once, you have met his gaze. You’re not glaring daggers at him like you have at every other man here tonight. No. The look you have for him is one of curiosity.

One of the men he’s talking to starts to laugh, snapping Bruce’s attention away from you and back toward him. The rest of the men are either smirking or looking at him like they’re all in on a joke that he isn’t. It has his skin pricking with irritation.

“Oh, I wouldn’t look her way, Wayne,” he says. “Girl’s more frigid than that man in the icebox! You would have an easier time getting into the Queen of England’s bed!” 

All of the men around him laugh loudly. As if it’s the funniest thing that they have ever heard. While Bruce has to take a deep breath and remind himself not to cause a scene by clocking someone. That doesn’t stop his tongue from lashing them, weaponised with the things that he had observed from these men early on in the evening.

“Or, perhaps, she just isn’t interested in lecherous men that touch women without their consent.”

It’s satisfying to watch as as their faces drop and they all fall silent at his response. Eyes filling with realisation that he’s not one of them as their stomachs drop because he’s heard and seen the things they have said and done tonight. Bruce could truly ruin them. Have their names and companies’ reputations smeared for all time and make sure that no one ever does business with any of them ever again. He is a Wayne after all and when he speaks the world holds its breath and listens. 

Hell, he will do exactly that. Perhaps even throw Batman into the mix. Right now though that’s a matter for another time. One for when he isn’t in the middle of a ballroom.

Bruce doesn’t stick around to hear any of their retorts. If there are any retorts to be had to begin with.

He downs the rest of the champagne as he walks away and places the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray. He decides that he needs something stronger than the champagne being served. Batman’s off duty tonight, his responsibilities entrusted to his eldest son and youngest daughter so he can afford to have a stronger drink. 

If he’s standing by the bar, it might also make him more approachable than being surrounded by a group of men that you have a very clear distaste for.

As he crosses the room, Bruce can’t stop himself from looking in your direction. Once more, your eyes meet his. You’re still looking at him with that same look. Like you’re not quite sure what his game is at. You’re trying to read him like he’s trying his best to read you. He quirks an eyebrow at you, a small yet genuine smile playing on his lips. He only holds your gaze for a moment before he’s turning away again. 

Once the bartender has poured him a glass of whiskey, he decides to stay at the end of the bar. It’s quieter and he has had enough of mind numbing conversations with men whose names he can’t fully remember no matter how many times he meets them.

He really is hoping that this will make him more approachable. Anything so he can have a conversation with you.

It’s strange. He hasn’t wanted anyone’s attention like this in a very long time. Not since Selina… 

Yet, here he is. Hoping like a schoolboy that this works.

As he sips on his drink, he’s all too aware of the women and men around him. All of them desperately trying to get his attention. They’re batting their eyelashes and trying to lean close to him to strike up a conversation. Some even going as far as to grab ahold of him and calling out “Brucie!”.

Bruce pretends that they aren’t there. His eyes glued to the dark amber liquid in the crystal glass. Fortunately they all give up quickly, some muttering under their breaths about him being stuck up, as they walk away. 

The sound of heels approaching him catches his attention and he perks up. Suddenly his drink is no longer as interesting as all of his focus now zeroes in on you. The sound of your heels is quickly followed by your voice.

“Mr Wayne, right?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” Bruce replies. He turns to face you, pleased that his plan has worked. “You can just call me Bruce.”

“Well, Bruce, did you know you’re the only person who hasn’t once stared at my boobs tonight?” you ask. An older woman nearby chokes on her drink at what you ask.

He chuckles softly. “Well, that would be rude. I don’t even know your name.” 

For a moment he wonders if he has misread things and has gone a little too far because you fall quiet. That quiet doesn’t last long though as, before he knows it,  you’re laughing. Even going as far as to step into his space briefly, your hand gently gripping his arm. Which, for the first time tonight, he doesn’t mind. 

Already he can see the articles and hear the shit the vultures will have to say about tonight. Even from this one small interaction, but since when has he ever cared what they think? 

“I’ve heard a lot of one liners, but not one that has actually made me laugh.” Your eyes shine with amusement, like it’s the funniest thing you have heard.

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he returns your smile. You introduce yourself to him and he repeats your name, testing it out on his tongue.

“That’s a pretty name,” he tells you. “And I have a bunch more one liners that you’ve likely never heard.”

“But?” 

“You’ll have to agree to go on a date with me.”

He, honestly, doesn’t even know why he wants a date with you so badly. He had sworn off dating anyone ever again. Happy to spend the rest of his life alone, considering what he had lost. But here he is. Doing his best to get a date with you. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s it? All I have to do is agree to go out with you?” 

He laughs softly. You’re good at this. “I mean, I would like it if you did go out with me, but you don’t have to if you really don’t want to. I won’t hold it against you.”

You look at him for a moment. The gears in your mind turning. At the same time the music in the room changes. It’s the sort of tune that’s perfect for dancing. Something that you don’t miss as you look away from him for a moment, your eyes searching for something in the room. 

You hum softly, looking back at him. “How about this instead. You dance with me and I give you a date?”

A quick glance to toward what should be the dance floor shows no one dancing, but you don’t seem to care about that. You want all eyes on the two of you and he’s happy to oblige.

Bruce sets his drink aside and takes you by the hand, leading you toward the dance floor. Your eyes light up at him actually taking you up on your counter offer.

You already know the steps, easily settling into rhyme with him as he moves you around the dance floor. All eyes are on the two of you, but he honestly doesn’t even notice them. You don’t appear to either.

All of his focus is on you and all of your focus is on him.

As you dance, the dancefloor doesn’t remain empty for long. Other couples join in. After all, if dancing is good enough for him, why shouldn’t it be good enough for them?

Even with the dance floor filling up, the two of you remain the focus. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see women, both older and younger, leaning in close and gossiping as they watch you and him glide across the dance floor. 

You and Bruce are going to be the talk of the world and he hasn’t even taken you out yet.

Has that been your plan all along? To get him out in the open with you? You want the attention, that much he’s figured out already. And this is going to come with a lot of that. A lot of it negative from the journalists that hate his guts.  The rest of it, he can’t figure out. You are completely unreadable to him. It’s a good thing he has always enjoyed a good challenge. 

The music ends far too soon for his liking and you are stepping away from him. 

“Can I have your phone?” you ask him. “I want to give you my number.” 

“Of course.” Bruce doesn’t hesitate as he reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out his cell. He unlocks it and hands it over to you.

"You'll text me the time and place?” you ask him, your fingers moving like lightning on the keyboard.

“Of course,” he replies. “I’m looking forward to it.” And he really is. For the first time in a long time, he’s actually looking forward to a date.

“As am I. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very early start tomorrow. It was nice to meet you, Bruce.”

“It was nice to meet you, as well.” 

He expects you to just walk away. Leaving him waiting and wanting more. 

Instead you step back into his space and press a kiss to his cheek. As quickly as you entered his space, you’re gone again, this time turning around and walking away. He can feel himself blush and he’s sure that there’s lipstick staining his cheek now. 

The men that he had been talking to early are looking in his direction, their jaws almost on the floor. It really wasn’t the aim, but Bruce can’t help feeling a little smug over it. Since he wil likely make more of mess trying to wipe it off, he leaves the mark there and returns to the bar for a fresh drink. 

He can’t wait until the next time that he gets to see you.

[suugarbabe]

Mom (can I call you mom?) I need a DISGUSTING AMOUNT OF FLUFF like I need kisses YEARNING HOD THE YEARNING!?!??!?!!!!???! I'm talking DIABOLICAL angst “did you touch her?” WOUND CLEANING DESCRIPTIVE CUDDLING AND AND MOM AND I NEED MAYBE LITTLE SMUT WITH EITHER SIRIUS BLACK OR LORENZO BERKSHIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure scratching my skin begging you please your writing is my lifeline MOM FEED ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hiii lovie! mom, mommy, mommy sab; all appropriate and approved 😌

thanks sm for the request! I haven’t written smut in a hot minute so I do apologize if it’s a little jank. otherwise here you go babes (I chose Enzie baby btw)

The feeling of Enzo’s nose nuzzling against your neck before his lips attached to skin was dizzying. Your senses overloaded with all that was him and as one of his large hands splayed across your back, pulling your hips flush to his while his other braced his weight against the corridor wall you were pressed against.

“Enz,” you gasped his name out as his lips attached to a particular sensitive area just beneath your ear. “Hmm?” He hummed against your skin, dragging his lips down your neck once more before finally pulling away and meeting your eyes. “I can’t help myself, baby,” Enzo’s voice was low, almost groaning out his sentences before burying his face in your neck once more, “I just wanna devour you in the hall.”

You let out a gasping laugh, knotting your fingers through his hair to pull him off you. The fuckers eyes rolled at the action, “Fuuuck, baby, love it when you’re not afraid to be rough in front of others.” His tone of slightly teasing, allowing you to push him back a step by his chest. “You’re ridiculous Enz, and we’re both going to be late.”

Enzo only smirked as he threw an arm around your shoulder as you both walked to your next lesson, “You know McGonagall actually loves me. she only gives that disapproving look to the people she cares for.” You shook your head with a grin, pushing his arm off your shoulder as you entered the classroom.

As you stepped away from his to head to your own table, Enzo grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled you back to his chest before grabbing your face and slotting his lips between yours once more. “I think that’s enough, Mr. Berkshire. You’re about hitting my limit of affection displays for the term,” Professor McGonagall firmly directed your boyfriend to his seat with a pointed finger.

Your cheeks burned red as you found your own seat a few tables in front of him. “Today we will be working in partners,” McGonagall’s began, quickly having any murmurs of the class turns to groans of complaint with her finished sentence, “that I have already chosen for you.” Thankfully you were not paired with anyone too disastrous; instead getting a very nice ravenclaw boy who was immensely helpful. Even showing you how to properly hold your want to get the incantation just right.

Which all really seemed innocent enough. At least in your mind. But on your way to dinner your heard it. That sharp change in Enzo’s voice that only comes out when his possessive side does. “I’ll ask you again, and for fucking Salazar’s sake you better have a good answer. Why were you touching what isn’t yours to fucking touch?”

You couldn’t see him yet, but it was quite easy for you to visualize; that little tilt in Enzo’s head when he’s asking a question almost mockingly. Because he doesn’t really care about the answer. He’s going to hurt them either way.

There was a small crowd formed around them; you had shoved your way through a few people just in time to see Enzo’s fist connect with the Ravenclaw’s face one, two, three times before you’re calling out to Theo and Matty to stop him.

Now Enzo was pouting on the edge of his bed, trying to keep his sour look while you dabbed a gauze over his split knuckles. “Hey, that hurts!” Enzo flinched his hand back with a hiss. You smacked the side of his thigh before grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand back towards you, “Stop being a baby, this is your fault you know! Beating on someone for no good reason. We need to get your jealousy in check.”

Enzo rolled his eyes at your words. You were having none of it, grabbing his chin and forcing his eyes to look at you, “Don’t do that.” He narrowed his eyes at you; you could almost see the gears turning in his brain to make some sort of smart ass remark. You really didn’t want a fight, even if it was half hearted.

You repositioned your grip on his chin, catching his off guard with a hand on his throat as you pull his lips to yours. He responded quickly, his hands going for your hips and pulling you to his lap. You braced yourself on his shoulders as he pulled you both further on to the bed.

You pushed back on his shoulders, Enzo taking the hint on laying back on the bed, pulling you with him. You braced yourself on either side of his head as you deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth as you ground your his down to his, causing you both to moan.

You trailed your lips across his jaw, over the skin of skin of his neck, “You know there’s nothing to be jealous of, baby…” Enzo let out a strained grunt as your teeth grazed his collar bone, your fingertips dancing along his sides causing his muscles to twitch.

“The only one I ever want is you, Enzie baby…maybe I just need to remind you how much I appreciate you, hmm?” You sat up, pulling your shirt over your head. Enzo’s eyes grew wide, his pupils dilating, iris’s growing darker. His hands were immediately on you, marveling at your bare skin, squeezing at your waist when your fingers began undoing his trousers, “Oh fuck baby, yeah?”

He raised his hips eagerly, allowing you to slide everything down his legs. You wrapped your hand around his cock while he helped you get them the rest of the way off, his eagerness nearly radiating off him as he laid down again.

You continued to work him with your hand as you kissed and nipped at his thighs, his hips bucking, begging for more. “Patience, baby,” you teased, biting and sucking at the meat of his thigh before soothing it with your tongue. Enzo opened his mouth for a smart remark but all words were lost as you chose that moment to drag your tongue up the length of his shaft.

“Fuuucking hell, baby,” you had barely gotten started and already he was praising you. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock as you spit on the head, using your other hand to spread it along his shaft before wrapping your lips around him. Enzo let out a whine of a moan, and gods did he sound so pretty.

You started to bob your head, just shallowly at first, enough to get him worked up. Then you released with a pop, a gasp leaving his lips and almost a complaint before you took one of his balls in your mouth, tongue swirling over the sensitive skin as your hand still pumped his length, thumb swiping over the tip and making his thighs twitch.

You took the other side in your mouth, flattening snd lengthening your tongue to graze that sensitive patch of skin just before his hole that had his whole body jolting and his fingers lacing in your hair. “Holy fucking Salazar, fuck, baby you keep doing that and i’m gonna cum, but I need to be in your mouth, yeah? Please baby let me fill that pretty little throat of yours,” Enzo was practically whimpering, begging. And who were you to deny such polite requests.

You flattened your tongue again, letting him fill your mouth with his cock until you could feel him hit the back of your throat; then you pushed him a little further, testing your gag reflex and swelling around the head of his cock. Slurred expletives mixed with your name spilled from Enzo’s lips as you repeated the action. You dragged your nails along the side of his abdomen, feeling the muscles in his stomach twitch and you knew he was close.

You did your best to relax your throat, Enzo’s grip on your hair getting stronger and you allowed his full length in your mouth and down your throat, nose brushing his pelvic bone. “Oh gods oh fuck oh fuck, baby i’m cumming..i’m cumming, i-i’m cum-“ a string of whining moans left his pretty pink lips as he held his cock down your throat and filled your mouth before his grip on your head lightened.

You swallowed everything he gave you, making sure to drag your tongue up his length, licking his tip clean and smirking at the way his stomach twitched before releasing him from your mouth. Enzo’s chest rose and fell rapidly as you kissed up his stomach, over his chest and along his neck before connecting your lips with his.

He hummed into the kiss before pulling away slightly and cupping your cheek, “Mmm you know I can’t guarantee I won’t get jealous again..not when I know you can do that.” You smiled, brushing your knuckle against his cheek, “That’s okay, Enz baby. I’ll just have to remind you of your appreciating again.”

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀✸⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀𝓒hapter 19⠀﹚⠀ა ︎ ﾞ .

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀atoning to his mistakes, miguel has been putting much dedication to you and the baby. he accompanies you to your next doctors appointment and find out the sex of your baby then head to the grocery store where you meet a friend.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀fluff, pregnancy, timeskip, mildly suggestive (mdni), ultrasounds, pet names, swearing, gender reveal, sweetheart miguel is back, mini jealous!miguel

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

everything has been different, in a good way.

in a very good way.

miguel has been working his ass off, keeping his promise to work for you and the baby, show you that he wants to be a part of this family. he has been doing everything, dedicating himself to you both. and by everything, he means everything. the man doesn’t really let you don’t much, even if you’re still in your first trimester barely beginning the second. you can still function and even told miguel that you’re fine but he heavily insisted you should not worry about anything but rest, for yourself and the baby. although, you did win somewhat of the argument about doing little things like taking luna out for walks like usual, passing him dishes since he would be washing them, doing and folding laundry.

if you’re craving something, no matter what time of the day or night, he’s getting it for you. during the middle of the night, you were craving ice cream but there wasn’t any in your fridge. miguel saw your face of disappointment as he entered the kitchen, since he heard you get out of bed. also, he’s been staying at your place, basically abandoned his own apartment. his excuse was he needed to be there for you. all of his belongings were brought over to your place, just clothes and bathroom necessities. the only time he would go back to his place was if he forgot something. miguel really didn’t have that much, not that he needed anything honestly. concern course through his body as he approached you and asked what was wrong. his heart melted at that cute pout when you said there was no ice cream. even melted more when that pout was replaced with a bright smile as he brought ice cream from the nearest convenient store. miguel would literally fight demons just to see that gorgeous smile.

every morning you always find him in the kitchen cooking breakfast. the man never let you touched the stove. even when you try sneaking to the kitchen to make yourself something, his baritone voice from behind startles you. no matter how much you plead or show off that cute pout of yours, miguel will gently tell you no and leave a kiss on your forehead then gently guide out of the kitchen so he can make whatever you wanted. he always find you grumpy utterly adorable. you can’t stay upset at him either, your heart always melt at his kindness in the end.

miguel also contributes to baby planning. remember when he fixed that crooked shelf of your bookshelf? the man decided to build a crib for the baby. no matter how many times you said he didn’t have to and suggested he should buy one so he didn’t have to go through the trouble, but miguel said it was his own apology to the baby. it was impossible for your heart to not flutter at that. although, it was super cute watching him craft and build the crib. standing by the doorway, admiring him with a soft smile. how dedicated and focus he was. especially when his muscles ripple as he maneuvered around. that tight shirt outlining his shoulders and biceps perfectly.

“enjoying the show, hermosa?”

his teasing snaps you out of trance and you just roll your eyes. “most definitely.”

that stupid cute smirk on his face kills you every time. even if he’s being a bit cocky, he still manages to make you a bashful mess.

throughout the day, you’ll offer him food and a drink during breaks which you encouraged. a grateful smile illustrated on his slightly sweaty face as he takes the late and glass from your hands. once the crib was built completely, you and miguel admire the cute little piece of furniture, handcrafted by the baby’s father. you adore it so much.

“i love it, miguel.” you smile up at him. “we love it.”

miguel’s heart leaps in his chest. he adored the ‘we’ part, he hopes the baby will love it when they get older and find out about its origins.

since he built it, you got to decorate it. although you don’t have a nursery since your apartment has one bedroom, you dedicated the small corner of your room as a tiny nursery. the theme is moon and stars with a neutral color scheme so it can accommodate either gender. everything you bought fits the theme, a soother toy for the crib, a few pillows, blankets, and a crescent moon plushie. all with the help of miguel.

a thin layer of tears of happiness swell in yours as you admire the cute tiny nursery for your baby. “i love it so much…” you let out a tiny sniffle.

miguel wraps an arm around you, gently brings you closer towards him in a loving embrace, and you lean into him like honey. “it’s beautiful.”

other baby planning is searching for necessities such as a stroller, a carseat, and diapers but you reassure him that your sister-in-law will give you all her baby stuff since her and your brother are done with kids after the third one and the kids are grown up. even some of your cousins offered to give you some of their baby stuff. at least your bank account won’t suffer. you’re grateful to have a supportive family and so is miguel. it’s truly a big help for you both.

beside baby planning, miguel has also been doing research about babies and parenting. not only the man is in the military and a basically a blue collar but also a major nerd. you would find him reading articles about babies and parenting on his phone. a big smile on his face as he tells you tips and facts. you find it adorable how invested he is. reading all that information makes him more excited about becoming a father. that smile says everything.

the man is basically your servant, expect you don’t want to think of him like that, he’s the man you still love and who’s trying his best to atone his mistakes.

because of his hard efforts and dedication, your relationship is rebuilding and becoming more secure. the trust you had for him is gradually coming back. the intense dedication impressed you undoubtedly. of course you knew miguel is a dedicated, hardworking, and committed man due to his military experience. but this was different, more heartfelt. you appreciate everything he has done for you. although forgiveness is appreciated, miguel is doing this because he wants to. becoming a part of this family and rebuilding his relationship with you are his main priorities. you and the baby are his priorities.

several weeks go by and you’re in your second trimester, which means you’re showing more. a more prominent but cute baby bump. miguel never got so emotional yet obsessed about something before. the first time he saw your slightly bigger pregnancy bump, tears swelled up in his eyes. the sight is utterly heartwarming and adorable. his baby is growing and resting peacefully in their beautiful mother’s belly, you. oh god you, you look adorable with the baby bump now that it’s more prominent. his heart flutters every time he sees you and how your bump sticks out in all your clothing, especially in dresses since you start disliking wearing anything else since dresses give you freedom. whatever you wear, even a goddamn trash bag, you’re still beautiful.

miguel is utterly mesmerized by you, he always is, but especially now with your pregnancy and also the miraculous works of the female body. he has always admired women, especially mothers because they sacrifice their bodies to create and nurture life. it was a miraculous thing. seeing you enduring the changes of pregnancy and creating life is so mesmerizing. your belly expanding to accommodate the little life growing inside you, your womb as their cocoon protecting them indefinitely. it’s just so beautiful.

the changes of pregnancy also made him a little wilder. miguel is already obsessed with you and adores you to infinity. but now you’re more rounder, plumper, and thicker, it drives him fucking crazy. the evidence of his seed is more prominent and it drives miguel wild. it’s unclear why but seeing you waddling around with that cute baby bump makes him feral. the effects of motherhood so looks fucking good on you. miguel couldn’t resist you before, now it’s been more impossible to. the man utterly down bad.

your thicker hips, swollen breasts filled with milk, gradually expanding belly. everything ignites a primal desire in him. you waddling around the apartment, doing just normal thing the like cooking, cleaning, reading, or simply just standing there, it makes him hard. you just look so fucking beautiful.

is it weird to get a boner from your pregnant girlfriend by absolutely doing nothing and just being pure innocent? maybe but that proves miguel’s utter adoration for you, how much he loves you.

since you’ve been ensuing many bodily changes, you’ve never felt so achy almost everywhere. back, boobs, belly, feet. thankfully you have a gentle giant by your side to provide you the best messages ever. miguel would relieve you of the achy feeling with gentle yet firm messages with those large, calloused hands of him that you love. rubbing out those twisted knots, making you softly sigh or moan in relief. he is the best stress reliever, in both meanings.

you know when the dads lift up the mom’s belly so she can be relieved of the baby weight?

yeah, miguel does that.

one day, you’re trying to pick out another book to read but the weight of the baby was bothering you. the groan you let out captured miguel’s attention as he was coming back from the bathroom.

“sientes mal, preciosa?” he approaches with a concern look on his face, leaving a hand on the small of your back and rubbing gently circles.

“this baby weight is driving me crazy.” you groan, leaning your forehead against the bookcase.

his heart aches at you feeling uncomfortable. he wishes he could do something, take it away. then, miguel remembers reading about lifting up the mom’s belly to relieve her of the weight.

“i… i have an idea that could help.”

“i’ll take anything.” you groan, shoulders slumped.

his hands rise up to your shoulders. “can you stand up for me?” his tone very so gentle.

letting out a sigh, you obey and stand up straight, leaning back from the bookshelf. your body jolts slightly in excitement when you feel miguel pressed up against you from behind.

“do you trust me?”

his question makes you turn to look up at him with slightly furrowed brows, as if he’s crazy to ask that because of course you trust him.

“always.”

his hands give your shoulders a gentle, loving squeeze before he guides you to turn back. your heart flutters when you feel his hands lower dow, sneak up to your swollen belly, and delicately holds it in his grasp. ever so slowly and delicately, miguel lifts up your belly. as he lifts it piece by piece, suddenly you feel the weight of it vanish.

“oh fuck—” instinctively, you close your eyes and tip your head back against his chest. a big wave of relief courses through you. it feels so amazing.

“how does it feel?” miguel asks softly, still holding your swollen belly with such delicacy.

“feels fucking amazing.” a loopy smile on your face makes him chuckle.

it truly does feeling fucking amazing. all that weight from the baby vanished. you feel very floaty and god do you want to feel like this forever.

miguel is happy to see you so relieved and content. that is all he wants to do.

“i know this is gonna sound weird as fuck but it feels like you got me pregnant again.”

your silly comment makes him laugh.

“i take it that you feel good right now.”

“fuck yeah. do this more often, please.”

he softly chuckles. “claro, mi amor.”

and miguel did do it often. if it means you’ll feel better and happy, he will do it forever.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

it’s time for another visit to your OB and this time you’re not alone. miguel is accompanying you and you are so excited. he is as well, finally doing what he should’ve done beforehand. you knew he felt guilty about missing your first appointment but you reassure him that you’re happy he’s going this time and the next visits. but you both are mainly excited because you get to find out the sex of your baby. nether of you have preferences, only a healthy baby. however, it’s still something to be thrilled about.

you arrive at the clinic and check in with the receptionist, the same elderly lady who always greets you with a kind smile. her eyes widen a little due to miguel’s appearance but in a good way, greeting him the same smile which he returned one of his own. taking a seat, you and miguel wait patiently in the lobby. glancing around, there are variations of visitors. couples, some filling out paperwork, some scrolling through their phones, those alone. the women who are alone reminds you of your first visit. the loneliness and anxiety you felt that shitty day. no support by your side as you venture through that tough road. you were like them, all alone. although you don’t know their situation, you still sympathize for them. you wish them nothing but love and care.

but this time, you aren’t alone. beside you is the man you love dearly. the same man who is holding your hand, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. this time, you feel the support and love from your partner. miguel knows how much this means to you and will always be by your side. to this day, he still can’t believe he missed this and left you alone that day. the guilt still lingers, especially now, but he’s atoning to his mistake by being here with you and you can’t express enough how thankful you are. those thoughts makes you lean into him and rest your head on his arm. miguel quickly wraps his arm around your shoulders so your head rests on his chest and can embrace you properly.

“thank you for being here with me.” you whisper, resting a hand on your swollen belly.

“siempre, mi amor.” he gives your shoulder a loving squeeze and places a kiss on the top of your head.

you peek up at him, smiling. “you excited?”

“yeah, but also a bit nervous because… i never seen them before so…”

“i get it but trust me, it’s actually kinda fascinating to see them. i remember i was so fascinated seeing them for the first time, just a tiny blob inside. it was super weird but cool. now it’s a bigger blob.”

he let out a soft chuckle. “well, i can’t wait to see this blob and know if they’re a boy or a girl.”

“me too.” you rub your swollen belly, mentally letting them know how excited you are to see them.

soon, your name is called. miguel helps lifting you up with his hands and you both follow the nurse to your OB’s office. she informs you both that dr. chelsea will meet you momentarily. miguel helps you once again sit down on the examination seat and holds onto your purse as he takes a seat beside you.

a few minutes later, a knock on the door alerts you that dr. chelsea has arrived. the blonde woman enters the room, greeting you with a smile before her expression contours into a surprised one when her eyes land on the abnormally large man beside you.

“oh hello, surprised guest.” the woman approached you both, still smiling. “are you—”

“this is miguel, the baby’s father.” you reveal.

her brows rise in surprised. “oh, wonderful. nice to meet you, miguel. i’m dr. chelsea.” she approaches and reaches out a hand to shake.

“likewise, dr. chelsea.” he quickly stands up and gently shakes her hand before sitting back down.

“i see things are improving.” a little smile on her face as she takes a seat near the monitor. she recalls from your first visit about the father’s absence.

“we’re doing great, actually.” you glance at miguel with a smile, truly meaning your words.

he mirrors your smile and gives your hand a loving squeeze which you reciprocate.

“i’m very glad to hear that.” the woman spares you both a smile, pleased to hear improvement. “alright, starting off, how are you feeling?”

“sore sometimes but this man helps me out. other than that, just turning into a balloon.”

“i give her massages.” he smiles sheepishly.

she chuckles while typing away on the keyboard. “good, she’ll need those for a while.” she spares a grin at miguel then looks back at the screen. “no abnormal pain or anything?”

“no, thankfully.” you feel miguel squeeze your hand once again, a mutual feeling.

“good, good.” scooting away from the monitor and turn towards you, she clasp her hands together excitedly with a smile. “alright, you both ready to find out the sex of your baby?”

you and miguel share a glance, smiling at one another before nodding.

you turn back to the doctor. “we are!”

once you’re prepared, the ultrasound begins. yours and miguel’s eyes are trained on the screen as dr. chelsea maneuvers around to find out your baby’s sex. miguel lets out a soft gasp when the baby comes into the picture. a black and white blob on the monitor, it’s heartbeat echoing through the room. his heart raced in his chest the longer he stares, completely fascinated and enamored by seeing his baby for the first time. you were right, it is oddly satisfying. he feels your grip on his hand tightens a little as the anticipation grows stronger.

a smile crept onto the doctor’s face. “well, congratulations, you two. you’re having a baby girl.”

both your hearts skip a beat at the reveal.

a girl.

you’re having a girl.

tears swell in your eyes as you admire your baby girl in the monitor before quickly turning to look at miguel, who has tears of his own.

“we’re having a girl.” you say with teary eyes of joy.

waves of emotions hit miguel like a tsunami. happiness, shock, anxiousness. he is going to have a daughter. he is going to be a father to a girl. for some reason, he feels more emotional about this. having a daughter feels more… emotional.

a sudden wave of motivation courses through him. motivation to become the best father for his baby girl. motivation to try his best for his baby girl.

now he has two girls to take care of.

his two girls, you and his daughter.

never has miguel felt much happiness. of course you make him happy. this is another type of happiness yet you are part of the reason.

“we’re having a girl.” he repeats back to you, smiling at you through teary eyes as well.

you don’t hesitate to pull him into a tight, loving entrance as you both break into happy tears. an intimate and emotional moment while celebrating the news of your baby, a daughter.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

to celebrate the big news, you decide to get ice cream. you and miguel head over to the grocery store, not only for the ice cream but groceries in general since you need milk, eggs, and other things. miguel pushes the cart while you venture through the store, keeping a hand on your swollen belly while wandering around. a gleeful smile graces your face as you arrive at the ice cream aisle and pick out your favorite flavor, which miguel finds it adorable.

“does the baby want ice cream or you?” he can’t help but ask, grinning like an idiot.

“both.” you flash him a gleeful smile and place the ice cream container in the cart.

“i gotta use the restroom, i’ll be back, amor.” he quickly leaves a kiss on the top of your head.

“okay, also get chips on your way back, please!”

miguel nods as he walks away. at first, he didn’t want to leave you alone but his bladder was telling him it was about to burst. he knows you’ll be fine and can take care of yourself, it’s just protectiveness.

while wandering around and quickly grabbing lemonade from the fridge without looking, your hip bumps with the cart making it accidentally bump into someone else. it was a light bump but it still startled you a little and caused you to panic.

“oh shit, i’m sorry!”

“it’s alright.”

you recognize that deep, rich baritone voice. your eyes widen in surprise at a familiar face.

“logan?”

a small smile graces his lips. “hey, sweetheart.”

you can’t hold back the smile forming on your lips. the same dark brown hair and those iconic sideburns. instead of a tux from last time, he wears a red flannel and dusty blue pair of jeans.

damn, he looks good as hell. undeniably so.

“hey! it’s a been long ass time.”

“sure has, that baby has gotten bigger.” he gestures at your much bigger baby bump.

instinctively, you rest a hand on your swollen belly. “yeah, she’s getting bigger.”

those thick brows rise, surprised. “she, huh?”

“yeah! just found out today.”

“well, congratulations, sweetheart. she’s gonna be beautiful just like her mother.”

that makes your cheeks warm. “still a charmer.”

logan shrugs, smirking. “just being honest.”

while conversing with logan, miguel returns with the bag of chips you requested. the smile on his face drops when he sees the man from wedding talking to you once again. the scene emits a frown on his face.

what the hell is that guy doing here?

how did he find you again?

flashbacks of the wedding reception plays in his mind. that same man talking to you and dancing with you. miguel remembers how jealous, angry and hurt he felt watching you with another man. at the time, you weren’t together and you hated his guts so you had the right to engage with whoever. but that didn’t mean his heart wouldn’t ache when you did.

but now things are different and you’re back together. not only he feels jealous, also slightly possessive since you’re together again so you are his and he’s yours, but miguel also feels a bit insecure.

he knows you love him. the way you smile at him, give him hugs, care for him are proof. however, he can’t ignore the doubts plaguing his mind.

what if he isn’t good enough for you like that guy?

what if you decide to be with that guy than him?

part of him still wants to beat the shit out of that guy for approaching you once again, don’t get him wrong. however, miguel can’t control who you talk to. you can talk to whoever you like, it’s your right and no one else’s because you’re your own person. everyone has their own right and freedom.

it’s just jealousy and insecurity.

with a sad sigh, miguel finally walks over to you. the bag of chips still in his hand. you notice him from your peripheral and immediately look at him with a smile, happy to see your man.

“hey.” you say softly.

“got your favorite.” he places the bag in the cart.

“thank you.” you reach out to grab his bicep and give it a loving squeeze, a sign of gratitude.

logan, on the other hand, is taken aback by miguel’s presence. especially when he recognizes him from the wedding who got pissed off by the waiter and believed he was a total asshole for his attitude. his eyes shifted between you and miguel, thinking.

“oh! miguel, this is logan from peter’s and mj’s wedding. logan, this is miguel, the baby’s father—”

“her boyfriend.” miguel cuts in, a slightly stern look in his eyes as he holds out his hand to shake.

logan hums, concealing his surprise that miguel is the father but doesn’t comment on that and shakes miguel’s hand, which was a firm grip. “i remember you, parker’s best man.”

“we just happened to bump into each other again.” a soft chuckle leaves your lips.

“that’s our motto, i guess.” logan said.

“hm.” is all miguel could say, crossing his arms over his chest. he tries to not let that ‘our’ bother him but it does a little. although, he is trying to be civil.

you notice miguel’s behavior, sensing the jealousy. you feel bad for him. you recall the last time he saw you with logan and how upset he was. this time is different now you’re together again and you want to reassure him that you love him and only him. on the way home, you plan on showering him with love.

to make him feel better, you wrap your arm around his so they’re linked together and lean into him. the movement makes his heart skip a beat.

you turn to logan. “how’s construction going?”

logan shrugs nonchalantly. “it’s going alright, we’re almost finished with the last part of it actually.”

“oh wow! that’s great!”

that peaks miguel’s interest. “you’re in construction?”

logan’s eyes move up to him. “yep, wolverine constructions, family owned.”

those thick eyebrows rise in surprised. “wolverine constructions, your company built alchemax.”

the shorter male nods, crossing his arms. “it was a bitch to built but it came out decent.”

“my father is the ceo. the building turned out great.”

now logan is the one surprised. “well, your old man paid us a pretty big ass load.”

before you even know it, the two men are engaging in a conversation, babbling about construction. you remember miguel’s hobby of building things so it made the conversation more interesting. it’s nice to see them bonding. part of you was worried they would get at each other’s necks but thankfully they were simply bonding over similar interests.

miguel’s perspective of logan changed. he knew he didn’t seem like a bad guy, it was just jealousy. turns out logan is a pretty decent hardworking guy. logan shares similar thoughts about miguel as well.

perhaps a new friendship.

after enough chitchatting about construction, you and miguel bid logan farewell. he offers miguel one final handshake and you a smile before walking away, leaving you and miguel alone like before.

“he’s a decent guy.” he states.

a pleases smile on your face. “he is and i’m glad you two had a cute geeking out moment.”

miguel rolls his eyes. “we weren’t geeking out.”

you scoff. “you literally looked like little kids talking about your favorite superhero.”

another eye roll but he smiles this time. “tonta.” he ruffles your hair teasingly, making you squeal. “vamos, amor. we don’t want the ice cream to melt.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

you and miguel return home, your apartment since miguel is basically living with you. on the way to your apartment, you didn’t carry a single thing. miguel’s hands were filled with plastic bags. no matter how many times you protested about at least carrying one bag, miguel wouldn’t even let you touch them.

“you’re already carrying our daughter, you’re not carrying anything else.” he plants a kiss on your forehead, adoring that cute pout of yours.

while miguel puts away the groceries, you head to the bathroom to slip out of your dress and put on a nightgown to feel more comfy. entering the kitchen, your boyfriend welcomes you back with a smile.

“quieres takeout?” his smile widens when he sees your eyes sparkle in excitement.

“yes, please! we’re craving chinese, actually.”

“like mother, like daughter.” miguel walks up to you and gently place his hands on your baby bump.

“great minds think alike.”

once miguel ordered takeout and it arrives not too long afterwards, you both sit at the couch making munching on the food while watching ‘impractical jokers,’ which was your request.

miguel tries to focus on the show but his mind takes him somewhere else, right back to those doubts from earlier at the grocery store. while observing you talk with logan from afar, miguel felt a mixture of feelings. jealousy, insecurity, and sadness. you seemed so pleased to be talking with logan. how brightly you smile at him, making miguel’s heart ache with jealousy and hurt.

what did logan had that miguel didn’t?

ever since he returned, miguel felt so undeserving of you. but now seeing with another man who makes you smile like that, oh he felt really undeserving.

what if you’re better off with logan who is a good man than a broken, traumatized man like himself?

logan didn’t break your heart and abandoned you like he did. logan didn’t make you cry for endless weeks like he did. logan didn’t hurt you like he did.

you notice how deep he was in his thoughts by the frown on his face, brows furrowed and slightly hunched over. also how tightly his gripping the small box of chow mein to the point of almost bursting.

“miguel?” you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, making him snap out of those negative thoughts.

he turns and looks down at you in surprise, realizing he was too deep in those damn thoughts.

“you okay?” your voice laced with concern.

damnit, he really was overthinking too deep to the point of making your worry.

a sigh escapes his lips. “yeah… perdón, preciosa.”

your brows furrowed. “you sure?”

“yeah, don’t worry.”

he’s lying and you know it. there is something bothering him and you want to help him, encourage him to tell you so you can help him.

placing down your food on the coffee table, you turn to face him better. “miguel… something’s bothering you. you can tell me, please?…”

shit, you know him so well. now he can’t back out, not with that sweet tone of yours.

he places down his food beside yours on the coffee before tanning a hand through his hair and signing. “it’s stupid but… i remember how happy you were talking to logan and… what am i saying?…” miguel looks away, feeling frustrated with himself.

miguel relaxes when he feels your hand on his forearm, your soft touch always does. you wait patiently for him to figure out his words, a silent message that it was okay and you’re here for him.

“just seeing you so happy with him… i feel like i don’t make you feel happy the way he does…” another sigh falls from his lips. “he’s a better man than me and i feel like i don’t deserve you, i’m not good enough.”

your heart shatters at that. it’s understandable why he feels this way, you want to wish away those doubts and pull him into your arms. ever so gently, your hands come up to cup his face and miguel looks at you with puppy eyes that melts your heart.

“you are enough, miguel.” you say softly but sincerely. “i understand why you feel like this and i’m gonna tell you that i love you. there’s only one man that i love and i’m looking right at him.”

back at the grocery store, you told logan that you and miguel, the baby’s father since he didn’t know his yet, are back together so you told logan that you wanted to remain friends and he had no problem with that. ever so understanding man.

miguel can’t prevent the tears prickling in his eyes as he looks at you with utter adoration.

“everything you’ve been doing for us, for this family, i’m forever fucking grateful. that is dedication and commitment, miguel. you’re doing a fucking amazing job and we love you for it. i’ll say this and remind you everyday, you are enough and i love you.”

a single tear trials down his cheek, which you tenderly wipe with your thumb.

you’re so fucking beautiful.

how did he obtain an angel?

his hands lay on top of yours as he close his eyes and rest his forehead against yours. you stay like that until you lean closer and press your lips on his.

your first kiss in what feels like an eternity.

miguel doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, kissing you with pure adoration. god he missed your soft lips so much. an addictive taste that leaves him wanting for more. he just wants to kiss you forever.

the kiss continues until you gasp when you feel a kick in your stomach, startling you a little.

miguel’s eyes widen in concern. “amor, qué paso? are you hurt? is it the baby?” he expects a cry of pain but instead your lips curl up into a big grin, making him confused. “amor, what hap—”

“she kicked.” you grin.

those brown eyes instinctively glance down at your swollen belly then back up to your eyes. “wait really?” now, he had a grin too.

“yeah! look!” you grab his left hand and place it on your belly. another kick, right against his palm.

“she kicked!” miguel repeats excitedly.

both of you laugh in excitement. your baby girl kicked for the first time, she is communicating with you. perhaps the kiss got her excited.

your lips collide once again and you feel another kick, making you and miguel laugh.

those doubts he had earlier vanished completely. you love him and miguel loves you, as well as your unborn daughter that he’s excited to meet. he has his family and miguel will not ever let go of you both.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever @ibelyss @imissubaee ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Instinctive - L.C

🐺Who: Lee Chan (Seventeen) x female reader 🐺What: Smut. Supernatural au. Neighbours au. Werewolf Chan. Friends to lovers. 🐺Word count: 3.3k 🐺Warnings: Mentions of masturbation. Is it voyeurism when they’re in their own apartments and he’s jerking it to her jerking it? Idk but that. Rut. Ovulating. Breeding kink. Unprotected sex. Copious amounts of cum. Dirty talk, including some degradation. Knot :)). Multiple orgasms. Mention of past Seokmin x reader (i did him dirty, im sorry seok). Marking. Possessive Chan. Mention of sex toys. 🐺Summary: “There’s only so long Chan can last hearing you masturbating next door with his name spilling so melodically from your lips. His rut turns out to be his breaking point.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist

A/N- Thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for discussing this with me when I was coming up with the idea and supporting the rut smut agenda 💗

“Fuck.”

Chan doesn’t think he can handle this; another unsatisfying orgasm to the tune of you whimpering and moaning his name from the other side of the wall in your own apartment.

It’s not the first time he’s jerked off to the sound of you jerking off to him, at least, he assumes it’s him. He’s briefly entertained the possibility that you know another Chan, but he’s never lingered on it for the sake of his own self-satisfaction. Even if you’re touching yourself to the thought of a different Chan, he’s going to keep pretending it’s him you’re thinking off when you bring yourself to another sweet-sounding climax.

Usually, just hearing you gasping out his name amongst faint, wet sounds, which he really has to try hard to hear even with his supernatural hearing, is enough to satisfy his lust for you after spilling onto his own stomach a few times.

Yet today, it’s not enough.

Even after enough orgasms that his cum is spilling over his abs and thighs onto the mattress beneath him, it’s not enough.

“Fucking rut,” Chan grunts and squeezes the base of his still hard cock in a vain attempt to stop the arousal fuelled throbbing begging him to go again, and again, and again.

Chan knows what he really needs is to bury his cock in a tight, wet hole, and preferably a fertile one to satisfy the animalistic part of him yearning to breed. Usually, Chan has a very good control of his urges even during his rut. But usually, he doesn’t wake from a midday rut nap with his cock aching and the sounds of you moaning his name behind his head.

Somehow, he had forgotten that it’s Thursday and you have Thursdays off work; something he only knows because he doesn’t see you on your usual shared wait at the bus stop to go to your separate jobs, so he had asked one day out of curiosity. And now he knows, he knows that you spend Thursdays catching up on chores and doing self-care. He just never realised that self-care meant multiple orgasms and driving him fucking insane.

Blessedly, he doesn’t hear you start up again after your last coincidentally mutual orgasm. When he hears your bed creak as you get up and pad away, he slumps into his pillows in relief and drops his hand from his cock. As much as his erection still weeps for attention, he knows he can ignore it if he doesn’t have you tempting him beyond belief.

After catching his breath a little more, Chan shimmies his boxers the rest of the way off his legs and uses the already cum stained material to wipe the mess from his skin, allowing him to climb off his bed without dripping his arousal all over the floor.

He’s made that mistake before and had to rearrange his bedroom furniture to cover the obscene rut cum stain from the carpet with his bed. He had tried his hardest to scrub the stain away but something about rut cum is extra stubborn and sticky, so he had covered his shame and hopes he remembers to replace the carpet before he moves out.

Just as Chan is leaning over the bed from one side to start removing the dirty sheets, he hears a noise from your apartment that makes him freezer in disbelief.

You’re moaning, again.

“What the fuck?” He gasps and abruptly straightens to stare at the shared wall with wide eyes. “How is she still going?”

At first, the news that you apparently have a never-ending libido sends his own singing and his cock dripping where it hangs hard and heavy between his thighs, but then the frustration of being unable to work through his rut with minimal effort like usual gets to him and his blood burns with more than just pure arousal.

Without a single thought in his mind, other than the instinctive part of him repeatedly imagining burying his cock into your dripping pussy to fill and breed, Chan grabs a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the basket of clean laundry he hasn’t yet put away, to pull on as he rushes through his apartment.

He’s still pulling his t-shirt down over his torso when he yanks the front door open and stalks outside to approach your door and harshly knock the door.

While he impatiently waits, he at least has the presence of mind to adjust his erection to tuck into the elastic of his sweatpants uncomfortably so it’s not obscenely tenting his sweatpants. He doesn’t want to mentally scar any of your shared neighbours, or risk getting arrested for public indecency. He’s horny, not stupid.

The first attempt of knocking your door is fruitless, you don’t answer even if he gives you more than enough time to get to the door knowing that you’re not exactly in a decent position to answer.

Yet you don’t come, to the door at least, and he huffs an annoyed breath before knocking again, even harsher this time, hoping to get the urgency across.

It works, and he hears footsteps in your apartment, along with your laboured breathing.

“O-one sec!” You call breathlessly.

Chan grips the doorframe on either side of the door as he hears you take a moment to calm your breathing while his own grows harsher now that he can start to smell your arousal thanks to the slight gap at the bottom of these shitty doors the landlord is too cheap to replace.

He hears the slight drag of the metal cover over the peephole move, then your tiny yelp as you no doubt realise that the man you’ve been fucking yourself to the thought of is standing on the other side of your door.

After you take another few deep breaths, the lock disengages and the door opens enough that your blown pupils can peer around the security chain, the edge of pink stained cheeks taunting him with the wonder of what you must look like without the door in the way.

“Ch-Chan,” you greet. “You didn’t go to work today?”

“No,” he answers through clenched teeth and focuses on the tiny gap of entrance mat for your apartment that he can see with the door open this far, just so he doesn’t have to see how aroused you are right now, smelling it is bad enough.

His fingers curl harder into the doorframe, and he feels it threaten to give under his touch, but he doesn’t care, he’ll replace your door himself if he must, he just needs to keep his hands busy, so he doesn’t rip that fucking chain off the door to get to you and shove his cock into your needy pussy.

Fuck, he knows it’s needy, he can smell how much it wants to be bred right now.

As if it wasn’t bad enough knowing that you’ve been masturbating with him on your mind, he now knows that you’re fucking ovulating, fertile.

“Oh,” your scent shifts, concern beginning to overpower the arousal, allowing his shoulders to relax and give his mind the chance to clear ever so slightly. “Are you ill?” You worry, shifting enough that he sees the teasing glimpse of a mostly bare thigh peek into view around the door and he tenses back up. “I’ve got medicine, let me remove the chain and you can come in and-” Chan’s left hand darting out to grip the edge of the door before you can close it and remove the chain, cuts you off with a soft yelp of surprise. “Chan?”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t remove that chain, baby, because if you do, I’m going to lose control and I’m trying so fucking hard to not rip the chain away myself so I can get to you and take advantage of how fucking fertile you smell right now,” he warns lowly, eyes still glued to the door, though the second all concern leaves your scent and your arousal returns tenfold, his head snaps up to land his dark gaze on you, only the slightest ring of bright red circling his dilated pupils and for the first time, giving you solid proof that your neighbour is a werewolf.

“A-are you i-in rut?” You whisper, slightly trembling fingers curling around the edge of the door just below his hand. Before your skin can touch his, he rips his hand away and grabs the doorframe again.

“Yeah, and hearing you moan my name like a bitch in heat isn’t fucking helping, sweetheart. So do me a favour and stop playing with your pussy for a few days until I can handle hearing it without wanting to break your fucking door down and breed you round with my pups, alright?”

Chan doesn’t give you a chance to respond, he grabs the doorhandle and pulls it closed slowly, to give your fingers chance to move. Once it clicks shut, he takes a few steadying breaths before forcing himself to let go and back up.

Just as he starts to turn to return to his own apartment, he hears the rattle of the security chain on your door, and he freezes in place.

Without a word, you open the door wide enough to let a person through, a silent invitation as you stare shyly down at the floor between you.

Now that you’re not hiding behind the door, Chan can see that you’re wearing an oversized t-shirt and nothing on your legs. He has no idea if you’re wearing underwear or not, part of him really fucking hopes not, as your t-shirt stops at the top of your thighs but it’s not long enough to hide the shine of arousal smeared on your inner thighs.

He growls your name softly, in warning, making you lift your head just enough to peer at him through your eyelashes. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he mutters out through tightly gritted teeth, hands balled into fists at his sides tight enough that he can feel his short nails digging into his palms and threatening to break skin.

“Y-you want to breed me, right?” You reply and he nods jerkily in confirmation. “Well, come on then.”

It’s all Chan needs to surge forward and wrap his arms around your waist to hoist you up onto his hips while his lips hungrily claim yours. The way you immediately whine and press your hips forward against his t-shirt, dampening the material, while you kiss him back just as enthusiastically makes Chan’s cock throb almost violently with need.

“Gonna fill you so good, baby,” he promises as he shuts the front door to all but slam you against it, hands groping your ass and groaning finding a distinct lack of underwear. “Dirty girl, answering the door with no panties.”

“I-I was busy,” you reason as his fingers tease over your pussy. “Chan, come on, no teasing, ju-just give me your cock.”

“Ask nicely,” he smirks against your cheek before nipping at your skin, making you whimper and grind against him. “Desperate for this cock, baby?”

“Yes! Wanted it since we met. Please give it to me, come on, Channie, give me your cock and fill me with your cum until I can’t take anymore, and then keep going.”

“Fuck,” he whispers against your throat and hikes you a little higher with one arm so he can reach the front of his sweatpants with his free hand and shove them down enough to free his cock. “Gonna fuck you so much you’ll never stop smelling of my cum.”

“G-good,” you gasp as he presses the head of his cock against your hole.

Although you both clearly want nothing more than for Chan to pound you into the door until it cracks under the strength of his thrusts, he eases into you slowly, eyes closed and mouth open in awed pleasure as your slick walls hug his length so perfectly that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to fuck anyone else. At least, he’ll think that later, all he can think now is warm, wet, tight, warm, wet, mine.

If he wasn’t deep into his rut, Chan would be embarrassed that as soon as he’s buried to the hilt, he cums and floods you with his sticky release.

“D-did you just cum?” You baulk in surprise and unintentionally clamp down around him, making him groan against your skin.

“I can go again, don’t worry,” he assures a moment later and proves his point by pulling his hips back and immediately starts fucking into you in earnest, skin slapping up against yours and cock hitting so deep inside that you’re already clawing at the back of his neck and tipping your head back as moans stream from your open mouth. “That’s it, that’s my girl, let the neighbours know whose cock makes you moan like a whore,” he pants out and removes one hand from your ass to reach up and grab your jaw. He watches your expression intently as he turns your head to the side so the edge of your face is pressed to the cool wood of the door. “Go on, tell them who’s breeding this greedy little pussy.”

“Chan!” You shriek obligingly and don’t stop, practically wailing his name every handful of thrusts as tears slip down your cheeks from the almost overwhelming pleasure. “D-don’t stop! P-please don’t stop,” you beg as you feel yourself getting close to what you know will be the most satisfying orgasm you’ve had all day, if not months.

“Not until you’re so full th-there’s no room left,” he promises and turns your head with his hand still on your jaw so that he can lean in and lick into your mouth.

It’s not even a kiss, Chan’s letting his instincts lead him and they’re telling him to taste you however he can and cover you in his own scent so that everyone knows that it’s not just your pussy that belongs to him.

Something about the action sends you hurtling over into an orgasm powerful enough that your entire body tenses, and although your mouth is wide open, not a sound comes out.

Chan leans back to look at you in concern, hips pressed up tight to your body as your pulsating walls milk another orgasm from him that makes him tremble. But he’s too worried by the fact he’s very sure you’re not breathing to focus on his cum filling you again.

Luckily, it’s only a second or two before you gasp and come back, chest heaving and a string of filthy moans leaving your lips. Chan lets out a relieved breath and leans back in to cover your exposed throat in kisses and soft bites. He wants to mark you, but he knows you work a very public facing job and the lovebites would likely get you fired.

Though, it suddenly occurs to him that he makes more than enough to support you both, and he doesn’t want you to work when your body needs all the energy to grow healthy pups, so, fuck your job.

As soon as Chan’s mouth suctions to your neck, you slide one hand into his shaggy hair and hold him closer, encouraging him to suck mark after mark into your skin as his hips grind up into you, a new desperation under his skin as he feels his cock flaring in a way he didn’t expect to experience yet, if at all.

Chan whines against your neck as his knot grows and grows, forcing your dripping pussy to mould around it while you writhe at the extra pressure and stimulation you’ve not felt before.

“Th-that’s it, baby, t-take my kn-not,” Chan encourages breathlessly, fingers digging into your ass hard enough you know you’re going to bruise; marks you’ll wear with pride.

“S’good,” you slur, grinding down against him and tightening your thighs around his waist, making Chan moan appreciatively against your throat before his shoulders tense and nails dig into your flesh as a final, mind shattering orgasm rips through his body once his knot is as big as possible and locking your bodies together to keep his thick, sticky cum from seeping out.

Slowly, the tension in Chan’s shoulders seeps away and he melts against you, fingers loosening against your skin before smoothing soothingly over the indents he can feel decorating your asscheeks. “Sorry,” he mumbles apologetically, finally feeling his libido rest and his rut to end now that he’s given his animal side exactly what it wanted so desperately.

“I liked it,” you assure softly, fingers running through his hair soothingly. He hadn’t even noticed you’re doing it until now and lifts his head to look at you. You smile at him, looking sleepy and utterly sated. Beautiful.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathes out in awe before he can even register what intends to spill from his lips. He flushes a little, making his already exertion-red features darken further.

You giggle and cup his cheeks before tilting your head forward to press a soft kiss to his lips that makes butterflies erupt in his stomach. “So are you. We’ll have beautiful babies, huh?”

“O-oh,” he swallows thickly, eyes widening slightly. “You-you weren’t just indulging my rut?”

“I was horny, not stupid. I’m not going to indulge a breeding kink without precaution in place for just anyone, you know.”

“So you will keep it, if I really have put a baby in you?”

“What happened to saying pup?” You frown confusedly.

Chan smiles embarrassedly. “Sorry, that’s the wolf side of me, it only comes out during rut.”

“Oh, so your rut is over?” He nods and watches puzzled as your lips protrude a little.

“Are you sulking?”

“No.”

“You’re pouting.”

“It was hot, okay,” you huff, cheeks tickling pink. “Nobody’s fucked me like that before and I’ve been with a werewolf before, but he was…boring.”

Chan snorts a laugh. “I’m telling Seokmin you called him boring,” he teases, making you look at him with wide eyes. “Did you forget that he’s my friend? I literally introduced you two.”

“Shit, please forget I said anything.”

“Can’t believe you just told me my friend is bad at sex.”

“It was good! He wasn’t bad, like he made me cum multiple times without fail every time, but he was just…too sweet and…vanilla…” you trail off when you notice the slightly darkened, determined expression on Chan’s face. “Uhm, are you okay?”

“I can make you cum again.”

“What?” You laugh. “That wasn’t a jab at you!”

“I can do it!” He assures, slipping a hand between your bodies to locate your clit and start working his fingers over it, making your eyes widen in surprise. “Gonna make you cum so much you won’t be able to remember anyone’s touch but mine.”

“Good,” you agree and tug him in to kiss the pleased smirk off his face.

As it turns out, Chan is a man of his word; he sends you into a sharp orgasm against the door before carrying you to your bedroom where he lays you out and makes use of the vibrator abandoned on your still damp sheets to work another two orgasms out of you before his knot goes down. Then he fucks you until you’re sure neither of you will be getting up for at least an hour.

While he’s laid tracing mindless patterns on your bare, sticky back while you’re sprawled half on top of him even though you’re both covered in sweat and cum to the point it should be disgusting, but it just makes him weirdly proud, Chan finds that for the first time in his life, he’s glad that his rut makes him react so animalistically; he doubts he would’ve gained the courage to claim you for himself otherwise.

Thank fuck for instincts.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

[mixmxchi]

✨Before I Get To Tell You✨

Zayne x Reader/MC

TW: Slight Angst, Worrying About Reader, L-Bombs, Making A Mess, Ends With Fluff

 If you weren’t a hundred percent certain your boyfriend was moving at supersonic speed around his apartment to the point you were able to sneak in, take off your shoes, wash up and get settled on the couch to watch in amusement without being noticed you would place a bet on a wanderer somehow manifesting in the space. The organized chaos resulted in white, pink, and red balloons and decorations enveloping the entire house. Amongst them a black and maroon shadow stuck out like a sore thumb seemingly stuck in his own thoughts frantic to have his hands everywhere despite his calm yet stern expression. Stirring the boiling pot on the stove, checking the flower arrangement in the dining room, adjusting balloons and confetti by centimeters only to go and move it back to its original spot minutes later. A strong vein tracing up the side of his neck to his jawline as he clenched his teeth clearly stressed. Mutters of rejection clearly displeased with everything he was doing slowly began to be replaced with unsatisfied grunts for a day that is supposed to be about love. It broke your heart. Today was one of the rare days Zayne had off from work, unfortunately since you couldn’t say the same, he was supposed to be resting. Partner’s orders. It wasn’t until one particular clanking of the wooden stirring spoon mission bg the county and clanking onto the marble tile flooring that caused a shift in the air. Little sparkling flecks on snow began to puzzle itself together on the ceiling to floor length windows. The second you could see your breath you instantly decided to intervene. Lifting yourself off the beige leather loveseat, wrapped in the faux fur pink heart blanket that was resting there to keep warm you approached your boyfriend. Zayne still too in his own thoughts never heard you coming and busied himself looking for something in a lower level cabinet. You gently place your hand between his head and the cabinet before questioning quietly through chattering teeth.

“Zay, is everything alright?”

Zayne jumped, his head immediately colliding with your hand and slamming it into the edges of the cabinet, you pulled back with a hiss, but at least it wasn’t his head feeling the sting. Cursing under your breath quickly turned into a warm smile at the familiar emerald green eyes looking down at you.

“I’m sorry. shit. Sorry. I hurt you. Let me see, please.”, he tries to look at your hand as you still cradle it.

“It’s fine.” You push his hand away slightly with your non-stinging hand before moving closer to examine his head. Midnight black locks shiny and nourished flow effortlessly through your fingers searching for any pain. Zayne shakes his head slightly. There’s not a single bump or tender spot. Satisfied with yourself you smile before pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “All clear, Doc!”

“Good. Now, don’t lie.” Zayne offered his hand, knowing he would never touch you without your permission. His eyes darted between your forehead and your hand. You ignore it-

“Zayne, what’s bothering YOU?”

“I’m… okay. Now.” The metronome that was in Zayne’s throat for the past six hours finally dissipates allowing him to swallow the tightness in his chest.

“Really, because it doesn’t look like it?”, you motion to the ever growing darker apartment due to the collecting frost, “At this rate whatever you are cooking will be a dessert popsicle!”

At that Zayne turns around to check the stew, leaving his hand still outstretched towards you for when you decide to accept his help. You sigh, you have never seen him this worried before. Did something happen while you were at work?

“Baby it was a joke.”, you place you hand in his finally and he overlooks the damage his head and the cabinet caused.

He lets out a relieved sigh, “Nothing more than a light bruise.”

“Told you I was fine.”

“And so have you every other time you’ve ended up in my office or on a stretcher getting rushed to my colleagues or my wards so forgive me if I feel the need to check anyway.”

You take your hand back. taken back at the sudden turn of conversation, “That’s -“

“Different. I’m aware.”

Before you could question any further Zayne’s phone on the counter buzzes loudly and immediately breaking news starts playing updates about the wanderer outbreak. Updates on injuries, road closings, and what the association is doing to help get life back to normal now the influx of sightings have been taken care of. The holographic quickly cuts to a video of you battling Heartbreaker earlier that day not too far away from Akso Hospital and getting flown back. You had missed one of Heartbreaker’s special Valentine’s cards and it exploded causing you to lose traction. The footage showed the explosion and you taking a while to get up because you hit your head. The angle definitely made it look a lot worse than it actually was. In the end you managed to gain footing and secure the victory, but not without a few scraps and bruises. The news footage kept replaying the battle, congratulating the association on their victory and thanking them for keeping Linkon safe. Zayne’s eye twitched as the part where you were blasted back played over and over. Oh… oh no. Has he been listening to this all day?

“Baby…”

“Greyson already sent me over the report. Minor head contusions with the need of a vertical monofilament suture above the left eyebrow. Patient should be monitored for infection, agitation, unexplained malaise and excessive sleepiness…. I should have been there. I could have helped you with Heartbreaker… or at least be there to treat you.”

“Zayne.” You shut off the news alert before continuing, “Zayne please look at me.”

It took a few moments, but when he did there was a gloss over his eyes you never seen before. You cup his face and before you have the chance to reassure him more, his arms come to wrap around you and he presses his face into your hair. If he wasn’t right over your ear you wouldn’t have heard him when he whispered , “what if I lost you before I got to tell you I love you.”

“I know you love me and I love you too. I never doubted your love for me.”

“You knew?”, his voice breaking its typical demeanor and went up in question. The question seemed rhetorical, his attention didn’t look focused on what he actually just confessed.

“Dr. Zayne may occasionally talk in his sleep.”, you poke at his ribs in tease and he groans. “Plus Zay… it’s my job. Just like you sacrifice things for your job, sometimes I get hurt in mine.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“True… but I think I have a pretty good doctor AND boyfriend who will be there either way, right?”

Zayne lets out a little chuckle and you notice there is no frosted breath, he is calming down at least a little bit. “If I must, but I would rather see you on our date nights and not on my hospital table. Deal?”

“Deal!”, your laughter is cut short… “umm… Zayne.” You point over his shoulder as he looks at you to the smoking pot on the stove.

“I knew it.”, He removes it off the stove and tastes it.. only slightly bitter. With another movement he places the pot in the sink and takes a deep breath. He glances around the room realizing the cold has made the balloons deflate a bit, the chill caused a wind and everything he placed has been moved at least slightly. He hung his head and grabbed the bouquet of jasmines and roses and brings them up to hide his dejected expression. “I’m sorry… for worrying, for ruining dinner, for the mess, for this stupid frost.” He flexes his fingers a bit and as quickly as it came all signs of winter disappeared. “I just wanted tonight to be perfect. It’s our first Valentine’s Day together after all; you were so excited. Spent all day working on that stew recipe you sent me last week.”

You pull the vase down back to the counter and press a quick kiss to his lips. They were soft and contrasted with the firmness of the kiss. The burnt stew lingering on his lips mixed with a taste of his decaf coffee with hazelnut cream.

“Who said it isn’t perfect?”,you rub his arms. It pained your heart to see your boyfriend so defeated at trying to make the night perfect. You take his hand and pull him over to the counter he was crouched under. There is a lilac post it note with a recipe stuck firmly to the counter “Matcha brownies? Hmm… were you going to make these?”

Zayne nods, “but we don’t have any matcha left.”

“So we can just make brownies! Plus they will taste even better because we made them together! It’ll have double the love in them!”

Zayne’s breath bucked in disbelief that you could find even a light of his ruined surprise for you, but the light in your eyes warmed him so much he couldn’t help but agree. You took two huge clear mixing bowls out of the dishwasher you ran that morning while he grabbed the ingredients off the counter.

“How about you do the wets and I do the drys?”, you ask him.

“Are you just saying that because you can’t crack an egg without getting a shell in?”

“So judgemental. I thought you loved me Dr.Zayne?” You couldn’t help but tease him.

He scoffed, “I never said anything of the sort. I actually think you are quite an unruly patient.” He nudged you softly with his hip, cracking two eggs in the bowl, getting a small sliver of shell in them.

“A-ha!”

Zayne rolled his eyes and scooped it out, before adding the oil, water, and vanilla extract. Next to him you measured flour, sugar, chocolate chips and walnuts. The only thing left was the cocoa powder, but the container was brand new. You used your teeth to rip it open causing the powder to poof up covering your nose and lips. Zayne let out a hearty laugh and it rang through your soul like a melodic chorus. You reached over to grab the kitchen towel hanging from Zayne’s back pocket and he stepped back in time with the flash of his cell phone going off.

“Delete it!”, you reached for his phone

“Nope. Not before I keep this memory forever. You look like a cute little kitten- I even put the cat ear filter on you.”, he immediately set it as his wallpaper.

“And you call me the menace! Hmph!” You pout jokingly.

Zayne comes up behind you wrapping his arms around the sides. Careful his body isn’t touching yours until you give him permission to do so, right now he is just caging you in. “At least for Valentine’s Night?”

“One night only.” You look over your shoulder at him.

“Every Valentine’s?”,he asks.

“But won’t we have new memories next year?”

“Yes, but this is the first time I celebrated with anyone… let alone someone who I care so deeply about.” And for a moment your heart speeds in your chest because you think he is actually going to say it. Maybe he isn’t ready and earlier was just a slip of the tongue? You couldn’t help but think to yourself.

“May I?”, you constantly told him he didn’t need to wait, but you being comfortable meant the world to him. He was always going to prioritize that over his desires.

“Hmm?”, you notice him gesturing to the recipe and your waist “oh yeah, you know that.”

You stir the batter slowly while Zayne sifts the dry ingredients in with the wet. His right arm snakes around you as he presses against you lightly, his head coming to fall to rest on your shoulder. Once the batter was completely incorporated and transferred into the dish you both went on to make the icing.

“Recipe says just powdered sugar, chocolate and milk will do.”

“We should add cinnamon to make it more homey!”

“Cinnamon has lots of benefits to one’s health and it’s delicious, I don’t see why not.”

Whisk in hand you were struggling to get the clumps out of the fudgy icing no matter how hard you stirred and it was starting to make your head hurt. Frowning you sigh, “Baby, I give up. I’m going to burn it at this rate!”

“We live in a time we’re electric mixers are a thing, but I worry the noise will also bother your head. Here, let me try.” Zayne lifted you up on the counter before placing a towel over your legs and handing you the bowl. “You hold and I’ll whisk, okay?” You nod. He used his evol to cool the bowl down to try and temper the icing better. Your thoughts seemed to drift off back to the topic of I love you. Worried if you say it and he doesn’t say it back, worried if he didn’t mean it, but you knew Zayne. Your Zayne. You knew that couldn’t be the case. If he wasn’t going to say it first, it would have to be you! Without noticing your grip on the bowl faltered.

BWith one hand using evol to hold the bowl steady and keep it cool and the other whisking softly to not rock you loads, when he lifted his gaze. “You’re staring. Lost in thoug-“

“I love you, Zayne. I have for a long time and it is okay if this Valentine’s isn’t what you planned, it is ours and I love it and you so much more than you know. Thank you for tonight baby.” You lean in and kiss him. He deepens the kiss letting go of the whisk and when you break for a breath-

“Say it again please”, he asks lovingly.

“I love you, Zayne”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again, please.” Green eyes pleading so you wrap your arms around his neck, legs awkwardly around his waist to pull him closer despite the bowl in between you both.

“I love you for an infinite number of life times, Zayne and in all of them my heart will be yours.” Your heart raced and swelled with anticipation that didn’t get a chance to linger long.

“I love you too, Lovely. So much so it scares me sometimes. I can’t picture a future with anyone besides you.” Zayne could hear his heartbeat and was certain you could too, but before he lost the courage again he leaned down kissing you once more. The closeness overwhelmed his senses. The brownies are cooking in the oven. The bouquet sitting next to you. Your coconut flavored lip balm and your new shampoo. The way your eyes glittered in the mood lighting, he thought was tacky when he put it up but thank gods he did. When he looked at you he saw everything he had never thought of dreaming about before. He saw a house, a family, he saw dates. Most importantly he saw both of you never having to be alone ever again. Every second he looked at you the next kiss was stronger, more passionate, he could taste your lip balm and minty toothpaste and hints of chocolate from the batter you snuck. He reminded himself to remind you of the dangers of consuming raw eggs, but that would have to wait. His body failed him and all he hungered for was to kiss you and tell you he loved you over and over. So he did, when a sudden cracking pop noise followed by chocolate being squirted around the kitchen covering the walls, the ceiling, and you both. Looking down at your lap, realizing Zayne got so worked up he still had a grip on the bowl making it explode from the cold exposure. You couldn’t help but burst into stitches laughing, head thrown back, arms dropped from his shoulders to your belly before you quickly reached to grab your phone and snapped a photo of chocolate dripping down his face and hair. He looked at the photo and rolled his eyes playfully knowing his smirk was giving him away, he took a few fingers wiping the chocolate off him before you could and he smeared it on you and pulled you in for a kiss. Taking your hand in his he lifted your phone back up with you and allowed you to snap a photo of you two in a secret moment.

“I will always love you, Lovely. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

[tiny-tot-teddy]

hhh so I’m having a lot of thoughts abt dadson. mainly about son being so naive about sex and relationships, that he thinks its normal to “love” your dad. and dad doesn’t really correct him. he thought it was cute when he was a kid, but he’s grown up quite a bit now and he’s still just as needy and in love as before. but now he’s a bit more…developed physically. he has these nice curves, especially his ass ugh.

dad just can’t help but feel his cock twitch when his boy looks up at him with those big puppy eyes and says “I love you daddy…” and clings to his arm.

maybe the mom is out of the picture, so that’s why son is so attached to dad. dad is all he has left, of course he would love him so deeply!

okay now for the horny part…dad teaching his son about sex since he’s getting older. after all, he doesn’t want his boy to have any outside influence, wants to make sure that he isn’t seeing anything he isn’t supposed to. no porn, no outside sex ed, just daddy’s special sex ed.

at first he was just telling his boy what sex was and how to be safe, then son asks dad “I wanna try…” and just bats those big pretty eyes at him again. he just can’t say no!

so he starts off nice and slow, just teaching his little one how to kiss. he just gets so hard hearing his boy moan into his mouth, clinging to him so tightly. he gradually corrupts his boy more and more. moving to just touching him in certain places and asking how he feels, makes his boy say if it feels good or not when he touches him here or rubs him there.

daddy calling it their “special time” as well 😵‍💫 taking advantage of how naive his boy is sooo omg. I wanna keep going but I feel like I’m gonna write a whole novel if I don’t stop ahsjdkd lemme know if I should tho owo

omgggg please do keep coming back with more of this??? this was perfect i'm sitting here all heart eyed hehe

[awkward-fink]

HC with a taller SO

Price - had never thought he would have a partner that would be taller than him

always was one of those that looked for a smaller one, better for the family pictures, he is the man of the house, the protector

took him a while to get away from that world view that the significant other needs to be smaller, that shapes and sizes don’t really matter when your heart is set on someone

now he can be the meanest ass with manners around the bar, make recruits shiver and tremble before his accomplishments, and he can lean against his SO if the world seems to much to bear

loves being able to just lean back into them, his eyes closed and his nose brushing along their neck without him having to lean down

saves him a lot of back pain

will reach up to cup your neck and yank your head down gently, kissing you with abandon away from prying eyes

no one's business who he is with, don’t you think?

keeps his SO private as long as he can

has you sitting in his lap, regardless that you are taller than him

Ghost

never quite cared about taller or smaller partner

sure, his need to protect always had him on the lookout for someone small to just tug underneath his arm or someone to curl into his side when they needed it

but he soon found out he could do all that and more with an SO that is actually taller than him

now he is the one leaning into the others side, breathing them in, letting their arm settle around his shoulders to lead him away from dump people who wanted to interrupt his date or his time for himself

would not let you kneel on the floor to get things or groceries from the bottom shelves, no Luvie, let him, its easier for him to reach down

he does still protect his SO, will posture in front of them, have them stand behind him to ream the fucking idiot calling you names a new one

he would kill for you, just give him the word and a direction

doesn’t make a fuss out of you, but will proudly linger at your side, glaring at everyone else

full body contact cuddling

Gaz

loves it

you are taller than him? Oh no problem, let him just be in awe of you 

loves that he will never loose you in a mall or anywhere else

loves to go shopping with you, but sharing your frustration when all the nice things happen to be too short on you or fall like a sack

let him hook you up with his sister and his aunt, yes? they can work wonders with fabrics and styles

finds all the online shops for you

actually tries to match your height once with highheels and loves the feeling of it

now he knows why women sometimes wear shoes like that, his legs look amazing!

Gaz also loves to just lay on you and be able to have his touch to the very top part of his head touch you

still wants to be big spoon

will sometimes make jokes about your height, but only lovingly

will ask you to lean down to kiss him in public

will unashamedly sit in your lap on occasion and love on you

Soap

loves this

loves you

cant keep his hands off of you, head tilted back to talk and grin and smile at you

proud to have you as his SO

“Did you see my partner? Yes, you can’t not have, they are absolutely best.”

if you are tall and strong enough to manhandle that man, he is going to ask you to marry him on the spot

loves comparing your palms and then lacing your fingers

has found out that you are ticklish and will abuse that fact to get what he wants

will call you for every item on the top shelves

but will also kneel for you and fetch you everything from the bottom rows, looking up at you with mischief in his eyes

will joke about getting a stepping stool so he can kiss you without one of you having to crane your neck

is the little wild spoon all over you and the bed and in general

feels best after a nightmare to be cocooned in your arms and your legs tangled with his while his head rests over your heart

makes all the dumb jokes “How is the weather up there?” and be proud on any of them

[greenbubblefactory]

Matchup for Kurisu 💌

Congratulations you have a match with..

Leona Kingscholar !

★Leona isn’t the type to take immediate interest in people, but you catch his attention for all the wrong reasons at first. Maybe it’s the way you refuse to be intimidated by him, or how you meet his sharp remarks with some equally sharp words of your own. Either way, you make an impression and Leona hates that.

★You don’t go out of your way to impress him, and that annoys him even more. Most people either try to suck up to him or steer clear of him altogether, but you just act normal, like he’s any other person. Even when he throws snide comments your way, you roll your eyes and fire back without hesitation.

★He tests you. A lot. He wants to see if you’ll flinch, if you’ll back down, if you’ll eventually start treating him like the dangerous, untouchable figure most people think he is. But you don’t. And that? That intrigues him.

★Despite being sociable, you have this teasing, sarcastic streak that keeps things interesting. You swear at him jokingly, steal his nap spots just to mess with him, and somehow manage to make him react when he usually can’t be bothered.

★One day, when you’re both forced to work together for a class project, you start noticing little things about him. How his eyes flicker toward exits, how he tenses ever so slightly before answering personal questions, how his lazy posture is a carefully crafted act.

★You don’t point it out. You don’t push. But Leona notices that you notice, and it unsettles him. Because if you see through his act so easily, then what else could you see?

★At first, he doesn’t think much of his attachment to you. So what if he prefers your company over others? So what if he listens more when you talk? It’s just because you’re entertaining, right?

★Then he catches himself looking for you in a crowd, feeling annoyed when you’re not there, getting bored when someone else tries to fill the silence you left behind. And that’s when it hits him,he’s invested.The realization frustrates him. Leona doesn’t do attachment. He doesn’t have the patience for it, doesn’t like the vulnerability it brings. But at the same time, the thought of distancing himself is equally irritating.

★He starts acting more territorial without realizing it. He’ll casually rest an arm on your chair, lean against your desk, or “accidentally” block your path so you have to brush past him. His touch is never overbearing, just subtle enough to make it clear: This one’s mine.

If someone else gets too close to you, he won’t make a scene, but his presence alone is enough to send a warning. A lazy smirk, a slow turn of his head, and suddenly whoever was talking to you finds an excuse to leave.

The first time you call him out on it, he just smirks and shrugs. “What, I can’t look after a herbivore? You wander off too much.”

★Leona doesn’t believe in grand confessions. He’s too prideful, too used to rejection to put himself in a vulnerable position like that.Instead it happens in the most casual, almost dismissive way.You’re arguing over something dumb,maybe you stole his jacket, maybe you teased him about something trivial and in the middle of it, he just says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.“Tch. Why do you think I put up with you so much? You really are dense, huh?”

★You pause. Blink. And that’s when it clicks.

★He sees the realization dawn on your face and immediately groans, running a hand through his hair like this entire situation is exhausting. “Yeah, yeah. Took you long enough.”

★He won’t even let you process it properly before moving on, acting like it’s no big deal. But his ears twitch, and that’s how you know he’s nervous.If you try to get a more serious confession out of him, good luck. The best you’ll get is a lazy smirk and a half-muttered “Tch. You already know.”

★Leona is not a conventional boyfriend. He doesn’t do grand romantic gestures, he doesn’t shower you with compliments, and he definitely doesn’t say “I love you” often. But his love is obvious in the ★way he acts.

★If you’re cold, he’ll toss his jacket over you without a word. If you complain about the smell, he’ll just smirk. But he never asks for it back.If you’re feeling down, he won’t ask what’s wrong he’ll just sit beside you, close enough that you feel his warmth. He won’t pressure you to talk, but if you do, he’ll listen. And if you don’t, that’s fine too. He’s not going anywhere.

★He hates PDA in public (he has a reputation to maintain), but behind closed doors? He’s ridiculously touchy. He’ll pull you into his lap, let you run your hands through his hair, and he’ll grumble if you try to leave.

★If you overthink things, he’ll cut through your doubts with a single sentence.He won’t let you spiral,he’ll drag you back to reality, no matter what.

★When you’re next to him, he sleeps better. He won’t admit it, but he’ll pull you closer in his sleep, holding onto you like you’re the one thing in this world he refuses to lose.

★Leona isn’t the clingy, jealous type, but he is possessive in his own way. He won’t stop you from talking to other people, but he’ll make sure everyone knows you’re his.

★If someone flirts with you, he won’t react immediately. He’ll just lean back, arms crossed, watching. Waiting. And if you handle it yourself, he’ll let it slide.But if they don’t get the hint? That’s when he acts. He won’t start a fight, but one sharp glare, one low, growled warning, and suddenly that person wants to be anywhere else.

★He’ll act like it’s no big deal, but you catch the way his grip tightens on your wrist, the way his tail flicks sharply. He won’t admit it, but he hates the idea of losing you.

★If you reassure him, he’ll just scoff and look away,but the tension in his shoulders eases.

★Fights with Leona are intense. He’s stubborn, prideful, and he does not back down easily. If you’re both pissed, expect some shouting, some harsh words, and a lot of storming off.

★He needs time to cool down. But he never stays mad at you for long. He hates apologizing outright, but his way of making up is through actions.

★If he said something harsh, expect to find your favorite snack casually left on your desk the next morning. If he stormed off, he’ll show up at your dorm later, acting like nothing happened.

★He won’t say he was wrong,but he will let you curl up against him later, running his fingers through your hair until you both fall asleep.

★Loving Leona isn’t easy. He’s stubborn, difficult, and infuriating at times. But if he chooses you, he chooses you completely.He won’t promise the world. But what he will do is stand beside you, protect you, and make sure you always have a place to return to.

★He won’t say “I love you” often. But you’ll hear it in the way he always finds you first in a crowd. In the way he lets you into his space when he lets no one else in.And in the way he holds onto you like he never plans to let go.

English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes!

[bubble-tea-blossom]

The Smuggler and the Soldier

8. The Note

Pairing: f!reader x Joel Miller, wc: 4.2k

Warnings: first aid descriptions, sutures and blood, 18+ ONLY

Previous chapter

You wish your brain would leave you alone. One night without dreams would be nice. Or at least if they're going to be wildly vivid and strange, make them them pleasant. Like an acid trip with a talking bear or something.

Nope.

His face. Gunner. Its inescapable. No matter where you run, his head just grows bigger. His eyes shine like searchlights, exposing you in any corner of shadow you hide in.

Then his hand grabs your face. Nails digging into your cheeks as he turns your head left then right, inspecting. Only this time, your head never stops spinning, round and round like your neck is made of rubber.

You must be dying. All you can smell and taste and feel is the metallic iron of blood. It's rising from the floor and submerging you as your head is spun faster and faster.

You try to scream but opening your mouth only gains you a mouthful of warm sticky blood.

You have to fight to wake up. Clawing at consciousness like scaling a cliff.

Your eyes blink open slowly, eyelids made of stone. Even awake, your head is spinning, but at least your neck isn’t twisting infinitely.

A few seconds pass and you realize the scent of blood hasn’t passed with your dream either. Neither has the touch of it. You raise your hand that was laying on the cot, the palm is wet and red.

You sit up, moving much faster. You look down, at the blood soaking the mesh. Your rattled brain confuses it for yours and you worry for a second if you started your period.

Except for when you follow the trail, its clearly is coming from the smuggler.

His back is to you. The shirt he was wearing before was transformed into one long bandage that's wrapped around his torso. You must have really been out of it when you returned last night because you definitely did not notice that.

The makeshift bandage is more red than plaid at this point. It looks like a fucking murder scene. Only his muttering in his sleep keeps you from worrying that he's dead.

“Hey,” your croak is barely audible. You clear your dry throat and try again.

“Hey!” You get louder, but your voice is still quiet and croaky. You try to poke him to wake his ass up. You don’t want to prod a wound which looks like his whole torso so you end up jabbing your finger at his temple.

He stirs but doesn’t wake up. So you pinch his ear. Hard.

He snaps upright like a cobra, smacking his head against yours when you don't get out of the way fast enough, snatching your arm and violently twisting your wrist all in one move.

At your yelp, he lets you go, blinking the sleep away. He retracts, looking a little guilty while you rub your wrist.

“The hell you doing?” His voice is thick.

“What are you doing? Was your plan to just lie there and bleed out?”

Even with both of you leaning back, when the moment calms again, you find it too intimate, sitting on the same uncomfortable cot, nose to nose, glaring at each other.

You get up, and begin pacing around the room, trying to shake off the cobwebs of sleep and the way that moment made you feel.

Joel slowly straightens out, rubbing his eyes. With both feet on the ground he finally speaks, “I need your help.”

“No shit.” You snap, arms crossed.

Joel wisely keeps his mouth shut.

You sigh, “Look, if I do this, you owe me. Got that? I didn’t ask for you to come back. I don’t owe you anything.”

Joel nods, “I know.”

“And if-“ you barrel on before you realize he agreed. You hadn’t been expecting that. “Oh, ok then.”

"Well, first things first. I'm going to have to stitch you up." You grab his leather backpack from the ground and plop it on the desk.

“There’s a med kit near the bottom,” he tells you.

You rummage through his pack, sifting through spare clothes, and food rations, but mostly boxes of amo. You find a black fabric case, and pull it free. Its surprisingly heavy.

You’re already unzipping it when Joel speaks up, “that ain't it.”

The muffled clinking of glass while you handle it strikes your curiosity. The case is obviously important.

You open it like a book. On the sides are rows of small vials of glass tucked into slots, inter spaced so when the case closes they don't rub against each other. There's at least fifteen vials.

The burn of Joel's gaze ignites against you while you carefully pull one free. You hold it up to the rays of light filtering in through the boards on the window. The liquid is clear, the faded label reads 'doxycycline'.

You do some rough math as realization hits you. Slowly, you lower the vial, turning it in your fingers, the glass cool but thin, especially at the rounded top where it was meant to be broken. One drop on the floor and the precious liquid gold inside is gone. Wasted. Doomed to evaporate on the dusty floor, never providing life saving care that it could. Just gone.

You swallow your dry throat in order to speak, eyes still taking in every detail of the little bottle in your hand, "This was the payment?"

Joel speaks behind you, "Yes."

This was worth your life? You can only ponder it through a detached lens. You have experience with black market medication dealings. You know how desperate people are. How much they are willing to sacrifice for a little bottle just like this one in your hands.

"I'll take it as a compliment," you speak dryly, it does not feel like a compliment, seeing an objective amount your life costs. It makes you feel smaller than ever. The ant the mean kid burned with a magnifying glass and laughed as it writhed in agony. You return the vial to its empty slot. The whole case is worth enough that your tired brain can only come up with 'a fuck ton'.

You zip the case back up, "Well at least it might come in handy." You leave it on the table and resume your dig in the smuggler's backpack. You finally find the med kit, at the very bottom, which is not where you would keep yours. Its hard, white plastic, the iconic red cross on the front.

Inside is packed with very basic essentials. Nothing fancy. Mostly bandage rolls, a tourniquet, antiseptic wash. The suture kit is actually a sewing kit, meant for clothing repairs. It make do.

After gathering your supplies, you set the chair by the cot. But one look at Joel, his blood soaked torso. You're missing one last thing. Water. And lots of it.

Luckily the ocean isn't that far, but sewing him up on the beach in the open is too risky. You look around the little safe house for a pail or container. You dip your head into the bathroom as you pass and there's a bucket in the corner.

Wary of bathroom buckets, you inspect it, "please be a shower bucket," you pray as you pick it up. It's clean.

Oh so you'll answer prayers about buckets but nothing else? You chide the god who you know is dead.

Bucket in hand, you go to exit the bathroom when the movement in the mirror stops you in your tracks. You have to steel yourself to gain the courage to look at your reflection. Slowly you face the sink, and inch by inch raise your eyes until you're staring through your own pupils. They're uneven. Big surprise there. You definitely have a concussion.

Despite the pain you feel, seeing how shit you look is jarring. Short lacerations dominate one side of your face, caused by your skin tearing between your skull and the knuckles the soldier used on you. Your ear didn't escape any of the hits either. A cut on the ridge of your ear is too wide to stitch itself back together, you suspect you'll look like an alley cat even after it's healed.

Your nose is broken, the bridge swollen, bloody and crooked. Trying to set it straight yields a huge rush of added pain and no visible difference. Then there's your eye, the skin around your entire orbital bone has turned deep purple, the swelling preventing you from opening your eye all the way.

Your bottom lip was lacerated as well, dried blood resting in the cracks of your dry lips.

Confronting the visual proof of what happened stuns you. You knew it was bad. Yet you remember almost nothing. Only the rest of the soldiers leaving the room, and facing off with Bruce, and then you woke up to a needle in the thigh and Joel's scared, handsome facing hovering over you.

Some much hate and you were forced to wear it when you weren't even a part of any of it. You want to ask, what did I do to deserve this? But you already know. Nothing.

"Wrong place, wrong time," Joel's cold tone fills your head from what feels like a lifetime ago.

You have to force yourself to look away from your reflection with more strength than making yourself look in the first place. If you keep staring at yourself, you're going to do something very stupid.

You march out of the center without a word, slamming the door behind you.

All the walk down the beach, down the metal staircase, the images of the glass vials flash through your head. You kick sand over any blood splotches left on the ground.

You return to the boat, scanning the horizon but you see nothing. You crouch slowly, cupping water in your hands. First you scrub your hands with your nails, then slowly you wash your face, hissing at the salt in the water digging into the numerous cuts and scrapes. Despite the bite, you feel better afterwards.

You wash out the bucket, then fill it, keeping as much sand out of it as possible. But the eye sore of the boat on the beach holds you back from returning to the visitor center.

Two paths play out in your mind. One where you return to the boat, paddling it slowly down the coast. Maybe faster than on foot, but far easier to track. All FEDRA would have to do is follow the direction they saw you heading.

The other path, is returning to the city on the foot. Getting lost in the maze of the wasteland. Much harder to track. They'd have to follow on foot too, the broken concrete streets are too decayed to drive on them anymore. And most importantly, you wouldn't be in the open.

Your mind's made up. First you search the boat for anything you could use, which is not much. A coil of rope. Then you drop your pants and shirt on the sand besides the bucket. You hate swimming in heavy clothes. Then you make the executive decision to paddle out until it gets taken by a current. Once it's past the waves and floating on its own, you jump out.

"Fuck," you gasp as the cold water shocks you awake more efficiently than coffee ever could. You begin your swim back to shore.

Standing on land, dry clothes over your wet body, you watch the the waves carry the boat. You hope it gets far enough away before it crashes back on land to confuse anyone following, hopefully get them off your scent.

You pick up the bucket, and return to the visitor center.

Walking into the office, Joel looks at you, surprised, "You came back."

It's a statement, but also a question.

You stare at each other while you decide what to say. Finally you settle on, "Against my better judgment."

You want to demand him the same question. But the look on his face already tells you it's the same answer.

Joel looks you up and down, "You go for a swim?" He's standing, well more leaning over the desk, looking over maps.

"You'll get blood on those," you scold, stepping into the room. He takes a step back from the maps.

You set the bucket of water down on the ground, "I drove the boat away, I figured it was more of a liability than anything else."

Joel grunts. You can't decipher if it was a grunt of approval or the opposite. You're too tired to care. But then he says, "Good thinking."

Well at least he's not criticizing every choice you make like some men you've worked with.

You eye the cot with a little disdain, "I'll sit on the blood soaked cot, you sit on the chair," you tell him.

You do your best not to sit on the giant patch of blood, but your pants are already stained with variety of people's blood anyways so what's the fucking difference at this point.

The smuggler makes quite a site as he walks over to you. Bare chest covered in blood that you know is not all his. Blood he spilt and blood he bore for you. Looming over you, you make the mistake of making eye contact before it's broken when he sits down.

"You need to wash yourself after this" you deflect any unwanted emotions of fear or anything else with a cold remark.

He settles in the chair, leaning against the the back, facing away from you, "Agreed."

You heave a deep sigh as you wash your hands in the bucket. You hate doing sutures. No matter how many times you've done them, you still get queasy. You would much rather be getting the stitches than giving them.

You start by unraveling the makeshift bandage. Unsuccessfully, you try to keep all parts of your hands, save for the very tips of your fingers, from touching the warm body in front of you. You know it's a little silly since you're about to get very hands on. Peeling the fabric from around his ribs forces you to pass your hands around the front of his torso. With each pass your face dips close enough to his skin your breath rebounds off and warms your lips.

Finally, the bandage is free. You toss it in the far corner of the room where it hits the floor with a wet plop. The full extent of the damage is revealed.

The slash is long, extending from just above his hip all the way to edge of his shoulder blade. It's deepest at the base, becoming more shallow as is rises, however the deepest parts are concernedly deep. Days of bed rest would be ordered by any actual medical professional. Something tells you that is as unattainable in your current position as a vacation to Italy.

"Ok, let's get this over with," you announce.

You start by mopping all the dried, congealed, and fresh blood away. At the first splash of water, Joel stiffens ever so slightly before he relaxes again and makes no further hint of discomfort at the salt water soaking his wound.

"Thank you," Joel's voice is quiet, almost sheepish as you pat dry the edges of the wound.

"Thank me after you're sewn up. I'm no medic," you pluck the needle from the spool and begin threading, "This from the axe?"

"Yes ma'am."

Images of the soldier swiping the axe at Joel flash in front of you.

"Half a second later and this wouldn't be fixable." The axe would have stuck in his ribs, and tore out his insides when pulled free.

"I heard you scream and knew to duck," he tells you.

"A man that listens," you swoon while rolling your eyes, another deflection for the little spark of happiness his words lit deep inside your belly. Do people in your normal life ignore you so much that that would rise a reaction from you? Apparently.

The needle threaded and hovering, you steel yourself. One hand keeping the skin still, the other pushes the sharp tip of the needle through the flesh, the initial moment of resistance that you have to gently force past has you anticipating a flinch, a groan, a curse, anything. The needle is guided out the other side of the wound and you pull it free. Still, there is no reaction from your patient.

Looping the thread twice and slipping the needle through to create the knot, you tighten it til the skin closes taught. You cut the thread and move on to the next.

Stitch after stitch, you work your way up the wound. Gaining more confidence combined with the time pressure that right now you two are sitting ducks has you stitching and tying off the sutures faster and faster. Yet when you take a moment to view your work you're not even halfway done.

Diving back in, you lose yourself in the bloody task, trying to do a good job with the lack of expertise. As you tie off what must be your thirtieth stitch, Joel yawns.

"Did you just yawn?" you ask, pulling the the thread taught through his skin.

"Mm, did I?" He sounds sleepy.

You can't help the laugh that comes out more as a scoff, "Not your first rodeo?"

"Not my first rodeo."

"I can tell," you glance at the numerous scars adorning his back. Some are easily identifiable as gunshot wounds, others are more mysterious in origin.

You loop the thread twice and pull the needle through, closing the suture. You snip the thread and start on the next one.

"I'm glad you know what you're doing," he admits.

"Mm, May, would be looking over my shoulder, telling me all the things I'm doing wrong, then probably just shoo me away and take over. Guarantee you'd barely scar if she was doing this"

"She a medic?"

"No, not really. She was a seamstress at a theater production before the Outbreak, a transferable skill I guess. Turned into the neighborhood seamstress in the QZ, clothes or bullet holes, she can patch you up."

Talking about May, you're slapped with the reminder of the situation. You would do anything for her, and now when she's in the greatest danger, you are too far away to do anything. If FEDRA finds her, she's dead. Very real memories blur with fears, and for a moment, as if from a crystal ball, you watch a soldier shove May to the ground and put a gun to her head.

In an effort to distract yourself, you keep talking. You aren't sure why.

"Even from the start, when people would come over to get patched up, she'd have me watch. Teach me what she could. Her eyesight has started to go these days, so I've had to take over a lot of it."

There's a very long pause. You get to your fortieth stitch when Joel speaks, "Is she the one that you traded insulin for?"

Your hands falter in their movements, but you have to get over it quickly, finishing the knot. This is the first time Joel's brought up your first meeting. The last time he spoke of it, he threw it back in your face. Told you it means nothing.

"Yes," your next stitch starts with a jab rather than a poke, but you get a hold of yourself, honed with detached professionalism.

The final stretch approaches, your fingers stiff from prolonged focus. The smell of blood has overwhelmed all else for so long that you no longer notice it.

Swimming through your head are memories. Just as each one crests to the top, another comes rolling in, flooding you in a never ending cycle. Memories of May. Memories of your mother. Memories of the Outbreak, and the first time you killed someone in self defense. All the things you’ve done to keep yourself safe.

The man sitting in front of you is what pulls you back to the present. What has he done? In the short and yet simultaneously long time you’ve known him, he’s done a lot.

This doesn’t scare you like it should. Sewing the flesh of a man that’s shed his humanity, even if it was in exchange for survival. The veterinarian performing dental surgery on a tranquilized bear sheds their instincts to perform their duty.

You loop the thread and slip the needle pulling the last knot taught to his skin. Thread snipped, and needle put down, you pull a compression bandage from the kit.

“Stand up for this, it’ll be easier,” you order.

Joel complies silently, pushing the chair out of the way.

You get him to hold one end of the bandage against his side while you wrap it around his torso. It's the same dance as before, forcing you closer with each pass of the bandage around him, your heart beating faster with the uncomfortableness. It only covers the worst part of the wound, the rest of it you tape gauze over the stitches.

"There," you announce, taking a step away, "how's it feel?"

"Sore," Joel answers.

"I bet, you lost a fuck ton of blood," you're honestly a little surprised he's standing.

The smuggler does his best to scrub his hands and arms free of blood in the bucket. You give him some privacy, rummaging through the desk and collecting all the maps and papers you can find.

You carry them out into the main room, laying them flat on a table by the boarded windows. You pause at the single sheet of paper already lying on it. You pick it up gently, it looks faded and its coated in a thick layer of dust. You deposit the maps to read it, the strain hurting your eyes, the words jumping around on the paper.

Vivienne,

It's Andy, I've been waiting here for you and Elise for the last week. Where are you? Goddamn Viv, we agreed where to meet if we got split up. You can't be gone. I can feel it.

I'm heading to the tallest building downtown, I can see it from here. I have a feeling you'd head there, hoping to meet up. I'll stay there as long as I can but be careful, there are hunters in this area.

We got ambushed by some. Jordan got shot. I tried my best but I think he became septic. I buried him behind the building, facing the ocean. I'm so sorry, baby.

I'll see you soon, I know it. Tell Elise I love her to the moon and back.

And Viv, be careful.

Love, Andy

Reading the note, you hold the paper more preciously, like a newborn duckling. Its full of love and loss and desperate hope. You could use some of that right now.

Opening the front door, you don't have to step out far to see the building he was speaking of. It sticks out even more these days with the adjacent buildings in partial collapse. It's fucking huge. Sticking straight up into the sky like an ugly rod of rebar. The view you'd have from the top would extend in miles on either side of the coast.

The door opens behind you. The smuggler steps outside, looking much cleaner and fully dressed in a coffee brown t-shirt.

"I think I have an idea," you tell him. You point to the skyscraper, "perfect place to watch for any followers coming from the water while we heal." Your concussion is going to slow you down and Joel is vulnerable to infection until the wound closes, not to mention the severe blood loss.

Joel takes his time to answer, but you know he isn't ignoring you. You watch from the profile his eyes scan the building, take in the surrounding city, weighing the pros and cons.

"Could work," he says finally, "you think they'll follow?" He turns to you.

"I don't know," you sigh, "it's what I would do, if I was a fucking sociopath. Send a small team, skilled trackers, take out the loose ends."

"How much of a threat are you now?" Joel asks, which is a very polite way of asking how much you matter.

"To FEDRA as a whole? Nothing. To an offhand mission, we're both proof that whatever sham they're playing at is a lie."

"So a lot." Joel sighs.

"Yep," it helps to express your thought process out loud with someone. KNowing that Joel is now just as tangled in this mess makes it but it a lighter load to bare, "if they are following, we're sitting ducks. We need to get going."

"There'll be infected out in the city." Joel warns.

"Where are there not?"

"A lot more," he presses.

Looking at his serious face, the grey at his temple, you trust he isn't exaggerating. Since coming to the QZ, you've spent your years behind its walls, rarely patrolling the perimeter much less venturing into zones far beyond. Joel has, being a smuggler comes with an experience you don't possess.

Just one more thing you'll have to trust the man on.

You let your bravado slip, "Is there another option?"

You catch his eyes skip around the injuries on your face, his heavy brows pulling in before he shakes his head.

"Then let's get going."

You take lead, heading towards the downtown core, the smuggler following a few paces behind. Your eyes set on the skyscrapper. The sight of it, standing tall like a bolt of steel defiance against the rest of the crumbling city fills you with a naive wonder if Andy and Vivienne ever reunited. Or if he's still waiting up there, hoping.

A/N: PSA don't wash wounds with salt water.

[kikyoupdates]

Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

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“Honestly, I thought you would’ve given up by now,” Sergei sighed.

“What? Of course not,” you frowned. “I’ll have you know I’m very serious about this. Look, I’ve even been practicing!”

You proceeded to swing your wooden sword with visible enthusiasm, making cutting motions left, right, and center.

Needless to say, he wasn’t impressed.

Today marked the second day of your lessons with the kind-hearted knight who ended up meeting a gruesome fate. Naturally, you had no intention of getting ahead of yourself. It wasn’t as if you expected to become some sort of prodigy overnight. But every effort counted, and the more you practiced, the better equipped you were to defend yourself if something went awry. After stupidly letting your guard down and helping out Flora, you needed to keep up with your training, now more than ever.

“So?” you huffed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “What do you think?”

Sergei’s brows were creased. He looked like he was searching for the right words to say.

“I think that you have absolutely no talent with a sword.”

Okay, well he clearly hadn’t found the right words, because ouch.

“You’re so mean,” you whined. “This is only our second lesson! Don’t you think it’s too early to jump to conclusions? Of course I’m not going to be great right off the bat. I’m only a beginner. Were you immensely talented from the get-go?”

“Yes,” Sergei said calmly. “My talent is the whole reason I decided to become a knight.”

“Ugh. Okay, that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that someone can suck at something at the beginning, but that doesn’t mean they can’t improve one day.”

“I agree with that,” Sergei acknowledged. “I’m not saying that you can’t learn, but from what I’ve seen, it’s already quite clear that this isn’t the sort of activity that will come naturally to you. Everyone has different types of skills. Why not take up a hobby that you might be better suited towards? It could save you a lot of frustration, and sword-fighting really isn’t the sort of thing a lady like you will ever have any use for...”

But I can’t learn something else. It’s not like I’m doing this for fun. I need to make sure I’ll have some way of protecting myself.

Obviously, you couldn’t tell him that for you, learning to use a sword was absolutely essential. So, you did what you did best. You lied.

“As I’ve told you before, I am a very prudent woman,” you said.

Sergei snorted. Okay, rude.

“Lately, I keep having nightmares of criminals attacking me in the middle of the night, and I can’t do anything but quiver helplessly. I refuse to be helpless,” you frowned. “I never want to end up in the sort of situation where I just cower in fear and hope for the best. I want to take charge of my life and fight until the very end.”

“This seems to be an ongoing concern of yours,” he remarked, looking a touch concerned. “Being cautious is all well and good, but there is such a thing as worrying too much. If you’re really so afraid, why don’t you just make sure to take a personal guard when you go out in public?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“So, then...”

“But if they fail to protect me, then I’m right back to square one.”

Sergei shook his head in disbelief. “Alright, alright. If training with a sword will really help to put your worries to rest, then I suppose it’s the least I can do for you. But you really should know that the odds of you getting hurt, especially if you aren’t on your own, are remarkably slim. Infinitesimal, even.”

Ha. You’d be surprised.

“Yes, I know,” you said, mustering a smile. “But this really does make me feel better about the whole thing. I feel powerful, even though I realize I’m far from it yet. And now I have the added challenge of becoming so good that you’ll be forced to eat your words. Hehe.”

“At the very least, your enthusiasm is certainly admirable,” Sergei chuckled.

Right. That was all you had, really. Enthusiasm. And fear. Fear for your life. With such emotions driving you forward, you were certain that you could somehow compensate for your lack of athletic abilities.

As proof of your readiness to train your butt off, you swung your sword several times in quick succession, building up a noticeable burn in your arms. Sergei wasn’t saying anything, just watching you in silence. It didn’t matter if you sucked. Hell, you knew you sucked, but that still wasn’t going to change the fact that you were going to do this, no matter what.

“Lady [Name], please stop,” he eventually said.

You looked back at him in confusion. “Yes? Am I doing something wrong?”

“You’re doing many things wrong, but that’s not what I was getting at. How would you like to try using a real sword today, just to get a feel for it?”

You could hardly contain the grin that burst across your lips. “Really?!”

“It would be good to try,” he nodded. “If the point is to protect yourself, a wooden sword won’t do much to achieve that. It was just to get you a bit familiar with the length and girth of the weapon you’ll be holding. Keep in mind that the real thing will be quite a good deal heavier, though. It will be difficult to adjust to at first.”

“That’s totally fine!” you babbled, eager to finally try out the real thing. You’d never held a sword before. It was difficult to even find swords back in your previous world. All of this was to learn how to protect yourself, but it was still so exciting!

Sergei bit back a smile. “It’s not that amazing. But I have to admit that it’s quite amusing to watch you react so expressively.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re amused. C’mon, gimme!”

“You certainly don’t speak like a noblewoman, though... anyways, here you are. Be careful. Don’t move too suddenly with it.”

He gently placed the hilt of the sword in your hands, with the blade pointed downwards. You couldn’t feel the full weight of it yet, not while Sergei was still gripping it as well.

But then he let go. And the sword fell to the ground.

“Ouchie!” you squealed, frantically shaking your wrist. “My hand nearly broke!”

Sergei clamped a palm over his mouth. “Pfft... n-no, you’re just exaggerating. I did warn you, my lady. Perhaps you were just surprised. Care to try again?”

You grimaced, cheeks glowing bright red. Okay, maybe you were exaggerating just a bit, but that thing was heavy as all hell! In the interest of staying as safe as possible, you knew wielding a sword was practically crucial, but you were slowly realizing that it was an even bigger obstacle than you’d once presumed.

“I can do it,” you huffed, crouching down to pick the sword back up. “It’s okay. I have muscles. Weak, underused ones... but they’re still muscles!”

Sergei was trying not to laugh at you—and failing horribly, at that.

But by some miracle, you managed to pick the sword up. Granted, you had to hold onto it with both hands, and the strain it was placing on your wrists was enough to make your arms shake, but you were actually holding a sword. God, you felt like such a badass!

“I-I’m amazing,” you said, grimacing in between breaths. “Showstopping, incredible, phenomenal. S-Super epic... ugh, I just can’t anymore!”

You dropped the sword once again, sighing in relief. Okay, so it was a work in progress. Strengthening your wrists would likely be crucial. Maybe you could practice by repeatedly opening jars.

“Good effort,” Sergei mused, flashing you a thumbs-up. “It was—pfft! —very entertaining."

“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoyed it,” you eye-rolled.

“Weren’t you going on earlier about how you’d make me eat my words? Surely the weight of the sword isn’t enough to make you quit?”

“I have no intention of quitting,” you reassured. “That being said... is it all possible to make my own sword? One that’s a bit lighter? I’m not as tall or strong as you. I can have one personally customized to better suit me, right?”

Sergei nodded. “Yes, you can have one made by a blacksmith. If you provide him with the rough dimensions of the sword, and what sort of materials you’d like to have used, I’m sure he can craft one that’s more comfortable for you to use. It still won’t be too light, not if you want it to be sturdy enough to deal damage, but you can figure out the details and strike a good balance between what you’d like to achieve.”

“Is there a particular blacksmith you recommend?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. Remind me to write down his name and some other details for you later.”

“Alright. In that case...” You picked up the wooden sword instead of the real one, smiling sheepishly. “Um. Until I have my personal sword made, I’d like to stick with this one, if that’s okay...”

Sergei was clearly holding back the urge to laugh again. “Whatever you say, Lady [Name].”

“Back to training I go,” you hummed. “Watch this! Consecutive wooden sword slashes, but at a dizzying speed. Hyah!”

“Again with the battle cries...”

Even if you were still a noob in the purest sense of the word, over time, your body was bound to adapt. You were intent on getting by through muscle memory alone. Besides, as far as you knew, only two of the yanderes were proficient sword-fighters themselves—namely, Triston and Friedrich. So long as you were armed, and they weren’t, you would probably stand a chance.

Point being, it was best not to skimp on your training. Even if you probably looked like a fool flailing around all over the place.

Still, it was certainly tiring swinging a heavy wooden sword continuously. With every motion, you could feel your arms progressively turning to jelly. Coupled with the fact that it was so hot out, you were really starting to break a sweat.

“Time out,” you groaned, throwing your sword down. You tried to fan yourself off with your hand, but it wasn’t doing much good. This goddamn tunic was making you burn up. It needed to go.

So, you proceeded to get rid of it, stripping your outermost layer and exposing the thin camisole you had underneath. The relief was almost immediate. Granted, it was still hot as hell, but your skin could finally breathe now.

“L-Lady [Name]!” came the horrified splutter. You turned to find Sergei gaping at you in disbelief, several shades redder than he’d been a few seconds ago.

“Yes?” you frowned.

“You can’t just get undressed like that all of a sudden! Please remember that you are in public!”

He looked away in a hurry, and you had to admit, it was kind of cute. In the game, Sergei made every effort to act the part of a knight. He was sometimes guilty of being too serious, although he eventually came to let his guard down around Flora, after falling for her gentleness. From what you recalled, he’d never been much of a joker, yet in the few interactions he’d had with you, you’d already gotten to see him laugh it up plenty of times at your expense. And now he was even blushing. It was refreshing to see such different sides to a character you liked.

But honestly, you didn’t really get what the big deal was. The camisole was pretty thin, sure, but it wasn’t all that revealing. A tiny bit of cleavage and bare shoulders, but that was about it. Back in your world, people showed plenty of skin, so you definitely weren’t used to such an innocent reaction. Your case especially was rather unique. Countless doctors and nurses had seen you butt naked before, so something like this hardly fazed you.

Watching Sergei get increasingly flustered was rather amusing, though.

“You can drop the title, you know,” you chuckled, still fanning yourself off. “Just [Name] is fine.”

“No, I really mustn’t,” he insisted. His face was buried in his palms, and it almost seemed like he was itching to move them out of the way and steal another peek, but his willpower remained undaunted. “This is already quite improper... and you allow me to speak to you so casually in the first place. Now, please, will you get dressed?”

“Aw. But it’s way too hot out. I’d rather keep practicing like this.”

“Lady [Name], what you have on leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Please, for my sake, I’ll ask that you cover up again.”

“Prude,” you muttered under your breath. Alright, alright. You could sort of understand that this was set in a different time period, with different standards and all that, but you were really struggling to feel modest given your previous lived experiences. Guess that was yet another thing you’d have to get used to here.

With a great deal of reluctance, you put your tunic back on, cursing the fact that they didn’t even have air conditioning in this world.

“You can look now,” you announced. “Rest assured that my breasts are back in their rightful place.”

Sergei gritted his teeth, still red as a tomato. “In the name of all that is holy, I am literally begging you to stop.”

“Hehe.”

“Don't hehe me!”

It was safe to say that Sergei was too embarrassed to look you in the eye for the rest of your training session.

Cedric Lightsteel, huh?

You stared down at the piece of paper in your hand. It was the name of the blacksmith Sergei had personally recommended to you. Sergei spoke very highly of him, so you didn’t doubt that he’d be able to craft you the perfect sword. Once you’d obtained a weapon tailored to suit your needs, you were confident that your skills would improve astronomically.

Anyways, things were looking good. As expected, it felt good to plan everything out in the event that you got caught up in something dangerous. Based on the natural progression of the plot, you still had plenty of time until the yanderes began exhibiting their dangerous tendencies—not that you planned on ever seeing any of them again.

There had been a little hiccup with Flora, sure, but you’d ignored her letter. By now, you were confident that she would’ve gotten the message. Even if you did feel really shitty about it.

“Man, I’m pooped,” you yawned, stretching your arms out. Living in a healthy body really was incredible. You’d worked your butt off today, and you were definitely tired, but it still didn’t even come close to the fatigue you experienced every single day back in your old life. Even with minimal activity, you’d been in a perpetual state of exhaustion back then. You slept just about always, lied around doing very little when you were awake, and your body struggled to do even that much.

It almost made you want to cry. The fact that you actually got to live like this now. That was why you needed to hold onto it with all your strength.

You decided to unwind by taking a nice, hot bath. Modern day luxuries were certainly missing in this world, but that just meant that you had more time to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. You could even feel some of your vigor returning to you as you soaked in the delightful bubbly water. You’d trained for hours, but with this body, it felt like you’d be good to do the whole thing all over again after just a little bit of rest.

Sighing happily, you eventually decided that you were squeaky clean and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around your body.

Then, you walked back into your bedroom.

Only to find a strange man sitting on the bed.

“Ah,” he smiled upon locking eyes with you. “Did you have a nice bath? I was waiting for you to finish. Come, let’s have a chat."

Unsurprisingly, you screamed.

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