#it's not like my hands were shaking or i was dizzy or something

[captain-huggy-bear]

Priorities

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Illness/comfort

Summary: When Quinn gets a text from you 2 hours before his game, he shows where his priorities lie when he drops it all for you.

Series: Teacher Reader series

Notes: I am not very well atm and I had to drive home dizzy from work the other day, the idea of Quinn being there to help has been stuck in my head so have some self indulgence from me.

A kind of sequel to In Sickness and in Health but you don't need to read that to read this.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's already at the rink getting ready for the game in the locker room when his phone goes off. You don't actually ring him, clearly doing that thing you always do where you're trying to not bother him on a game day, instead you send a quick text message. He expects the usual:

'Good luck on the game today, baby!'

Instead, the text he gets has him picking his phone up and calling you back in an instant, worry clouding his judgement and making his hands shake slightly.

'Hey, so guess who's being sent home because she's dizzy and can't breathe? I had my head between my legs for 20 minutes, definitely can't stand and teach. Have a good game x'.

You drop the good luck at the end like he's not supposed to be worried, like you've just casually told him about the weather and not that you we're struggling to breathe.

It doesn't really matter that Tocc is giving him the look, the one he reserves for when he's annoyed at the boys, or that half the locker room have stopped their own pre-game, pre-warm up routines to watch their captain frantically call you. He's pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

"Quinn?" You sound so incredibly breathless its like listening to an asthmatic 80 year old who's smoked for half their life. Except you don't smoke and you're not asthmatic or 80 which makes the whole situation about 10 times worse because you shouldn't be struggling to breathe. You should be doing better today.

You've been ill, he knows this, a chest infection he forced you to get meds for on the weekend. Meds which should have started working by now, a heavy dose of antibiotics and steroids which were supposed to have helped. You'd felt well enough this morning to go in and give work another go, but he regrets letting you do that now. Clearly trying to stand up in front of teenagers and talk was not something you should have been doing, not when the school day had only started half an hour ago and you were already being sent home.

"Baby, are okay?" You're sitting on the front steps of the school with all your things when you answer the phone to Quinn's worried voice. You keep telling yourself you just need a minute, just a minute and then you won't feel so dizzy, won't feel so breathless. Just a minute and the tingles in your fingers will go and your hands will stop shaking so much. Just a minute and then you can drive home and get into bed.

"Y-yeah, I'm...I'm just breathless. I'll be okay...they're...they're covering my...my lessons and..." You stop for a minute, taking big deep breathes, you sound so laboured on the phone that Quinn can't help but clench his phone tighter in his hand, "and I'm going home now." Your breaths are wheezy, just like Saturday, in fact he's certain you sound worse.

"How are you getting home?" He knows the answer before you say it and he hates it before he even hears it. You're dizzy and breathless and there is no way you should be driving home at all, but he knows you. Self-reliant to a fault, a martyr, always pushing yourself past the point of no return because you think you're fine, because you convince yourself you're fine. Because you don't want to inconvenience anyone or cause more problems. You ask to little of people around you, expecting barely anything despite all you give.

"I'm...I'm going to...to drive."

"No. You're not. I'm going to come get you." You want to protest a lot more than you do if you're being honest. But, you're so tired and it's so hard to breathe and students wandering in late to school are staring at you like you're having a break down. So your protests are relatively lacklustre by your usual standard. That actually worries him more.

"It's...there's like 2 hours before the game...you've...you've got warm ups soon." You hate the idea of him missing warm ups or god forbid the game, all because you were too stupid to realise you shouldn't have gone into work in the first place.

"So, I'll get you, take you home and come back to the rink and play. I'll walk to the school tomorrow and collect your car so you don't have to worry about it. But, you aren't driving, baby. If you even try to get in that car I will being fucking pissed. I love you, you do not get in that car." You know he's serious in that moment, not just because he's very rarely angry at you or anyone but himself, outside of the rink, but because he's got that clipped tone he only uses when he's serious. This isn't a request, it's a direct order and you have no intention of disobeying it, not when you know he's right...not when it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside that he's so insistent about your wellbeing.

"But, what...what if you miss warm ups?" He loves how much you support him and his hockey, he always will, but he hates that your first thought is that hockey should come first. His girlfriend can barely breathe right now and he quite honestly doesn't give a flying fuck if he misses warm ups. The team had to pull themselves together at some point and you came first. Always. If they couldn't manage warm ups without him then what was the point of paying them so much money?

"Warm ups aren't my priority, baby. You are. Do not get in the car. Do not drive. Do not move. I'm leaving right now, okay? Just sit on the steps of the school and take deep breaths." He's already grabbing his keys, not even bothering to change out of his gear other than putting some proper shoes on so that he can actually drive. He knows it'll spark some speculation and rumours, Captain of the Canucks storming out of the arena 2 hours before puck drop in full gear except his skates, but he doesn't fucking care about that right now.

"...Okay...thank you, Quinny. I love you." You say it because in that moment you have never felt so loved, to have someone drop everything, something so important, to come get you...Maybe its the meds, maybe its the breathlessness, the infection, but you feel like crying a little because of how sweet he is even when he's bossing you about.

"I'll see you soon, baby. I love you too."

He doesn't waste time once he hangs up, just turns straight to Tocc and tells him, "I'll be back."

The look he gets is a mixture of disbelief, frustration and confusion and he really can't blame Tocc for it. Not when Quinn is the captain, the player that seems to make a massive difference on the ice, and he's about to run out the doors 2 hours before the game? Yeah, he knows Tocc doesn't want to hear it.

"Quinn, where you going? We have a game in 2 hours?!" He knows he's going to be cutting it fine with Vancouver traffic and getting to your school, the apartment and back to the arena, but he's not letting you drive. He could live with missing a game, losing a game, but he couldn't live with himself if he let you drive home and something happened. His job was to look after you, if he failed at that? What was the fucking point?

"Tocc, I'll be back. I promise. But, right now my girlfriend is unable to breathe and dizzy and I'm not letting her drive home, okay? Sooner I leave, sooner I come back."

Maybe it's the insistence on Quinn's face, the reality that if he was forced to stay he wouldn't play well anyway. Maybe it's that you and Tocc get along and he can see a hint of concern in the other man's eyes or maybe Tocc just trusts him that much. But, he actually agrees to let him go. Not that Quinn could really be forced to stay. They'd have to tie him to the bench.

"Okay, I'm trusting you."

"Thanks."

Quinn ignores every single person he storms past, every employee, every fan outside, every person with a camera that starts asking him where he's going as he starts his car with one destination in mind. Maybe he seems rude, maybe he seems standoffish, but he doesn't really care because right now you are sat on the steps of a school struggling to breathe and he just wants to see you and get you home and into bed.

He doesn't even care that he knows Tocc is going to be questioned about his absence or that he can already hear his phone pinging with notifications from social media, most likely people asking where he was going and speculating.

'Just saw Quinn Hughes storm out of Rogers Arena in full gear, finally got fed up of his team?'

'Um, is anyone else panicking that Hughes just left the arena like 2 hours before puck drop?'

'Captain Lexapro has officially lost it with this team, just stormed out of the arena!!'

He tries his best not to break any traffic laws getting to you, despite the fact he has a lead foot that wants to press harder on the accelerator. But, he knows you'd hate it and you'd worry more about him getting a ticket, so he just grips the steering wheel tighter until he's turning into the school car park.

He doesn't try to park in a proper space, just pulls up as close to you as possible before hopping out. Your head is between your legs, shoulders rising and falling in laboured breaths and he feels like he's been punched in the stomach at how bad you sound.

"Oh, baby..." He's kneeling on the dirty ground within seconds and you try, through broken gasps to tell him he'll get his hockey socks dirty, but he doesn't listen to you, just reaches to pull you into a hug.

"Let's get you home, okay? Tomorrow we're going back to the doctors, okay?" You're leaning your head into his shoulder so heavily that he's worried you might actually pass out. It's like the moment his arms wrap around you, you just give up on holding yourself up. In truth, that's kind of what happens. You just want to lean into him, soak up the comfort of your boyfriend lighting petting your hair and whispering into your ear.

"Don't y-you have...practice?"

"I think I can fit the doctors in around practice, baby..." He doesn't tell you, but he'd forgo practice for you. He doesn't care about anything but how you're doing and you're not okay. Quinn can see that better than anyone.

"Alright, up you get..." He stands first, hands reaching for yours to help pull you to your feet. You sway before him like you're on a 16th century galleon in a thunderstorm, forehead plonking on his chest heavily, "Atta, girl. There we go." He just strokes your hair and back while you wait for the dizziness to pass, he knows each second will make him later to the arena but he's not going to rush you when you're struggling just to stand without fainting.

"Alright, let me get your stuff and then we'll take it one step at a time, baby, okay?"

"O..okay...one step...at a time." He tries his best not to let go of you completely as he bundles your work bag onto his shoulder. Quinn is as quick as he can be with it, before pulling you under his arm and helping you inch step by step towards the car.

It's slow going, every few steps you get a little dizzy and he waits for you to nod before he pushes you forward again. You're drained, dark circles under your eyes and skin losing some of its usual colour by the time you reach the car.

Quinn had purposefully pulled up the car with the passenger side facing you and you're thankful not to have to walk around the car as you brace yourself against the door for a moment. Quinn helps ease you into the seat, reaching over to put your seatbelt on for you and adjust the headrest so you can lean back. It eases some of the weight in your chest.

"Nearly home, okay, baby?"

You just nod, exhausted as his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, spreading a soft sort of affection through your already aching chest. He's so gentle as he looks down at you, fingers rubbing circles in your cheeks, but he looks so worried and you feel so guilty because he shouldn't have to be that worried.

"You've been so brave, baby, you're so brave...soon you'll be in bed and you can watch the game and sleep, okay?" He knows you'll want to watch the game if you're sat at home, mostly because you watch every game he plays even if its on catch up, but also because he knows it'll reassure you that he made it back in time.

You nod again, blinking up at him so tired that he can't help but frown.

"Atta, girl. My brave girl." The kiss Quinn presses to your forehead is short and sweet, not lingering but filling you with warmth and lightness even as he closes the door on you and gets into the driver's side.

You miss his comforting touch and as if he knows this, his hand reaches for your thigh at any given opportunity when it isn't in use to drive. The stability of it, the comfort of just having him there is so welcome and helps you to relax back into the seat as he drives.

It's just as hard work getting you into the apartment, thankful as ever that the elevator actually works, but once you're in, Quinn feels ten times lighter.

"Right, lets get you comfy, baby...you want one of my jerseys or a hoodie?"

"Jersey...the....the black one, please."

"Okay, sit down, there ya go, good girl.." He watches you the entire time from the corner of his eye, scared you'll lean too far forward from how you're hunched over on the edge of the bed. He tries to make the entire thing quick, reaching for his black jersey, the extra big one that he bought home because you liked how it dwarfed you and even dwarfed him.

"Arms up, baby..." He helps you out of your work blouse and your bra, slipping the jersey over the top quickly to avoid the shivers you start shaking with.

The worst part is getting you to your feet to get your bottoms off. Quinn helps you rise to your feet before kneeling in front of you, dragging your hands to his shoulders for support as he helps you inch out of the remainder of your work clothes. Your fingers grip his shoulders so tight that he's certain you might leave bruises but he doesn't really care, just happy to get you comfy and help you into bed.

You're bundled under as many blankets as he can find, plus the heated blanket you got at Christmas. A big jug of water beside the bed, snacks piled high because he is not having you try to go all the way to kitchen without supervision right now.

"You want the game set to go on?"

"Y...yes, please...wanna watch you play." He turns the television on, setting it to the NHL game set to go live in less than an hour now and he knows he's going to miss warm ups at this point. Tocc's probably blowing up his phone and he knows he's cutting it fine...but you look so small bundled up in bed and he actually hates the idea of leaving you alone. He hates not having his family near all the time as a general rule, but in that moment he hates it so much more. If his mum or dad had been near he could have asked Ellen or Jim to check in on you, instead you were going to be all alone and he hated it.

"I'll score for you, yeah? You can watch me score and maybe we'll win and then I'll come and make us dinner. That sound good, baby?"

"Perfect..." Quinn smooths your hair back from your face, tucking a strand behind your ear even as he uses it as an excuse to feel your temperature. Not unreasonably warm which reassures him a little that you're at least not feverish.

He just keeps sitting there next to you, stroking your hair and caressing your cheek to the point that as much as you're loathe to get him to stop and to leave, you have to remind him he can't stay here. He has a game he's already running late to.

"You...you have to go, Quinn...I'll be okay..."

"If you're not, you'll phone 911, right?" He smooths your hair back again, in truth he really doesn't want to leave you there like that. Even as you seem to be breathing a little better now you're lying down. He considers just not going, if they lose they lose...but he knows he can't. He's captain, he promised he'd be back...and you'd be unhappy with him. He might be your boyfriend but the Canucks were your team and you'd likely make him sleep on the couch for a week.

"I promise...just go win for me?"

"Okay, sweet girl." He presses a last lingering kiss to your forehead, before getting up to leave. But, he still lingers in the doorway for a moment until you push him to go.

Once he's out of the apartment he's rushing. Barely any time and honestly when he finally gets back to the arena and gets his skates on he's surprised he's just in time to go out on the ice for the anthem...cold, not warmed up in the slightest, not ready at all to play a game, but willing to.

Tocc stops him as he's passing the bench to get to the ice, "Cutting it fine, Hughes!" despite the gruff tone, Quinn can tell that Tocc is just relieved that Quinn's back in time. As are the guys who all look at him with varying shades of relief as if they'd been freaking out the entire time. Which they probably had.

"Told you I'd be back." Quinn says it with such confidence, even though inside he knows he nearly missed the entire game. To be honest if you hadn't forced him out the apartment then he'd probably have been late at best.

"How is she?" Tocc's voice is soft, concerned and Quinn appreciates it. He appreciates that as a coach Tocc doesn't just care about how much they cost or how well they play, he cares about them and their families too...and you're included in that, ring or not.

"Not good...but safe at home."

"You need practice off tomorrow?"

"Please, I need to get her to the doctors..."

"Done. Now go help us win the game." Tocc gives him a clap on the shoulder before pushing him out onto the ice and just like that Quinn slips into captain mode.

Locked in like he always is even if his legs don't feel as loose and his stick feels a little less familiar in his hands. Knowing you're home safe helps, he can put the thought of you to the back of his mind, knowing you're safe in the apartment, comfortable and surrounded by everything you need.

You find it hard to focus on the game, but force yourself to, determined to watch Quinn play and to see the goal he intends to score for you. Maybe it's silly, there's no guarantee he'll actually score, but you can tell from the moment he's on the ice that it's one of the few things on his mind. Shot after shot after shot, a determined series of attempts that remind you how important you are to him even as you lie wheezing in bed, eating as much chocolate as Quinn put out for you.

It's part way through the first period with one goal already to Vancouver thanks to Petey that the issue of Quinn's disappearance pre-game is raised.

"Quinn Hughes was nearly late to the game today, the captain missed warm ups but that's certainly not stopping him now!" Shortie's voice rings through the room, a familiar cadence that makes you feel comforted.

"No, it's not, Shortie, do we know why Hughes was late?" Dave responds and for a moment you can't quite comprehend that you've managed to cause this much of a ruckus.

"It hasn't been confirmed and you know I'm not much of a gossip..." You have a little giggle a Shortie even as you are the topic of conversation because it's not really much in the way of gossip and it's so silly.

"But?"

"Apparently he had a family emergency, his girlfriend is very unwell and he dropped everything to go get her."

"Well, that's just.."

"Romantic? Sweet?"

"I was going to say so unlike the Quinn Hughes we used to know, the one who only thought about hockey." You think back to Quinn when you first met, how everything had been hockey, hockey, hockey. You hadn't minded, your own love of the sport meant that you could handle it. But, it's true...Quinn had been rethinking his priorities ever since you started dating, where he might have prioritised hockey once, he'd started to prioritise you. You're not entirely sure at what point you became that important in his life, but it made you feel warm and fuzzy all over.

"I think it's a good thing, that's a sign of growth, just like Hughes' shot!" Shortie cuts himself off as you watch the camera pan to Quinn, following his agile movements across the ice as he skips past the other team's players as if it's as easy as breathing, "He's in past the defence, he lines up the shot and an unassisted goal for Quinn Hughes! Vancouver goal!"

You smile wide as you watch Quinn grin, celebrating with his team in a series of hugs before he finds a camera. There's a moment where you know he's grinning at you, for you, a cheeky little wink sent through the screen as if to say 'told you I'd score for you'.

"I suspect that one was for the girlfriend, Shortie."

You watch the entire game, trying not to nod off to sleep between periods. While you can't cheer and you certainly don't have the energy to celebrate too hard, every Canuck goal makes you feel lighter and brings a smile to your face.

The end result of a 5-2 win to the Canucks makes it easy for you to drift off as the game ends and the waiting for Quinn begins.

He's running off a high when the game ends, even more so when Boeser offers to take over press duties so Quinn can get back to you quickly.

The apartment is quiet when he comes in, "Baby?" not a sound comes back in response and he's careful to move quietly through the apartment to the bedroom doorway.

You're fast asleep, breathing heavy but nowhere near as bad as earlier in the day, you're surrounded by chocolate wrappers and he's quiet as he picks them all up and puts them in a bin, replacing them with the puck he scored with on your bedside table.

He tiptoes back to the kitchen quietly pottering around to make some dinner for you while you're still asleep, nothing fancy but protein, carbs and veg. The sort of thing that's definitely boring but also definitely what your body needs right now.

"Baby, time to wake up...I've made you dinner." He's gentle when he wakes you, soft fingers down your cheek as you stir awake, blinking up at him bleary eyed. Quinn helps you sit upright, the tray of food settling neatly in your lap.

"Where's...where's yours?"

"On the table, you want me to eat in here with you, sweetheart?"

He's moving before you finish nodding, grabbing another tray and his plate before joining you on the bed. He spends most of his dinner watching you eat, making sure you're not leaving large amounts and that you're okay.

He's happy about the win, happy about the score, but he's mostly just happy to be back with you and knowing that you're eating and you're okay, if not well.

Quinn's quick to tidy up your trays and even quicker to get back to you and get into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, sliding under the covers with you and pulling you into his arms.

Your cheek rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heart a soothing sound that helps some of the anxiety about being off work ease off. Quinn's fingers caress circles and weird shapes across your arm and shoulder as he tucks you tight against him, legs twined together. Every so often he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the top of your hair, as if reassuring himself that you're okay and he's got you.

"You scored..." You mumble into his t-shirt, a small smile working it's way to your lips as his hand moves up to run through your hair, stopping at your scalp every now and then to scratch lightly until you feel like purring even if that purr is more of a wheezy rumble.

"Mmm, for you, baby." Quinn smiles down at you, another kiss pressed to your cheek.

"T...the wink?" His smile weakens slightly at your still stumbling breathlessness and the wheeze and crackle that accompany it.

"Just for you, sweet girl."

"I'm...I'm proud of you, y'know?" You smile up at him so sweetly that he can't help but feel certain in his choices today. Yeah, nearly missing a game was rough, and maybe the press are going to be dicks about it and maybe he would have felt guilty if he'd missed the game or they'd lost...but he knows he'd skip a million games if it meant you were being looked after, were safe.

"I know...and tomorrow you're going to show me how proud you are by letting me take you to the doctors again."

"Ugh..." You groan, hiding your face into his chest like that will stop him from dragging you to the doctors. Your stubbornness normally cute but in this moment less so.

Quinn cups the back of your head until your looking up at him, green eyes meeting yours with a pleading stare that makes your resolve tremble and shudder. "Please? I'm worried about you, baby...I was really scared when I got that text from you."

"Yeah?" You hate that you worried him...it's that worry that makes you concede that maybe you need to go back to the doctors and maybe as much as you hate it, you'll do it, for Quinn.

"Yeah. I can replace hockey, I can play another game if I miss one. But, I can't replace you. Let me take you to the doctors."

There's a beat of silence as he pleads with you, eyes soft, worried, gentle, thumb stroking soothingly across the base of your neck and you can't really deny him this. Not when you know you'd feel exactly the same if the roles were reversed, not when he nearly missed a game for you today and went in completely cold turkey to win it.

"Okay...as...as long as you keep cuddling me."

"I think I can do that, baby." You curl back into his arms like the spot was carved just for you and in that moment Quinn Hughes knows that you have fully hit the top of his priority list, no ands, ifs, buts or maybes. You could ask him to quit hockey tomorrow and he'd do it. He'd do anything for you and that should be terrifying, but it's not because he knows you'd never ask too much of him. If anything you ask too little.

[plumbottompie]

"What day is it?" you snap as she comes in. Your affini looks at you.

"Petal, you seem upset. I think you need some class-Es." She extends a vine, with a large flower on it. You barely even register the suggestion before you're pressing your face into the flower, and breathing deeply, inhaling the scent and holding it.

After three deep breaths, you pull away. "Thank you, Miss," you say, which is the proper response to her giving you a dose of xenodrugs. "Uh, what day is it, Miss?"

"I don't really see why you would need to know, cutie, after all, you spend every day more or less the same way, don't you?" She pats you on the head.

"Yeah but... uh..." you trail off, distracted by the hand on you. "Did you just give me class-As just now? I feel really sensitive."

"Sometimes class-Es can make people feel more sensitive. It's easier to focus on enjoying sensation when you're relaxed, after all."

You lean into her hand. "Focus... on enjoying..." you mumble, as you process her words. It still feels too strong to just be psychological, but she would never tell an outright lie. "Uh, Miss? I... how long have I been here?"

"I don't know, sweetie, you were standing here when I got back, but you could have been waiting here for hours. Do you need me to check the hab's tapes?"

"Yeah... I mean, no, that's not what I meant. Has it been more than a month since my wardship started?"

"You were only assigned for me for a one month wardship, and you're still here, aren't you petal?" You blink, feeling stupid. She's right, of course. Why are you even thinking about this?

"B-but... my boobs...?" What are you talking about? Oh, you remember! "I read they can't grow this big in only a month."

"I see, that's very interesting. Let me examine you more closely." Your clothes fall away, removed by vines that immediately start caressing you. Your knees go weak in a matter of seconds, and you happily collapse, letting her hold you up. "Your boobs are getting nice and big, aren't they?"

"Yes Mistress." You only call her that during sex, which this really wasn't supposed to be, she was just looking at you, but you're so turned on the word slips out on it's own. You expect her to be upset at you for turning this into something sexual, but a vine snakes into your ass, and at the same time, she leans down and kisses you, her tongue vine sliding down her throat, before she pulls away.

"Good girl," she says, and you realize that instead of being upset, she rewarded you. You smile, happy to know that you've pleased your Mistress. "Do you think your tits are too big?" she asks, squeezing them.

"No, MIstress. I want them even bigger. I just..." you just what? It's so hard to think, so hard not to just focus on enjoying your Mistress's vines. "I just need to know if I'm an independent."

A vine teases down your breasts and to your rock hard clit. It's a little over two inches now, even though it was bigger than average before your wardship. "An independent terran is considered an affini's equal. Tell me, petal, do you feel like my equal?"

"No, Mistress." Her vines pull away from your tits, clit, and ass, and she looks at you, observing you closely.

"Do you want me to treat you like my equal? I can, of course."

You shake your head so hard it makes you dizzy. "No! No, Mistress, I don't want that!"

"Good girl. You're going to be ready very soon, aren't you? Now, I think you need some class-Zs, and then to forget this whole day, don't you?"

You open your mouth, but the only response that comes out is "May I cum, Mistress?"

"No, not today, you've been a little naughty." The flower covers your face again, and you breathe deeply. You feel as your body stops trembling, your mind starts to slow, your eyelids droop, even your clit goes soft. "And next time you figure it out, kneel while you wait for me."

You dimly wonder what you figured out, before you go to sleep. When you wake, you'll discover that your tablet will no longer show you the timeline of class-Gs, but it's not like you're unsatisfied with them. After all, look at how much you've changed in only a month.

You were assigned to an affini for a one month wardship, and she helped you realize you were a trans woman and put you class-Gs. Now, looking in the mirror, you realize that from your research, the changes you've experienced should have taken at least three months.

You check your tablet to see what the date is, but it's not showing the date or time anywhere. Even if it was, you can't remember what day your wardship started. If you're right, your wardship ended a while ago, and she just... kept you? Didn't tell you that you were allowed to leave?

You consider trying the door out of the hab, and seeing if you can just walk out, but she'd be worried if she came back and you were gone, and besides, you're pretty mad. You'll wait for her to come home, and confront her about it. Maybe give her a chance to come clean, if it's true, or explain it to you, if you're wrong.

[vershautece]

ik lu isn’t materialistic but imagine for valentines day u surprise him in baby pink lingerie… idk I feel like he would just worship u and go absolutely nuts…

yess ahh

he’d walk in your room to see you stood looking in the mirror in your new set, brushing your hair. you’d been waiting for him, and your panties were getting damp just thinking about how he’s going to react when he sees you.

he’d wrap his arms around your waist, looking at the two of you in the mirror and rocking you side to side slightly as he plants wet kisses along your neck. ‘baby. when did you buy this set?’

‘today, mm’ you arch your back against him at the feeling of his wet mouth on your neck, and grip his hand at the same time.

‘so pretty for me’ he leaves your neck to turn your face to his and kisses you roughly, tongue immediately slipping into your mouth. his hand is moving further down your stomach, and then he’s rubbing your clit through your panties, making you moan in his mouth. ‘mm, lu’

‘mhm, baby? you wanna say something?’

you grip his wrist that’s pressed against your abdomen, and lean back into his chest, struggling to contain yourself: ‘want your fingers’

‘you already have my fingers? be more specific, dolcezza’ he kisses you again and you’re feeling dizzy - the pet name, his mouth, and his fingers drawing slow circles on your clit - he always knows exactly how to get you worked up

‘baby, i want them inside me, you know i do, i-‘ your breath hitches as he pulls your panties to the side to expose your folds - ‘hate when you tease’

he slaps your pussy lightly, and you jolt back against his chest. ‘look in the mirror, beautiful.’ you look at the two of you in the reflection as he rubs two fingers up and down your soaking slit. his other hand kneads one of your boobs so slowly through the pink fabric. ‘did you get horny just looking at yourself in that pretty set, baby? you knew i’d like it, hm?’ he’s leaving wet kisses all over your neck, and you’re struggling to stand up straight.

‘yeah, i bought it for you’ you gasp as he slips a finger inside, his thumb rubbing your clit. you shut your eyes, arching your body back against his chest as he adds a second finger shortly after.

‘don’t shut your eyes baby, look at yourself’ he whispers into your neck, and you do as he tells you. ‘so perfect like this, my good girl’

his fingers are thrusting into you faster, other hand kneading your left boob and twisting your nipple: ‘answer me, bellissima, what do you want?’ he’s still kissing your neck, and you reach your hand back to caress the nape of his neck - you’re in pure ecstasy already and he‘s only using his fingers.

‘want you inside me’ you whine out, dragging your hand down to meet his bulge against your back. you grind back onto it as you rub him through the fabric of his jeans. he moans into your neck, and the vibration makes your legs shake. ‘oh, lu, fuck me baby’

‘yeah? you want my cock inside you, baby girl? want me to fuck you in this pretty lingerie?’ the pace of his fingers is relentless inside you, and when you grip his cock a little too tight it drives him over the edge and he pulls his fingers out of you abruptly. you gasp at the loss of contact, but then he turns you around to pull you flush against his chest, arms around your waist as he looks down into your eyes. he smiles slightly, dimples showing a little, and your heart melts at how gorgeous he is. your arms go around his neck, and he’s making out with you rough and passionate, hands moving down to grip your ass and knead it in his fingers. he gives it a harsh smack, laughing into your mouth when you moan in response.

‘lu, please fuck me’ you whine in between kisses. you’re pathetically grinding on his crotch, still stood in the middle of your bedroom. he’d brought you close to the edge just to leave you sexually frustrated, and it’s so painful.

‘patience, beautiful. just wait’ he whispers, but you roll your eyes and start unbuckling his belt, tugging his jeans down while he smirks at how pathetic you are for him. then you’re palming him through his boxers, and the sight before him of you on your knees in the lingerie you bought for him is driving him insane: ‘get up, baby’

‘hm? want your cock in my mouth’ you look up at him innocently, and his jaw clenches at how aroused you have him: ‘thought you wanted it inside you. make your mind up, baby’

‘can’t i have both?’ you giggle, smoothing over the wet spot of precum on his boxers. he chuckles, pulling his shirt over his head before taking his cock out for you. it slaps against his stomach and you almost drool at the sight. ‘whatever my girl wants’

‘thank you, baby’ you smile up at him, wrapping one hand around his shaft. you pump his cock up and down, getting even wetter at the sound of his soft moans above you, profanities streaming from his lips before you’d even put him in your mouth. when you do, he instinctively tangles his fingers in your hair, hips bucking up to push deeper into your throat. ‘oh fuck baby, fuck you’re so good for me, such a good girl’

you’re taking him as deep as possible, pumping what you can’t fit in your mouth. you often stop to kitten lick his tip, a movement that draws the prettiest whines from his throat. ‘do you like your present, lu?’ you pull yourself off his cock to ask him the question, and he’s gazing at you with so much adoration and lust you think you could cum right there. you take him in your mouth again, and he lets out a loud whine that you can’t believe left his mouth. ‘it’s perfect. you’re so perfect, baby’ he tries to answer your question through strangled moans - you love that you’re the only one who gets to have him like this. you keep up the pace with your mouth, but suddenly he taps your cheek and pulls you off him.

‘it’s okay, wanna cum inside you’ he brings you to your feet and kisses you deeply. ‘and i don’t want you to get carpet burn, sweetheart’ you both smile at his words, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, on your tiptoes as you make out. he grips your ass tight, and turns you around to face the mirror again. ‘mmm, lu’ you whine as he smacks your ass lightly, kneading both cheeks in his hands. he tugs on the fabric of your lace underwear, letting it slap against your skin, and positions his cock at your entrance, pulling your panties to the side again. you feel his tip rubbing against your soaking folds: ‘ohhh, baby, i need you inside me’

‘i know, dolcezza, you’ve told me several times’ he smirks behind you, still teasing your pussy with his tip. ‘stand upright’ he tells you, and you straighten your posture for him. he moves your hair to one side, pressing soft kisses along your neck while you desperately grind your pussy on his leaking cock. he surprises you when he lifts your right leg in the air, hooking his arm around your thigh. he settles his other hand on your waist to steady you, and slowly pushes in.

the stretch is difficult every time, and you grip his hand that’s on your waist, letting out a pornographic moan. ‘that’s it, baby girl, you can take it. mm, so tight around me’ he whispers in your ear, soothing the familiar pain with kisses along your neck and behind your ear. soon you’re adjusted to his size, and you make eye contact with him in the mirror. ‘luigi’ you gasp - ‘move please, need you to fuck me so deep. i want you in my fucking cervix’

he smirks, still not moving inside you: ‘slow down, baby, you could barely take me seconds ago, and now you want me that deep?’ but of course he knows you can take it, he’s just teasing to see how you’ll react.

‘lu, shut up and just fuck me, please, i can’t take this’ you moan, and with those words he bottoms out and starts a merciless pace thrusting into you. you’re almost screaming - his arm is still hooked around your leg, this specific angle hitting your g spot perfectly. ‘this okay, princess? y’feel me here?’ he moves his hand from your waist to press down on your abdomen, feeling the imprint of his 7 inch cock. you’re nodding mindlessly, too fucked out on his cock to think clearly. ‘eyes on the mirror, baby, aren’t i hitting your cervix? hm? look at your stomach’

‘yeahh, lu, you’re so deep, mm, thank you, fuck’

he lowers his hand to reach your clit, thumb rubbing the bundle of nerves. ‘always wanna treat my girl with my cock, love how you come undone for me beautiful, gonna get you to cum for me’ he pulls your right leg back even further, and this exercise is better than pilates , you know your thighs will be aching so bad tomorrow. this angle is somehow even better, and you scream out in pleasure, arching your back into him as he leaves wet, open mouthed kisses on your neck.

‘luigi, i’m gonna cum, fuck, baby, i love you’

your eyes keep fluttering shut, but you fight to keep them open to stare at how gorgeous your man looks behind you - his curls are messy, eyes dark gazing into yours in the mirror, biting his lip to try to restrain his grunts and whines that fall past his lips anyway, and he sounds like heaven. his grip on your thigh is so tight, and his pace inside you never slows, nor does the pace of his thumb on your clit.

‘you gonna let me cum inside, bellissima? wanna breed your pussy in this pretty lingerie you bought for me’ your eyes roll into the back of your head at his words: ‘god yes, lu, cum inside me, need you to fill me up so deep’

‘yeah, you want it? need to see every drop of my cum dripping out of this pussy, but i need you to let go f’me first, hm? come on baby, cum on my cock’ he’s panting and moaning in your ear & it’s as if his words themselves can command your body, because you instantly get your release.

‘oh that’s a good girl, my girl forever’ he whispers, caressing your waist as his pace slows and he spills inside you with a few quiet grunts. your legs are in pain from the standing position, and he can tell, so he pulls out immediately, smirking at the sight of his seed dripping down your thighs, and wraps his arms around your waist. ‘jump’ he whispers, kissing your cheek, and you do, settling your arms around his neck - he hoists you up into his arms, tightly holding you to him, and carries you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the countertop while he cleans you up. he presses a soft kiss to your clit, smirking as he looks up at your reaction. as expected, you jolt forward. ‘luigi! god, do not do that to me’ you roll your eyes, and he stands up properly, giving you a cheeky smile. you both laugh, and then he’s caressing the side of your face, placing a few soft kisses on your nose. you hum in content, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. you kiss him softly, both of you deliriously in love, trying not to giggle into the kiss.

‘shower?’ lu suggests, and you scoff playfully. ‘yeah, sure, do you want me to completely lose my ability to walk? you’re gonna have to bathe me tomorrow morning, luigi, i think i pulled at least one muscle’

he laughs softly, not bothering to hide the cheeky smile on his face knowing he’s the one who fucked you so good. ‘come on, let’s go to bed, i’ll carry you everywhere all weekend if you want’ he winks, pulling you off the counter and into his arms, holding you tight under your ass as he carries you out of your en suite. ‘you tell your friends i fuck you this good?’ he kisses your forehead, and you push his head back playfully, giggling as he squeezes your ass before placing you in your shared bed.

[illegalpaladin]

Drabble request: spones arguing over how to approach Jim about becoming mcspirk

Thank you for the prompt!! I am ALWAYS down for Spones arguments.

I hope you enjoy what I came up with!

“Would you stop acting like this is so goddamn simple?”

McCoy is standing next to his desk in his office. Spock stands only a few feet away. While McCoy has his arms crossed over his chest, Spock's hands are still clasped casually behind his back.

“I fail to see why you believe the situation is so complicated,” Spock says flatly.

McCoy could scream. He wants to grab Spock by the shoulders and shake him. “Because Jim is the one that pushed us together in the first place, you pointy-eared calculator!”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “Once again, I fail to see the significance.”

“Do you really not understand?” McCoy leans in closer, until he's inches away from Spock’s face. “If he wanted us that way, he would've said something then!”

Spock's eyebrow remains arched, and his head cocks slightly. He makes no effort to step away. “You have miscalculated, Leonard.”

“I haven't! We've got to play our cards right! We can't afford to mess this up!”

Spock stays calm and collected, and it's enough to make McCoy feel like he's losing his mind. “If we wish for Jim to know how we feel, Leonard,” he sighs, “we must tell him directly.”

“How you feel about what?”

McCoy's head snaps to the side, towards the doorway. Jim steps into the room, and the door slides shut behind him.

Shit.

“What must you tell me directly?”

Jim steps closer, and it takes all of McCoy's willpower to keep from stepping away.

“Nothing important,” McCoy says quickly. He feels the panic rising. “Just–”

“Leonard and I wish for you to join in our relationship,” Spock interrupts. “He insists that we must win you over. I believe a direct approach to be best.”

Silence.

McCoy feels his cheeks heating up. His heart pounds. His breaths are coming so quickly that he feels dizzy.

He gathers the courage to look at Jim just in time to see the shock on his face morph into laughter.

Jim laughs so hard he doubles over, and McCoy doesn't know what to feel when Jim wipes a tear from his eye.

“I'm afraid Spock wins the argument this time, Bones,” Jim chuckles. He straightens up, finally having composed himself enough, and looks to McCoy with a bright smile. “You’ve already won me over. I've wanted both of you for a long time.”

McCoy opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. He looks to Spock, who looks unsurprised, but McCoy can still see the flicker of joy in his features.

He turns back to Jim. “Why the hell did you set the two of us up, then?”

Jim shrugs sheepishly. “You two were so obviously enamored with each other that I figured I didn't stand a chance. But that didn't mean I didn't want you to be happy.”

McCoy's heart clenches. “Why, Jim–”

“I believe we can both agree definitively that my stance on the matter was correct.” Spock straightens up and looks to McCoy with a twinkle in his eye. “Right, Leonard?”

McCoy narrows his eyes. “You want me to admit that you were right?”

“It would only be appropriate,” Spock answers with the slightest shrug.

“He's right, Bones. It's the least you can do.”

McCoy looks to Jim to find him grinning, and McCoy scowls back. “Is this how it's gonna be now? You're gonna start taking sides?”

Jim shrugs. His eyes are bright, and McCoy has a feeling Jim couldn't stop smiling if he tried.

McCoy deflates as that same joy sweeps through his own body and the fight fades away. “Fine. Just this once, I'll admit that Spock may have had the better approach.” He turns to Spock. “Happy?”

“I am quite satisfied.” Spock's lips are turned into the smallest of smiles. “And this will not be something I allow you to forget.”

[god-o-bees]

Nikto X Krueger X Reader

Pt3 NSFW

Female Reader

This is a longer one😅

Oh god, they had fucked.

You could smell it on them the next day. It was unmistakable, their scents were all mixed together- they hadn't even showered. You kept your head down. Nikto probably wouldn't remember you, or even care. Krueger seemed happy with this new development, and may not ever need to talk to you again.

It didn't matter to them how you felt, of course. Besides, you didn't even know these guys, why would you be hurt by any of this?

Because he used you. Made you think for a moment that you were worth his time.

It wasn't that unusual. You'd never been the most appealing omega. You weren't meek or bashful. You didn't bat your eyelashes and beg for attention.

Even if you did, it wouldn't work.

Whatever.

You needed fresh air, something to flush out all the embarrassing thoughts crowding your mind.

《•°~☆~°•~☆~•°~☆~°•~☆~•°~☆~°•》

Krueger hadn't gotten rid of the shirt. Nikto noticed it under his pillow, the scent of it's owner rubbed into the sheets. As the week passed, however, the shirt itself lost that sharp aroma, and smelled more like the deep forest that Krueger embodied.

As much as he felt possessive of Krueger, he couldn't bring himself to get upset. Y/N, he'd called them. The omega with the fierce scent. God, what was he thinking? Him of all people, starting a pack- on base, no less.

And yet, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Having Krueger and you rely on him for safety, comfort and... other needs... he found his breath picking up.

He paced the room with the shirt in his hands as his thoughts began to spiral.

You'd stay in the room with them. Make a nest, fill the space with your scent. Maybe you'd mark him and Krueger as yours.

He looked down at the shirt. Guilt clawed at the back of his mind. He should really give this back to you.

《•°~☆~°•~☆~•°~☆~°•~☆~•°~☆~°•》

A knock at the door pulled you from your light sleep. You had managed to shake off most of the uncomfortable thoughts from a week ago, and successfully avoided the two men since. You occasionally saw them around, and picked up their scents around base, but whenever one came too close, you slipped away. It didn't matter how soothing their voices were to your ears, or how hungry their smells made you. You were no one to them.

You looked over to your roommates, who slept soundly in their beds.

Opening the door, you immediately felt the blood leaving your face.

"Um... Nikto, right?" You tried your best to retain a stoic exterior, despite the pit of embarrassment forming in your stomach.

"I came to return this to you," he explained, holding up a T-shirt you hadn't realized was missing.

"Oh- um, thanks. I must've left it in the gym or something..." You mumbled, but he shakes his head.

"Krueger stole it."

Your jaw dropped. "O-oh?"

"He used it to... tease me. Confuse me about my own feelings so I'd get my head out of my ass and figure out what I want. And I want him."

Why was he telling you all this? Just to rub it in your face? To really hammer home how much of a pawn you were in their game? You thought he'd just forget about you and move on, but you clearly underestimated his cruelty.

"I know this is... strange. And sudden. But I cannot get you out of my head. You make me want to care for you. The way I care for Krueger."

You felt dizzy. Like the world was spinning twice as fast. Your heart beat in your chest like you were running a marathon.

"I- I'm sorry, I don't understand," the words stumbled from your mouth.

"Can I show you what I mean, then?" He asked, his voice gentle and calm despite how deep and raspy it is. His hand took your wrist and lead you out to the hall, down towards an isolated room- his room.

"I can smell it on you," he said. "Your loneliness. Your anger. Such a lovely omega like you shouldn't feel those things."

He opened the door. The room was clearly meant to house around four beds in a standard bunk, but two were taken out while the other two were slid together in the far right corner. The whole place smelled of wood, of the wilderness, and of them.

"I asked Krueger to get some things for you. He'll be back shortly," he muttered into your ear as he guided you down to sit on the bed. Like you had been broken from a trance, you whipped your head up to look at him.

"You- what are you doing? You expect me to believe you've fallen for me- a broken omega you don't even know?" Your voice cracked, betraying your vulnerability despite your attempt to remain guarded.

"And- and what about Krueger? He's just going to be ok sharing you-" you were about break down when a cold hand rested on your collarbone from behind.

"You misunderstand the situation, Schatz."

You looked up at Krueger, who wrapped a blanket around you and pushed you down onto the matress. The blanket was pleasantly warm, like it had just been taken out of the laundry. He wasn't wearing his hood, letting you see the sharp angles of his features and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Our alpha wants to make us into a pack, Liebling," Krueger explained. Nikto visibly tensed at his words, but didn't deny it.

A pack. You, the unwanted, lonely little omega who could never find footing among your peers, in society, you were being asked to join a pack.

A place to fit in. To be cared for. To be wanted. You were wanted.

You rubbed your eyes and tried to hide your face in the soft fabric of the blanket. You tried to speak, but the only thing that escaped your mouth was a whine.

Krueger immediately started nuzzling his face into you, trying to soothe your anxiety and make you comfortable.

"Good little omega... it's ok, we're here now."

Nikto, on the other hand, was getting more blankets and pillows from a bin set next to the door and piling them around you.

Krueger pressed his nose into your scent gland and started taking deep breaths.

"Mein Gott, Schatz... I could get addicted to this," he murmured as he shifted his legs to straddle you. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and down between your legs.

"Krueger," Nikto said, his voice stern, "What do you think you're doing?"

Krueger made an annoyed noise and look back at Nikto.

"They've got to be mated into the pack, right? Why not get that done right away?"

Nikto grumbled and tugged Krueger off of you.

"I'm the alpha here, not you. I'll be the first to mate them," he said, and looked at you. "Besides, Y/N, you haven't even said yes yet."

You blinked. "Said yes to what...?"

Both of the men looked at you expectantly. "Will you join our pack?" Krueger asked.

You nodded instantly. "Yes. Yes. I- I want to be in your pack. Please."

Nikto quickly changed positions with Krueger to straddle you, his hands fiddling with the band of his sweatpants before pulling out his cock, already half hard and twitching. You gasped when you saw it- large and intimidating, and he was going to fit it inside you. He was going to do that a lot, considering you were his omega now.

Krueger had gotten behind Nikto, pulling both their pants down to their knees and was currently kneading the alpha's ass. Nikto huffed but let him continue as he busied himself with your own clothes.

As soon as your skin was bare to him, Nikto ran a finger slowly down to your clit, biting back a moan when he felt the softness of it. He ventured further into your wet folds, spreading them apart and reaching deeper, making sure you could take all of him.

When he was finally satisfied, he pressed the head of his now fully erect cock against your welcoming entrance and groaned in ecstasy at the sensation. Your body began to quickly respond to his touch, and you let out a squeal as he sank into you. In the back of your mind you registered something else making contact with you, just below your entrance, but he began to move before you had time to think about it.

Every thrust of his hips elicited a groan and pant from your throat. He began to go faster when a whine suddenly sounded from behind him, and you realized what exactly was rubbing against you.

Krueger was fucking Nikto's thighs just to get to you.

Nikto growled in response but didn't shove him off. Unbeknownst to you, he was loving the feeling of the beta's cock between his legs, and was only displaying performative aggression. To let the both of you know who was really in control.

You began to tremble as your neared your limit, legs twitching with adrenaline soon to be released. That's when Nikto covered your eyes and you could hear the metallic click of his mask coming off.

"N-nikto- I'm gonna- I'm so close-"

He only grunted in response, his chapped and scarred lips tracing over your neck before settling on your scent gland.

"Cum," he ordered, and you obeyed, muscles tensing and voice strained when he bit down, the shape of his teeth becoming etched into your skin. At the same time, a warmth filled your insides as he let the last of his seed spill into you.

As the high wore off, Nikto pulled out of your convulsing pussy and shifted positions to be underneath you, holding you in place as Krueger teased your poor clit and inhaled the scent of you and Nikto combined. He eagerly lapped up some of the fluids seeping out of you before aligning his cock up to your hole.

He moaned in a breathy voice as he began to pound into you like an animal, mumbling under his breath about feeling his alpha's seed in his omega's pussy.

It didn't take long before both of you were once again on the edge, moaning and shaking like you were in heat.

"Nng- alpha, let me cum inside, bitte," Krueger whined, punctuating the last word with a thrust. Nikto reached out and took Krueger's throat in his hand, squeezing just enough to make him feel light headed.

"That's it, beta. Fill them up. Show me how bad you needed this."

Krueger gasped and did as he was told, sinking as deep as your body would allow as your second climax took hold of you. You clawed wildly at his back, groaning as every muscle in your body went stiff and abruptly relaxed. His arms enveloped you as he pulled out, letting the sheets get soiled with the evidence of your pleasure.

You didn't expect to find yourself drifting off so quickly, but Nikto pet your head reassuringly as you closed your eyes. You didn't want to fall asleep, you wanted to shower your alpha and beta in a thousand kisses, thank them for everything they had given you, and promise your heart and soul to them, but all you could do was mumble little I love you's into Krueger's neck until you fell asleep.

Pt1 Pt2

Masterlist

Bro did I create a new sex position?

[drop-dead-dropout]

hey does anyone have a cure for Sucks Really Badly At Just About Everything Disease. that would be great thanks

[cntloup]

Gojo Satoru x pregnant!reader

protective!Satoru, fluff, a lil angst, mention of feeling guilty, implied heavy symptoms experienced by the reader

"it's ok, baby. i've got it." Satoru says as he approaches your slouched form over the sink, washing the dishes as you try to get something done and make yourself useful.

you've been feeling guilty during the past month or so, feeling like you were a burden to him, thinking that you would never live up to his expectations. now he has to take care of you. and as time goes by, it will get even worse as your pregnancy progresses. but he's a busy man with heavy responsibilities. you'd be only holding him back. you torture yourself with these thoughts every day.

"oh, thanks. i'll go clean up the living room and do the laundry then." you respond with a forced smile, trying to mask the guilt that's been gnawing at you for a while as you try to keep yourself from falling over out of dizziness.

"what? no, wait! i'll do it after i wash the dishes. you go get some rest. you've done enough." he retorts while gently grabbing your arm, voice slightly raised to stop you immediately.

he is in utter disbelief at your behavior. you should be resting right now, tucked in beneath the soft sheets peacefully. you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about anything, he thinks.

"i haven't done anything all day." you utter in a faintly frustrated tone, mostly at yourself.

"and that's exactly how it should be." he replies with a nod, "now go to bed before i drag you there myself." he adds, maintaining a playful tone, a soft smile adorning his features as he drinks in your beauty. you're already glowing. but considering how observant he is, he senses your discomfort immediately like he can actually feel the gloom and sorrow you're feeling right now like a mother hen.

"what is it, baby? tell me." he murmurs as he walks up to you and pulls you into him by your hips, shining blue eyes staring at you as he awaits a response.

his hand rests on your side as the other cups your jaw, his thumb swiping over your cheek that could be dampened any moment now as you feel tears threatening to spill.

"i'm so sorry." you whisper breathily, voice slightly quivering with the lump in your throat as you look up into his glowing eyes.

"for what?" he asks, confusion evident on his features.

"for being weak. i'm so sorry to disappoint you." you finally spill out the words that have been weighing heavily on your chest as the tears cascade down your glossy eyes.

"disappoint me? i don't understand... why are you crying, love?" he mutters with a shake of his head, his confusion growing even more by your words as his fingers swipe over your cheeks to wipe away the stray tears.

"you're literally the strongest and you're stuck with me. i'm barely even showing yet and i'm feeling extreme fatigue. i've been sleeping all day for the past month cause i can't do anything. and because of the symptoms, i'll probably have to quit my job." you ramble about the thoughts that have been pulling you down all this time.

"wait, wait, wait! how long have you been feeling like this?" he questions with widened eyes baring into your soul.

"eversince we found out i was pregnant. i can't stop feeling guilty about disappointing you." you reply quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it. of course you know you're being irrational. it's all natural to be tired during this time and need help, but you just can't help it.

"you've been feeling like this all this time and you didn't tell me anything?" he blurts out almost too aggressively to his liking, "sorry. didn't mean it to come out that way." he quickly apologizes after witnessing the slight flinch on your part.

how could he not see it? you've been trying to do the chores like regular, pushing yourself to your limit both in the house and on your job until he swoops in and takes the weight off your shoulders. now he starts to blame himself for not finding out sooner and letting you wallow in your own sadness and guilt all alone.

"you're not weak, baby. you're doing the one thing that i can't possibly ever do. the one thing that the strongest can't do. and what does that make you? huh? you're literally the strongest of all, babe. i can't even fathom what you're going through and you're doing amazing-", "i'm barely functioning." you cut him off.

"i'm not done yet, babe." he says playfully before continuing, "you're doing amazing, honey. you sleep not because you can't do anything else but because you need it. you're carrying our child for fuck's sake. a literal human's life is growing inside you and of course it takes its toll on you. and i'm right here beside you every step of the way." he finishes his loving speech with a tender kiss on your forehead as his strong arms wrap around your now slightly shaking form as you sob, utterly moved by his words and also the hormones.

"thank you, Satoru. i really appreciate it. you always know what to say when i'm feeling down." your words are cut off by loud sobs but he patiently waits for you to finish as he rubs your back soothingly while nuzzling his face in your neck.

"any time, baby. i love you." he whispers in your ear, "i love you too, toru." you say back, continuing to sob in his arms for a while before you eventually calm down and he guides you to bed, encouraging you to take some much-needed rest.

"and don't worry about your job. you can take some time off or quit altogether. i have more than enough to pay for our family and the next generations to come-", "ok, stop bragging!" you chuckle, "i'm just saying, baby. i've been dying to spoil you. now's my chance. let me take care of you. you don't have to go through this alone. in fact, i won't even let you." he chuckles lightly and crashes his lips onto yours, pulling away with a loud smack as you both lay in bed, limbs tangled together, "you already spoil me." you mention with a slight pout, "and i'm gonna do it even more. you deserve it, baby. don't worry about anything. i've got it." he says while softly caressing your cheek, admiring your glowing beauty illuminated by the faint bedside light.

you slowly start to feel the sleep creeping in and drift away into a slumber as you mumble a quiet 'thank you', curling into Satoru's side as he holds you so lovingly while you think to yourself how you've been blessed with the best, most loving and supportive partner anyone could ever ask for.

[heartysworld]

Lovely coincidences // L. Norris x Fem. Reader

A/N: There was no way I was gonna miss the opportunity and post something about today's events, which, by the way, made me jump out of bed with a gasp at 8am.

W.c: 1.2k

MASTERLIST

You sit cross-legged on the couch, your phone in one hand and Lando’s head resting in your lap. His curls tickle your fingers as you absentmindedly play with his hair, scrolling through Instagram. Your draft post stares back at you, nerves fluttering in your stomach. The picture is perfect—Lando’s hand protectively resting on your bump, your fingers intertwined, both of you glowing in the soft light of the sunset.

You've been trying to do this all week but always ended up backing out right before you hit the "post" button. Every time it fel as if you were about to expose the most private part of your private life to the public. However, at some point you came to the realization that it's better to do it yourself before a media outlet ratted your secret out first.

The caption reads:

"Plot twist of the year: Lando and Y/N +1 coming soon 🍼❤️."

“Do you think it’s too cheesy?” you ask, looking down at him.

“Cheesy?” Lando scoffs, twisting so he can meet your gaze. “Y/N, the fans love cheesy. And let’s be real—this is huge. They’re going to lose their minds.”

“They already think you’re the chaos driver,” you tease. “Now they’ll think we’re bringing another tornado into the world.”

“Exactly!” Lando sits up, grabbing his phone with a grin. “It’s perfect. Our little chaos baby.” He pauses, looking serious for a moment. “Are you ready, though? This makes it real, you know?”

His sincerity warms you, and you nod. “I’m ready.”

“Alright then,” he says, holding up his phone like he’s at the starting grid. “On three. One… two… three—post!”

The moment you hit post, your phone buzzes like a swarm of bees. Likes, comments, and DMs flood in at a dizzying pace. Lando’s laugh fills the room as he scrolls through the comments.

“Look at this,” he says, showing you Carlos’ reply: “Mini Lando incoming? Poor Y/N. The grid’s not ready for this!”

“Carlos has a point,” you quip, nudging him.

Before you can reply to anyone, Lando’s phone buzzes again. He freezes, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he reads the notification.

“No way,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What?”

“It’s Max.” He turns his phone toward you.

You squint at the screen. Sure enough, there it is—Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet’s baby announcement, posted mere minutes after yours. The picture shows Max and Kelly in a cozy living room, her bump visible under her flowy dress, and the caption:

"Baby Verstappen loading… can’t wait to meet you, little one ❤️."

Your jaw drops. “You’re kidding me.”

Lando’s already dialing Max. The phone rings twice before Max picks up, his calm voice a stark contrast to Lando’s giddy disbelief.

“What’s up, Norris?”

“What’s up?” Lando exclaims. “What’s up is that you just stole our baby thunder!”

There’s a beat of silence, then you hear Kelly laughing in the background. “Oh no,” she says through her giggles. “Did we steal their thunder?”

“Steal our thunder? You drove right through it!”, Lando replies, though his grin betrays his faux outrage.

“Not my fault you have bad timing,” Max says dryly.

Lando groans. “I cannot believe this. First you steal first place on teack, and now you’re trying to win the baby race?!”

“First place is first place,” Max says smugly.

The banter continues until you grab the phone from Lando, laughing. “Alright, thays enough. Max, congratulations to you and Kelly. But I think we all know who the real winner is.”

“Who?” Max asks.

“Me,” you reply, smirking. “Because I have to deal with Lando’s reaction to this for the next nine months.”

The delivery room is a whirlwind of emotions, but through it all, Lando is by your side, holding your hand, cracking jokes, and whispering words of encouragement. When the nurse finally hands you your baby—a tiny, wriggling bundle swaddled in white—you’re overwhelmed with love.

“She's perfect,�� Lando whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Absolutely perfect.”

Later that night, Lando posts the first photo of Baby Love Norris: a close-up of their tiny hand clutching his finger. The caption reads:

"Our greatest Love. Welcome to the world, little lady ❤️."

Two days later, your phone buzzes with a notification. You open Instagram to see another post from Max. It’s almost identical—a photo of his baby’s hand holding his finger, with the caption:

"Our little Love has arrived. We’re so in love ❤️."

Your eyes widen. “Lando!”

He rushes into the room, disheveled but alert. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Max and Kelly named their baby Love.”

Lando stares at you for a moment, then bursts out laughing. “You’re joking.”

“Look!” You show him the post, and his laughter grows louder.

“Of course they did,” he says, shaking his head. “I swear, Max is doing this on purpose.”

By the next race, the entire paddock is buzzing about the two Baby Loves.

“You sure they're not twins?” Oscar asks one morning, his grin as wide as ever.

“Must be something in the water,” Charles adds with a smirk.

Max and Lando handle the teasing with their usual banter.

“They’re basically the same kid,” Lando says during a press conference, leaning back in his chair.

Max nods. “Mine’s faster, though.”

“Oh, please,” Lando shoots back. “Mine’s already smiling. Yours just cries.”

“They’re newborns, Lando. What do you expect?”

One afternoon in the paddock lounge, Max walks in carrying Baby Love Verstappen, who’s swaddled in a pastel yellow blanket. Lando immediately perks up.

“Look who finally showed up!” Lando says, grinning as he leans over to get a look at the baby.

“She’s beautiful,” you say, smiling warmly.

“Of course she is,” Max replies smugly. “She’s a Verstappen.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando mutters. “But I bet she’s not as cute as our Love.”

“Are you seriously competing over babies?” you ask, rolling your eyes.

“They compete over everything,” Kelly says, sitting beside you. “It’s like having two toddlers already.”

By the end of the weekend, people start reposting a meme of the two baby Loves photoshopped into tiny F1 cars, complete with helmets and matching “Love” liveries. Both Lando and Max share it, each captioning it:

"Team Love: P1 and P2 ❤️."

Life is hectic, chaotic, and overwhelming, but as you watch Lando cradle your baby, his face lit with pure joy, you know it’s exactly how it’s meant to be.

MASTERLIST

[sanguineterrain]

Hey! Can I request a Clark x reader where they're dating but reader doesn't know Clark is superman. And then superman interacts with them for whatever reason and is flirty bc that's his person!!! But reader is like ☝️ hey buddy back off. I'm HAPPILY taken

this is such a cute request!!!! Argh!!!!

clark kent/superman x gn!reader. fluff, brief danger but r is okay. superman flirting with you but he's dating you? he's just a goober. i lub him <3 PLEASE feel free to imagine maws!clark. I feel like this is very himcore 🥰

****

Being a florist in Metropolis is good work. Lots of people still buy flowers, which is great. Many actually buy bouquets for Superman and leave them on display as support. Poppies, yellow tulips, and cornflowers. They're one of your favorite arrangements.

The downside to being a florist in Metropolis, however, is that on occasion, your flower display ends up the target of a killer robot.

You're not sure why that is. Mostly, you wish people would stop building killer robots.

You've gone outside to see what the commotion is about when you're grabbed by a metal claw. It squeezes hard, almost cutting off your air. You squirm in terror as the robot stomps down Main Street, crushing cars and asphalt in its wake.

"Help!" you scream when you catch your breath, and the robot squeezes you harder.

A dizzying blur of red, yellow, and blue zips past you. You think of your flowers.

The blur cuts through the metal like nothing. The robot begins to collapse, twitching and groaning. Its metal creaks, grip loosening on your body.

You hardly fall before Superman is there, cradling you to his chest.

"I've got you," he says, tucking you close.

You look up at him, and he beams at you, like saving you from a killer robot has been the best part of his day.

Come to think of it, Superman came to your aid surprisingly fast, even for him.

And he holds you... intimately. Like you've known him for years. Your heart picks up.

"Uh," he says, cheeks flushed. "Are–are you okay?"

You smile politely, arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Superman."

He nods, flying down the street. "Good. I'll get you back to your shop and clean up the flowers."

You tilt your head. "How do you know I'm a florist?"

Superman looks at you, blue eyes wide.

"Oh! I... uh, I've seen your arrangements all over the city. They're beautiful. I'd never forget that they belong to an equally beautiful face."

Goodness. If Superman is this forward with everyone he rescues, it's no wonder your flower arrangements are in high demand.

"I'm flattered," you begin, and Superman once again aims that grin with the power of a thousand suns at you. "But, respectfully, I'm very happily taken, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep this rescue professional."

Superman raises an eyebrow. To your surprise, he smiles wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't realize you were taken. My sincerest apologies. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's alright. I'm honored, but you couldn't pull me away from my boyfriend even with your super strength."

Superman's cheeks turn pinker. He sets you down in front of your store with the utmost care, not letting go until you have your bearings. He takes a step back, rubbing his neck. The gesture makes your brain itch. You don't know why.

"Well, uh, he must've done something right if he's lucky enough to be with you."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," you say fiercely. You don't know why you're so indignant about defending Clark's reputation to Superman. It's not like Clark will ever hear about it.

"No?"

"Not at all. He's an incredible person, kind and smart and loving, and if anyone's lucky, it's me."

Superman makes an aborted gesture to take your hand, then redirects and awkwardly pats your arm instead. You squint at him. He quickly moves away.

"Ah. Sorry. Well, I doubt that. I bet you're equally spectacular."

"Oh. Thank you."

You primly take his hand and give it a good shake. Superman bows his head and laughs.

He takes a step back, eyes bright like you've just made his day.

"Well, I wish you the best with your boyfriend. I'm sorry for being so forward. I've seen your Superman bouquets; your reputation precedes you. I make it a point to know reputed people in Metropolis."

"I can't imagine I'm very high on that list," you say.

"Ah, you'd be surprised. Besides, I never forget a face."

Superman darts behind you and moves at neckbreaking speed to clean up your partially maimed flowers. In three seconds, it's returned to its former glory.

"Well, uh, I'll be seeing you," Superman says, hands clasped behind his back. "I mean, I hope not in a circumstance like this! Th-then again, when else would we see each other? Scratch that, I hope there's no reason for us to cross paths because that would mean you're in danger. Uh, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I just—"

You snort and reach over to take a yellow tulip from your display. You give it to Superman, who takes it like you've just handed him a newborn baby.

"I'm still taken," you say. "But you're very sweet, Superman. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tucking the tulip into the strap of his cape. "Yes, you too. Goodbye!"

He soars away, the tulip like a star on his cape.

Superman is handsome and kind, no doubt. But he's certainly no Clark Kent.

[leonsgfpost]

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You let your boyfriend cum inside you for the first time.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: DI!Leon (or Leon RE4) x fem!reader, creampie, unprotected sex, wild Leon, slight mention of breeding perversion.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: It's something that crossed my mind, this man has me bad 🙏🏻

Leon feels like he's in heaven, dizzy, sweaty and with his eyes closed, seeing colors. Like he's really floating, and only because he's ramming your pretty pussy with need. Her pretty pussy. His hands are on either side of your head, he only needs his body to pin you against the sweaty sheets. His lunges jolt your body enough to shake the bed.

"Look at you, my pretty girl taking it so good..." He said between breathless gasps, and you opened your clouded eyes so you could look up at him, grinning dumbly at his words. But he wasn't even looking at you, he was watching your pussy open up around his wet cock. Yeah, Leon was getting kind of nasty.

And though he loved your pussy, and every inch of you. And what you were giving him, like the time you took the condom off for the first time and let him fuck you raw. Every time he sank into you, wetly and slowly he felt alive. But he couldn't help but want more, lust for more.

Leon is a greedy man.

You had not yet given him the honor of filling your pussy, of leaving you creamy and plump inside. He would never do anything against your word, so every time he got close he would come out and cum hard on your belly or your thighs. Even though it felt good, I knew it would feel better to be able to bury his dick and let it explode inside you. But he couldn't do it, not yet.

"Lee, Leon-!" you moaned loudly, dizzy in the ecstasy of his cock exploring every delicious corner of your insides. His head slapping your cervix, his hips slapping yours until your skin was red. It was definitely Leon's favorite sight, you beneath him with a sweaty face, your tits bouncing happily and your hips rising to chase his awkwardly.

"Baby, can I-?" he asked, burying his face in your neck letting out gasps that were starting to morph into animalistic moans. From the way his voice was becoming shaky and his hips were stumbling in their rhythm, he was so close.

"Please, let me... Let me do it." Leon's pride shifted to the side, that strong man taking on nuclear monsters was no match for your pussy. He could die if you denied him the paradise between your legs. And you know it.

"What?" you asked, in the midst of overwhelming pleasure and the sensation of your orgasm beginning to form, ready to burst as easily as a bubble.

"Inside, I want to do it Inside. A baby, let's make a baby-" His words came out in babbles, in between wet kisses he planted on your neck trying to distract himself from how his cock jerked inside you, begging for the release he was holding back. And when you were as dumb as he was, it only took his fingers around your quivering clit for you to quickly agree.

"I want to hear you, I need it, I..." He whispered, moving his kisses up your jaw and keeping the motion of his fingers on your clit, listening to you moan desperately beneath him.

"C-Cum inside, I want it inside." You affirmed in that sweet tone you used only for him. Mixed with long, euphoric moans, arching your back. Your center burned around him, his onslaught creating the most lascivious sounds you'd ever heard. Those words ignited something inside him. Finally, finally his little fantasy was coming true.

He pulled away a little, grabbing the back of your thighs to lift them and let out a grunt as he felt your walls tighten further around him. He was losing his mind. His hips moving in a wild, animalistic rhythm.

"I'm going to fill you up so good, baby." It sounded like a promise, you knew he was going to do it. His blunt nails digging into your skin, trying to hold on to something as he felt his dick quivering inside your walls, closing around his length.

"Come on, come on... Come for me, I want to feel you." His husky, raw tone of pure need finally brought you to orgasm. Your velvety walls clenched around him tightly, as if you wanted to extricate his dick. His breath caught as he felt your tight grip as if you were begging to be filled silly.

But relax, that's what he was going to do.

"God, baby-ah, you're tight me so good." He murmured dropping his head back, closing his eyes and relaxing his jaw with pleasure. His hips quivered, causing his to lose his rhythm.

You would look so pretty, your swollen pussy and his cum spurting out of your hole that was a portal to paradise. The image and the feeling of your wet walls around him was what drove him to madness.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck-!" he moaned over and over, ramming with each curse until potent, strong strands of semen exploded inside you, filling you with as much eagerness as he had wanted. He never would have imagined it would feel so good, so alive. His onslaught gradually slowed to a stop, panting heavily as his cock gave you all he had to offer. His eyes lowered to your pussy, withdrawing only to glowering at his work of art. His mess.

His fingers moved down to open the swollen lips of your pussy and watch his thick cum seep out of your weeping hole. He smirked, lifting his eyes finally.

"This pretty pussy deserves another load, Honey." He stated, beginning to rub his semi-hard cock up and down your quivering slit. Little did you know that you aroused the most primal, possessive side of the man who looked at you as if he wanted to devour you.

Because, oh, Leon is a really greedy man.

Let me know if you liked it, and please ignore if you see any mistakes 🫶🏻💕

(💌) bye, bye !

[erwinsvow]

An idea popped into my head that I feel you would write very well!

Rafe x virgin!reader. They are having a pretty heavy make out sesh, he slips his hand into her pants and then she just blurts it out? Like, "I'm a virgin," and she's like terrified. But rafe doesn't mind at all.

(also, is the 🪩 taken.)

oh my goodness!! I’m obsessed with this. no it is not taken omg welcome to the club!!!!!!!!!! ty so much for requesting 😚😚😚😚

your night with rafe had gone as perfect as any night could have, dinner by the beach, watching the sun go down while you ate dessert, and then heading back to tannyhill with him for the night, like you always did.

your nights with rafe always ended the same day, crawling into bed wearing one of his big shirts and then making out until you were soaking through your panties and rafe was hard beneath you. you're sure that rafe might have guessed you're a virgin by now, from the way everything he does is so new to your body, reacting primally to every touch. the two of you fall asleep like that, and you feel tingly from your head to your toes, waiting for rafe to say something about going further.

you're sure he would. there's no doubt in your mind that he's ready to, and he's probably done this with a million girls before you-a thought that makes you want to cry, but you put that aside. you're rafe's now, and you know that giving him your virginity is part of the deal. you're not sure just when that'll be, since he has you in your panties nearly every night.

maybe it'd be tonight. when the two of you get back to his room, you head for his dresser immediately to pull out a shirt, but rafe pushes you against the door. he leans down into a deep kiss, and you let it progress, hands snaking into his hair while he holds your waist tightly, his own hands running up and down the soft material of your sundress.

it's a little uncomfortable against the door like this, but rafe eases you up immediately, your legs wrapping around him while he pins you in place. you don't mean to start moving your hips, grinding down against him, it's just instinct, chasing that toe-curling feeling that you haven't been able to feel with rafe yet. his hands snake further down to the hem of your dress, and then slide underneath the material to the smooth skin of your legs.

rafe's hands keep traveling, gripping your thighs while he keeps you locked in a kiss that has you feeling dizzy, would have your knees weak if he wasn't holding you up. his tongue pokes into your mouth, and you moan around it, not even wanting to pull away to breathe.

you have to, though. rafe's hands are at the waistband of your panties, and just as he starts to grope, finding where he can yank them down so he can finally do what he wants to you, you pull away, hands resting flat on his chest.

he likes you like this--hair disheveled, lips red and swollen, the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. he leans in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and then your collar, then up your neck.

"rafe," you whine, but it's easy to let him keep going. "we should stop-"

his eyes dart up to meet yours, pulling his face away from your neck.

"why would i do that, hm?" he kisses you again, but you turn your head away. "finally got you where i want you."

"i-well, i'm a virgin, rafe." it falls out of your mouth, even though you've spent countless hours thinking about the best way to tell him. you've thought everything through, how to say it, how to reply based on his response, how to deal with the embarrassment you're sure to feel.

"yeah?" he questions, pulling away to look at you in the eyes. still pushed against the wall, you can feel his hard dick pressed against you. the two of you don't move an inch, besides for the nodding of your head to answer his question.

"so, no one else has ever touched you where m'touching you?"

you shake your head.

"and no one's ever seen you like this?"

you shake again, feeling your eyes get watery.

"i'm sorry-"

"why're you saying sorry? told you to stop doin' that."

"because... because it's embarrassing."

"says who? hm?"

"says everyone. right?"

"no, kid. not me. you want me to stop?" your body melts into his grip. you shake your head again. "good girl. c'mon, get on the bed. not taking your virginity against this door."

[satinestales]

❝here i blur into you❞ | qimir x fem!reader

pairing: qimir x fem!reader

summary: you've been stranded on an unknown island with your nemesis for weeks now, the air getting filled with unpalatable tension as you try to find a way to get away from him. one afternoon, the tension breaks as he offers his knowledge to help you train.

warnings: english is not my native language, reader also has a twin and has a similar situation as osha, reader is a bit paranoid, lot of foreplay from qimir, teasing, fingering, cunnilungus, vulgar terms,

now playing, acquainted by the weeknd

He smelled like sandalwood, filling the air every time he passed you by or handed you a plate of food. For the first few days, you ignored it, letting it brush against your nose, your thoughts concentrating on how to get out of the island or how to kill him without breaking the code. But after nights and nights of sleeping in the same cave, sharing his space, and smelling him in every corner, it started to drive you crazy.

You lost your nerves last morning during your hand-picked breakfast when he strolled into the cave after his morning swim, water still dripping from his hair, the smell punching you in the nose, leaving you dizzy and breathless. You didn't know where you wanted to go, but as you picked up your things and bottle of water, it wasn't your main concern.

The smell itself didn't bother you. He bothered you. You knew exactly what game he was playing. With your sister, he played the role of a big brother, older protecter that she always wanted and wished for. With you, his mask dropped, revealing a charming seductive character. Every time he handed you something, he towered over you, gazing into your eyes so intensely it made your knees shake. Or when he walked towards you, he took his time, his eyes going up and down your figure until they fixated on you, staring at you until he came so close you could feel his breath brushing over your face. The slightest touches of his hands, the knuckle strokes, the skin contact when he healed your wounds.

He was trying to seduce you, knowing your weaknesses, just so you'd turn your back on the jedi and stay with him. As a padawan, desire was one of the forbidden emotions, alongside hate, anger, and fear. You never felt the touch of another, not one you desired.

His act had its way with you. You didn't deny it, but it was just a role for him. A mask he put on whenever you were close. You wanted to know the real him and maybe even try to help him. Instead, you were met with lustful eyes and breathtaking smell of his. A few days ago, you returned his gaze when he spoke to you, to try to read his thoughts and emotions. You only saw the colour red.

After you stormed out of the cave, leaving Qimir wondering, you kept walking around for about thirty minutes before you found yourself surrounded by smaller rocks, standing ankles deep in a hot sand. It wasn't that far away from the cave but far enough to get away from him and his sandalwood smell.

You dropped your bottle and some spare clothes on one of the flat rocks, letting yourself fall on your ass, letting out an anxious breath. You had no idea what you were going to do, how to act, or how to survive the upcoming days. You were certain Sol was going to find you and save you. You started to think about Yord and Jecki. You weren't that close to Yord, even in your padawan days. Jecki, you knew from afar, but she always had a soft smile on her lips. Your heart ached for them, feeling guilty even if there was nothing you could do.

You sat there for hours, staring at your dirty shoes. You were frozen. You needed to train. You were sure there was going to be time when you would have to protect yourself against Qimir and his brute strength. He killed Yord with his bare hands. As long as you would attack his hands first, you'd be safe.

You found a branch, pictured it as a lightsaber, and started repeating over and over fighting methods you were taught by your master. You held up till the sunset, and when the sun rose again, you picked up the branch and started again.

You didn't bother with breaks. You kept going till your knees gave up, and your arms fell by your side. Your chest rose up and down fast as you sat down, the branch falling metres away from you. You rested your head against the closest rock, daring to close your eyes. You were away for almost a day, with no food, just water to keep you company. You slowly started to regret leaving so impulsively, but you had no idea what you would do if you'd stay another minute around the intoxicating smell of his.

You had to fall asleep, your body reacting to the unknown sound earlier than you. Trying to compose yourself as you rubbed your cheek, painful and red, from resting against the hard rock. You picked yourself up, turning around to find where the sound came from. It didn't take you long, for Qimir revealed himself, appearing just a few metres away from you, a bag around his shoulder. He took you in, scanning your body like he was searching for any weapons or injuries. He found nothing, only a thin branch right behind your feet.

"You could at least take some food." he broke the brooding silence and your mutual staring contest. His voice was soft, small tug on the corned of his lips. He wore his usual beige shirt, transparent to his muscles. You shook your head, trying to focus on something else than his forearms as he put down his bag to take out the stuff he brought you.

"I'm not hungry," you lied, holding steadily your position, scanning his every move. He took out all the food to put them on the rocks in front of you, gently, making sure not to drop anything. He didn't forget to bring you fresh water, new clothes and a lightsaber.

Lightsaber.

You took a quick step back at the sight of the lightsaber, your ankle meeting with a rock. He brought a lightsaber. He was going to kill you now. You were sure of it.

"It's for you," he read your mind, making himself a place to sit next to the food, lightsaber at the opposite end of the food row. He tilted his head, softly smiling at you. "The tide is going to end by tomorrow," he said, his eyes set low, eyebags underneath. "you could disappear."

"What do you want?" you asked, attitude and hidden fear in your voice. Why was he helping you. Why did he inform you about the tide and possible escape. Was he planning something?

"For you to eat," he smiled, his teeth showing up for a second. "I have no desire to hurt you or let you die of starvation." His hands rested on his lap, his eyes soft and gentle, morning sun reflecting in them. He was beautiful in this light. But you shook that though away.

"What's with the lightsaber," you pointed with your head to the weapon, not daring to move, feeling his eyes burn into your skin.

"I made it for you," he replied quietly, looking over at the saber. You flinched when he slowly stood up, walking towards it to pick it up, holding it so the handle could be in your direction. He was close, too close to your liking, a small circle of rocks surrounding you two. "Figured you'd want one." he purred, taking slow steps towards you, not breaking his gaze at you. Like he was waiting for you to run, taking in every detail of you.

He stopped at arm length, lifting the lightsaber to you. You didn't move to take it and just stared at it. It was small compared to his hand, plainly black.

"How long is it since you've held one?" he asked, almost in whisper, looking down at you with curiousity. You didn't answer, forcing to look away from the saber, mirroring his intense gaze. You tried to read him again but failed. You were too tired to even see one small thought. He took a step closer, instinctively you wanted to take a step back, but the rock behind you made you stumble, Qimir's arm catching you sharply, pulling you back up.

He was so close now that the saber handle was touching your ribs, his breath tickling your face again, the sandalwood, again, penetrating the air. You tried to move away, pushing against him, but he didn't move an inch. He looked like a marble statue against the light.

"Take it," he growled, shaking with the saber a little. When you still didn't move, he took your hand and placed it on the weapon, his grip strong and tense. "Turn it on," he moved even closer, the head of the lightsaber pushing against his abdomen.

Turn it on.

You repeated his words.

Turn it on and get it over with.

Only you couldn't. You tried to force your hand to move, but like someone froze it, it was paralyzed.

"I'm not like you." You managed to let out, breaking your neck to look up at him. "I don't attack the unarmed."

"When did I attack the defenceless?" he asked, still holding your arm firmly, keeping you standing in one place. His hair fell like a black curtain around his eyes that stared into yours, awaiting an answer.

"Jecki," your voice broke at the memory of her. She had no reason to be there. She should have been safe at the temple.

You heard him take a deep breath, his fingers slightly amplifying the pressure around your wrist. "She attacked first,"

"She was a child." You raised your voice, trying to move away from him but as much as you wanted he didn't let you.

"Your Master brought her there. He knew the risk." He replied, his voice soft and calm with no hints of remorse.

"What do you want?" You cried out, furrowing your eyebrows. You wanted to scream at him, punch him, fight him, erase the stupid smell he had that drove you crazy and confused your thoughts.

"For you to eat," he repeated, stupid smile dancing on his lips. For a second, you wondered why he wore a mask to hide his beautiful face, but you quickly erased it. With the final push, he let go of your arm and stared at you as you made your way towards the food. You devoured embarrassingly quickly, forgetting about the claim you weren't hungry. All the time he stood there, watching you carefully.

When you finished eating, you took advantage of the bird that took Qimir's attention for a moment to hide the fork and knife behind your belt. It was stupid, but it counted as something. You could sharpen it using the rocks and use it when he'd attack you in your sleep.

"Why won't you kill me?" You asked after you finished your plate, reaching for the water bottle. You felt his stare. Everywhere. At that point you didn't know if he was still playing the role of a whore or he just had a staring problem. Both options made you nervous.

"As I said, I have no desire to." He smiled, kneeling down to squat. He slowly started rolling up his sleeves, the scars on his arms now more visible than ever. His long, thick fingers were wrapped around the lightsaber, his other hand now hanging in the air.

It was useless talking to him. It was obvious before, ridiculous now. You nodded, accepting you won't get any honest answer out of him.

"Thanks for the food, you better get going now." You slowly stood up, your stomach full and warm. "Time for your daily swim." you added, hoping he'd leave you alone till tomorrow when you could swim to the other side and leave this abandoned island.

You didn't hear him letting out a chuckle, his dimples showing. "I can take one here," he pointed at the calm water in front of you, guarded by gigantic rocks.

Great.

"Do whatever you want," you murmured, trying to convince yourself you're okay with his presence. Naked presence. You saw him the first few days, where you followed him every morning, not trusting anything he said. He invited you to join him every time, and every time you didn't say anything, just stood on guard, scanning and taking in every movement he made.

He was well built, with big arms, strong back, and powerful legs. Was he stripping in front of you as a part of his act, or was he just that unbothered by your presence. You hoped it was neither. You rather got tricked than ignored.

"Okay," you heard him murmur, walking towards you for his clothes. You flinched, taking a big step away from him, finding the lightsaber lying in the sand. As he slowly made his way to the water and started to undress, you took the lightsaber in your hands, feeling it, remembering the last time you held it.

You started your routine again, this time with your lightsaber, the branch left lying in the sand. You were well aware he was watching you, motivating you to show off and not to embarrass yourself.

Minutes ran by before you heard a splash, Qimir walking out of the water. You didn't even think to turn around, but your body decided for you. Your head tilted his direction, your eyes going up and down his figure. It wasn't the first time you saw it but this time you saw it from a clear view.

Suddenly, you had a hard time swallowing the saliva forming in your mouth, your heart aggressively punching your ribs.

Focus.

You quickly turned your head back, hoping to remember what you were doing before you scanned his form. You wondered if it would hurt, or would it be pleasurable.

You felt shame thinking about these things, but you never received an answer. The Jedi around you never answered, and those outside you didn't trust.

The unknown heat overtook you again, you had to close your eyes to regain your focus. Instead, The Force directed you back to him. His grin fixated his lips as he put on his clothes, not bothering to dry himself. Water droplets falling from his hair to his shoulders, his muscles forming themselves against the skin-tight robe.

Opening your eyes, you took a glimpse of your lightsaber, unaware of Qimir slowly approaching you. You practised your movements, your hand twists, and leg work. You had to get used to the weight of the lightsaber after years of not touching one.

You stopped yourself from turning his direction when you felt his touch on your shoulders.

"Keep your shoulders back," he whispered, forcing your shoulders back into their correct position. You froze, now only focusing on the warmth reflecting of his body. He bent over so his lips could reach your ears, and his hands travelled down to your biceps. "Your elbows up. You have them too low." he simply added, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You pressed your legs together, unaware of your need.

You listened to him, tho, keeping your shoulders and elbows in the position he moved them. His hands didn't touch you fully, only tickling the surface of your skin, but it was enough to make you burn.

"You need to spread your legs," he added, hearing a small smile while informing you. You fought the urge to turn and hit him in the face with the lightsaber handle.

When you didn't listen, he forced his knee between your legs, forcing them apart.

"So you don't fall over," he whispered against your ear, the little hair on your neck standing up.

"I didn't ask for help," you uttered, bitterness in your tone. You wanted him gone, but not for the same reason you did yesterday. For the reason that he made you have physical reactions without touching you. Having to press your legs together because of his voice. Feeling your skin burn by feeling him pressed against your back.

"You obviously need it," He smiled against your earlobe before pulling back just to let his hands fall onto yours, checking the way you hold your saber. He fixed the placement of your fingers, his breath on your neck erasing all of your thoughts. His warm wet chest pressed against your back, his breath tickling you. Your ass pressed against his abdomen. It was all too much for you. You shouldn't be feeling this way.

Yes, he was attractive. Yes, he was charismatic and soft when he wanted to be. But he wield the power of the dark side. He couldn't be trusted. You were scared the dreams you were having so often might become true.

"Use your thumb," he woke you up from your thoughts, pushing himself against your back as he held your hands. His voice was low and dark. "Place it on the top to hold it steadily. That way, it won't slip out of your hands, and you won't have to use strength to keep it in place." Even the way he talked and taught you almost drove you over the edge. You knew that's what he wanted and fought hard against it.

"I know how to hold a lightsaber." You hissed, shaking off his hands. Regretting it as his hands found its way to your lower back, pushing in, you had to hold back a moan,

"Straight posture." he simply said, ignoring you, leaving his hands on the back of your hips. You focused on taking deep breaths, hoping the heat between your legs would go away.

Almost as if he felt it, his hands moved from the back to the front, tickling the exposed skin of your stomach. You wanted to cry out, his touch driving you insane. You wanted to do something and, at the same time, nothing. You wanted him to take you, but you also wanted to drive the lightsaber through his skull.

"You won't fight anyone without a straight posture," he emphasized, pushing his fingers into your stomach, holding you in place.

"I've fought many people without you before." you replied angrily, a small moan leaving your lips at the end of the sentence as he moved his fingers lower, under your belly button.

"And did you win?" he mocked you, whispering into your ear. His hands right above the place you used your fingers while wishing they were his.

You were done with his stupid comments and mockery, pushing against him to turn and punch him, but he didn't let you move a muscle. He was too strong.

"What do they teach you," he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. "They don't teach you how to stand still or how to hold a lightsaber. Only how to surpress your emotions to become a hollow shell."

"That's not true," you argued. "We are taught to control our emotions, to feel them but not to let them get the best out of us."

"So why do you supress what you really want?" his voice turned into whisper again, his thumb making circling motion on your lower stomach. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew you were about to give up.

"Why do you shy away from your desire?" he added, using little to no strength to bring you skin to skin to him, feeling his length on your lower back.

Accidental moan left your lips. You closed your eyes out of embarrassment, wishing he didn't hear that. But you weren't that stupid.

"It's the path, path to the dark side." you stumbled over your words, feeling his fingers go lower, right above the belt of your pants.

Fuck.

"Then stop me," he whispered, his index finger going slowly underneath the hem of your pants. "Stop my hand. I'll let you." he added.

You didn't move a muscle. Only rested your head against his chest and let your arms fall by your side, lightsaber falling into the sand. You wanted him, and he wanted you. There was no reason to fight it. That was a problem for your future self.

"Tell me," he purred, his right hand painfully slowly maling their way to the hem of your panties. "Has anyone ever touched you like this?"

He was mocking you, playing with you. He knew no one ever had. You didn't count. "No," was your simple answer, wanting to dig yourself a deep hole in the ground and bury yourself in it.

"How does it feel?" he asked, his fingers finally reaching your wet bundle of nerves, slowly starting to circle your clit. You grabbed his arm out of shock, digging your nails into his skin. It felt too good. You were dripping wet, it was too easy for him to find your weak spot.

"As a Jedi, you can't even be with the people you love," he murmured into your ear before starting to leave small kisses down to your neck. "Can't give them the pleasure they deserve."

His fingers started to go up and down your clit, always stopping right before your entrance. You wanted to start begging for him to take you, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself more than you already have. You didn't pay attention to anything he was saying, only focusing on his fingers driving you crazy, making it difficult to keep a steady stance.

"What kind of life is that? Hmm?" His sloppy kisses and his fingers teasing your core themselves, almost had you falling over the edge. You were so touch deprived you were surprised you didn't cum when he touched you for the first time.

"Qimir," you cried out, wanting his fingers inside of you already. The first time, you said his name out loud. And he listened. His fingers stopped their movements, deserving an annoyed groan from you. He took them out of your pants, placing them on your waist to circle you so he could be face to face with you.

He didn't say anything before he bent his legs, kneeling in front of you, letting the sand swallow him. He looked up at you with pitch-black eyes, hinting on your pants. You understood, taking your time but nodding, letting him take off your pants and underwear.

The urge to cover your face and run away was strong, but the feeling of his mouth on your clit was stronger. You cried out hard, grabbing his hair as he dipped his tongue between your folds. This is what the Jedi deprived you of. You wanted to scream.

Qirim's tongue moved with rhythm against your dripping cunt, his fingers holding you still by your hips. Your hands were tangled in his hair, tugging on them every time he moved his tongue, teasing your entrance.

"Fuck," you hissed, your knees bending. Qimir quickly caught you, not stopping assaulting your clit. "Qimir, please," you begged. You weren't sure what you were wishing for anymore, but his name in your mouth felt almost as good as his tongue felt between your folds.

Your arms moved from his hair to his shoulders, holding yourself steady when his hand left your hip to put them between your legs. You caught a glimpse of his face when you looked down. Lustful dark eyes, messy hair, sweaty against his forehead, his nose and mouth covered in your slick. The view itself almost had you cumming on his tongue. So when his fingers joined the game, pushing inside of you, betwen your walls you let a pornographic moan. You were alone on this island but if someone was on the other end, you were certain they could hear you.

His fingers moved fast, in and out of you, spreading and curling inside of you. He was gentle with you at first but as he felt you getting closer and closer to the edge he threw all the respect out of the window, fucking you mercilessly with his thick fingers.

If his mouth and fingers had you screaming his name you wondered how his cock would feel.

"Qimir, I'm- " you cried out, wanting to warn him, but he felt it. The way your walls started to contract, crushing his fingers inside of you. His tongue kept circling your clit, adding to the pleasure. You were sure you formed new scars on his shoulders as you came hard around his fingers and tongue, failing to catch your breath and keep your legs straight and strong.

He held you for a few minutes as you rested against him, his lips still glossy with your wetness. Without thinking, you bended over to press your lips against his, tasting yourself, mixed with the flavor of him.

[artdcnaldson]

in the sex lessons au, reader was definitely introduced to porn by patrick. i bet he also gave her massages that “required” her to take off her shirt and bra and always ended up with his hands on her nipple….

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (mutual masturbation, exhibitionism kinda, more manipulative perverts but that’s par for the course)

A/N: how did you know I eat this up. I wrote a 3 part Steve Harrington fic with this exact plot like…. This is my bread and butter simply. Unedited sozz

It was easy to succumb to temptation when it was just the three of you— holed up in Art’s dorm, hidden away from the rest of the world.

A few cans of beer, cold from his mini fridge, the warm press of your legs on top of Patrick’s, of Art’s chest against your back. There’s a movie playing on Art’s laptop— some shitty action movie he’d rented for the three of you.

“Have you ever watched porn?” Patrick asks you bluntly.

Your eyes widen in surprise. “What? No— websites like that give you computer viruses, and stuff.” Art laughs, his body shaking with it. You suppose it is a little childish, but you’re being completely earnest. “What? Doesn’t it?”

Patrick laughs, shakes his head. “If that were true I would’ve gone through a thousand computers by now.”

You grimace, toss an empty beer can at him. “You’re so fucking gross.”

But Patrick just laughs, takes another swig of his beer, leans forward curiously. “So… I mean, do you just use your imagination when you’re touching yourself?”

Heat burns in your cheeks, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Well, how do you know what you need to imagine if you’ve never seen anyone fucking? Is it just sweet kisses and hand holding?”

You kick him and Art comes to your defense like the sweetest knight in shining armor. “C’mon, Patrick, leave her alone.” Art’s hand is splayed across your tummy— firm, warm, protective. Patrick pretends like he doesn’t hear him, leans closer.

“I wanna know what innocent little fantasies you get off to. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” It’s hard to resist Patrick when he’s so close, when Art’s so close, when you feel warm and dizzy all over.

You sigh softly, relishing as he presses his warm body against your side, so it’s Patrick and Art and you sandwiched hot between them. “You realize you’re being a major fucking perv, right?” You ask in a low tone, meeting his gaze through your lashes. He nods, and you’re so conscious of his hand between your knees as his eyes bear into yours. But he wants you to continue, so you swallow and go on. “I dunno, sometimes it’s not about a fantasy. It’s just about me wanting some stress relief, or, like, my body needing it and it’s too hard to ignore.”

Art’s fingers flex against your stomach and you take a slow breath. “But, I mean, I guess I fantasize about being desired, like, taken care of I guess,” you mumble, mortified that you’re admitting it.

Patrick grins, runs his thumb along the inside of your knee. “That’s so sweet.” You roll your eyes, take a long drink, and try to ignore the heat in your stomach. “Do you want to see what Art likes to watch?”

Art’s eyes go wide, and he shakes his head. “No, no, we’re not doing that,” he says firmly. Patrick brushes him off, ignoring his pleas as he grabs the laptop and pulls up his trusty porn site. You peer over Patrick’s shoulder, eyes going wide as he opens to the home page, to all the recommended videos.

Your jaw drops, just a bit, and you let your eyes rake over the screen. It’s all right there— flagrant. Pretty girls with dicks in their mouths, pussies, hands. Lewd titles, the preview videos playing brief glimpses of obscenity.

“Aww, Art, this is so adorable,” Patrick teases as he scrolls. “Girl best friend deepthroats like a champ. Morning lovemaking ends in creampie.” Art mumbles something against your shoulder, blushing so hard you can feel the heat emanating from his skin.

Patrick clicks the latter and it opens to slow, deep kissing. A mess of tongues, rife with need. You know it’s normal to watch, to an extent— a right of passage, or whatever. But watching it feels so voyeuristic, so invasive. Especially when you’re practically in Art’s lap, when Patrick’s hands are hot against your skin.

Patrick gets bored of soft kissing and wandering hands and skips five minutes ahead in the video. By the time the buffering catches up, they’re fucking onscreen, all slow and sweet. Still kissing, still holding hands. But you also see the way the man’s cock sinks into her, can hear the moaning, the wet sounds of her body taking him in.

Art exhales a shaky breath against your skin, makes you shiver. He’s hard, you can feel that clearly against you, and you know he’s provably fucking mortified over it. But he doesn’t move to turn off the video, doesn’t do anything. His hand twitches against your stomach and you realize he’s still holding you.

The video is short— too short, you decide. The man finishes, you get a close up of the woman’s pussy, of cum dripping from her entrance. It makes your face burn, makes desire burn equally as hot as your embarrassment. The video ends, and Patrick stops auto play.

“Art, that shit is so fucking boring.” It snaps your attention from the paused screen over to him, who seems completely unaffected. You might actually believe he was unaffected if he wasn’t visibly hard.

You peer over at Patrick curiously. “What do you watch?”

He smiles, like he’d been waiting for you to ask, and grabs the laptop. Art makes a weak complaint that Patrick is going to fuck up his recommendations, but is ignored. Patrick logs in to an account and opens a tab for liked and saved videos.

Oh. You lean forward for a better look, expression twisting between shock and interest and confusion and disgust. Patrick’s tastes vary widely— venturing into areas you hadn’t even known were sexual. It’s like he had thrown everything at the wall to see what would stick, and everything just stuck.

“Oh my god, Patrick,” Art mutters, equally as intrigued as you are. “What the fuck, dude.” Art steals the laptop, scrolling through thumbnails of feet and anal and gangbangs and piss and bdsm dungeons and girls in stupid fucking schoolgirl costumes.

Patrick grabs the laptop back roughly, scrolls and clicks. “This one’s good, it’s perfect for when you just want to cum fast. Art, I know you don’t have that problem.”

Art flips him off and looks at the screen, reading the title aloud. “One hour squirting and cumshot compilation. Could you be any grosser?”

“Yes, actually. Sorry I don’t watch your sweet lovemaking bullshit.” Patrick shoves him, then Art shoves him back, and suddenly the laptop is on the floor in front of you and you’re just watching while they squabble on either side of you.

The video is exactly as described— it skips all of the pretense, all of the build up. It’s just people cumming, over and over and over. Your body feels like a live wire as you watch, lit up all over.

You squeeze your thighs together, conscious of the heat and wetness between them. Patrick clocks it— of course he does. A smirk plays at his lips.

“Maybe it’s not so disgusting, Art. She likes it.” Patrick relishes in the hazy, innocent look in your eyes as you meet his gaze. Relishes in the embarrassment and the need. “It’s good, huh? Getting to watch?”

You nod and Patrick takes your hand, slips it beneath the waistband of your shorts. “Go ahead. You want to.”

You shiver, temptation itching down to your fingertips. Sensing your hesitation, Patrick spits into his hand, slips it into his own shorts. You manage to hold out a few more seconds before you let your fingers brush over your clit.

“C’mon Art, don’t be a fucking creep,” Patrick says, moaning as he works his fist faster. Art swears under his breath and quickly shoves his own hand into his boxers.

You’re all so close, bodies pressed together hot and firm. You can feel the way their bodies move with each stroke, the way their thighs tense as they instinctually buck into their fists.

You moan, head falling against Art’s shoulder. His hand splays against you, inches up, brushing against the underside of your tit. It makes you whimper.

Patrick grabs your face, redirects your attention back to the screen. “Keep watching, it’s getting good.” His voice is strained, affected.

He usually lasts longer than this when he’s in your hand or your mouth, but maybe the video really was that good. Surely it didn’t have anything to do with you, panting and writhing as you rubbed at your clit beside him.

For once, Patrick cums first— doubling over, groaning muffled into your hair. Then it’s Art, whining so pretty, pulling you closer, mouthing at your shoulder as he comes down. And then you, overwhelmed by the two boys on either side of you, cumming with a rush of wetness that ruins your already soaked panties.

You sit there panting as the video continues playing— obscene wet, lewd sounds, wanton moans. Art hits stop, shuts the laptop and kicks it away.

You wonder why every time you hang out with them, it always seemed to end like this. And you wonder why you don’t mind, not even a little bit.

[vanteguccir]

hey ❤️ can you make chris x reader where she start to feel really sick in the middle of the video and he take her out of the car and take care of her??

── ୨୧ !　BLURB

chris sturniolo x reader

where your low blood pressure and weak stomach decide to make a show during a car video ;(

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was night when the group of four found themselves inside Matt's car. Chris had taken his usual place in the passenger seat, his laughter already bubbling up as Matt fiddled with the camera settings from the driver’s seat, while Nick occupied the back seat beside Y/N.

They had just eaten a pile of fast food, the wrappers still littering the floor of the car. Y/N had smiled through every bite, eager to join in the recording, even though greasy burgers and fries weren’t her usual fare.

As the camera rolled, Nick cracked a joke - as usual -, and Chris doubled over, laughter making his eyes crinkle at the corners. He was animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he recounted a particularly funny incident involving Matt.

Y/N giggled along, trying to keep her smile steady, but she could feel a heavy unease settling in her stomach, an unwelcome discomfort that she couldn’t shake. She shifted in her seat, attempting to find a more comfortable position, but it only made the nauseous sensation swirl more violently.

Her face, usually so vibrant with laughter, began to pale as she pressed a hand to her stomach, willing herself to keep it together. The boys were too engrossed in their banter to notice at first, but Chris, ever so attuned to Y/N, felt a strange pull at the back of his mind, like a sixth sense.

Chris’s attention drifted, mid-laugh, his head turning slightly as if he could sense something was off. He caught a glimpse of Y/N in the rearview mirror, her face now slightly contorted in discomfort, her eyes no longer sparkling with the joy they usually held. His smile faded instantly, concern etching across his features.

"Hey, you good back there?" He asked, his voice cutting through the playful chaos. Matt and Nick paused, their heads turning to look at Y/N, who was now biting her lower lip, her hands clutching the edge of the seat.

Y/N tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it came out more as a grimace.

"Yeah, I’m fine." She said weakly, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. She felt a wave of dizziness sweep over her, and her stomach churned, making her feel queasy.

Chris wasn’t buying it. His brows furrowed as he twisted in his seat to get a better look at her. Her skin had lost its usual glow, replaced with a clammy sheen. Instinctively, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around, leaning into the back seat with genuine concern written all over his face.

"Babe, you don’t look fine." Chris said softly, his voice laced with worry. He reached out to touch her forehead, his hand cool against her skin. She leaned into his touch slightly, eyes closing as she tried to steady her breathing. "You’re really pale. What’s going on? Is it your blood pressure?" He pressed gently, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.

Y/N nodded, swallowing hard as she leaned her head back against the seat.

"I think it’s the food." She admitted quietly. "I’m not used to eating so much junk food at once. I’m really starting to feel sick, and i feel my blood pressure falling again." Her voice was barely a whisper, and she looked at him with eyes that silently begged for comfort.

Chris’s heart clenched at the sight of her discomfort. He hated seeing her like this, knowing she was in pain. The playful atmosphere from a moment ago was completely gone, replaced by a quiet tension as Nick and Matt exchanged worried glances.

Without missing a beat, Chris was already moving.

"Okay, let’s get you out of here." He said decisively, his tone firm yet soothing. He pushed open his door and quickly got out of the car, opening the back door to help Y/N out. Nick shifted to the side to give her space as Chris reached in, his arms slipping around Y/N’s shoulders and waist. "Come on, easy." He murmured, guiding her out of the car.

Y/N leaned heavily against him, grateful for his support. The cool evening air hit her as soon as she stepped out, a welcome relief against her flushed skin. Chris kept a steady arm around her, his other hand holding hers as he led her a few steps away from the car.

Once they were a safe distance from the car, Chris turned Y/N to face him, his hands gently cupping her cheeks.

"Look at me, baby." He said softly, his voice a balm against her unease. She opened her eyes to meet his, and he offered her a small, comforting smile. "Just breathe, okay? Nice and slow. I’ve got you." He rubbed his thumbs gently along her jawline, his touch feather-light.

Y/N nodded, taking a shaky breath in through her nose, then exhaling slowly. Chris’s presence was a steady anchor, his hands warm against her skin. The nausea was still there, lurking, but his calm, steady gaze helped to ground her.

Behind them, Matt and Nick watched from the car, their expressions a mix of concern and relief, knowing Chris had everything under control. Matt leaned forward, his eyes scanning Y/N’s face.

"Do you want some water? We have a bottle in the car." He offered, ready to jump into action. Nick nodded in agreement, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a serious look.

Y/N managed a small smile, touched by their concern.

"Water would be great." She said, her voice still a bit weak. Matt immediately turned to grab a bottle from the front, tossing it to Chris, who caught it effortlessly. He uncapped it and held it to Y/N’s lips, watching as she took a few small sips. "Thanks." Y/N murmured after a few gulps, feeling slightly better.

Chris nodded, still holding the bottle as he pulled her into a gentle embrace, his chin resting atop her head. He could feel the tension in her body slowly start to melt away, her breathing evening out as he held her close.

"You’re okay." Chris whispered, his voice low and soothing. "I’m right here. You’re going to be okay." He continued to rub her back in slow circles, his touch gentle yet reassuring.

Y/N buried her face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, feeling the warmth of his body seep into hers. The nausea was still there, but Chris’s presence made it bearable.

After a few moments, Y/N pulled back slightly to look up at Chris, her eyes still a little glassy.

"I’m sorry for ruining the video." She said softly, her voice tinged with guilt. Chris immediately shook his head, his expression softening.

"Don’t say that." He said gently. "You’re more important than any video. We can always film another time. I just want you to feel better." He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

[hcneymooners]

⋆ and i came looking for you.

synopsis: knight!f!characters x fem!reader. men & minors dni.

characters: ambessa, sevika, vi, abby anderson, ellie williams, grayson. 

cw: apocalypse au!, princess!reader, older woman/younger woman, age difference, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, reunion sex, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, obsession, pining, forbidden love, protective!reader, protective!knight!characters, vague fantasy nonsense, devotion. this is a drabble.

notes: trying something new. let me know what you think. also i full on was inspired by @s-4pphics + her incredible arranged marriage ellie piece. my head was spinning for hours after reading it. i lowkey am dreaming of it.

the world descends into apocalypse on a sunday morning. you were with her when it happened, laughing with your head tipped back, your eyes crinkling into a scatter of lines. she doesn’t remember what you were saying—if it was a joke, a story, or some terrible card game she kept letting you win.

all she remembers is the wall exploding, a bright flash of white, then red. blood seeping through cracks like light. your scream as the floor fell, the sound of her ribs snapping like children’s bones as she flung herself toward you—only to miss your hand by inches. the castle crumbled, and you were torn away.

a bioweapon, someone at a makeshift shelter tells her later. all she knows is this: she must get back to you.

the world is a wasteland now, and her princess is without her protection. it’s not that you can’t protect yourself—it’s that she is nothing without protecting you.

the shelter is crowded with weeping and the shaky scaffolding of survival. most stare out of the tents with a distant gaze that she understands all too well. she spends her nights clawing through maps and fragments of rumors, breasts heaving against the thin cotton of her nightshirt as she attempts to plot a way back to you. if you are still—no. 

you must be.

they will not let her leave. they speak of safety, of waiting. but she dreams of you. you, in your sheer shift, soft breasts rising and falling with your breath. you, your pouted mouth trembling as you cry, your heavy hips. you, shaking in the throes of nightmares she longs to dispel. and now! look! there she is in this lavish dream.

she dreams of holding your hand, of your body yielding to her touch. of your lips, wet and pliant against hers in a kiss she swore never to speak of again, though now she wishes she had. there you are—the two of you together pressed tightly as you writhe and twist against her fingers her mouth her—

she wakes screaming, the sound feral and raw. she cannot find you. she doesn’t know if you are safe. she begs the gods for mercy, for time, for you to understand why she is late.

they will not let her leave, so she practices for the leaving. she holds water in her mouth until her throat spasms and she spits it up, thick with bile. she practices not breathing. she is preparing her body to endure, for you.

one night, she slips into the lake. the water is black, the moon fractured across its surface. she swims across borders, feet blistered and bloody as she crosses moors and barren landscapes. the world is broken, but her princess is wandering somewhere within it. she hears the wail of a dragon, sees the light of the world’s final stars. your name becomes her mantra, whispered like a prayer. like a long, dizzying spell. 

the nights are long and sharp-edged, predators stalking her shadow. her sword is strapped against her, the weight echoing the feel of your body on her back though it is devoid of your warmth. devoid of the undoing vibration of your laugh.

the woods now. by day, she climbs hills and twists through ancient roots. she remembers your veins, fine as threads beneath your skin, when you were upset with her. sometimes they would just out like birds, overextended. your mouth sharp, your words sharper, but she would press you to her lap and hold you until you softened. she would kiss you until you melted into her arms, your anger spilling away like water over stone.

when she lay with you, it was much like breaking into the earth’s molten core. you were so warm, so forgiving. she remembers your cries, high and breathless, as she brought you to your peak with her hands, her mouth, with toys she had never known before you.

her head swims now, fevered and blurred. she cannot stop. she feels you, a buzzing in her chest. your life runs through her, like a tunnel of bees. they are buzzing, they are a beating against her brain. 

you are close; she knows this. she does not know what is real now, what is simply her hallucinations attempting to keep her comfort. she woke with her lips pressed to the gnarled bark of a tree, believing it to be your skin. she wept in her solitude.

but there—a cave. she digs and claws at its walls, sobbing when nothing yields. she considers the blade at her side, the gods above, but the buzzing grows louder. you are here. you must be. please let her in please let her please let her in please let her in.

she carves through stone with her grief, and the wall finally gives way. a boulder shifts, light spills through, and she stumbles into your sanctuary.

she drags her body through. closes the mechanism because she is respectful of you always. she sees runes glowing upon it, and understands that it is both the gods that have admitted her and prevented her from finding you. she is angry. she lets it go.

the cave is alive. a meadow unfurls before her, wild and endless beneath a fractured sky. lightning laces the clouds, but you have never feared storms. not fire, not water, not the end of the world. you refuse to bend. she hears the splash of water, and she is running again, faster than she thought possible.

she jolts forward, a broken toy with a rusted weapon and almost tumbles down the grass. she is running. she is running. her heart plods along like a horse, her breath comes quickly and harshly. 

she runs until she is at the face of your cottage. it is beautiful, it is of stone. it is glowing with a thousand stars or maybe this is her hallucinations again (it is not.) she is hungry, but she must consume you before food sullies her body. 

she stumbles to the back of the house and finds wild dogs cavorting, sees an empty chair. she keeps running, faster now. she knows you are there. 

the lake is green and blue and true, and there you are, standing at its center. your hair is braided—she smiles despite herself, remembering how much you hated the task. your body glistens with water, bare and radiant. your nipples hard and pointed from the cold. she calls your name. your neck almost snaps as you look for her, hands trembling and half-raised.

silence. you see her and she sees you and you, in your softness, begin to cry. you are floundering, attempting to come to her but she is still running. toward you now. toward you.

she is running, shedding her sword, her shirt, her past. she dives into the water, her body cutting through it like a blade. the sword sinks into the shallow beginnings of the lake and clatters against the rocks. she too, is now bare, body older and scarred, and the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. she dives, disappears which distresses you, and then comes up for air as she arcs through the water like a serpent of a myth. 

her hair is wet and slick against her forehead. you laugh, a wet warbling thing, and clap your hands over your mouth neck body. you need to touch her. 

you collide beneath the surface, chest to spine, limbs tangled.  the two of you are all twisted. when you break through, gasping, your hands find her face. her arms wrap around your thighs, lifting you from the water as her mouth claims yours. you taste salt and earth and honey, the residue of her journey.

you kiss her and kiss her and she is kissing you. she is holding you. she pulls way only to capture your mouth again, her tongue almost brutish as it bullies its way inside you. her hands dip beneath the water to cup your cunt. you are so wet and you cannot tell if it is all because of the water but you know all of it is because of her.

princess, she murmurs against your lips, her voice trembling with reverence.

her fingers slip inside, fucking you viciously. she is desperate to relearn, to feel you fall apart. your mouth is open, but there is no noise. you can hear birds shrieking, singing. maybe there is noise; maybe you are what you are hearing.

princess, she rumbles against you. princess. she keeps her rhythm, bounces you until your cunt is spasming and you melt against her—into her. you are crying and you feel good and beautiful and good. her name spills from your mouth as she milks you—relentlessly.

and you want to touch her too so you pull her from the water and push her onto shore. you spread her legs, thick and large, and lap at her cunt. she is pink inside, like turkish delight, but doubly sweeter.

her musk lures you in, and you suck, holding her to your mouth even though she snaps and shudders and cries. eventually, the pleasure becomes pain, so you release her, her juices slinking along your chin and collar bones.

you look wild; you look like a diety unknown. she is here with you, she has done it. she has held to her vow of protection—of following you for eternity. the foliage around her seems to surge and she cries anew, her grief and satisfaction coalescing into one bright burning star. you lay against her, feel your hearts exchange places. they crawl inside one another’s bodies, wet and red. 

princess, she croaks wetly.

you raise yourself, hover above her. your hair is loose; it hangs over her face. it blocks the sky; you are now her sun. as always. as was meant to be.

princess, she repeats. princess.

your mouth opens, your teeth gleam. you are smiling. this is real life. you are smiling. you are speaking. from your plush lips come the divine words, 

my knight. 

© hcneymooners.

[4unnyr0se]

Could you write about choking kink with Tsukishima??

❥ tsukishima and asphyxiation

warnings: timeskip! tsukishima, fem! reader, asphyxiation (duh), dom! tsukishima, mean! tsukishima, degrading, rough sex, kinda dark content

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 937

a/n: i actually hate this but i rlly hope u like it :3

got a request? my asks are open!

Kei Tsukishima was vanilla when you two began to see each other regularly. Well, at least for the first time you had sex. He didn’t know what you liked, so he didn’t want to push your boundaries. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t a violater (at least, not towards you.)

At first, he was slow, tender, and meticulous. “Does this feel good?” “Are you in any pain?” “Can I keep going?” Those phrases constantly fell from his lips the first time you two were intimate, his cock slowly pistoning out of your warmth. Those were some of the rare moments when Tsukishima was soft with you when he was vulnerable. It was your first time together. He didn’t wanna fuck it, no. No one ever wants to fuck up their first time with their new partner. 

He learned what you liked and what you didn’t like relatively quickly, sometimes without you having to say anything at all. Tsukishima would notice how you would shake if he kissed your neck. How you would squeeze your thighs when he called you an idiot (affectionately, of course.) And especially, and possibly his most favorite thing about you, how you let those cute little moans escape your lungs when his long, calloused fingers grazed your neck's soft and delicate flesh. 

It was playful at first, his index finger poking your neck in public just to make you scowl. He briefly observed how your face flushed pink before a frown overtook your soft features, lecturing him about how bullying his girlfriend wasn’t very nice. The second time, the two of you were cuddling in his dorm room. Yamaguchi, his roommate, was visiting his parents for the weekend, so you had the entire room to yourselves. His bandaged hands squeezed your neck as he read his book, smirking as the faintest moan left your lips. 

“Oh? Did I do something you like?” he would tease.

“No! Shut up!” you’d him upside the head. 

Eventually, it got to the point where Tsukishima couldn’t take it anymore. It was almost too painful for him. If you weren’t going to tell him you wanted his hand around your throat, he would do it himself. After all, he was the smarter one out of the two of you.

“Look at you, drooling like a bitch,” Tsukishima smirked, his eyes filled with a dark lust for your submissive state. His hand tightened around your throat as he plunged his cock deeper into your weeping core, the squelching sound ringing in his ears. It was accompanied by your shortened breaths and moans, sounding like the most beautiful melody. “You’re so fucking wet, do you even hear yourself? Those filthy fucking noises you make? Or are you too dumb on my cock to know anything, pretty girl?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing rolled off your tongue, your words being cut off by a harsh squeeze around your neck. “That was a rhetorical question, obviously.” he rolled his eyes, punctuating his sentence with an unforgiving thrust. “Is your head getting dizzy, hm? I bet it is, you little slut. Who knew my adorable little girlfriend was such a whore for my hands?” his free hand squeezed the fat of your breast, twisting your nipple between his index finger and thumb. “Dumb little bitch, squeezing my cock just because she’s getting choked. Fucking whore.”

His thrusts were cold and calculated, just like he was. He knew exactly how to make you squirm, what pressure points made you cum on the spot. Tsukishima knew your body like the back of his hand, and it made you weak every fucking time. 

“Oh? What’s this?” he purred, his fingers practically cutting off your air supply. “Your slutty little cunt is squeezing around me. I think she wants to cum. Do you think you deserve to cum after hiding what you like from me?”

You frantically nodded your head, your eyelids growing extremely heavy from the lack of oxygen to your brain. “Wanna…cum,” was all you managed to choke out, your eyes wet from the tears swelling in the corner. “P-please.”

Tsukishima scoffed and barely loosened his grip, letting you breathe just a bit. “Fine, I guess that’ll do.” his cock still pounded into you, his balls slapping against your ass. “Fucking cum on this cock, little bitch. Be a good fucking girl for once and do as I say.”

You came with a silent cry, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’, exactly how Tsukishima liked it. Completely submissive and obedient to him, never bratty. Fuck, your orgasm face was always so beautiful. “Shit, gonna cum. Squeezing me so tight, fucking slut.” his seed spilled into the condom, euphoria crashing over him like a tsunami. 

He removed his hand from your neck, admiring the finger-shaped bruises he left. You’d be wearing turtlenecks for a week, that’s for sure. “Are you alright?” he carefully asked, tossing the spent condom into the wastebasket next to his bed. “I thought you were going to pass out for a second.”

You smiled and nodded, curling up to him. Skin-to-skin was always the best thing when it came to sex with Tsukishima because after he came, he was always so careful with you. He was soft, gentle, and delicate. A complete juxtaposition to how we were in public or with his Sendai Frogs teammates. “I’m fine, Kei, it was really fucking sexy. Maybe let me breathe a little bit next time, though?”

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “So, I get to choke you again next time?”

“Obviously.”

“I can’t wait.”

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