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chuluoyi · 7 months ago

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𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

- zayne x reader

he is your husband and you are his wife. but of course you know the bitter truth—you will never be able to replace her.

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—angst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love, drunken sex, mentions of injury, blood, hunter!reader (not l&ds mc -> l&ds mc is zayne's late ex-girlfriend here), spoilers! from zayne’s bond story nostalgic sweetness

note: wc. 8k ! i've been having these bits and pieces scenarios for zayne in mind and then i thought what if i combined it all into one angst joyride? :)) tagging per request: @kissxcore @rjreins @i2s2m @tom-pls-fuck-me @yueyoonie @sanriosatoru

07.15 p.m

Zayne would be getting off work soon. He had just finished an emergency surgery, and it had been exhausting. Now it was quite late.

“Dr. Zayne! Great job today!” Greyson exclaimed, suddenly strolling into his consultation room with a grin. “Want to grab dinner with us?”

Honestly, he was starving too. “Where?”

“Oh, you know, that new place that just opened nearby! They have the tastiest tiramisu, or so I’ve heard. C’mon, we’re inviting the nurses too!”

He knew he needed to head home soon, but fatigue and hunger blurred his thoughts at the mention of dessert.

“Alright.”

. . .

08.25 p.m

Getting together with the hospital staff was always nice. They were rowdy, but it was definitely a great way to unwind after a hard day.

The tiramisu was as great as Greyson said. Speaking of his assistant, he and Yvonne were having a blast. Other doctors were getting drunk. Zayne could only shake his head, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had been here quite a while.

It was only when he turned on his phone and saw the time that he realized, with sinking heart that—

He was supposed to meet you at six.

If you were asked how you felt about your life now, you’d be hard-pressed to say you were completely content.

You were a stellar fighter in the Hunter Association, more than content with your job, and you had a good husband. To some, you had what they would call the perfect life.

The wife of the Dr. Zayne. True, it was a flattering title, yet unbeknownst to everyone, also a humbling one.

And the notion struck you once again when your husband of almost two years stood you up on your dinner date without so much as a notice.

“Miss... we’re about to close now...” The waitress approached your table for at least the third time, and you nodded sheepishly, finally finishing your meal.

You paid for it and left the restaurant. The chilly night air hit your skin, giving you goosebumps as you walked home. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Granted, Zayne had a packed schedule, and you figured he might've had an urgent matter to attend to that he forgot to let you know.

Still... it hurts. Knowing you were not a priority in your husband’s eyes wasn’t a fun feeling.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket the moment you arrived at your shared home. Your husband’s name flashed on your screen. The time now was 08.40 p.m.

“Hello, Zayne?”

“Y/N?” Your husband’s voice sounded frantic. “Are you still at the restaurant? I’m going—”

“Ah, no need to. I’m going home.”

“I’ll pick you up then. Stay there—”

“I’ve already arrived.”

An awkward silence settled between you, and you could clearly hear the noise on the other end. Greyson’s laughter was unmistakable.

You forced a laugh, still trying to sound cheerful for him even when realizing that he had completely forgotten about you. “It’s totally fine, Zayne! Are you heading back?”

“Yeah...”

“Take care then. See you at home.”

You ended the call with a sigh, trying to shake off the sting in your heart. As you made your way upstairs to your bedroom, you passed by a large portrait on the wall, and a bittersweet sensation washed over you.

Your wedding photo. Both of you were smiling on what was the most wonderful day of your life. Zayne’s smile was reserved, but yours was radiant.

It is the most wonderful thing that has happened to you... but is it the same for him?

At that time, despite everything, you were convinced a lifetime of happiness awaited you, yet now... it got harder to fool yourself into believing it.

Your marriage has always been lukewarm.

Zayne wasn’t an overly excited person, and you were his opposite—but try as you might, some things between you just didn’t work out. As a result, both of you tended to keep certain things to yourselves.

Most days, this didn't bother him. He valued his privacy, so the way things were suited him just fine. However, several days later, when Greyson approached him with a worried expression and a news, even Zayne had to draw the line.

“Dr. Zayne? Uh, how do I say this? I think I saw your wife being wheeled in earlier with the injured from the hunt zones raid…”

. . .

“Your husband is a doctor here. Why aren’t you calling him?”

Xavier, your fellow Deepspace Hunter who was partnered with you in this mission, questioned you with a hint of annoyance as he observed your pathetic state on the stretcher and crossed his arms. “Why do you have to bleed out in ER when you can get him?”

You winced, pressing the bloodied cloth against your stinging abdomen as you felt yourself growing faint. “He’s... a surgeon,” you panted. “He’s busy.”

Above all, you didn’t want Zayne to see you like this. You could already imagine his angry face, and that mental image alone made you recoil.

“What sort of husband is busy when his wife is injured?” Xavier raised an eyebrow. “Did you at least notify him?”

You shut your eyes, feeling a migraine coming.

“I will then.”

“No.”

“Y/N, you—”

“Shut up, Xavier—”

The curtain was suddenly pulled back, and you braced yourself for whoever had come to check on you next. To your surprise, the cloth in your hand was snatched away, and you felt your uniform being torn open with urgency.

When you opened your eyes, you barely made out your husband’s figure through your hazy vision. “…Zayne?”

His expression was stern, unforgiving even, as he started to disinfect your wound. Despite the tension, you couldn't deny the relief that washed over you. You knew you were in good hands, even if you had to face his fury later on.

Your consciousness slipped away not long after that.

. . .

The next time you woke up, you found yourself in a private room, with a nagging itch where you had been injured.

You groaned, your limbs stiff and heavy, and the room slowly came into focus—along with your husband's face.

"Zayne?" Your voice came out barely above a whisper. He stood pristine in his white coat and glasses, assessing you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Your wound is, thankfully, shallow," he said flatly, his tone lacking any real concern. "You'll be discharged tonight. I'll take you home as soon as my shift is over."

"Ah..." You blinked several times to clear your head. "Good then. Sorry for showing up out of nowhere. Xavier and I were on a rescue mission, and I accidentally—"

He walked away before you could finish, the abruptness snapping you fully awake. He was furious, that much was clear.

"Ha ha..." You forced a laugh, fiddling with your fingers, trying to ease the awkward tension between you. "It doesn't hurt much, actually. You're right—I'm fine..."

Zayne shot you a sharp glance. "You passed out due to blood loss."

"This isn't the first time it has happened and nor will it be—"

"And it didn't even occur to you to inform me at all. I found out that my own wife was wounded because Greyson passed by the ER and saw you."

His words left you silent, caught red-handed, but your annoyance was reaching its limit. You had imagined how nice it would be if he panicked about you, showering you with care when he found out. But instead, Zayne chose to rebuke you the moment you woke up.

“I’m not a child,” you reasoned, keeping yourself calm. “I’m a hunter. This is nothing new, and you should understand that.”

“The least you could’ve done is to tell me—“

“Do you know why I didn’t? It’s because I know how you’ll react!”

“—and it would do you better to prioritize your safety and not rush headfirst into danger.”

“Believe me, I do but—!”

Suddenly, Zayne spun around to face you, his eyes blazing with fury as he raised his voice. “I’ve told you so many times already, you have to stay back, or you’ll end up—!”

He stopped abruptly, leaving his sentence hanging in the air, but right at that moment, you knew all too well who he meant, and what the implication was.

His, without a doubt, greatest love. His childhood friend, a hunter like yourself, someone he had vowed to save but succumbed to her illness before he could do so, died on arrival.

The irony was sharp. You had become everything she once was. You knew her well, too. When she passed, the entire Hunter Association mourned her loss. And more than that, on the night she died, you had been with him.

Looking back, you should have seen it coming. Still, it hit you like a splash of cold water. Your husband was still preoccupied with thoughts of his ex-girlfriend, and worse yet, he saw pieces of her in you.

And you suspected he had for a while—perhaps even, from the very beginning.

For a second there, not for the first time, you felt your heart shatter.

“I don’t have Protocore syndrome,” you stated, steeling yourself against the heartbreak. “My heart won't suddenly fail because I get injured. I’m not that weak.”

You turned away as Zayne refused to respond, missing his look of disdain as he stormed out of the room.

That was when your first tear fell.

Right from the start, you knew you had to brace yourself for this. You knew that eventually, this tragedy would overshadow your marriage. Because while Zayne might be your husband by law, deep down, his heart still belonged to someone else.

To her.

You two are too much alike.

It wasn’t the first time he had noticed it. And it wouldn’t be the last.

On bad mornings, when his eyes were bleary and he hadn't had a good sleep, he would see her instead of you in your shared bed. And with that mistaken sight came a fleeting sense of relief... until his vision cleared and he remembered she was truly gone and it was you.

Zayne knew how wrong this was on so many levels. It was terribly unfair to you.

Still, his concern for you was genuine. Seeing you lying still on the stretcher brought back that very same nightmare, and really, he truly never wanted you to be hurt.

After his outburst and your clipped response, the two of you barely exchanged any words for the rest of the week. To make matters worse, he was sent on a business trip the following week, and all in all, you went two weeks hardly speaking to each other.

And before he knew it, her death anniversary was only a couple of days away.

. . .

"How much is this?"

"Ah, the bow is 50,000 Gold, sir!"

Inside the airport's souvenir shop, Zayne examined the intricate light blue and white bow clip. Made of tweed and adorned with small pearls, it looked nice.

He thought it'd suit you well.

"I'll get this then."

"Right away!"

As the clerk went to wrap the trinket, Zayne reflected on these past two weeks. A nagging feeling twisted in his gut as he thought about how curt he had been with you in text messages and how often you had left him on read.

Husband and wife shouldn't be this way. He wanted the unbearable air between you to end. Determined to resolve things, he planned to talk to you when he returned. He was on his way to the airport taxi when—

"Zayne!" He stopped in his tracks, recognizing the familiar voice, and turned around.

There you were, waiting by his car with a smile.

It was never in you to stay angry for long. It was a blessing and a curse, really, because while you no longer wished to give your husband silent treatment, a part of you still felt conflicted.

"How was your trip?" you asked as you started the engine, pushing the events of the past two weeks to the back of your mind.

Zayne didn't immediately answer, and you felt his gaze on you as you drove the car. "It was okay."

You hummed in acknowledgement, and he followed up with, "How is your wound? Do you dress it daily?"

"Mm-hm. It's getting better."

"I'll have a look at it later."

"Sure."

Silence. Usually you would ramble to distract him, but now, even you weren’t sure if you should.

Then, he said, "You really didn’t have to pick me up. I could have made my way home on my own."

To that, you pasted on a smile. “You always pick me up whenever I have to go on business trips. It’s only fair I do the same for you, husband.”

Ah. Was it the wrong move? The word had slipped out so easily that you didn’t realize it until after you said it.

But to your surprise, Zayne let out a chuckle and played along. "Well, thank you then, wife. It certainly felt quite off without a certain someone the past week."

So, he actually likes having you around...? The thought made you almost giddy. Despite his usual taciturn and sarcastic demeanor, you knew he was genuine in his own way.

"Bet you missed me," you teased, grinning.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you sure it's not the other way around?"

"Nope. But I did miss getting new snowmen."

"...why do you like them so much? I've made plenty for you already."

"No particular reason. Snowman just kinda reminds me of you somehow."

The tension between you had melted away, and you felt a sense of relief. Beside you, even Zayne couldn’t hide his smile. For the rest of the drive home, you chatted like you used to.

When you arrived back at your shared home, he suddenly stopped and presented you with a little box. "I got you something."

"Huh?" you paused, bewildered, as he took your hand and placed the box in it.

"Open it."

With curiosity, you lifted the lid, and were surprised at the sight of a pretty bow clip inside. "Whoa, how cute..."

Zayne eyed you expectantly. "Do you like it?"

Your eyes lit up with delight, and a smile spread across your lips.

"Yes!" you beamed at him with zero hesitation, and in that moment, something struck a chord within him. Zayne had always thought you were easy on the eyes—

—but when you smiled like that, you were truly charming.

"It's healing nicely."

You felt somewhat self-conscious as your husband examined your bare abdomen, where your injury was, as you lied on your bed. His hands, cool and practiced, tenderly removed your stitches.

It wasn't as if Zayne had never touched you. You two had been married for almost two years, and of course you had been intimate several times, but it wasn't as if you were a passionate couple to begin with—so you often found yourself flustered.

"Mm." Despite yourself, you squirmed. Noticing this, he looked up at you, his unfazed eyes meeting yours with a frown.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No, not really... It just feels as if you're tickling me."

He was positively unamused. "I'm not trying to tickle you."

"I know!"

Zayne wrapped your midsection securely with the bandage. When he was done, he let out a sigh and you felt like you had to show him your gratitude somehow.

“Thank you, Zayne…” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. But in the next second, your heart skipped a beat as his hand rested gently on your head.

"You can thank me by being more careful next time." Your husband looked at you with the smallest of smile. "Your safety comes first, always remember that."

Without either of you realizing it, you both had tried to bury that argument from two weeks ago, yet it was still gnawing at you all the same. The thought that he too was bothered with it made you warm.

"Noted," you cheekily grinned. "If I'm not safe and sound, a certain iceman will get angry at me."

Zayne shot you an unimpressed look. “If you come to me injured again, I’ll start charging you fees.”

You let out a dramatic gasp. "How stingy! I'm your wife, not just some stranger!"

"A very uncooperative wife, you are."

You huffed, and he chuckled. You really thought all was well between you two now, until Zayne suddenly stood up and grabbed the car keys. “Well then, rest. I have to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to stop by the florist—”

And it hit you. In two days. The day everything ended three years ago.

Zayne seemed to realize it too, but you quickly masked your falling smile with a faux one. "O-oh, right..."

No matter how, it's still going to be an important day to him. You had nothing against it, really. Your husband's late girlfriend had once been your colleague too, and you mourned her just like everyone else did.

Still, even with that understanding, in your heart of hearts, it remains just as bitter.

You didn't want to, but you needed to find closure. You hoped that by doing this, it would finally put an end to all your insecurities.

"Let's go together, Zayne. I want to pay her a visit too."

Two days later, you and Zayne, a bouquet of flowers in hand, stood before the grave bearing many colorful flowers and postcards.

You supposed you knew already, but seeing it firsthand, you realized just how deeply she was loved still. The outpouring of respect from the Hunter Association was evident in the tribute left behind.

"It's been a while," Zayne, dressed in his most formal black suit, said solemnly, his gaze fixed on the name etched into the pristine stone.

You watched as he knelt to place his flowers and then brought his hands together in prayer. You followed his lead, placing your own bouquet beside his.

What should you even say to her? Your mind raced with countless thoughts, but none felt right to voice before the woman who had so deeply captured your husband's heart.

In the end, when you sensed that Zayne had finished with his prayer, you decided to remain silent and rose with him.

. . .

“Does it get easier?” you asked out of curiosity afterwards. “Three years has passed already.”

Although Zayne wasn’t one for drinking, even the need won today. He didn’t meet your eyes as he sipped his wine, humming thoughtfully. “Somewhat. As they say, time heals.”

You two stopped by a fine restaurant after visiting the grave. The cemetery had been a two-hour drive from Linkon City, and now it was already evening.

“She loved jasmines,” you remarked, recalling the pot of them you once saw on her desk and the flowers overflowing at the grave earlier.

“She did.” The alcohol seemed to loosen his tongue as he continued, “She loved old popsicles and macarons too.”

“And you like them as well.”

“To be honest, I started liking them back when we were kids…” Zayne had this pained, faraway look in his eyes as he had another sip. “She cried over her melted popsicle and it got me to wonder if it was really that tasty...”

The idea that you had to compete with a dead woman for your husband’s affection left a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt like you had failed thoroughly as a wife.

Despite hating yourself for asking, you needed to know. “Do I help you… in any way at all?”

Zayne was clearly taken aback by the question. His sharp, gray eyes locked onto you, mind whirred as he tried to grasp your meaning.

“Y/N, you...”

It was foolish, you knew. But you waited with bated breath for his response, even when one wrong word could shatter your heart beyond repair. You were ready for any sort of unfavorable answer, but then—

“I... am glad it is you.”

His words made you look up, and you found yourself caught in his gaze. Zayne’s ashen eyes were steady, piercing into you.

“You were there on the hardest days. And ever since, you’ve always stayed by my side.” He held your gaze firmly, voice was thick with emotion you couldn’t quite name. “I’m grateful for that.”

And then, with a sincerity that pierced through every uncertainty, he added, “What I want to say is... I’m glad I married you, Y/N.”

You have loved him for so long. Since the days when you know he isn’t yours to love, until now.

Your heart swelled with so much warmth that tears brimmed in your eyes. His acknowledgment of your presence filled you with a profound sense of belonging you never knew you needed before.

Was it the alcohol?

You suspected it might be, because in nearly two years of marriage, Zayne had never lost his control like this. As soon as the bedroom door was shut, he pushed you against the wall and devoured your lips hungrily.

“Mmph!” His hands gripped your arms while his lips and tongue pried yours open. The kiss was searing, almost forceful, with the faint bitterness of wine still lingering.

“Zay…ne…” you gasped between his kisses—teary, breathless, your voice trembling.

But your breathy grunts only seemed to spur him on. His dark eyes, clouded with lust, fixed on you as his hands slipped beneath your blouse, deftly unclasping your bra with a flick.

He is hot. Your husband was everything a woman desired in a man. Cool, handsome, blessed with hands that could do wonders—

In no time, he had you naked and wet before him, and with alarming speed, he too discarded his own suit and pants, throwing them away in flurry. And you could hardly believe what you were seeing next.

He spitted on his hand, ran it along his member—stroking himself with a practiced ease, never breaking eye contact with you. The next thing you knew, he yanked you into another burning kiss and made you topple on top of him—

“Ah!” his hands guided your hips with precision, positioning you and entering you. The instant he did, you whimpered at the sudden, sharp sting of pain.

“Does it hurt?” he asked almost in a growl when you clung to his shoulder with uneven breaths.

It was too sudden, and you hoped the discomfort would pass, so you timidly shook your head.

“If you don’t want this, tell me to stop.” Zayne tangled his fingers in your hair, turning your face to his. “Understand?”

There was always a distinct, almost commanding aura about him whenever the two of you were in your marital bed. Perhaps the way his voice sound lower, but it just hit different.

And you are a willing prey... whenever he becomes that beast.

He inched inside you slowly, making you moan with each instance. He was thick, warm, and taking him in was a challenge in itself. And when he finally sheathed himself fully, your nails had made its first scratch on his skin.

You felt full, and the way your womanhood stretched and clenched around him with each breathe you took made you dizzy. Panting, you finally met his gaze. Zayne’s gray-hazel eyes were still clouded with desire as he placed his hands firmly on your hips. Unable to resist, you reached out to caress his face.

"Hmm..." he subconsciously leaned into your touch, pressing his eyes shut together. "You smell nice," he huskily muttered.

Right this moment, all negative thoughts eluded you. It felt gratifying that your husband sought your touch like this as you towered over him.

And yet, despite that...

“Do you... finally see me now?” you asked, trailing your other hand down his toned chest and starting to grind against him. Zayne drew in a sharp breath and groaned, his fingers gripping your bum tighter.

Depending on his response, you would either find peace or face another heartbreak. You had placed your happiness on this pedestal more times than you could count, and it was a cross you had to bear.

But you never received your answer.

Your husband merely gazed up at you with a dangerous gleam. And oh, you could've sworn, this sight of Zayne eyeing you as if he were about to ruin you right then and there, would live-free in your mind for many days to come.

He then buried his face in your bosom, sucking on you with such fervor that your hands instinctively reached for his head to massage his scalp. The room was soon filled with your erotic groans and the squelching sounds from where your flesh were joined together— as he thrusted inside you over and over.

Right in this moment, you felt truly desired and wanted.

You are so happy. Incomparably so.

At the crack of dawn, Zayne woke with a start.

The first thing he noticed was how spent he felt, his limbs stiff and a throbbing headache pulsing at the back of his head.

Then he turned to his side, and the sight that met him twisted his gut in such a way that snapped him fully awake—

You were beside him, barely dressed and still deeply asleep. Your hair was a mess, and love bites were scattered across your skin, some on your chest looking almost like bruises.

It dawned on him that he, too, wasn’t decent. A sudden coldness gripped him, though it wasn’t just the morning air.

Him and you... last night...

Yesterday marked the third year. He meant everything he said to you, but the fact that he did this, with you, on the day of her death...

There was... nothing wrong with what he had done. You were his wife, no one could condone him for what he instigated. Yet, it still made him shiver.

And to make it worse, his thoughts from last night echoed back with vengeance, and—

He suddenly feels so immensely guilty.

. . .

It was the best sleep you’d had all week.

When you woke, sunlight had seeped through the window, and you discovered yourself already in pajamas, tucked snugly under a blanket. Still groggy with a dull ache in your lower belly, you relished the lingering afterglow, sighing in pure contentment, until you noticed Zayne wasn’t beside you.

Where did he go? You wondered amidst your haze. Sluggish, you stumbled out of the bed, flinching when your foot met the cold floor.

You eventually found him downstairs, sipping coffee at the dining table still with messy hair. "Zayne?"

He glanced up at you and nodded. There was something different about him, a subtle shift you couldn’t quite place. As you took a seat across from him, you hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Before you could find the right words though, he spoke first.

"I'm... sorry," he said, his tone laced with regret, causing a sharp pang of unease inside you.

"What?" you stared at him, feeling small and unsettled. "What are you sorry for?" you questioned as you gripped the hem of your shirt.

And then came the killing blow—

"Last night," Zayne muttered, avoiding your gaze. "I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. It was a mistake."

Mistake. The word echoed in your mind, but it was still hard to grasp its full weight.

"How was that—" you faltered, trembling, as the realization hit you like a truck and you gasped in disbelief. "Oh..."

Her. Again, and again, and again! Even when he was married to you, even when you were the one next to him each and everyday— even so!

Your husband considers that a night spent with you—his wife—a mistake!

The last of your patience snapped, as you broke down in sobs before him. "You're the worst!" you screamed at him amidst your mournful tears.

Zayne seemed taken aback at your outburst, his eyes wide. "Y/N, wait, you don't—"

"Screw you!" But you were beyond explanations at this point. You fled back to your bedroom. Zayne followed you suit, but you slammed the door in his face and locked it. As you collapsed onto the floor, the realization hit you with full force.

No matter what you did, you would always come second—or not at all.

The fracture in your marriage was undeniable.

Things had changed. Your home felt colder, and the tension was so stifling that you sometimes spent the night at the Hunter Association’s dorm just to escape it.

Zayne initially tried to reach out, but you were unwilling to listen, and eventually, he gave up. Before long, nearly a month had passed with this strain in the air.

You threw yourself into more rescue operations, using work as a distraction from the turmoil that lingered in your mind. Despite your best efforts to distract yourself, the unresolved thoughts and feelings clung to you.

"Xavier, am I lacking as a woman?"

Your frequent partner these days cracked open an eye despite his attempt to nap before today’s rescue mission. "What...?"

"No, forget it."

Things couldn't go like this forever. It was obvious by now—as long as he couldn’t let go of his past and you couldn’t accept him as he was, this marriage couldn't be saved.

Just as you headed towards the printer in the room, Xavier responded. "You talk a lot, eat a lot, and always bothering me when I'm about to sleep..."

You shot him an irked glance, disbelief evident on your face. "Hey!"

"But—" his clear voice cut through the air as he turned to you with half-lidded eyes. "You're exceptionally kind. If anyone can't appreciate that, then it's their loss."

At that moment, the ice inside your chest melted. To know that your own co-worker thought that kindly of you gave you a little boost of confidence.

But then Xavier added, "Sometimes you're stupid too. It's funny to watch."

"—?! You're so mean!"

A subtle smile curved on his lips as he turned to his side, ready to resume his nap. "Anyway, what are you printing?"

You feigned a huff as you gathered the papers and brought them to your desk. "Just something I need to submit when necessary."

A part of you wasn’t fully committed to it, of course—it was just that your emotions had no proper outlet even until now. As you pushed the drawer shut, a wave of bitterness washed over you as you reread the title on the blank form:

Petition for Divorce.

Zayne genuinely wanted to treat you well.

You were a nice girl. Too nice even. From the moment he laid his eyes on you some years ago, as a friend of a friend, he knew you were nothing but kind and cheery.

He still remembered that morning vividly: the hurt on your face, the tears welling up in your eyes, and then you breaking into inconsolable sobs. That sight inflicted something in him—it felt as though his own heart had been split in two.

Believe it or not, he cherished you too.

That night, even though he didn’t show it, he was still mourning her. When alcohol took over his mind and he saw you, you seemed like a perfect escape. He thought that even if he forced himself on you, there would be no consequences.

He hated that he had thought that way. He hated that how, in the end, you had become a means of relief for him.

Now you couldn't even look him in the eye, and Zayne didn't want to risk trying to coax you further. You were angry with him and rightly so, but when you ignored him and went home late more often, he was worried.

It was what drove him to volunteer for the rescue mission. When he saw your name on the hunter list, he felt compelled to make sure you were okay.

. . .

It was strange to see you on duty.

With your hunter uniform and your hair tied up, you were the picture of a very capable hunter. Zayne found himself unexpectedly following your movements as you came and went.

"Dr. Zayne, are you checking your wife out?" the EMT next to him teased with a grin. "Well, when you have a pretty wife such as Y/N, of course..."

He cleared his throat and the EMT giggled as he sauntered away.

So, you were also considered attractive here. Of course you were. Zayne knew it, but he just didn't expect that anyone here would blurt it out so openly.

But that wasn't the most surprising of all—

"Xavier, shush!" you playfully punched the blonde man next to you in the chest, your broad smile lighting up the moment. The two of you whispered closely, and Zayne found himself feeling uncomfortable, like being prickled by several needles.

He has never made you laugh so openly like that. The nagging feeling inside him grew stronger as he watched you—even if it was just in a platonic sense—with another man. It stirred something within him, making him want to pull that blonde aside, give him a word or two, and overthrow him altogether.

Amidst the growing storm inside him, you suddenly turned sideways and caught his eye, and Zayne could've sworn... he felt time stopped at that moment.

It was so candid that it took his breath away. The way your earnest, unclouded eyes met his. How natural you were while loading your gun...

Ah, they were right. His wife was exceptionally pretty.

But before he could fully appreciate it, you broke the eye contact and turned away, pretending as if you hadn’t seen him at all.

Zayne wondered then, why did he feel so hurt all of a sudden?

Battlefields were always a place of chaos, and Zayne was no stranger to it.

He was on standby at the makeshift hospital as patients surged in, continuously aiding first-aid. Some were hunters on duty, and his heart was in his throat the entire time, anxiously hoping you wouldn’t be among them.

"Doc... it still hurts," a little girl sniffled right after Zayne wrapped her injured arm with the gauze. Despite the anxiety, seeing this tearful girl softened his frown.

"It's just going to take a while, hmm?" he patted the kid in the head. "It's going to be better soon enough."

"My mom is still inside..." she said, her eyes welling up with tears. "Doc, will they get her out?"

Zayne hesitated, his thoughts briefly drifting to you. He managed a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry, they’ll—"

Crash! —all of a sudden, a loud explosion shook the hospital, the sound echoing through the chaos. The little girl clung to his coat in fear.

"Call for retreat!" someone suddenly shouted from outside. "Alert all personnel immediately!"

Retreat. The thought that you might be safe soon brought him a sense of relief. He turned to the girl, trying to keep his composure.

"Look, the hunters are retreating, it means most are already evacuated." Zayne managed a reassuring smile. "Stay here. I'll help you find her later, okay?"

He went to the survivors' camp outside, attending to the wounded and keeping a vigilant eye on each returning hunter. Even until 30 minutes later, he still hadn't seen you. Thinking to contact you, he reached out for his phone.

"Who hasn't gotten out?" Jenna, your team leader, demanded the receiver with a stern voice, standing tall several feet away from the camp, and Zayne overheard the snippets of her conversation.

A frantic voice responded, "Xavier is still inside! Y/N too!"

"Those two! They are always—!"

What?

Zayne almost dropped his phone when he heard your name. Terror gripped him instantly, and then suddenly, again, it was his greatest nightmare realized.

You are still inside. You could be hurt. It was possible you had no means to get out of there.

He didn’t register letting go of his coat or crossing the police line—all that mattered was getting to you. He sprinted away, ignoring the shouts of those trying to stop him.

No. Not again!

Debris flew everywhere, and the roars of Wanderers grew louder as he neared the building wreckage. As a splinter was about to hit him, ice shot through his palms, creating a barrier that shattered it.

"Y/N!" he shouted your name, his voice cracking with panic. "Where are you?!"

All he could think about was the memory of you bleeding out in the ER. Zayne never wanted to see that again. Should anything happen to you now...

He didn't want you to be hurt. He hated seeing you cry. For the past weeks, it had torn him apart to see you so unhappy. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, the one you looked at with love.

The realization washed over him like a tidal wave. Yet it wasn’t an epiphany but a simple truth he had always known but never fully grasped until now.

If he lost you now, it'd destroy him.

He continued screaming your name over and over. And then, after turning several turns, he finally saw you, standing alone in the middle of the wreckage—

You turned to him in surprise when you heard your name in his shout, and were rooted to the spot, in disbelief that your husband was right before you.

Zayne felt a wave of relief wash over him, until a hollow croak from above caught his attention. He squinted—

A glass panel had crumbled and was falling directly towards you.

A sense of dread so great overwhelmed him, a lump formed in his throat, and the smoke made it hard to breathe. He sprinted forward, and with everything he had, he pushed you out the way.

The next thing he knew, everything went pitch black.

"Zayne? Zayne!"

A memory flashed in his mind's eye. The one memory he wished he didn't have to relive ever again.

Sitting on the deserted hospital bench, his eyes were vacant. Utter hollowness choked him, leaving him motionless. It was over. There was no blood on his hands, yet it felt as if there were.

Your grip on his shoulder was tight, shaking him. "Zayne, snap out of it!" and only then he brought himself to meet your eyes.

"She died." That was the only thing he could mutter, pain woven in each word. "She really died."

Your eyes widened in horror, an inaudible gasp left your lips. "Oh..."

He didn't really know what happened next, but he remembered the warmth from when you pulled him to your arms, when sobs wracked his body as he thought the world was ending.

Since then, you have always been there.

And subconsciously, he may have regarded you as his lifeline.

. . .

Another memory.

"Are you awake...?"

His mind was hazy, but he recognized your voice. He blearily opened his eyes to find you placing a cool compress on his forehead.

"Who would have thought the great Dr. Zayne can get a fever?" you said with a soft laugh, patting his hair. "Don’t worry about me. Go back to sleep."

You came to see him. He remembered telling you not to. But you still did, and the fact thawed the ice in his heart.

Just as you were about to leave, his hand reached out and pulled you closer. "Don’t go."

"Are you trying to make me catch your cold too?" you teased with a soft laugh.

"Hmph. Who told you to come here...?"

"Ah, so you're whiny when you're not feeling well," you observed with a smile. "Okay, I'll stay! But only if you agree to nurse me if I catch your cold!"

You were noisy, but endearingly so.

. . .

"Don't pay her any mind," you fidgeted on your seat, a frown on your face. "My mom always does that."

There was never any talk about the nature your relationship between the two of you, but it was clear to everyone nevertheless. You were always around him, and he seemed to enjoy your company just as much.

And not for the first time, your mother pushed him towards marriage with you.

"People are always getting the wrong idea," you grumbled. "Sorry, Zayne..." you lowered your head, seemingly in regret.

He was puzzled, because to him, it wasn't necessarily false. All things you did together lead to this.

"What if it isn't a wrong idea at all?"

You looked at him with slight surprise. "Huh...?"

Your presence was a gift. That tragedy was devastating, but having you constantly by his side made it bearable. He was fond of you, and the thought that if it's you, then surely...

In this memory, he was more sure than ever. What he said then, it came from the truest place in his heart.

"What if I told you... as of right now, I can't imagine being with anyone but you?"

The side of his head was throbbing with pain. Everything hurt, the hard asphalt was bruising his face as the headache set in. He could smell the scent of blood and sweat, but more than that—

"Zayne! Ah, hah— Please, please! No!"

Your voice, choked with tears, blared in his ears as you desperately shook him. You sounded so heartbroken, so utterly panicked, and your voice gradually pulled him back to consciousness.

Opening his eyes took tremendous effort. At first, everything was a blur, but then it came into focus—the sight of you disheveled, smeared with soot, with tears streaming down your face. But still you— the woman he had married two years ago.

Yet his heart lurched. You're crying again... why is it that whenever with me, you're always crying?

"Are you... alright?" he rasped, lifting his hand to touch your face.

"Why did you—" You were startled by his question, your gaze fixed on the blood pooling on the side of his face. "Your head is bleeding!"

Ah, so you're fine. The sheer knowledge brought him relief, a faint smile forming at his lips. "I'm glad..."

"I'll help you get back! Hold onto me—" you said after brushing away your tears, lifting him up and draping his arm around your shoulder. "Can you walk?"

"I'm... fine..."

"You're not!" you refuted harshly, voice trembling. "You have to go back!"

You made him lean on you as you made your way back to the makeshift hospital, each step accompanied by your sniffles as you supported his waist.

Zayne glanced at you, feeling a warmth in his chest despite the migraine. "D-Don't cry... I'll be fine."

"You're an idiot!" you choked out, struggling to hold back your tears. "Why did you even come out here?"

"I... have to find you. They said you haven't returned."

"There are still civilians inside! I'll return eventually!"

"I can’t wait for that. I... have to know you're safe."

His response only fueled your frustration. "You don't have to—!"

"You are my wife—" he snapped, turning to you sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. "How can I not worry— for you?"

The forceful tone in his voice went straight to the most tender part of your heart. It really struck you at that moment that he had come out here for you, that his concern for you was that profound.

And that after all these weeks, he still keeps you in his thoughts.

He had pushed you out of the way, even at the cost of himself, barely missing the fallen billboard in that violent crash. If he was in the wrong position, he could've lost his life.

You stared at him, tears glossing your eyes.

"That's enough... Don't cry again." Zayne reached out to wipe your cheeks. His hands, however, were smeared with his own blood, leaving streaks on your face. "Ah... I got blood on you..."

But in that moment, you couldn’t care less. There was this indescribable sting of grief, but also paired with a sense of relief so great in your chest the very second you realize that now, he sees you.

You threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly as you sobbed, calling out to him in broken voice. “Z-Zayne...!”

“Why are you crying again...?” he let out a resigned sigh, but still embraced you regardless. “What a crybaby...”

You buried your face deeper into him, shaking uncontrollably. “You... saved me...” you managed to say amidst torrent of tears. “Y-You... got hurt...”

“I’ll be fine,” he retorted in your ear albeit in a hoarse voice, holding you close, even as blood trickled down the side of his face. “And I’d do it again. I refuse to see you hurt.”

You cried harder, and he pulled you tighter, his chest aching at the sight of you so inconsolable. And in that moment, he made the decision right then and there.

He will protect you so long as time will allow him to.

It was as if the invisible wall between you had crumbled to dust after that incident. You stayed by Zayne's side night and day, monitoring his condition.

And one night, several days later...

"Here, don't move..."

You carefully dressed the wound on Zayne's temple, sitting close beside him. He quietly observed your worried eyes and trembling fingers without a word.

"You even need stitches..." you lamented, biting your lip as you wrapped the bandage around his head. Tears pricked your eyes, overwhelmed by the concern you were pouring into the task.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine," he gruffly insisted in an attempt to erase your mournful expression. He felt the delicate, almost hesitant touch of your fingers on his face. "It'll heal with time."

Even as he said that, a part of you was still troubled at the sight of the wound on his head and cheekbone. No matter what he said, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was somehow your fault.

"I'm done. Now go rest," you said softly, your voice tinged with bitterness after tying the gauze. You rose to put the kit away, but even after you finished, Zayne remained upright on the bed, so you leveled a frown at him.

"What, why aren't you— Ah!"

Before you knew it, he pulled you by the arm, and you tumbled into his chest in surprise. "What are you doing?!" you yelled at him, clinging to his shoulder and looking up at him with ire. "You could've hit your head!"

He looked down at you with a flat expression, or is that a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes? “Can't a husband cuddle his wife?”

You blinked dumbly, caught off-guard. “Yes, you can, but...”

His arms then enveloped you, fitting you on his chest and he sighed against your hair. “Then there’s nothing wrong with it. Let’s just stay like this for now.”

And so, that was how he decided to sleep throughout the night—with you on top of him, held close. You felt self-conscious as Zayne had never initiated this closeness with you since that night.

"Are you sure you want to sleep this way?" you wriggled a bit in his grasp.

He draped an arm around your waist, pressing his eyes shut. "Mm-hm."

"You..." A part of you recoiled at the vulnerability but decided to ask anyway. "Won't this be… a mistake...?"

That caught his attention, as Zayne's eyes fluttered open. He looked down at you, who avoided his gaze with a pout and a torn expression, making yourself small in his embrace.

It dawned on him then that this persisting issue in your marriage was thoroughly his fault. His past was something he could never—and would never—trade for anything, but right now, you were that sense of peace that grounded him.

At one point, he has to let it go. These feelings inside him… they drive him to.

He softened, his gaze full of understanding as he gently brushed your hair back. "No," he said quietly, his voice tender. "We’ve come too far for it to be one."

Your clear, innocent eyes reluctantly met his, and at that moment something akin to clarity resonated within him.

He once thought nothing could ever mend the hollowness in his heart. And once, he indeed hoped that being with you would provide some form of relief or replace what he had lost.

But right now, feeling how vulnerable you were in his arms like this, he understood that you were not, and could never be, a replacement for anything else. Even before he realized it himself, what he felt for you was something entirely different— something dear that had grown and evolved into a genuine affection different from what he had felt for anyone else before.

Those times spent with you, wanting to protect you... Now that he reflected on it, it was never about filling a void, after all.

“I... want to treasure you better.”

Oh. Your heart thumped loudly as those words left his lips, warmth spreading through your entire being. Overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice, you clung to his chest, feeling a surge of love and a profound sense of being freed from the chains of insecurity that had taken you hostage all these years.

Most precious. Zayne smiled at you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“This time for sure... I will.”

And at last... he could say it without any lingering guilt.

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connorsui · 26 days ago

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Marked in Metal

Caleb... loves ... buying you rings.

It wasn’t something you directly questioned—at least, not seriously. He had always been like that, always finding little things to slip into your life as a form of joy. Bracelets, necklaces, little earrings here and there.

But ...rings?

Oh, those were his favorite.

— Princess cut, Briolette, Trilliant, Radiant.

Oval and round. The entire catalog.

And it wasn’t just about the aesthetic. No, it was something else entirely—something unspoken in the way he always lingered just a second longer when slipping the ring onto your finger, something in the way his eyes darkened with quiet satisfaction whenever you lifted your hand, light catching on whatever new piece he had picked out for you.

Like now for instances.

"Here," he said one afternoon, handing you a small velvet box. His voice was casual, but his fingers brushed yours when you took it from him. "Saw this new piece on my way home and thought of you."

You barely glanced up from your work before popping the box open, the soft click of the latch followed by a quiet inhale as you took in the ring nestled inside. A smooth sterling silver band, sleek and polished, with fluted rose gold prongs holding a citrine gem. The cut was extravagant, the kind of thing that should have been reserved for engagement rings, but you had long stopped questioning Caleb’s taste.

"Caleb," you groaned, rolling your eyes but still sliding it onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as they always did. "You have to stop doing this."

"And why should I?" He smirked, leaning back against the couch, arm thrown over the backrest as he watched you admire the ring despite your protests. "Looks good on you."

You twisted your fingers, letting the metal catch the light. He could see it in your face—the way your lips curved slightly, the way your brows relaxed—that moment of pure, genuine appreciation. He memorized that expression every time.

Because no matter how much you insisted it was too much, you never turned them down.

And he never had to worry about you asking how much they cost.

But it wasn’t about the price anyway. It was about the way you wore them, the way your hands danced through the air when you talked, your fingers adorned with pieces he had chosen. It was about the quiet thrill of watching everyone else notice, of knowing that every time someone asked where you got them, your answer was always the same.

"Caleb, obviously. He’s the reason I have half my jewelry box."

That was enough for him.

But this one was different.

"Wait, Caleb?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, amused and lilting. "Did you know this was engraved?"

You held up the ring between your fingers, tilting it just enough for the small inscription inside to catch the light.

.C.

Delicate, subtle, almost invisible unless you were looking for it.

He raised a brow, feigning nonchalance. "Oh? …I don't actually remember seeing that anywhere?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You seriously didn't notice?"

"Guess not." He shrugged, and you huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

"I don’t think I believe you."

He didn’t respond, only watching as you lifted your phone, snapping a picture. Within minutes, your messages flooded with the usual teasing.

"Another one? Does Caleb just collect rings for you now?"

"That’s basically a proposal, babe!"

"Correction. This is the one billionth proposal"

And, as always, your reply was the same.

"Of course it’s Caleb. Who else spoils me like this constantly?"

He loved that. Loved knowing that when others have noticed the rings on your fingers, they knew exactly who put them there.

But even when he adorned your hands, his own ring was different.

It never sat on his finger. It had its own place, strung securely onto the same chain as his tags, resting against his chest beneath the layers of his uniform.

Same material, same weight.

But the chain never left his body. It was there in the dead of night, cold against his skin. There in the thick of the day, clinking softly against metal. It was there when the world was loud and chaotic, when exhaustion pulled at his bones, grounding him with the quiet weight of something real.

Something that brought him back to you.

And when he returned home?

when he was finally home, the chain came off—but the ring never stayed in some forgotten drawer.

No, it belonged in the same place it always did.

Right where you were—pressed close against his heart.

#suiwrites🍒#love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #caleb x you #caleb x y/n #lads x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lnds caleb x reader #lads caleb x reader #l&ds caleb x reader #lnds x you #lnds x mc #lads x you #lads x mc #l&ds x you

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priti-shah-posts · 1 year ago

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#home remedies for glowing skin #home remedies for radiant skin #How to achieve glowing skin naturally #home remedies to get glowing skin naturally #facial for glowing skin at home #face pack for glowing skin at home #home remedies for face glow

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lirotation · 10 months ago

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Mortal Astarion X F! Human Tav. Ummm, angst.👀

For decades, this manor offered him a place to call home in the truest sense.

The hallway was a sacred gallery, adorned with paintings that were not mere canvases, but tangible echoes of their life together. Each brushstroke, lovingly rendered by her hand, captured the essence of cherished memories.

Whenever he opened the door at the end of the hallway, he was greeted by the radiant smile of his beloved, and the hearth beckoned him to surrender to its comforting embrace. Yet, it was the vast window next to it that held the greatest significance. The tender caress of sunlight danced across his skin as he lost himself in the pages of a book beside her. It was here, bathed in the golden rays, that he could truly revel in the miracle she had bestowed upon him – the cure to his vampiric curse, a gift of life, a reminder of the depths of her love and the power it held to transcend even the most insurmountable of boundaries.

Here at home, he had found everything his heart desired.

But nothing is ever truly perfect. Life simply doesn't work that way. Even the mightiest of fortresses cannot withstand the relentless march of time.

He thought he was ready for it, but not like this.

Never like this.

_________

The poem cited is "When You Are Old" BY W.B. Yeats. One of my favorites.❤️

Alright, thanks for reading the second installment of my "this did not really happen to my couple". After delving into the mortality of my Tav, Amaara, I found myself confronting a fear more profound than death itself – the fear of morbidity, of life's vibrancy fading before its inevitable end. So I decided to yank my CP around this theme. Self-indulgence at its finest.😊

#Halsin is my CP's family doctor =)#long post #Alzheimer's #astarion comic #astarion romance #astarion fanart #astarion #bg3 fanart #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #clip studio paint #procreate #ink and wash #bg3 comic #tavstarion #amaara ashvale

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lalunanymph · 1 year ago

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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── as the last woman on earth, a government bounty marks you as humanity’s only hope for repopulation. unexpectedly, stumbling into your college football team becomes your lifeline, but instead of turning you in, they want to impregnate you on their own terms.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 + 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 with isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, barou shoei, kunigami rensuke, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro & mikage reo

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── fem!reader, mentions of sexism in medicine, gangbang, breeding, cunninlingus, unprotected s*x, mild degradation, reader gets spanked once, mentions of food, mentions of babies, mentions of pregnancy, reverse harem, reader gets kidnapped, creampies, double penetration, nipple play, mentions of viral outbreaks, home isolation, mentions of human torture and experimentation, apocalypse AU, dark content ahead (10k+ words i am sick in the head)

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

One thing about life you were coming to find out in your short existence, was that it could change in the blink of an eye.

One day, you’re a popular cheerleader everyone loves, on the Dean’s List and speeding through to a life of accolades and financial stability, then the next, a viral outbreak spirals out of control, infecting and offing only women.

It started with rapid coughing and sneezing. Many expert scientists cited a woman's inferior immune system compared to men. They barely paid any attention to the growing casualties in one half of the population, just like how they turned a blind eye to PCOS or the persistent chronic pain most women seemed to experience throughout their lives.

As the voices of one half went unheard, the dire consequences slapped mankind fully in the face.

Birth rates dropped, many nations lost their manpower and society became increasingly violent and hostile.

Those women that were left were transferred to medical facilities under the guise of rehabilitating them. But, there were the rumours of abuse and medical experiments that arose from shady forums and chat groups.

You had read some of them from Jienna’s laptop when she was still alive.

Your best friend and roommate was an advocate for women’s rights, even before the world hadn’t gone to shit, and she was the first one who opened your eyes to the blatant mistreatment women were going through official medical channels. When the virus hit, the both of you huddled in your shared dormitory, trading packets of ramen and stories while waiting for more aid to come.

She always had such a bright smile and determination. The day the virus took her away from you was one you could never forget.

Jienna laid on her bed, a grey pallor overtaking her once radiant skin. The skincare she religiously applied was gathering dust on her dresser, and everytime she exhaled, it sounded coarser and coarser.

Eventually, she closed her eyes and never awoke again, and you had to page the medical team to extract her body, all while tears streamed down your cheeks and you were hovering on the edge of a full meltdown.

Your family across the country couldn’t even come and see you; your brothers were barred from taking you back home, as every woman in the district was given strict orders to remain at home and behind locked doors to keep the virus away.

But, it always managed to slip through the cracks. Whether it was from infected food or contaminated medical equipment.

The virus killed any female it touched.

News reports began surfacing that hens were dying out, impacting the supply of eggs. Cows were dropping dead in fields, the world’s milk supply running dry for the first time in existence. The pregnant black cat you used to feed behind your dorms was found dead behind a dumpster by a group of computer science boys.

Slowly, the world descended into chaos, and more and more women were disappearing.

It was exactly day 40 of your lockdown when you decided you would run away.

Packing every non-perishable canned food you could find into a big bag, you waited until dusk fell and when the nurses would hand you your dinner. You knew it would be one of the older security guys who used to direct parking on your campus, and he had a bad hip so he couldn’t chase you down.

As much as you hated hurting him, the first punch in his face was enough to knock him out cold. You hopped over his body, careening down the hallway and pushing yourself towards the outside of the college campus.

Luck was on your side when you dashed out the front door to find an idle truck. It was from one of the block rangers, and you didn’t hesitate to jump inside of it, revving the engine and stepping down on the gas pedal.

Someone yelled out your name, but you were too fired up to care. In your mind, you decided it would be better to die from the virus than staying cooped up for the rest of your life. At least with dying, you would be free.

You had no plan and no idea what to do next but to race towards the closest abandoned building you could find. Jienna had told you about it during her dying days—how there was a series of abandoned buildings just at the edge of town where defiant women stayed the last of their days there.

Having seen with your own eyes what the virus did to your roommate, you were sure you were prepared to go out the same way. There would be a few days where your immune system fought back, but without the right food and care, you would waste yourself away.

Better than being trapped forever in a small dorm. You viciously gunned the engine and raced towards that shining beacon of hope.

The buildings out of town were abandoned like Jienna said, and you prepared to set up your death camp. The concrete slab walls were drab and the floor was too hard and cold to sleep on, but you made do with a blanket you managed to steal from the lobby.

Days passed and soon, you were starting to wonder if the virus was even real. Your meals consisted of canned beans and whatever scraps you could find in the dumpster nearby. You didn’t dare to light a fire in case it might attract someone’s attention, and your showers were virtually non-existent.

Maybe I shouldn’t have left the dorms.

Those thoughts of ‘what if’ and ‘should haves’ kept you up at night and haunted your waking moments.

One day, you thought you heard footsteps echoing down the hallways, but then, you found out it was just a bunch of squatters looking for a place to sleep. They turned their nose up on the squalor and left you alone feeling bemused and a little disappointed that not even the lowest rank of humanity would want to spend a night at a place you consistently slept in.

But, your newfound freedom was too good to be true.

It had been too quiet and too peaceful. The bubble was waiting to pop and your hopes burst one day when you awoke in cold sweat to hear a man’s voice down the hallways.

“... heard she escaped here…”

“Are you sure?”

The fatigue weighing you down shot out of your system and you sat up ramrod straight, rushing to get your goods without making a sound.

“No news of… gotta be the last one in the vicinity…”

You hurriedly stuffed your blanket into your backpack, taking care not to breathe too loud in case they might hear. The beam of a flashlight pricked your irises, and having lived for a while in the dark, you weren’t used to such brightness.

Squinting, you stayed close to the walls, slinging your bag onto your shoulders and preparing to depart down a flight of steps straight into the forest fringing these buildings. Your flexibility as a cheerleader back in your old life helped you out to creep on the floors quietly, extending one leg and then another while keeping close to the walls.

However, you didn’t see where your foot landed, and before you could stop in mid-step, the empty can of beans went clattering to the ground.

For a split second, all you could hear was your breath and the rush of blood in your ears.

The beam of light immediately swung towards your direction, illuminating your left leg and the implicated empty can in question.

Shit. You had been discovered.

“Wait!” One of the men yelled, but you didn’t stop to listen. Hightailing it out of here, you sprinted to the entrance, about to escape into the night when you felt a bigger body slam into you from the side.

Screaming out, you barely caught a glimpse of your perpetrator, but he was holding you down with his larger body, pinning you right to the dirty ground.

“Got her!” he yelled back to other men. “It’s a girl! She’s here!”

You blindly reached your hand out and felt the sharp edge of a rock cut into your palm. Swinging it towards him, you bashed the side of his head, and in the glimpses of light from the shining moon up ahead, you caught sight of his vivid, dark hair.

The man yelped and stumbled back, staunching the heavy flow of blood oozing from his right cheek.

“Fuck!” he bellowed, and you used his momentum of shock to push him off of you.

But, he had enough dexterity to clamp a hand around your knee, bringing you back down to the ground.

“No!” you started to scream and sob. “Please! Let me go!”

Someone else came to his rescue, holding you down. You felt ropes around your wrists, drawing them behind your back. Your sobs were muffled by a bag thrown over your head, and for good measure, they tied your ankles, too. It took two of them to carry you into a car, and you were laid on someone’s lap, his arms roping around you and pressing you to his chest.

As the men piled back into the car, you started to sob when you heard the engine ignite.

“Ssh, it’s okay,” the man who held you crooned. “It’s gonna be fine, Y/N.”

Through your tears, you recognized that they knew your name.

A hand touched your knee, rubbing it soothingly. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

That voice. You had heard it before. It brought to mind dark blue eyes and a mop of dark hair. A pair of toned legs tearing through a football field and a charming, lopsided smile.

“I-Isagi?”

He hummed. “It’s me, Y/N. Barou’s holding you, by the way.”

In answer, the self-proclaimed king of the field back from when your college days consisted of study horrors and not a world crisis, flooded your mind with stark familiarity when he exhaled out your name.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“It’s the boys from the football team,” Isagi informed you, like you were on a road trip with them instead of forcefully being kidnapped against your own will.

“H-how did you find me?” The bag they stuffed over your head smelled musty, and you struggled to talk through it. “C-can you get this fucking thing off my head?”

Someone pried the sack off, and you inhaled in deep gusts of air, your wide eyes taking in the darkened interior of this truck and the boys who were holding you hostage.

Isagi had lost a bit of weight since you last saw him. The last you heard of the Blue Lock team’s co-captain was that he had lost his mother to the virus and the school had started a fund for him to cover her funeral expenses. Turning your eyes towards the man who was holding you, Barou’s jaw was tight, and his eyes were heavy with dark circles.

The man driving was Kunigami, whose hands were white-knuckled fists on the steering wheel. Next to him in the passenger, bleeding out from his cheek, was Itoshi Rin. You noticed how he side-eyed you from the front, and returned his evasive look with a frosty glare.

Lastly, at the back of this 8-seater was Chigiri, Nagi and Reo—the former two being the most unlikely combination of acquaintances you had ever seen join this ragtag group of football bros. Nagi and Reo were famous for being fused at the hip since they both started their business degree courses together. They rarely fraternised with anyone else outside of their coursemates, much less kidnap some random woman.

At the reminder of your predicament, you squirmed, accidentally rubbing your ass all over Barou’s crotch. He didn’t react beyond a low hiss of, “Quit it,” those thick and sturdy arms tightening around your trembling body. You tried to ignore how you could feel something hard poking your lower back.

“Why did you kidnap me?” you demanded off the bat. “How did you find me? What are you going to do with me?”

Those rapid questions were met with silence. You flitted your gaze to each of them, and through the passing snatches of orange streetlights, you saw every one of their expressions drenched in guilt.

“We… don’t know.”

Isagi was the one who spoke first, preparing himself to earn your rage.

“You don’t know?” you mumbled, growing more incensed every minute with how they had wrenched you from your peaceful life in the ruins. “You don’t know where you’re taking me. What you’re planning to do with me. You don’t know the reason why you went through all that trouble to track me down. You don’t—”

“It’s because you have a bounty on your head.”

Rin’s voice cut through your growing tirade, leaving you cold with disbelief.

“I… what?”

On your right, Isagi nodded, rubbing the back of his neck like he would rather be somewhere else than in this vehicle having such a difficult conversation.

“After you escaped, the officials posted your bounty and your suspected whereabouts. Um, it’s uh… well, Y/N… you’re the last woman alive from our college.”

You exhaled, feeling your chest constrict and tears prick your eyes.

All your lecturers… your friends… your cheerleading gang…

“Are they all gone?” The boys didn’t comment on your thick voice or the unshed tears.

Kunigami was the first one to express his remorse. “I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s the truth.”

Rin decided to rip the bandaid off quicker, leaving you reeling in confusion and despair. “The authorities put up notices for you because your status was unknown. They said that anyone who brought you back—dead or alive—would receive two million yen.”

The reality of your situation settled in like sentiment falling to the bottom of a glass jar.

You felt cold all over, your heartbeat right in your throat.

“So, you’re either going to k-kill me or turn me in, huh?”

Your heavy question was met with silence.

Surprisingly, it was Nagi at the back who piped up in his lazy, drawling tone. “Actually… we have a better plan.”

Isagi was the first to react. He shot Nagi a murderous look, shaking his head. Kunigami glanced at the white-haired man through the rearview mirror with narrowed eyes, and Rin’s scowl deepened. Chigiri, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, sighed out, “Idiot” under his breath.

The only one who looked supportive of what Nagi had to say was—no surprise there—Reo himself.

“It’s a good plan! She’s still healthy,” he argued on behalf of his best friend. Nagi nodded, humming.

“The virus should’ve taken her out weeks ago, but she managed to survive all on her own in such dirty conditions… I really think we should give it a shot.”

The air in the car changed; thickening and becoming ripe with tension. Barou’s arms suddenly felt too hot around your body, and you broke out into a sweat.

“It could work,” Isagi started out slowly, rubbing his chin. He had a look on his face you knew all too well—that calculative, goal-hungry stare that would eventually destroy his enemies.

Rin tilted his head towards the backseat, his turquoise eyes drawing circles on the car’s water-stained ceiling. “Do you think that would be legal for us to do?”

“We have to keep her hidden.” Chigiri spoke up, demanding everyone's attention. “The authorities can’t know that we have a woman with us or we’d be punished. We have to be very careful with Y/N.”

You were still drawing blanks on their ideas, growing more frustrated every single second you were kept in the dark from their decisions on your fate. “What do you fucking assholes mean? Legal? Keeping me away from the authorities? What do you want with me?”

Your voice broke on the last question, and without warning, you started to sob. The weeks of roughing it out on your own, trying to escape from society and hide in plain sight were taking its toll on you. You wept bitterly, hiding your face behind your hair and sobbing into your shoulder.

“Shit,” someone muttered in the front.

“Give her some water.”

It was Isagi who gently coaxed your face from your shoulder, holding a bottle of clean water. You contemplated spitting a mouthful at him, but ultimately, your thirst won out and you drank deeply.

He wiped your tears off with the sleeve of his threadbare sweater and you hiccuped into a silence, already accepting your death.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Reo murmured from the back. You lifted your swollen, red eyes to find his purple ones full of sincerity. “We actually want to keep you safe. There’s been rumours about human experiments and none of us want you to go through that. We want to keep you safe.”

You should’ve known the group’s appointed spokesperson would be a man used to spouting sweet words to get his way—whether with professors or girls—but a part of you wanted to believe Reo. You were so, so tired of fending for yourself, you wanted someone to help you with the burden of being a woman in these unacceptable times.

“Yes, Y/N.” Rin’s sudden reassurance struck you dumb with disbelief. “We have our old frat house—nobody comes by there anymore. We’ll keep you safe there and you can rest.”

It all sounded too good to be true. Here was a band of college footballers being completely sweet with you—wanting to protect, nurture and keep you hidden. But, you were waiting for the other shoe to drop; the catch in this arrangement.

“There’s more,” you whispered, scenting out their bullshit. “You’re not telling me the real reason.”

Men were never good liars—that much you could tell. So, when every single footballer glanced at the other, your senses were in red alert, demanding to uncover what was the terrible footnote to this otherwise flawless proposal.

“Well?” you muttered coldly, strengthening your resolve. “What do you want from me? What’s the catch?”

Reo was quick to turn your question around. “What? There’s no catch—”

“There is.” It was Isagi who spoke, sounding resigned and tired in the dimming darkness. “There is a catch. We shouldn’t lie to her, guys. We all agreed to tell her the truth if we found her and she was willing to listen.”

You held your breath, waiting for Isagi to drop the bomb. He seemed like he needed a moment to stabilise himself. He drew in a deep breath and unlocked his shoulders, looking you square in the eye. You half-wished he had kept you in the dark; never told you the truth. Because what he said next completely swept you off your feet, landing you onto the ground face-first and gasping in disbelief.

“It’s not about rewards or money—it’s about duty. We need your help to repopulate this city, Y/N… we want you to carry one of our babies.”

You felt a pair of broad-set shoulders shake under your smaller frame, the man underneath you stretching out his kinks and stiff muscles after a night of good sleep.

“Hm,” he groaned, brushing a hand down your bare spine. “Good morning, angel.”

Reo’s husky voice drew you back into consciousness, and you whined, burying your face into his neck to hide yourself from the morning’s glare. He chuckled at your antics, nosing your hair and pressing soft kisses onto your temple. “C’mon, sweetheart. It’s Rin’s turn with you today.”

Without missing a beat or opening your eyes, you mumbled: “Maybe you should all fuck me at one go so you guys can see who’s strong enough to knock me up.”

You meant those words as a joke, but when Reo’s shoulders stiffened, you suddenly realised the depth of danger you were flirting with.

“Don’t say such things you’ll regret, sweetheart,” he meant to tease you, gently easing you off his chest. “Or, the boys won’t stop until you give each one of us a baby.”

You tried to laugh, to shake off the sudden unease. Today was Wednesday, and Wednesdays meant pancake days in this unconventional household. You got up and slipped on Reo’s shirt, fluffing out your shorter hair. The guys had insisted you cut your locks so that it would be easier to hide them under a baseball cap and pass you off as a man if anyone came looking.

Sometimes, you did miss your femininity, but in a world where it was literally dying out, you couldn’t take any chances.

Flashing Reo a smile, you hummed. “Don’t laze around too much like Nagi—I’m making breakfast.”

In the living room, Bachira was the only one up and awake, his bright golden eyes following your every move as you wished him good morning and prepared your ingredients. Without a sound, he slipped behind you, calloused hands warm on your bare belly.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, making goosebumps rise on your arms.

“Morning, Meguru,” you mumbled, trying to ignore how his hands were creeping up to your bare breasts. Living with seven men meant that you were subjected to their advances night and day. It got even worse when you had told them you missed your period last week, but your cycle turned out to be just a few days late.

That didn’t stop them from feeling you up, grasping your hips or pressing soft kisses to your neck when you least expected it. Like now, with Bachira’s hot breath bathing the sensitive strip of your jaw.

Meguru hadn’t been part of your kidnapping heist a few weeks ago, but he had shown up when Isagi called—ready to be of service and contribute his portion in repopulating your tiny, dying town.

Clicking your tongue at the price tag on the egg carton, you flipped the cardboard cover closed, affronted by the steep spike in those numbers.

“It’s getting bad out there, right?”

Bachira paused his efforts in running his nose down your neck, taken off guard by your sudden question. “Um. Yeah. Why’d you ask, princess?”

Because I haven’t seen the outside world in weeks. You swallowed your bitterness, focused on whipping the yolks into a golden perfection. The boys were doing their best to make you feel cosy and safe within these walls; you couldn’t be too ungrateful. They didn’t let you out for fear of someone catching sight of you—that’s why the windows and doors were all covered and barricaded.

They restricted your contact with only seven of them because they didn’t want an anonymous tip-off to result in you being taken away.

Every Blue Lock player was careful to protect their golden ace.

“Nothing,” you hummed in the breeziest voice you could muster. “Just curious, s’all.”

“Hmm.” Bachira’s hands moved up to your naked tits moving freely under Reo’s bigger t-shirt. “You smell like him,” he accused you softly with a nip to your ear. “That stupid rich boy.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you tried not to smirk, but failed.

“Nah.” Bachira’s fingers trailed to your stiffening nipples, still sore from Reo’s ministrations (he loved biting down on them while you rode him) and eased the soft flesh in between his thumb and forefinger. “I was waiting for my turn—can’t believe I have to share you with those bastards.” You tried not to gasp and push your body back to meet his pelvis halfway, failing miserably to measure a cup full of milk. Some of the liquid sloshed onto your wrist and you heard Meguru snort.

“I love how sensitive you are, baby.”

Biting on your lower lip to stifle a whine, you pushed your ass back to brush the front of his pants, finding him already hard and waiting.

Bachira was one of the more eager boys, and you had to pace yourself and him less he fucked you on this counter and ruined Rin’s day with you.

“Meguru—”

“I know, I know,” he groaned, sounding both lustful and disappointed. “You’re emo Itoshi’s tonight. Fucking stupid stick game.” Cursing himself for literally getting the shorter end of the stick, you felt his pout imprint on your skin. “But, can’t we have a little bit of fun, baby? Can I eat your pussy out at least?”

You literally throbbed at his words, and almost gave in to the rushing desire sweeping you off your feet. Almost—until you heard Isagi’s voice knocking the both of you out of this lust-filled fog.

“Hey. What’re you both doing?”

While you smelled a threat, Bachira smelled an opportunity. His grin was shark-like, cutting through the tension when he didn’t stop playing with your nipples or back down when you hissed out his name.

“What’s it look like? I’m trying to fuck her.”

You tensed, waiting for Isagi to be pissed off. He was the one who reinforced this one-night sharing rule, and to see his best friend blatantly disregarding it would set off his rigid ego.

But, to your surprise, Isagi tilted his head, taking note of your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “I think she… she likes it.”

Bachira glanced down to find your mouth parted slightly, brows furrowed with a deceptive look of pain when both men knew what it was. Desire.

Isagi, who could smell a goal or a wrench in the plans from a mile away, started to chuckle.

“Lift up her shirt. Continue playing with her nipples, Meguru.”

“Yes, captain,” Bachira sang, and lifted the hem of Reo’s sleep shirt up to expose your puffy, swollen nipples.

“Shit,” Isagi breathed, and you didn’t miss how he had to adjust himself through his shorts, those dark blue eyes eclipsed with a dark, unnamed emotion you were terrified to uncover. “They look so perfect and pointy.”

Bachira rolled your sensitive buds between his two fingers, ignoring your soft yelp and flinch when he began to tug on them with a bit more force. “Huh—it really is. Reo must’ve prepped her nicely for us.”

“For what?”

The voice of another lover joined the fray. You peeled your watery eyes up to find Reo’s curious expression sweeping between his two friends and your own flushed face. He didn’t seem angry that you were being fondled by Bachira in broad daylight—in fact, Reo looked like he didn’t feel anything.

He almost looked bored, sweeping those purplish hues to Isagi. “So, are we finally doing it?”

“Hmm.”

Doing what? You wanted to ask, but your head was tilted back, mouth falling open only for it to be filled by Bachira’s tongue coaxing yours to come and play with his. His kiss—if it could even be called that—was sloppy and unhurried, its full intention to leave you feeling shame and vulnerability in front of two of your other lovers.

Showing them how you easily folded and lost yourself to the sensations.

“Mm—can see her moving her hips,” Isagi’s lowered, husky voice shot a potent mix of desire and shame through your veins. “Check how wet she is Meguru.”

Abiding his best friend, Bachira dipped two fingers past the waistband of your sleep shorts. You mewled and tossed your head back when he swiped through your folds, teasingly circling your clit.

As soon as he gave you that wonderful friction, he retrieved it, leaving you high and dry.

“Meguru,” you whimpered. Bachira ignored you, holding his fingers up to the other two men; his digits glistening with your juices.

“I don’t think she can wait anymore,” Reo murmured, and this time, you caught a flash of darkness in his otherwise kind eyes. “Isagi—”

“I’ll go first.”

Meguru nudged you firmly to face the approaching, dark-haired man. You couldn’t keep your eyes off Isagi’s intense, blue eyes that were pinning you right to the spot like you were about to be burned on a stake. The fire came next when he reached out to caress your cheek, trailing his hand down your neck and grabbing your throat.

“Tease her clit again,” he ordered, and Bachira playfully said,

“Yes, captain.”

Fuck. You were growing lightheaded from the combination of Isagi choking you and Bachira running slow circles on your throbbing clit. It was even filthier when you remembered Reo was watching, most likely getting off to your desperate pinched expressions.

“Meguru… Yoichi…”

Calling them by their first name seemed to spur on those two men. Meguru eased one finger past your tight ring of muscle, melting through your spongy walls and hooking the tip of this thick index right against your g-spot. He nudged it forward in a fluid motion, like how he would effortlessly send forward a ball across the field, forcing a yelp past your kiss-swollen lips.

Your vision was purely dominated by Isagi’s increasingly unhinged expression; the sweat bulleting down his forehead, his mouth parted in a silent snarl, those dark, beautiful eyes coaxing you to jump down a well just to feel his touch…

“Y-Yoichi.”

As if he understood your deeper need, Isagi nodded feverishly at Bachira. “Remove her shorts… hold her open while I eat her out.”

Dutifully, Meguru followed his friend's instructions. You watched with wide, unblinking eyes as Yoichi got to his knees, his mouth so close to where you needed him the most.

Bachira slung your shorts down your ankles, revealing the sweet shape of your mound and the even sweeter treasure hidden in between your folds. Like a man hellbent on a mission, Yoichi gently pried your clit from under her hood, revealing the throbbing bud waiting to be licked, sucked or loved on.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth was on you.

Every man in this house ate you out differently. Reo was more careful and controlled. Nagi was languid and tended to overstimulate you. Barou loved to have your legs on his shoulders as he dove in between your thighs.

But, Isagi was different; he ate you out with the determination of a man who had to prove he was the best in every way.

The feeling of his tongue swiping through your folds, those perfect pink lips sealing around your clit and how he sounded like he was making out with your pussy made you clench down on thin air.

“Yoichi…” you breathed.

Bachira went to work on stimulating you, too, tugging your shirt above your head and pinching your nipples again.

Both boys were so intent on driving you to the edge, that they didn’t realise the group of spectators they were attracting.

From the corner of your watery eyes, you noticed Rin standing, arms crossed over his broad shoulders and frosty glare—tainted with jealousy—directed towards the man in between your thighs. Kunigami had just gotten out of the shower, so his hair was still damp while Barou had returned from a workout, his muscles swollen and shiny with sweat. Chigiri and Nagi were the only ones probably still asleep, though you had little doubt your stream of moans would wake them up out of curiosity.

Meguru flicked the tip of his nails on your nipples, the sharp sting sending bites of pleasure right to your core.

“Megu—” you were interrupted again by another sloppy kiss.

“Tch. You’re all such fucking horndogs.” Rin’s grumble was white noise behind the blood rushing in your ears.

“... you’re not complaining…”

“Shut up…”

A sharp nip to your flesh inner thigh wrenched you back to the present, and you gasped, making eye contact with Isagi and his raised brow.

“You’re getting bored, Princess?”

Without missing a beat, you shook your head. “N-no, ‘Ichi. Mm’sorry.”

He clicked his tongue, obviously not buying your lie. “Here you are getting your pussy eaten out by me and you’re focusing on the other boys. Just admit that you’re a fucking cockwhore, Y/N.”

You gaped at his words, and your rage was lost when Bachira dragged you back to the counter, arranging you face down and ass up.

“M-Meguru—!”

“Come on, who wants to fuck her first,” he boldly exclaimed, shaking you to the core. “She’s ready for a baby.”

You burned from the inside out at how cheaply he was treating you; that sensation amplified by the sharpest slap of humiliation across your cheeks, Bachira’s handprint glowing warmly on your skin. He spanked you again, matching his mark on your right cheek to your left one, letting you cry out and clench down on thin air.

“Me.” A deep, resonate voice which you loved having at your ear while he fucked you on every Monday night. After all—a King always went first.

As one of the bigger guys, Barou’s physique gave him the advantage over the others to call dibs on you first, his undeniably good genetics and strong bone structure a contender for healthy babies.

You felt Bachira’s warmth melt from your side to be replaced by the feel of Shoei’s toned thighs pressed against your rear.

He soothed the spanks left on your skin with one large, coarse palm, and hummed deeply.

“You ready, pretty?”

Nodding, you turned your head to the side, unable to believe that you were in such a vulnerable position to be fucked by the entire football team.

You weren’t going to lie—you had imagined yourself in this position before. But, it was always in your wildest fantasies; to be defiled by the football team in your tiny uniform behind the bleachers. If you were being honest, every girl on campus had the same daydream, but you were closer to the unattainable. The entire idea was such a cliche, and yet, here you were, in a room full of hungry, testosterone-fuelled men who eagerly waited to have their turn with you—the pretty cheerleader from their bygone days before the world tried to kill humanity off.

Barou wasted no time in sinking his thick cock into you, groaning as your body took him inch by inch. He rubbed your hips, leaning forward to gently thumb your nipple. “There you go, baby. Taking me so well.”

His words were a stark contrast from his actions. Shoei gave a low, guttural groan when he bottomed out, a dirty thrill shooting down your spine at the feel of his entire cock moulding with your walls as seven other men gaze lustfully at you.

Through the shine of an old kettle on the counter top, you noticed Isagi palming himself through his shorts. Bachira was blatantly jacking himself off, one hand inside his sleep shorts. Kunigami was sitting on the sofa, staring at you slack-jawed and completely hard under his towel. Reo was the more subtle one, furtively glancing around and looking slightly uncomfortable, but still unable to tear his eyes from you.

Chigiri and Nagi had woken up, and Rin was standing a little ways by the door, distancing himself from the activities taking place.

For a split second, you felt bad for him—Rin was supposed to have you today, but he had to wait for his turn as the other guys fucked you; figuratively and literally blue-balled by his own teammates. It would’ve made you mad on his behalf if you weren’t—

“Ow!”

A sharp tug on your roots snapped your head back, and your cry bounced off the walls. Barou’s lips were on your neck, his hot breath fanning across your neck.

“Did I tell you you could be distracted? Pay attention to when your King fucks you.”

From the back, you heard Bachira snicker, but every thought flew out of your head when Barou set a pace which had your toes curling in your house slippers. He clamped one hand around the delicate roots of your hair, while the other guided your hips to meet his halfway.

The sound of balls hitting flesh filled the air, along with your animalistic groans and Barou’s deep ones. You heard a few more muffled groans, and someone cursing, but your thoughts were doused in wet cotton, growing heavier and fuzzier.

You could barely keep your eyes open, only cognizant of Barou’s cock shaping your walls and the impending ball of heat waiting to unravel right under your navel. Meeting his thrusts cleanly, soft mewls fell from your plush lips like dew, mingling with a bit of drool puddling onto the counter right under your mouth.

Barou was fucking you stupid and the other men knew it. He couldn’t stop the feral grin splitting his face in half when your hips bucked, a little slutty tick which told every man you were about to cum.

Without warning, you felt wet warmth fill you to the brim—your first load of the day taken like a champ.

Shoei hadn’t let you cum, and you reeled back from the disappointment with barely any grace; your soft sob was replaced by a moan when another man lined up his cock to your stuffed entrance.

You smelled his fresh pine cologne before you saw him, and sensed Rin’s impatience the second he gripped your jaw and wrenched your face back for a deep, frenzied kiss.

“Fucking whore,” he whispered into the heat of your mouth. “Letting the other boys feel you up when it’s my turn with you today. Where’s your shame?”

Your answer melted as one with a dulcet moan when Rin slid two fingers in between your swollen folds, testing the waters of your arousal. He barely cared when his digits were coated with a combination of Barou’s cum and your juices; he just stuck those soiled, pale and nimble fingers which could’ve rivalled a skilled pianist down your throat. You gagged on them, eyes going blurry and all teary from the flavouring of sin heavy on your tongue.

“Rin,” you hiccuped, and he hummed.

“Take me deeper, baby.”

His command brought a throbbing wave of desperation arresting you from head to toe. You tried to bring his fingers further down your gullet, but gagged when he was almost knuckle-deep.

“Mhpmh!” Your syrupy moan made every man groan, the sheer desperation in how you attempted to fully swallow Rin’s fingers a commendable feat considering he had absurdly thick fingers to match his height.

“Good girl,” Rin praised you in a husky voice when he felt your throat bob around his digits. “You’re really such the perfect fuckdoll, huh? Always so ready for us.”

“Mhmm…” your eyes rolled back into your head, your entire body tensing when you felt his cock slowly breach past your tight ring of muscle.

“Fucking take this dick, baby, I know you can,” the youngest striker urged, his words beyond filthy compared to the other men. Rin was one of the only few people in this house who could talk you through the immense pleasure, and you loved him all the more for it.

His obscene mouth would never fail to leave you reeling from the difference in his demeanour; sour and quiet when he wasn’t fucking you, to brash and downright filthy when he was egging you towards an orgasm.

You loved Rin and his duality; lived to watch it come to life.

You wanted to swallow him down and eat him up whole to satiate the deep well of lust inside of you no matter the price.

“Rin…” you gurgled past his fingers. “Mhmmmore.”

“More?” he interpreted your gurgles with the ghost of a chuckle. You quite liked it when Rin laughed even if it was a soft exhale; it made you feel lighter to hear his happiness. He hummed and plunged his fingers back down your throat, playing with the soft palate of your tongue, while his cock inched deeper and deeper into your sacred heat.

The second he bottomed out, his forehead thumped onto your shoulder, a long drawn out groan of relief radiating warmth right into your throbbing heart. Rin’s reactions were adorable as they were pussy stirring, his duality further exacerbated by those spit-slicked fingers retracting from your mouth and moving down to your puffy clit.

He gently rubbed circles into them, catching you whenever you bucked into his embrace. His lips were on your neck, his hot breath expelling heated groans onto the sensitive skin. Every single shaky circle on your sensitive nub was pulling you closer and closer into a white hole of pleasure.

Your moans were reaching fever pitch, and the entire house was doused with the arousal of seven men who couldn’t wait to fuck you.

The boys whispered something over your stream of mewls and your feet were off the ground, your limp body in Rin’s arms. Without a second to spare, he brought you to the main bedroom where the largest bed could fit at least three men.

There, he laid you down, your head dangling off the edge so your mouth was hanging wide open for the next man to defile.

Rin eased himself in between your spread thighs, placing a kiss onto your sternum almost reverently and leaving more pressees on your jaw and cheeks. You felt someone else rustle up towards the other side of the bed, and your eyes met Kunigami’s darkened ones. His towel was shed off, a heap on the floor, and his long, girthy cock throbbed in anticipation over your face.

“Open up for me, pretty girl,” Rensuke murmured, grazing your cheek and then hooking a thumb on your bottom lip to spread you wider. You whined, overstimulated on both ends when you felt both men sink into you at the same time. Rin bottomed out the second Rensuke hit the back of your throat, making you jerk and gag.

The both of them were big—far too big for your smaller body. It was a struggle to take them both and you felt your body reacting to the impossible feat.

“Ssh, ssh,” Rin whispered into your hair. “Relax, baby. You can take us, I know you can.”

With watery eyes, all you could do was mewl, hips bucking pathetically. Rin’s long girth was directly hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and Rensuke was splitting your throat in half. You felt like you could drown in their musk and the thick scent of sex in the air.

Something bitter hit the back of your throat, and you gagged, about to spit Rensuke out when he clamped one hand on your throat, telling you to keep him there if you wanted to know what was good for you.

“Hold me, sweetheart. Hold it,” the large football player murmured. You were sure your entire system was going haywire—your pussy and mind in war to come out at the top of your frazzled emotions.

One of your hands was buried in Rin’s hair, and another was perched on Kunigami’s thigh, trying to ease him down your battered throat.

Without warning, the other man withdrew his thick length from your mouth, splatters of drool dripping down your chin and neck; defiling you even more.

“Fucking hurry it up, Rin,” Kunigami growled, throwing the other striker a murderous look which juxtaposed his usually kind expression jarringly. “I need to cum in her.”

Rin grunted, returning the other striker’s glare with a hostile one of his own. “Shut the fuck up—let me have this with her.” Kunigami stroked himself, trying to keep himself hard as Rin started to jackhammer into your willing cunt.

Your screams of pleasure echoed around the room, contrasting with the other men’s deep growls and groans. It sounded like a smorgasbord of erotic sounds, complemented by the slap of Rin’s balls on your ass.

The youngest man was close on the verge of his orgasm, his face pinched and drawn. You thought he would’ve taken this chance to cum and ignore your pleasure, like Barou did, but you were sorely wrong when it came to Rin. He pressed a thumb to your swollen clit, rubbing it soft and sweet, increasing the pressure when you started to buck and whine into his embrace.

You smelled the sting of his sweat, felt it drip into your open mouth, tainting it with the taste of Kunigami’s precum and his own excitement.

“I’m close,” you sobbed out, arms like vines around his shoulders, nails stabbing into his back. “G’na cum, Rin-Rin—fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He shook his head, a feral look of pure determined arousal lighting those beautiful features. “Cum for me, baby. Make a mess—show the other guys how much you love my cock.”

Your back arched, and your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Your thighs tensed around his waist, almost clamping the air out of his lungs from how hard you were clenching around him. The minute ticks, the red lines you left down his back, and your eyes rolling back into your skull arrived at a blinding crescendo.

“Oh! Ugh, Rin—!”

Your first orgasm hit you like a brick wall, steamrolling every thought from your blank mind. Rin’s face fell into the crook of your neck, and his stuttering hips brought forth a fountain of warmth flowing freely into your womb.

You were coasting, high on hormones and pleasure, when he disappeared from your embrace, only to be replaced by another body. Kunigami’s lips on your skin were like warm fluttering butterfly wings, slowly bringing you back to the ground.

“I’m here next, okay, baby?” His tender tone didn’t prepare you for how his cock stretched you out.

“Too big,” you muttered, losing every shred of your composure and shame to hiccup those dirty words. “You’re t-too big.”

“Yeah?” He kissed your tears away. “Aren’t you glad I can stretch you out? Give your sweet body some practice when you have to push out our babies?”

His words ignited a flame right in your lower belly—making you cry out when Rensuke started to slip inside your already overflowing hole. Gushes of white streaked your thighs, the other men’s releases staining the bed underneath you.

As you got used to his slightly wider girth, you didn’t expect Kunigami to roll you on your hands and knees. His cock slid back into your waiting heat, the angle making him feel bigger, and stretching you out even more.

But, it also placed you face to face with the other guys who were eyeing you hungrily—none more so than Reo.

One thick hand wound the hair around the nape of your neck to snap your head up, keeping you firmly in place to watch the lust dancing in their eyes.

“You really should see how fucking sexy you look, baby,” Chigiri hummed, those bright eyes latched onto the spot where you and Kunigami were connected. “We could eat you whole—you fucking little slut.”

“So pretty,” Reo cooed, and Nagi nodded in agreement.

The lilac-haired man got bold enough to stride up to you, perching himself on the edge of the bed where your swinging tits were mesmerising him.

“Raise her up a little bit, Ren.”

Kunigami obeyed Reo’s orders, settling on his haunches and bringing you up with one arm securely snug around your neck. Your tinier hands fluttered to the thick trunk of his forearm as if trying to pry him off, the breath in your lungs knocked out by Rensuke’s headlock.

But, whatever bit of oxygen you managed to inhale from Kunigami’s loosening hold was taken away as Reo leaned forward to kiss and suck your tits. He massaged the neglected one with one hand, his lips busy toying with your right nipple. You watched with bated breath as his tongue caressed the hardening flesh, the firm suction of his lips on the vulnerable flesh sending pangs of pleasure straight to your core.

You cried out, throwing your head back to bump Rensuke’s chin. He grunted, and shifted his arm a bit so he could grasp your neck instead, holding you steady as his cock wrecked you and Reo’s mouth on your tits continued driving you insane.

“She’s drooling,” Nagi drawled, catching their attention.

Every eye zeroed in on your blissed-out face, your mouth parting and a little bit of spit dripping past your chin. Kunigami chuckled, breathless and almost feral when he leaned forward to sloppily make out with you.

The sound of wet lips smacking on each other and a big cock stirring you closer to another orgasm made every man in the room throb—even those who had already come. Every footballer was thinking of the numerous ways he could bend you over and fuck you hard until you squirted all over them; each of their mind’s eye tainted with your sweet moans and even sweeter release.

You gave a short scream, your orgasm catching everyone off guard when you almost folded forward if it wasn’t for Reo catching you. Your body was shuddering like someone had tasered you—a pure scream of pleasure rebounding across the thin walls.

Reo held you as you sobbed, your release triggering Kunigami’s own orgasm. More warmth filled you up and you had lost track of how many men had already came in you; your brain a complete mush with no solid thoughts in it.

Like clockwork, another cock filled you—this time it was Reo’s again—and your mouth was stuffed with someone else's length. You were dragged into a cowgirl position by Reo who let Nagi mount you from the back, both of their lengths taking turns pistoning into your stretched out heat.

“Disgusting,” someone muttered in disdain over the sounds of two men concurrently fucking one woman. Neither of you cared, and you were pulled into a sloppy makeout session with Nagi as Reo continued sucking and licking your already reddened nipples.

Every part of your orifice was swollen, but you still took Chigiri without complaint when it was his turn. You were already like jelly at this point, your entire body sagging on the bed and going numb from the neverending pleasure.

Thankfully, he was quicker, cumming into you within minutes, and kissing you on the forehead afterwards. Your hole was stuffed to the brim with white hot cum, and you thought you couldn’t take anymore until you felt Bachira sliding behind you, hitching your thighs up.

“Hey, Princess,” the golden-eyed menace cooed. “Did you think we would forget about you?”

You felt the bed dip, and Isagi’s face swam in your vision. He came closer to give you a kiss, and his lips felt like a soothing balm on a hot day.

“Yoichi,” you whispered, eyes heavy and body already close to shutting down from exhaustion. “M’so tired.”

“I know, pretty girl, I know,” the dark-haired man whispered. “But, Meguru and I haven’t had our turn with you yet. It would be unfair if we didn't, right?” He gently stroked your cheek, voice saturated with fake sympathy. “You wouldn’t want us to not fuck you after you’ve already taken everyone’s cock, right? You’re not that cruel to deny us, are you, baby?”

“Fucking twisted weirdo,” you heard another person quip. But, you were too far gone to stop the collision of his lips on yours, that skilled mouth drinking away all of your complaints.

As he distracted you, Bachira slipped his thick and veiny cock right into your waiting cunt, his groan low and erotic against your shoulder.

“How’re you still so wet and tight after so many rounds?” He nipped your shoulder in frustration, setting a pace that rutted your body back and forth on the soft sheets. “You’re a fucking nympho, baby—so needy for our cocks.”

“Shut up,” you groaned in between Yoichi’s hot mouth pressing onto yours. You tried to squirm away to get back some of your lost breath, but Isagi refused to let you part from his lips. He chased after you, mouth sealing over yours again and again as you tried to twist your head this way and that.

Strings of spittle clung to both of your chins, and that sick part inside of you which wanted more pushed the voice of common sense in your head out of the way—making you fall head over heels for Yoichi’s mouth on yours. You kissed him back with as much hunger and zeal as your tired body could muster, pushing your boundaries right to the very edge.

Isagi’s ego fed heartily on your submission, greedily taking everything you gave him.

By the end of this sloppy makeout session, your lips were tingling, and Bachira had already come inside of you—getting off to the sight of his best friend and the girl they were sharing stuck in an intimate lip lockdown.

The last man to take you was drawing it out. He took your face in his hands, nudging you free from Bachira’s grasp and rolling you into his arms.

“Out,” Isagi commanded, in a tone that broke no argument. “Leave me and Y/N alone.”

The rest of the guys began to grumble, but one sharp glare from the terrifying striker was enough to quiet everyone down. Indisputably, Yoichi ran the show, and his ego was bigger than any of theirs combined—the lesser knew when to give way to someone who could devour them without regrets.

Everyone turned to leave, and the last one was Rin who hovered by the doorway, unwilling to abandon you to Yoichi’s devices. The other dark-haired man shot his nemesis a frigid stare that could’ve frozen over Hell’s fires.

“Out, Itoshi.”

The younger man countered his superior’s glare with a mutinous one of his own.

“Who’s to say you won’t hurt her?” Rin’s nostrils flared, flickering his gaze to your closed eyes and limp body. “We can’t trust you with her.”

Isagi snorted. “If you want to watch, be my guest. I’ll fuck her so good she’ll forget about you assholes.”

The competition was on, and you were the final prize for these men to win. But, it wasn’t just your body they wanted—each of them fought to secure your womb so it would grow their fruits and give them the family they dreamed of.

You were their greatest treasure, and they would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you were safe—even watching the other men to make sure none of them would hurt you.

Isagi was a packaged dynamite waiting to blow; he was too unpredictable and Rin would hate himself if he pushed you too far or injured you in any shape or form. He planted himself against the wall, arms folded across his chest while those searing teal eyes watched you gasp and preen for Isagi’s attention.

The dark-haired man was playing with your clit, using the dirtiest tactic to rile you up so you would explode in pleasure for him. His mouth was toying with your swollen nipples, and Rin winced when he bit on the tender nub, earning your shriek. It didn’t take a genius to see you were hanging on the tether of your sanity, and with your body already keyed up to the hundreds, your next orgasm was sure to leave you delirious.

Your small hands wound up in his hair, holding him close despite the excruciating pleasure. If Yoichi was the current wrecking you apart, he was also the life buoy you clung on to as your body coasted on the unending pleasure.

“I don’t even need to make you wet, baby,” he breathed right into the shell of your ear, gripping your hips hard. “You’re already so stretched out for me.”

Your breathing caught, a hitched moan echoing around the room when he sank deep into your heat with little to no prep. Isagi kissed you on your lax mouth, and tasted your tears right on his tongue.

“You okay, baby?” He forced your face to his, and your eyes fluttered open. All you could give was a tired nod, and he grinned down at you. “Okay. Are you ready?”

You nodded again, and that was when another person caught your attention. “Rin?”

“M’here,” the other dark-haired striker murmured, his eyes softening with fondness when you smiled at him. “I’ll make sure you get your rest afterwards.”

You hummed, and the idea of knocking off to sleep sounded so good, your eyes had already slipped close.

“Hey—focus on me, sweetheart.”

Isagi’s hand around your neck squeezed down, cutting off your air supply. You gasped and sputtered, eyes rolling wide open. His grin was feral, touched with a hint of insanity. “Good girl. Now, watch me fuck you, sweetheart.”

He pushed your back onto the pillows, and your eyes instantly went to where you both were connected. Isagi’s pretty cock was smeared with your juices and the other men’s cum, the sight alone so filthy it made your cheeks flush.

“‘Ichi,” you hiccuped, going dumb on every stroke of his heavy cock against your velvet walls. “I-I’m close.”

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the overstimulation touching you like a livewire. He rolled his hips into yours, the sloppy sounds of your pussy getting him higher than any risky goal. There was a reason he went last, and it was because he wanted to savour the sounds you were making; the way your pretty eyes went all glassy and hazy just for him.

Isagi loved you so fucking much, he swore he couldn’t breathe when you started to chant his name.

“‘Ichi, ‘Ichi,” you gasped out, twisting in his grip, your back arching. “K-Kiss me, ‘Ichi.”

He obliged you, ignoring the jealous presence waiting right in the wings, waiting for him to fuck up. But, Isagi was gentle with you. He tenderly planted hot, open-mouthed kisses onto your parted lips, drinking in your sweet whines and mewls of desperation. Isagi himself wasn’t in control of his body; that was the effect you had on him.

You drove him crazy with your supple love and beautiful smiles. Everytime you looked at him, it felt like he had been shot right in the chest. Yoichi was so, so crazy for you, and luckily for him, your feelings were the same.

He let Rin get an eyeful of you licking his lower lip, your treacherous side coming to light when you blatantly showed off your preference for the unassuming striker. The other man looked like he was swallowing shards of concrete, his expression twisted in disgust. But, Isagi had already given him an out and Rin didn’t want to take it—he was stuck with the consequences of his actions.

“Yoichi,” you sighed out his name, all stickily sweet in your high-pitched moan. “I love you, ‘Ichi.”

“Yeah?” Isagi grunted, your little confession going straight to his burgeoning ego. “Say it louder, baby. Tell the whole world what you feel for me.”

“I love you,” your gasp of pleasure when he changed the angle of his driving hips fed the monster inside of him. “I love you!”

“Fuck,” Isagi bit down on your neck, leaving behind a mark for the other men to see. Rin’s own marks were on your shoulders and breasts, but Isagi had gone one step further to make his impression on the tender skin between your neck and jaw—right above your pulse point. It was so every beat of your heart echoed with his imprint and every time any of the boys looked at you, they were reminded of who you loved the most.

“‘Ichi,” you gasped out, and your stuttering hips told Isagi you were already close. Your thighs tensed around him, and he fueled your unravelling further by rubbing on your clit with his rough thumb, the action making you jerk and gasp like you had been electrocuted.

“Yoichi… ‘Ichi… Yoichi!” you cried out his name as your body gave one final push—your release slamming into you with the force of a thousand brick walls, dragging you straight into darkness.

You thought you might’ve died in this instance. Your entire body felt too heavy, and you could physically hear every beat of your heart.

Someone was holding you tightly to his chest, his lips peppering gentle kisses on your face. You pried your eyes open after what felt like two hours trying to recollect your bearings, only to find a pair of teal eyes gazing down at you in worry.

“Baby?” Rin’s voice was soft and unintrusive. He let you get used to the bright light of a warm afternoon—watching you stretch yourself and ease your muscles.

“What time is it?” you asked in a thick voice. Staring down your body, someone had cleaned you up and dressed you in Kunigami’s oversize t-shirt and Rin’s boxers. You felt refreshed and well-taken care of, your entire heart swelling eight times its size to fit your love for every man in there.

Rin leaned forward and you caught his face with your shaky palms, caressing those defined cheekbones.

“You slept for almost an hour. Bachira thought you had died.”

You stifled a giggle, tracing your thumbs over the shape of his mouth. Rin let you pull him in for a kiss, and like the worrywart he was, he didn’t deepen it, not wanting to give into the insatiable lust humming in his veins.

If you thought one horny, touch-starved man was a handful, you hadn’t expected the other seven to come through the door and pile up on the bed, each of them clamouring to cuddle you.

You giggled when Nagi tripped over Reo to snuggle up on your left side, only to be stopped by Bachira who literally yanked the taller man out of the way to steal his place. In the end, you took turns cuddling with each man, their deep sigh of relief that things had turned out great and not as weird as they thought, fed right into your relaxed soul.

As sunlight streamed in through the blinds, the outside world may be in an upheaval, but within these four walls, you were as safe as you could be in your favourite football team’s arms.

©️lalunanymph, 2023

#isagi x you #isagi smut #bachira x reader #bachira smut #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin smut #kunigami x reader #kunigami smut #chigiri x reader #chigiri smut #nagi x reader #nagi smut #reo x reader #reo smut #barou x reader #barou smut #blue lock smut #🦢 writes

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baeshijima · 4 months ago

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mr reca fic where he’s suffering a creative slump due to the lack of good scripts (by his standards) from various screenwriters. he feels himself going positively insane with every script he’s given.

it’s too dull. it’s too predictable. this one has no creative flair whatsoever!! that one just doesn’t spark enough imagination!!!

it’s troublesome, really. some think he’s really going through it, while others believe the scripts he’s been given won’t bring him enough money. but really, who cares about monetary value when it is he who cannot even begin to picture himself enjoying the process that comes with each script?

and so that is how he finds himself wandering around aimlessly. sometimes the outdoors is necessary for the mind, and who knows? perhaps he really will find something that will give him a spark. hmm, those trees are looking a little dull. the sky overhead is too cloudy. hm? did he just hear thunder—

something collides into his chest, a choked “oof!” following soon after. he stumbles backwards a little, papers flying through the air around him. he blinks once, twice, at the sight of you on the ground, muttering something under your breath before a sharp gasp escapes you, hastily scrambling to gather the papers fluttering and strewn around.

one such paper falls into his hands. he glances over its contents, skimming through it as he goes to pass it over to you with an apology at the tip of his tongue, only to freeze.

this… this is genius! this is absolutely the pinnacle of writing!! while a little rough around the edges (as drafts usually tend to be), his once clouded mind is now clear, giving way to a blank canvas which slowly depicts the imagery your writing induces. idea after idea pours into his brain as he can visualise exactly what he wants, his body trembling and heart pounding as he insantly fixates on your panicked form still collecting all the fallen papers.

“yes… yes! this is what i was looking for! everything about this is pure artistry! the possibilities are endless, the sky is the limit!!”

this is possibly the happiest and freest he has felt in what seems like eons! seriously, compared to those other mind-numbing scripts this truly is the pinnacle of writing itself.

a laugh full of pure, unadulterated glee escapes him, careful not to crinkle the god-sent paper cradled in his palms. “you! you’re a genius!”

“i’m a wha…?”

he whirls in the direction of the source of the voice, further praises and a proposal for a collaboration on the tip of his tongue, only for his breath to catch in his throat.

you… you’re so radiant! even with that disheveled appearance and absolutely adorable confused expression you’re giving him, he never realised such beauty existed! not only does your writing fill him with endless creativity, but his pounding heart, parched throat and warming skin tells him you’re definitely the main character!

but wait! if you were to be the main character, then would that make him the main character’s love interest? surely he wouldn’t have had such a cliché meet-cute like bumping into each other if he wasn’t the love interest! but what if there is a second love interest? no, no, he can oust them…

you, on the other hand, believe you’re about to get whiplash instead of the man, baffled at how he instantly switched from a maniac to stark silence to muttering senselessly with a dreamy expression.

well, each to their own. you have more pressing matters, and that’s to quickly return home and continue fantasising before you forget the idea! but first, you have to get the last piece of paper back…

“um… sir? can i have my paper back, please?”

in an instant, he kneels in front of you. now that you’re at eye level, he certainly is very handsome. if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought this was some movie or drama plot with him as the main lead! oh, but why is he holding your hands—

“yes, i will spend the rest of my life with you.”

“…what?”

tldr; you’re just a silly writer who daydreams far too much for their own good, and somehow managed to bag top-tier director mr reca with the power of said daydreams. (his ever-growing obsession with you is concerning to say the least but, hey! what genius isn’t at least a little insane?)

#sophie talks : concepts <3 #HE IS JUST A SILLY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH COBGRATS FOR FINALLY BEING REAL AFTER SO LONG MR RECA MY LOVE #i wanna turn this into a long fic…. delusional meets delusional….. grrr……#when he sees u for the first time u have the sparkly shoujo filters and everything no i do not make the rules #mr reca x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #mr reca x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you

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leclerc-hs · 11 months ago

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73 Questions with Mrs. Leclerc - cl16

pairing: husband!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you do a 73 questions interview with Vogue OR charles can't help but third wheel your interview warnings: none??? just cute fluff basically, NOT PROOFREAD word count: 2.1k author's note: I actually got a request by someone to do this and thought it was such a CUTE idea and concept. I obviously didn't do ALL 73 questions cause that would've taken forever. But thought this was a cute little piece to do. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think don't be shy !! xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE DELICATE FOLDS of the pale pink sundress fluttered like petals in a gentle breeze, framing your figure with a soft, ethereal elegance. As the front door yielded to the push, the fabric danced around your legs, caressing the tender skin of your thighs with a whisper of touch. Your radiant smile illuminated the scene, a beacon of joy amidst the fluttering fabric and nervous flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey!” The male voice chimed brightly, his tone cheerful as a songbird greeting the dawn, echoing through the air with an infectious energy that mirrored your own bright smile.

“Hey!” You respond with effervescent warmth, your smile stretching across your face like a sunbeam breaking through clouds. With a graceful gesture, you swing the door open wider, revealing the inviting warmth of your home’s foyer. The soft light spills in, casting a golden glow over the polished floors and elegant furnishing. The first thing to notice is the giant painting of a Ferrari Formula One car, hung high above the entry way table.

“Look who we have here! It’s Mrs. Leclerc!” A delicate blush warms your cheeks, a subtle reminder of the tender affection that tingles within you whenever you’re addressed as such. Though you and Charles have been together for many years, your marriage has infused your relationship with a fresh sense of intimacy and closeness. And despite that it’s been almost five years, the title of “wife” feels forever new and unfamiliar.

“On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?”

“I would say 8, so I’m super excited!” With a gentle click, you shut the front door behind you, enveloping the foyer in a tranquility as you made your way down the hallway to the kitchen. Along the way, you stooped to pick up a scattering of children’s toys that lay scattered like confetti on the polished wooden floors, offering a quick apology for the perceived “mess.” However, you couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the orchestrated chaos around you. While the house was meticulously maintained by the cleaning company before the video shoot, every detail was carefully curated to strike the perfect balance between lived-in warmth and elegance, ensuring a setting that felt both inviting and authentic to you and the viewers.

“Any reason for that?”

In the heart of the home lies a kitchen adorned with a stunning green cabinet motif. The cabinets, painted in a rich emerald hue, exude an air of sophistication and charm, perfectly complemented by gleaming brass hardware. Sunlight filters through the vast array of windows, casting a warm glow over the polished marble countertops.

“You mean other than the fact that the kids go back to school soon?” You and the interviewer let out a soft laugh as you made your way behind the kitchen island, opening the fridge in a smooth motion to pull out a water bottle. “Want one?”

“No, but thanks though!” His voice is light-hearted.

As the fridge door remains open, a tantalizing glimpse is offered to the audience of its well-stocked interior. A colorful array of fresh produce fills the shelves, showing an abundance of vibrant fruits and crisp vegetables. Among the healthy offerings, assortment of juice boxes catches the eye, adding a playful touch to the wholesome scene.

“That’s a lot of juice boxes you have in there.” He makes a comment, it’s not a question, but you take it as one.

“Two kids and a husband,” You start, your tone light and casual before lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper for the camera, “who practically is also a kid, results in a lot of juice boxes.” With a playful wink directed at the lens, you punctuate the statement, adding a touch of humor to the scene. Setting the water bottle down on the expansive kitchen counter, you resume your easy demeanor, effortlessly blending candor and charm for your audience.

“Hey!” Your head shoots over, the camera seamlessly following your gaze to where Charles, your husband,sits on the floor of the living room, two of your kids, aged two and three, beside him with an abundance of toys strewn about. “I heard that!” Charles retorts with mock offense, a playful grin lighting up his face as he joins in the banter.

The living room exudes a chic sophistication with a distinct Formula One flair. Charcoal-gray walls provide a sleek backdrop, accentuating the mounted flat-screen television. A striking statement piece dominates one corner—a display of artwork showcasing all of the racetracks Charles has conquered – infusing the room with a sense of triumph and energy. A plush white sofa, adorned with an array of vibrant red pillows, invites relaxation and style. Across the room, a sizable shelf proudly showcases a collection of racing helmets, some belonging to Charles and others gathered over time, adding a personal touch to the space. Below the television, was a long console table that was adorned in various plants and photos of your family. You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced at them.

With a casual wave of your hand, you dismiss Charles’s playful interruption, maintaining your position at the kitchen island as the camera refocuses on you. The gesture carries an air of affectionate familiarity, a gentle reminder of the dynamic energy that permeates your bustling household.

“If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?”

“Definitely Austin Butler.” You answer almost immediately, no hesitance in your voice.

“Hey!” Charles’s playful yelp echoes through the room once more, accompanied by the joyful laughter of your children. One nestled in his lap, the other engrossed in a picture book, their presence adding warmth and vitality to the room. You share a knowing smile with Charles, the affectionate banter a familiar melody to your family life.

The laughter of the interviewer joins the playful exchange. The camera effortlessly captures the dynamic interaction between all of you with ease.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Restez en dehors de ça.” Stay out of this!

“Arrête de faire semblant de vouloir faire l’amour avec quelqu’un d’autre que moi!” Stop pretending you want to make love with anybody but me!

With a mischievous gleam in your eye, you turn back to the camera, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I change my answer?” You inquire, injecting a hint of playful anticipation into your tone.

“Sure,” the interviewer replies.

“You’re supposed to say no,” You quip with a chuckle.

“Oh, um no?”

With a playful pout, you glance over at Charles who is already staring at the interaction. A smile adorned on his face like he is in complete awe of you, regardless of what you are saying. “Sorry honey!” You wave your hand around. “Answers are final!”

Leaving the kitchen behind, you make your way towards the backyard, where the promise of relaxation and leisure awaits. Stepping through the door, you’re greeted by the sight of a large pool shimmering under the sunlight, its crystal-clear waters beckoning for a refreshing dip. Surrounding the pool, lounge chairs are strategically place, some on the pool’s ledge, inciting you to bask in the sun while enjoying the cool water. A wide arrangement of pool floaties from unicorns to racecars litter the pool as well.

It’s a breathtaking sight: a vast expanse of bright blue skies stretching overhead, adorned with barely a wisp of cloud in sight. The warm rays of sun dance upon your skin. With a stylish flourish, you slip on a pair of your favorite Ray-Bans, a subtle nod to your husband’s sunglass collection.

“Vintage or new?”

You ponder for a moment as you stand in the backyard, a breeze blowing your hair behind your shoulders. “Depends, but definitely vintage.”

“Window or aisle seat?”

“Aisle, although Charles likes to take the aisle more.”

“What are three things you can’t live without?”

“Wait, do my children count as two of the three?”

“Up to you.”

“Okay, so my two children. And my lip gloss.” You laugh, pausing for effect. “Kidding! My two kids, and my lip gloss…” You pause, jokingly. “And my husband of course.” The light-hearted remark reflects the joyful chaos of humor and love in your life. “He’s really the sweetest man. I’m so lucky.”

The glass door slides open with a whisper, and into the frame steps Charles, his presence incessant. With a carefree demeanor, he approaches you clad in a pair of baggy jeans and a plain white t-shirt that stretched at the seams from his muscles. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks, the stubble of his own rubbing against your smooth skin, his love evident in each tender kiss.

“Désolé,” Sorry. He apologizes before pecking another kiss to your cheek. “Tellement ambrassable.” Just so kissable. He places one more on your cheek, your face bright red from the camera’s catching all of this.

“Looks like he can’t be far from you for very long.”

Charles looks at the camera, a glint in his eye with a large smile, like he was the happiest man on earth, and nothing could dampen his spirits. Especially with you nearby. “Est-ce que tu la vois?” Do you see her?

The interviewer, unaware of Charles’s words, simply nods in response behind the camera lens, acknowledging the affection in his tone. Later translations will reveal the depth of Charles’s words no doubt. Elle est tellement belle. Bien sûr, je ne peux pas rester loin longtemps.” She’s so beautiful. Of course, I can’t stay far long.

Your face is bright red as Charles remains at your side.

“Where are the kids?”

“Put them down for a nap!” Charles answers, his arm slung over your shoulder as he leans on you comfortably.

As the interviewer continues the questionnaire, Charles can’t resist interjecting with playful remarks and comments on almost every question. His spontaneous interruptions add an element of humor and spontaneity to the video, turning what could have been a standard interview into an entertaining and engaging exchange.

“How do you define beauty?” “My wife.” “Charles, the questions are for me!”

"What do you love most about your body?" "That's an easy one...I think her--" Charles begins, but you swat his chest and cut him off. "I love my arms. Not because they're that nice but they give me the ability to hold my children." Charles clicks his tongue, hating that you even implied something about yourself as 'not that nice'.

"Least favorite color?" "Red." Charles lets out a large gasp with a string of phrases in French, clearly hurt by your response. "It's a joke, mon amour!" "How did you know you were in love?" You look at Charles then, his eyes already on you, a soft smile pulling on both of your lips. "I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with him. Probably when I realized I would rather be awake in the middle of the night, since he was traveling so much, just to talk to him for even a few minutes, instead of going to sleep." Charles plays with the ends of your hair, twirling the ends around his fingers as he chimes in. "We've known each other for so long. But, when I first met her, it was like meeting someone I've known my entire life. There was no awkward silences between us. We just clicked."

“Diamonds or pearls?” “Pearls.” “Mon chou, don’t lie.” “I’m not!” “The diamond on your finger says otherwise!”

“If you made a documentary, what would it be about?” “Charles’ brain. I seriously question what goes on in there sometimes.” “Hey! It’s only you…” You raise your eyebrows at him, like he’s a liar. “And racing.” “Definitely racing.”

“If you had a tattoo, where would it be?”

Charles smirks deeply, like he knows something the world doesn’t, the interviewer picks up on it. “Wait, you have a tattoo? Can we see it?”

“No! It’s for me only.”

You playfully swat at Charles’ chest, a playful blush coloring your cheeks as you both wander throughout the house, showcasing its beautiful décor. Despite your embarrassment at Charles’ antics, you can’t help but be thankful for him easing your nerves. You weren’t one for the public eye, normally. So, when you agreed to this interview it came out as quite a surprise.

“Okay final question of the day.”

You both stand by the front door, the interviewer on the front step outside of the home.

“Hugs or kisses?”

“Definitely ki—” You don’t get to finish your answer as Charles’ fingers grasp onto your neck, his fingers sprawled along your jawline as well, and tugs your face into his. He shuts the door as soon as his tongue slips into your mouth.

It’s a few seconds before you push him off you. “You’re unbelievable!”

A giant smile spreads across his face as he looks down at you. “Only for you, mon chou!”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 one shot #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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st4rbwrry · 12 days ago

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𝓢𝓦𝓔𝓔𝓣𝓔𝓢𝓣 𝓣𝓗𝓘𝓝𝓖. eren yeager.

❤︎ . . . 12k. fem!reader, set in 03’, established relationship, pregnant!reader, southern!eren, domesticity, difficult pregnancy / doubts, home birthing, marriage / vasectomy talk, mention of healthcare discrimination, lots of crying, oral ꒰ f. ꒱, gentle sex kinda, lots of kisses! + affirmations, praise, thumb in bootay, unprotected, sensitivity play, choking, lactation ‘n eren tastes it oopsie, nasty talk, creampie, pet names ꒰ sweetie, baby, mama, papa ꒱, spanking, daddy kink. minors aren't allowed! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. <3

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . officially obsessed w this couple so i couldn’t help myself by writing a third part teehee. happy belated valentine’s day <3 visual.

baby . . . i’m lonely. think i w’na baby.

a conversation starter like that would only skyrocket the heart rate of any husband. eight years of marriage with just each other, and three with the addition of honeybelle, including the fifteen chickens, four piggies, and two baby goats on the farm alongside two of the cutest tawny cows you named tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum. every moment felt rewarding, so you questioned lately why you felt so . . lonely. for the longest time you didn’t quite understand what you were missing. the life you lived with eren was perfect. it was romantic, soft, relaxing. you couldn’t have asked for anything more.

tending to the animals on a warm sunny day, you hum tunes to yourself as the goats follow and nudge at your toffee cowboy boots, giggling and picking juicy strawberries from their stems, enjoying their company. waffles, the tan goat with blotches of white rolls serenely in the grass while the other, miss daisie, who’s an all black goat with an almost heart-shaped spot on the surface of her skull, screams and sniffs at you, craving your attention. occasionally, you’ll reach down to give affection to satisfy her.

a brown woven basket rests on the dip of your forearm, feet traveling along the iridescent field and dropping the fruit into a sea of fresh vegetables pulled off their roots from the garden, collecting just enough to make a few meals that require them.

that day you had an interesting epiphany. the gravel in your front yard dances along the tires of a red pickup truck that pulls into your home. a sweet friend of yours named bea drops by with her three-year-old toddler, jason. the tiny human dressed in dark washed overalls with a teal shirt underneath, and boots whom she lifts up and rests on her hip before entering the home.

“ ꒰♡꒱, darling. missed you so much. how are you?” instantly, she’s embracing you into a tight hug, pulling away to admire your looks.

whenever she sees you, you’re radiant. cocoa skin, a shade darker than the last time she saw you, courtesy of the suns kisses. in few sections, your raven curls are wrapped in flawless fairy locs, styled half-up into an unruly bun. a silver heart locket containing your infamous black and white wedding day photo where eren dips you low in front of a willow tree around your neck, resting on the heat of your skin radiating a fragrance of vanilla bean. the minimal hairs on your body fuzzing up when the sunlight hits where you stand by the massive bay windows overlooking your landscape.

almond irises and beautiful full lips, slightly taller than bea by a full foot. rustic boots, an ivory flowy skirt that sits well on your curvy hips and cascades down to your ankles, pairing it with a white laced top and a matching bandana atop your head.

“i’m doing good. up to my usual pastime of holding down the fort and cooking,” you beam, scanning her from head to toe. “you look gorgeous, how are you and the family?”

bea’s a gorgeous woman. you notice her face is a bit chubbier, adorable pointed chin, button nose, and curly auburn hair that rests on her shoulders. caramel complexion, light voice and the prettiest hazel eyes. her son is an exact replica of her, catching a glimpse of the angel she made as he giggles and plays with honeybelle, her two inch tail wagging as she chases him around the dining room.

“jason’s doing pretty well, we’re just coming from a doctor’s appointment, actually. just found out today that he’s going deaf in his right ear,” bea builds up the courage to weakly smile, your body pausing its movement from situating dried dishes, needing to get dinner started for eren.

“oh my goodness, i’m sorry to hear that,” frowning, you hold a hand over your heart, the sadness in your eyes unable to shield. “how are you taking that?”

“it’s okay, i’m okay. his overall health is what matters most to me. things like this are just something you have to prepare for being a parent,” she nods, glancing at her son. “he’s still happy as ever.”

“right,” you purse your lips. “that’s good. i’m glad. he’s a sweetheart. and armin?”

“yeah, he’s great. been working a lot more lately, for good reason. gotta cold right now so he’s been restin’.”

“oh no, i can drop a pot of chicken soup tomorrow if you’d like? i know you’ve got that conference with the ladies at church comin’.”

bea takes a seat at one of the wooden chairs you have placed against the kitchen island, resting her chin into her palm as she graciously pouts. “you are the sweetest, ꒰♡꒱. i see why eren’s so smitten of you.”

warmth flows to your cheeks from the mention of him, never changing.

“the man’s a sap,” you roll your eyes, wedding ring shining in the light as you go to retrieve ingredients from the fridge alongside a gift you had for her.

“oh! almost forgot,” pulling out a basket, bea gasps as you place it in front of her.

the basket contains fresh milk from the cows placed into a carafe with a swing top to secure it, decadent, fist sized blueberry muffins you baked yourself, of course, wrapped in beeswax paper decorated with butterflies and leaves. even a few red apples and oranges picked from the garden, bea’s favorites.

“oh, honeybee, bless your soul. thank you!”

you bow your head. “ ‘course, i told you i’d have a lil’ treat for you.”

grabbing a few extra base ingredients; packaged seafood from the farmers market and a bottle of wine, you go to pour yourself a glass. “you w’na glass? i’m makin’ a big pot of seafood gumbo if you w’na stay and have dinner with us. eren’s been craving it.”

“ooh, i’d love to, but armin wants us home before sundown. he gets really fussy about me taking long distance drives without him, especially with jason.”

“awe, he’s protective. eren’s kinda the same. he has a heart attack every time i run out for something. he taught me how to drive ‘bout two months ago, but i’m still kinda rusty. got me that buggy out front.”

“i did see it! that’s the cutest car ever. it’s about time you learnt how to get on the road.”

you shrug. “my anxiety was kickin’ my ass for the longest. i can still be his passenger princess. he knows not to get comfortable,” you grin smugly, the two of you sharing a laugh before you reach for the second glass for bea, only to have her wave her hand to reject.

“no wine for me, thanks. i can’t.”

“mm? how come?” brow raising in curiosity, you push the cork back inside, resting a hand on your hip that you pop out.

the dimple in her right cheek sinks in as she draws her lips inwardly, hands going down to her stomach, rubbing in a circle motion with bright eyes. your eyes dart from her baby bump she hid well underneath her black dress, up to her eyes again in shock. gasping, your hands go over your mouth.

“no fuckin’ way! oh my god, another one?!”

“another one! we’ve been waiting to tell everyone, but i’m ’bout four months out.”

“holy shit, congratulations!”

rushing around the counter, you give her a hug, rocking side by side. “oh wow, that’s such good news. does jason know?”

“not yet, i’m kind of scared to tell him. although he’ll notice when i start blowing up. he likes his own company. a sibling is a big change.”

“i can understand that, i haven’t any siblings so i adapted to that. i wouldn’t mind having a sister or somethin’.”

“what about you?” bea suddenly questioned.

as you begin to chop up veggies, you stare at her confused.

“a baby. you guys been married for a long time. never thought about it?”

that’s the question of all questions, one you’ve avoided your entire marriage. of course, it’s been discussed, the second year of your relationship actually. which is why you were strict on birth control given your equal sexual infatuation. it was too risky, so you took the safe option. for the longest time all you ever wanted was him, your home, and your animals. a baby was never in mind. you found it nauseating to think of, actually.

“it’s been talked about once or twice, but never to a point of coming to an agreement. eren’s okay with how our lives are now, and frankly, so am i. i don’t see a baby for us, or any time soon. i don’t dislike them, but i’m not so sure if i’m fit to be a mother. there’s a lot of sacrifices that come with that.”

bea nods understandingly, deciding to chalk the conversation and talk of other things. as you stir the roux until you get a perfect chocolate color, you chat with her until the sun sets, occasionally glancing at jason who sits on the ground coloring in his book, fluffy blond hair tousled around his small face. you can’t help this odd feeling in your chest as you look at him, even when hearing bea talk about the new baby. you can’t shake that hunch that maybe, just maybe, it could be a possibility. far away from now that is.

seeing your husband walk through the front door to greet your friend and kiss you on the cheek, attired in work clothes and watching him interact with the child with the widest smile on his face made your chest clench. tickling him after washing his hands, giving high fives and engaging in conversation with bea as he sits on the floor with him, right leg propped up while his large body leans down to color with him.

it almost made you tear up, wondering how he’d be with your child. he’s an amazing man, and your positively sure he’d be an even better father. it was a tough decision. the good thing about eren is that he was an attentive listener, action based, willing to understand your feelings and concerns while coming to a conclusion, knowing you have such a bad habit of closing in. so it made it easier to come to him about a lot of things that weighed on you.

sending off bea with a container of gumbo, you both say your goodnights to her, eren watching as she enters her car safely and drives away before shutting the door and pulling you in close for hugs and smooches. after having dinner, cleaning up and showering, in the plushness of your king sized bed, candles lit and law and order on play, that’s when you bring the conversation up while applying shea butter to your legs anxiously.

easing in slowly, you decide to test the waters by saying something that, even though you were unsure of, was technically a true feeling.

“baby . . . i’m lonely. think i w’na baby.”

maybe you weren’t fit to be a mother.

maybe this was punishment. that sinking fear you had for the entirety of your marriage about having children was right all along. you were scared. maybe this baby hated you, knew you weren’t the right person to bring them into this world. that’s why it’s been giving you the worst pregnancy known to man. or maybe your body just wasn’t built to carry a child.

countless of doctors, a therapist even, and no one fixed that insecurity within the chromosomes of your brain. morning sickness should never start with ‘morning’, because it’s all day, every day damn near. you can’t indulge in your favorite foods anymore, walking is painful because your feet are blown up and you can no longer fit half of your closet. you cry almost every single day, and you feel bad because eren constantly worries about you. it’s just as upsetting for him.

the incessant fatigue, headaches, backaches, occasional pelvic pain, heartburn, and multiple obgyn appointments of them telling you that all of your symptoms were normal, that there was nothing to worry about. neither of you were fond of the idea of taking tons of medications, and it became not only exhausting, but you felt embarrassed by how many times you had eren rushing you to your primary doctor.

the first trimester seemed to be the most difficult period to which you experienced the most discomfort. you figured it was natural given your body has never been in this state before, it’s slowly transitioning. this wasn’t just a period with regular cramps, you were creating a child inside of you. that itself was terrifying, yet exciting. because in the end you know it’ll be worth it. to see both of your faces morphed into one angelic being crafted out of love. this was your first baby, so of course you were preparing for possible difficulty. you just didn’t think it’d be this bad.

you’d spend days on end researching and finding other women whose experiences were the same. it eased you to some degree to discover you weren’t alone. then came the third trimester, and the horrible symptoms you faced from the start reappeared. you believe it’s because you were getting closer to birth.

hating the way your mind conjured up the worst thoughts, you found yourself falling into depression. eren did his best to make sure you had everything you needed. taking time off from work to tend to you. he wasn’t the best in the kitchen, and sometimes you’d have to come help him, much better on the grill. even the extravagant ones he tried to surprise you with. though most of the time you could only eat half before you started to get nauseous.

he took care of the farm, carried you up and down the stairs, stayed up half the night at times to study healthy exercises to practice together, and continued therapy with you. he made the process so much better. always kissing you, telling you how beautiful you were even if you didn’t feel it, gave you massages and ran you baths. even if all of it was sweet, you felt like a weakling. like he was your caretaker and you were an old ass lady.

only he’d reassure you after you weep and sniffle in your hands by saying, “mama, i’m your husband. i’m deeply in love with you, ‘n will always be. the very least i can do, especially when you’re doing the hardest fuckin’ part which is carrying our child, is take care of you. so stop all that cryin’ and come cuddle.”

times when check ups were happy days, and you could see your baby on the monitor as the nurse rubs the transducer over your overgrown belly, that vertical dark streak on the middle the cutest thing eren’s ever seen, often kissing it as he placed his ear to your belly to feel the baby kick — turned bad. the baby was healthy, that was the great thing. sitting low in your belly just ready to be out the womb. it’s when the pain pummels harsher that causes concern.

one day they’re telling you that your fine, then the next you’re having trouble breathing, sleeping, horrible tailbone pain and even worse pelvic pain. you think the worst part of it all is seeing the repeated stress on your husbands face. the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, forehead creases, brittle hair, it broke your fucking heart. to see him sitting beside you as he irritably bounces his right leg while clasping his hands together and leaning forward in an almost scolding manner. listening to the nurse reexplain shit you’ve heard too many damn times.

their methods weren’t working, and no matter how many times you expressed how you felt, it feels like it went through one ear and out the other. taking notice of it mostly when you came by yourself, and instantly you knew something was off. so you started coming with eren. you’ve lived in this town for more than eleven years, on the outskirts of georgia at that. at times you forget that not everyone’s empathetic, or open to the idea of you as a black woman. a pregnant one at that. you refused to take any more medicine. if an emergency labor needed to happen, you were willing to do whatever it takes.

then, eren finally snaps, because he knows it’s deeper than surface level shit.

“there have been too many occurrences where my wife has informed y’all multiple times about the pain she’s experiencing, and y’all brush it off ‘n tell her to go home, sleep it off, take this medication, rest. at this point, i’m startin’ to realize y’all aren’t listenin’ to her pain. you’re blatantly ignoring what the fuck she’s saying, and i don’t mean to get disrespectful, so excuse me for my mouth, but i’m fed the fuck up.”

“i’m sorry, mister yeager. there’s not much else we can do but see how her body responds to —”

eren hastily stands to his feet, and your eyes bulge in slight fear, reaching to grab his bicep as he keeps his focus on the perinatologist, surprise in his eyes from eren’s defense.

“i couldn’t give less of a shit ‘bout any of that. the only, and i mean only time y'all show her some form of care for her health is when i’m here. every time when i’m not, i’m hearing stories ‘bout how y'all sending her home tellin’ her she’s fuckin’ fine when she’s not fuckin’ fine. i have to see this shit firsthand, not you. i know exactly what the fuck this is, do not play with me.”

what makes this out of the ordinary is that you’ve never heard eren raise his voice in your life. whenever he was upset, he usually spoke in a stern, collected manner. this made you uncomfortable, the bellow of his tone and even the shock in the nurse’s features. swallowing, you pick yourself up to outstretch your hand over your heavy belly and slowly slid off the geri, eren’s head cautiously knocking in your direction regardless of the tension in the room to help you.

his hand goes around your waist, giving you a look to ask if you were good before you nod in response, too embarrassed to eye the nurse and apologize out of uneasiness. that would only drive eren mad, knowing he’d tell you not to apologize for shit because he didn’t deserve it. he could see it written on your face. you were too damn kind to those who weren’t worthy.

“let’s go, baby. you are never comin’ back here. y'all better be damn lucky i ain’t suin’ y'all.”

the day was so vague you could remember him holding your hand as you waddled to the car, rubbing your belly and staring at the back of his head in silence. knowing he needed it for a minute. he secures you in before sitting in the drivers seat and sinking back to meditate, eyes shut and chest carefully rising and falling. nibbling at your lip, you rub his arm to transfer your soothing energy. your touch makes him crack a weak smile, turning his head as he lays back to stare at your pretty face.

eren rubs his thumb over your hand, bringing it up to kiss the back of it. “i’m sorry you had to see me raise my voice. i don’t like gettin’ outta character in front of you. you know that.”

“it wasn’t uncalled for, your emotions are valid. i appreciate you for protecting me. i think i’ve long accepted that not many people care too much about specific women’s health. it’s a sad realization, but i know i’ll be okay,” you speak softly, bringing your face closer to his to rest with him. “we’ll be okay. the baby is healthy, and pain is temporary.”

what comes next is almost scarier than this whole ordeal. eren takes a deep inhale, grabbing your face to press his forehead to yours before releasing a trembling breath, tears beginning to stream down his face as he cries. finally. locking it away to stay strong for you. the thump in your chest hurts, really fucking bad. witnessing your husband weep as he holds you, clenching his jaw, sniffling, and choking out a small cough. kissing your lips to tell you he’s okay was sentimental. he just wants the best for the both of you. the pain of a father and a husband.

you’ve seen him cry, only one other time when his father passed away. the grief, hatred, and acceptance encased all into one as you held him in your arms by the fireplace on the living room floor, funeral clothing on you both, letting him take the time he needed. wiping his face, you kiss all over it, rubbing his broad back before giving him a warm embrace.

“it’s g’na be okay, sweetie,” a hand smooths down the back of his head, cringing at the greasiness of his scalp. “you need a wash day.”

both of you laugh in unison, eren sniffling and releasing a guttural ‘ugh’ as he clears himself up. “sorry, papa hasn’t been givin’ sexy, blue collar country boy lately.”

“shush, boy,” you giggle, sitting fully into your seat. you stroke his face, staring intensely into his moss and smoky toned eyes. his lashes are long, hair disheveled into a manbun with tendrils on either side of his bushy eyebrows. the faint line of hair he has directly above his lip always an attractive feature. “you’re always sexy, daddy. even on rough days.”

“mm, i love you, baby. so much,” eren leans in to kiss the bridge of your nose before interlocking your lips, one hand on the wheel as he arches over the center console.

your hand crinkles his white tee, whimpering into his touch when his other hand goes to touch your lower back side, arching you into him, moving your lips with his. “eren?”

“mm,” he groans, mouth getting rougher. “miss you so fuckin’ much. you been lookin’ so good lately, mama.”

pouting, you pull yourself away. “don’t get me riled up, mister yeager. i can’t do what i w’na do to you.”

eren sits back, chuckling as he scratches the small stubble he has on his chin with his thumb, grinning, smile lines deep and teeth bright and perfectly aligned outside of the pointy canines he possesses.

“you right.”

“mhm.”

“all shit aside, pretty. your health is my biggest fuckin’ priority. when we get home, ima order some chinese and we can look more into that midwife bea talked about. huh? that sound good?”

“sounds perfect,” you rub at your stomach with both hands, eren placing his hand there as well as he starts up the truck. “oh, don’t forget that head gettin’ washed. grease bandit.”

“yeah, yeah.”

after a deep, foamy scalp cleanse infused with lavender, eren sits on the fluffy rug on your bedroom floor with a baby pink spa towel wrapped around his head as he types and scrolls on his dell laptop. next to him in a butterfly position, digging into your lo-mein with wooden chopsticks inside the traditional takeout box with a red pagoda imprinted on the front. matcha green jelly eyepatches covering your dark circles, eren wearing some as well.

you’re dressed in a black polka dot camisole with lace trimmings and matching shorts that your body eats up and shrinks. the two of you stay up until one in the morning, taking notes and searching for reliable sources. eren found out that he could get you someone called a doula, who will provide you with medical guidance and emotional support during your final stages of pregnancy. booking a few consultations for midwives as well. indefinitely, you felt very optimistic about this. you’d even find yourselves making little image boards for your baby, whom you soon discovered a beautiful surprise from.

you received the envelope a while back, but the two of you chose to wait for the right moment considering the events happening. hand in hand at the bakery a few days later, eren requested a gender reveal cake where he drove an hour out of town back where your father resided to find the willow tree the two of you got married under. laying out a picnic blanket, there showcased the plain oval cake reading ‘it’s a . .’ with half plain for eren and half supreme pizza for you. chocolate covered strawberries to feast on after, and cranberry juice since it was the closest taste you could get to wine.

it wasn’t a big deal to you whether it was a girl or boy, you’d love them endlessly. it would be no greater feeling than to have any baby laying in either of your arms, or the perfect beige nursery you and eren decorated together. you’ll admit you got emotional as both of you held a glass, tears running ferociously down your face, preparing to scoop either side of the cake, awaiting the reveal.

“oh my god, oh my god. i’m scared. this is scary.”

“eight months of pregnancy, and this what you scared ‘bout?” eren lifts a brow, your mouth curving up as you pop his shoulder. “꒰♡꒱! c’mon. i w’na see, girl.”

“okay, okay. whew, i’m sorry. i’m ready.”

pushing your glasses into the cake with eyes shut tight, you slowly pop open one eye to see the color, gasping and bouncing in your spot at the pink inside, weeping and wrapping your arms around eren’s neck as he rocks you side to side in happiness.

“it’s a girl, it’s a girl!”

screeching in his face as you plop back down, you see the tinge of sadness on his face, furrowing your brows as he blinks away his tears that were coming too fast for his liking.

“sweetie, what’s wrong?”

eren sniffles, clenching his jaw and turning his head out of view. “i’m g’na need another gun.”

sucking your teeth, you nudge his shoulder. “oh, boy!”

burying his face in his hand and wiping his eyes, eren chortles. “i’m serious, two precious things to protect, oh my fuckin’ days i’m g’na have a heart attack. the fear. gimme sum water.”

“erennn, stop! asshole,” the laugh coaxes out of you, seriously watching his features as you pick at the hem of your dress. you know he’s dead serious, but you want to make sure he’s happy about it. “is a girl not what you wanted?”

eren almost malfunctions. “are you kidding? a baby is what i want. i could give a damn ‘bout the gender. fuck, she’s g’na look just like you. the prettiest face.”

that makes you cry again, mushing your lips with his passionately and squealing excitedly.

after your picnic, eren took you to speak to your mother at her gravesite, awakening her tombstone by adding daises and sunflowers. you update her on the past few months, apologizing for not speaking to her for a while since you’ve been occupied, and mentioning how much you adored eren who currently spoke to his mother at her stone. it was refreshing, a mental cleanse.

inquiring a midwife and doula was the best decision for not only your pregnancy, but your marriage. strictly requesting a top holistic woman of color for obvious reasons, their methods made you more comfortable in your body, and even anticipated to push out your little bun. the past few weeks have really been a breeze, and you felt so much healthier, and light even though little girl kicked like a motherfucker and sat low as hell.

with each consultation, eren sat by your side to observe every interaction, coming to an agreement after two interviews. whoever you felt the safest to handle you, he was up for it. luckily for you, the doula and midwife were associated under the same company. when they arrived for the first time, rose being the doula, and valeria being the midwife, observed your home and discussed plans on pursuing a home birth.

due to uncertain circumstances, you felt more at peace having your baby in the home where her future will begin. unmedicated and with your husband and people you trusted. they ordered an inflatable tub for you since the moment they stepped into your bathroom and saw the clawfoot tub, immediately shook their heads in disapproval. they even made you get inside to prove why it’d be bad. there wouldn’t have been enough room for you to move when you had to.

the days were flying by, due approximately in three weeks. today was a friday, which also happened to be valentine’s day. it was warm outside, usher’s new album confessions playing soundly from your silver jensen stereo. all of the windows in the home were open, letting in the breeze as you exhale deeply. currently, you were up to another session of stretches and workouts.

“doing good, baby girl! make sure you keep your back straight. twirl those hips for me, we gotta target that girdle pain. work that pelvic area!”

“i’m hungryy,” you manage to weep, hands leveraging your hips as you motion your lower halve in circles atop of the baby pink birth ball.

“it’s ’cause your husband out there havin’ a whole cookout,” rose laughs,

“he always cooks for all the women in the neighborhood on valentine’s day,” your cheek rests on your shoulder from adornment, watching him through the window that faces the backyard where smoke fills the air along with the thick smell of barbecue.

eren’s wearing his favorite fitted black cap with a white embroidered nba logo placed on the nape, shifted backwards on his head, chestnut hair leveled to his jaw in wavy ringlets after giving him a cut. a plain white t-shirt, and dark 501 levi jeans that fit his thighs almost snugly, still giving him enough room to appear loose. the watch you’d gotten him for your fifth anniversary on his dominant wrist as he brushed the ribs with his special sauce while his other hand, paired with a slim silver cuban link, sipped on a budweiser.

it didn’t help that you were practically riding this ball right now while you look at him as he does nothing but grill, drink, and stare at the lake while occasionally checking on you through the window. or, perhaps, the huge belly in your way. zoning out and daydreaming the most disgusting things briefly before you knock yourself out of it, forgetting you have company. he looked irresistible. it’s been driving you off edge for a long time, forgetting the last time you’ve had sex. it had to have been about three months, take away last month when he ate you out on the recliner.

it was so annoying how raging your hormones were ever since you got pregnant. might you add, four months after the ‘i w’na have a baby’ conversation. you were almost sure you’d have sex every time he came home from work. it wasn’t intentional, although you did hold back on your birth control, and condoms weren’t neither of your things. finding out was just a non-panicked ‘uh oh’ when you showed him the test as he sat on the toilet handling business and you brushed your teeth while staring at it the entire time. eren was ecstatic overall.

you wanted him so bad, missed him so bad. he’s been so respectful of your healing process that it makes you hornier at the thought. also, he makes fun of you for being his ‘stalker’ as if you haven’t been married forever, constantly watching him every day. you’ll be reading a book, watching tv, or cooking something you’re craving and there he is mowing the lawn, feeding the chickens, cleaning his truck, on the grill — too many things he does turns you on naturally.

“ ꒰♡꒱?”

“wha—huh?”

“up, chile. we’re g’na do these last stretches so we can have you rest for the day,” valeria chirps, gently clapping her hands together and holding out her palms to help you stand.

“oh, okay!”

“you alright?” rose checks in, ordering a few things you needed for the upcoming labor visit. she noticed you checked out for a while.

clearing your throat, you nod like a bobble head, curving your lips in tight doing an awkward smile. “yeah! i just . . have an . . inappropriate question.”

valeria stands behind you as she lowers you to sit on the yoga mat by your underarms. “i doubt it can be inappropriate. we are nurses, heard everything under the sun. okay. . . starting with happy baby!”

groaning, you steady your breath before raising your legs, making sure they were spread far apart and lowering your knees to your side. being thirty-four weeks and thirty-six centimeters had you feeling like a whale. at least you were a cute whale. you also had an endearing fascination with your belly, often spending time with your daughter by massaging shea butter delicately over her home or having full conversations. it was your soft moments of bonding. so, she was well moisturized all the time, rarely any stretch-marks.

you were fond of your overall growth to be honest. your appearance didn’t change much other than the obvious. your feet were a little chubbier, and your boobs only grew one bra size. skin care was a priority since you were paranoid of a bunch of insecurities, so you glowed and got hundreds of compliments. eren surely had an infatuation with you being pregnant. if the man couldn’t keep his hands off you before, it certainly became an addiction now.

“okay, this is a bit personal. but, me and eren haven’t had sex in like three months. he’s done . . things, even helped me wax her. so i don’t think i’m insecure about how she looks per-say. i was just wondering if it’d be safe to do in the third trimester. my hormones make me feel horny, but i’m kinda scared.”

rose and valeria manage to cackle in unison, a pout on your lips as you raise to do your deep side to side squats, valeria making sure to stay close by for balance. “seriously y’all, i w’na have sex. y’know how much okra water he’s been having me drink? she’s slippery!”

“my god,” rose shakes her head.

“well, the answer is yes, you can certainly have sex. it’s perfectly healthy. just remember to take it slow since you are due in three weeks. little angel could fly out any minute.”

“fly?!” you shrieked.

“jokesss, oh my goodness. don’t scare her, valeria. this is her first baby!”

“sorry, sorry! sex is good! nothing bad will happen. so, have plenty of it. well, not too much though, just enough. you see where these poses got you in the first place,” valeria says, laughing as you groan knowingly. “move into the child pose and we’re all done!”

lowering yourself down to your knees, you get into a doggy position and stretch your arms straight ahead of you, stomach hanging. “i was just thinking ‘bout how much i missed him, and we haven’t fully connected like that in a while. i hold it very spiritually in my mind. i think it will be good for both of us, especially before lil’ mamas gets here.”

“it is valentine’s day. let’s hope he gives you a good ass time. he’s showing off right now, and he’s been staring at your ass.”

that makes you laugh hard, really hard. though instantly after, you feel a sharp pain stab at the side of your hip, wincing and hissing out loud, dropping your head and whimpering from the ache. both women rush by your side quicker than you could blink.

“꒰♡꒱, what is it?” rose asks, crouching to be eye level.

“it’s just that stupid random pinch i get, probably just pulled it a little,” scrunching your face up, you sit on the balls of your feet as your midwife observes. applying pressure to the spot your holding. “she’s a heavy girl.”

“alright, honey. let’s finish for today. you’re probably overexerting yourself. i’m g’na heat up some essential oils and give you a massage before we wrap up, okay darlin’?”

smiling graciously, you nod. “thank you both. a massage would be lovely.”

“who’s givin’ my wife a massage?”

suddenly, your husband walks in, holding up a tinfoil pan of ribs, chicken wings, and burgers. shirt riding up showcasing his dark happy trail, devilishly sharp v-line and the navy blue boxers tight on his skin. he’s watching you the whole time, noticing your upturned face and removing the toothpick from his molars. “mama, what’s wrong?”

“i’m okay, sweetie. i just have some tension in my hip. she might’ve been moving as i was.”

eren approaches you in three long strides, the carabiner with numerous keys among other trinkets hooked to his belt loop hitting against his thigh, soon crouching before you to hold out his hands he’s wiped clean.

“c’mon, lemme help you up. you sure you good?”

“mhm,” he’s lifting you as if you’re still the lightest thing in the world, staring at his body, sniffing his nautica cologne discreetly as he turns to look towards the other women.

“what‘s goin’ on?”

“i’m g’na give her a deep tissue massage before we wrap it up for the day. she’s doing good, just might’ve hurt herself while laughing and stretching.”

“laughing ‘bout what? y’all talkin’ ‘bout me?” eren’s bushy brow arches, slanted eyes finding yours again.

“oop,” rose purses her lips, turning her head.

blushing from his amused tone, you answer, “just girl stuff. it made me laugh.”

“baby, you gotta be careful.”

“i am,” you huff irritably, rolling your eyes. he stares, your mood flipping within two seconds.

“i think one more stretch could help before that. eren, would you mind helping her out?” rose asks.

“sure thing,” he’s pulling you in by your waist. “doin’ the tummy lift?”

“yes sir. just be super gentle as usual. while you hold the baby up, i’ll put some pressure on her hip.”

eren listens to their instructions, standing behind you and pressing your back to his chest. both of his calloused palms lay on either side of your tummy underneath, keeping his focus on your face to stay alert of any discomfort. he practices the breathing exercises he was taught with you, delicately lifting your stomach to give relief to your pelvis.

“mmm,” moaning peacefully, your eyes falter shut as you rest your head back on eren’s chest. he kisses your forehead, valeria crouching underneath, sliding your periwinkle yoga pants down your waist just enough to lather and knead the oil into your flesh.

“is that lavender?”

“yup! lemongrass and chamomile, too.”

“it’s soo good,” you whined, her technique making you want to drool.

“it’ll help with the pain a lot. i’ll make sure to leave some here, eren. you can do this a few more times for her until it’s gone.”

“anything she needs.”

“he’s so sweet and cute, i love him,” you smile widely, reaching up to cup his jaw, eren humming and mushing his cheek to yours.

“the sweetest,” rose agrees. “are you passing out platters to the whole neighborhood, eren?”

“yeah, i usually give it to all the ladies who ꒰♡꒱ is close to, or buy her goodies. i’m g’na make y'all a plate to go. ꒰♡꒱ made some candied yams, and i did the potato salad.”

“it better not be no raisins in that salad,” valeria squints her eyes playfully up at him. opening your eyes, you get what she was hinting at, trying not to burst out laughing.

“nah,” eren chuckles, understanding as well.

“it’s my ma’s recipe. promise, it’s real good.”

“it is, i promise,” you vouch.

“i trust your judgment then.”

a couple of hours had passed until the sun died down. this was your favorite time of the day to unwind. a vinyl on spin, room 112 to be exact. candles lit, the low muffle of the television streaming sex and the city, and the softness of your cloud duvet. as you sip on your cranberry juice poured into a wine glass, cheating your brain into thinking it’s red wine — you rest up against the ten’s of pillows decorated along the headboard to support you. the air conditioning kept the room icy cold like you adored, your hair was tossed up into a messy bun, and a silk pearl robe adorned your skin.

hearing the sound of the shower stop as you write in your journal, you twinkle your toes and gaze up at the ceiling where fifty, yes fifty, heart shaped red and pink balloons floated. just this morning, eren woke you up with the prettiest surprise of breakfast in bed, a pregnant friendly mimosa, strawberries that were cut into hearts, and fluffy belgian waffles with turkey bacon. the room was filled with light, roses spread along the entire bedroom and bedding alongside a giant blooming bouquet of red roses and calla lilies.

the strings sway around the room still from the air conditioner, smiling sweetly as you daydream of the morning, stuffing your face with the breakfast he made and watching him open the walk-in closet to show you the new vintage vanity he’d built for you. the way he showed his love for you could move mountains.

closing your journal, you can’t help but pout as you feel yourself beginning to tear up. you couldn’t stand when all of your emotions would hit you at once. thinking of your baby, your marriage, how difficult this pregnancy started off, and even how much you wished your mother were here to witness and guide you through it all.

“fuckin’ hell,” you set your book on the nightstand where the floral beige lamp illuminated the entire room with light.

whimpering and wiping your face, the small sound causes your husband to whoosh his head out of the bathroom door in fear, toothpaste covering his lips as he stops brushing his teeth, towel draped around his waist and hair sleek down his structure.

“unh uh, what’s wrong, baby?” quickly, he rinses his mouth before coming toward you, your lips curving inward as he leans over your frame with his fists on either side of you.

all you can do is stare down at his towel lewdly showing the imprint of his dick sitting on his thigh.

“huh? talk to me.”

“i’m okay. i’m just thinking about a lot.”

“don’t short yourself. y’know i don’t like that shit,” his jaw clenched, waiting for a real answer.

sighing, you sniffle and sit yourself up higher. eren reaches for your feet to rub on, smoothing his hands up and down your calves. the touch makes you swallow, trying to calm yourself down. he smelt really good, always did but he bought a new body wash that held bergamot undertones. hair appearing darker since it was still somewhat damp. arms full of veins leading to his big hands that grope you. biceps hard at touch. he watches you like a hawk, and to this day eye contact with him makes you anxious.

“um, i just wanted to tell you that i love you. i was expressing myself in my journal about a few things i felt like i needed to say to you.”

“mhm, go on, baby.”

splaying your hands over your belly, your face sets into happiness. “jus’ w’na say i know this hasn’t been the easiest time for either of us, and i wanted to let you know that i put your emotions on the same level as mine. seeing me like that couldn’t have been easy. it weighs heavy on me to this day. i am happy, however, that we found two special women that have made this such a beautiful ending no matter how it started.”

“they’re amazing women, definitely. i’m immensely grateful for them. havin’ you smile again was such a blessing,” eren takes your hand to smooth his thumb over, kissing the back of it.

of course, you’re crying again. “i want you to know that i’ve always, always cherished this baby. i hated those thoughts that doubted me becoming a mother. it haunted me on nights i couldn’t sleep. i . . i l-love our baby, eren. i swear. i love her.”

eren’s heart clenches as you sob, sitting closer to you so he could wrap his arm under your thighs, holding your legs to his hip and leveling his face with yours while still giving you enough space.

“hey, hey, i know that, baby. i never doubted that. you couldn’t control what was happening to you. thoughts like that are normal. this is a big step for you, this is your first baby. everything that you’ve experienced has been normal. rose and valeria even said that those doctors were fuckin’ liars and managed what they couldn’t. it’s so much better now. you’re so much better. i know you love her, and she loves you too.”

nodding, you squeeze your eyes tight, tears pouring down your sweet face. “thank you. i love you so much. i’ve loved every moment of our marriage. i appreciate that we’ve been there for each other for a lot of shit. you make me so happy.”

“and it will continue to be that way. i love you so fuckin’ much, ꒰♡꒱. you make me the happiest man alive. i love our daughter, i cannot wait to see her, and hold her.”

“i know right,” you giggle softly, swiping the back of your hands under your eyes. “she’s g’na be so tiny and smell like baby lotion. i’m sticking with the speculation that she has your eyes.”

“my eyes and your precious face,” he pinches your cheek between two knuckles. “i’ll admit i am scared of being a father. not sure how i’ll be in exact, i’ll try my hardest of course. it’s when she gets older that i worry about. but, i know i’ll be a damn good one. though, only the child can judge whether or not that’s true.”

“i think you’ll be a great father, she’ll love you. as for when she’s older, luckily we’ll have plenty of time until that begins. i just wish our mom’s could see her,” you frown, the distant pain not so distant in meaningful moments.

eren weakly curves up his lip, the look in his eyes mimicking yours; heartbreak. “yeah, i wish they were. good thing is she’ll have her grandfather.”

the thought of your father makes you warm, your relationship with him so much better than it was before. even eren gets along with him.

“he’ll drive her crazy, that’s for sure.”

“i see it now,” eren groans.

“also,” you start, keeping his attention. “i feel like this would be a good time to talk about how i’m never doing this shit again,” the stare on your face is dead serious, scanning his features to find anything negative. “i mean fucking never.”

eren snorts, shaking his head as he chuckles, patting your bare thigh. “baby, i knew that. i’m genuinely okay with one child.”

“you will get a vasectomy,” you speak sternly, squinting.

“i heard you. i’m with whatever my wife wants.”

beaming, you let out a thankful squeak. “yup, thank you papa. you’re so understanding, and so sexyy.”

leaning in to kiss him, you eye the way he dangerously stares at you, licking his lips after and pulling himself back to dig his fists into the bed and spread his thighs wide, knocking his head backwards and scoffing.

“anything else you w’na talk about?”

it dwells on you that you haven’t had that talk in a while, mentioning it earlier to chat about it and see how you felt mentally and physically. eren surveys your mind, how quiet you get as you chew at your bottom lip and study the bumpy path of his abs, thin pubic hair leading down to the towel hiding what you really wanted to talk about if being technical.

olive irises swirling with stormy gray dilating as they scan the silky robe draped around your naked frame. because your legs are sitting halfway up, he lowers his eyes to catch your pussy playing peek-a-boo, tightening your thighs while he clenches his.

“what you w’na do, mama. i can see it in your face,” eren rasps, just waiting for you to say it. he’s hard as fuck right now. can’t help it.

you look radiant, skin well moisturized, lips soft and eyes low. coils of hair flowing around the structure of your face. you smell even better, in fact, he wanted to smell you right now, every where.

lifting himself up, he scoots closer once again, your body instinctively arching into him the moment his hands glide down the top of your thighs, mingling breaths momentarily before his mouth comes to your neck which prompts your legs to spread apart. sucking on the flesh and indenting his fingers into your plush thighs.

“eren,” whimpering, you bring your hands to hold his face, face scrunching up with pleasure as he trails his mouth on either side of your neck, leaving tender bites and heavy licks of his tongue.

“thought you forgot how to speak?” grunting, his mouth falls down to the valley of your breasts, untying your robe and pushing it off your shoulders.

“mm, taste me.”

with desperation, eren runs his tongue between your breastbone, leaving kisses here and there, drawing the side of your tits into his mouth until he reaches one of your nipples. you’re laying back into the pillows, letting him slot himself in between your legs and moaning as you tug on his hair and he guzzles your nipple into his mouth. he’s delicate at first, aware of how sensitive they were to touch.

“fuuck,” eren hisses, slamming his hand on the side of your ass, feeling himself sink into the depths of his attraction for you. how much he’s been needing to fuck you.

twirling his tongue around your areola repeatedly, he heaves over your flesh and tweaks at them with the pads of his fingers, your whines the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. eren could hear the neediness in your voice. the churn of your expressions heated yanks at his scalp making you equally grind your hips, the material of the towel drawing precum from the head.

he’s pulling at your chest with his lips, occasionally nipping the hard buds with teeth, and it makes you blush. what comes next is unexpected. when eren unlinks his mouth, he stares down at your chest to see that you’ve lactated, feeling his face go red at the sight and his dick jump without his control.

“ooo, shit, baby. look,” his brows connect from the arousal he feels, cupping either of your breast and pressing them together, the dribble of white pooling down to his knuckles from them both. it’s a small droplet, but it makes him wanna suck it up so bad.

“oh my god, no!” gasping, you go to cover them in bewilderment, only to have him stop you almost aggressively.

“don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he clenches his jaw, stopping you from the stringent tone of his voice.

“eren.”

“hold still, i won’t say it again.”

soon, his thick tongue is sticking out to do exactly what he planned, to suck you up. moaning from the intense stare he gives your chest, he’s lapping it up hungrily, like he’s been craving it. did he just discover a new kink he had? for sure. and maybe you had it too because he looked so fucking good slurping you up, applying pressure with his lips to potentially draw out more he could swallow. the warm liquid pours onto his tongue little by little.

“ugh, fuck,” eren goes to smack the side of your tit reflexively hard, grunting.

“a-ah, baby,” the palms of your hands shove at his shoulders and he pulls away without a fight.

“it’s sweet,” eren smirks, showing you his tongue before licking his lips and grinning at the shock on your face. “too freaky?”

“n-no,” you bury your face into your forearm. “i’ve just . . i dunno. i’m just sensitive.”

“they sensitive?” he taunts, moving his face to your neck again, peppering kisses and slamming his hand on your ass again. your lower body shifts, clamping your thighs together to squeeze and relieve the throbbing.

“yes,” you respond, reaching for his towel to pull off, making a noise as you stare at his dick standing heavy and angry. needing you in the worst way.

“show me all the places you're sensitive.”

this is a game you loved to play, the excitement brewing in your chest.

“right here,” you motion to your hips by dancing your fingers delicately over them, eren already guessing you were going to say that. you loved having your hips kissed and licked at, it made you so wet.

discarding his towel and your robe off the bed, eren situated himself fully on the mattress, grabbing you by your ankles to pull you down so you're on your back, making sure your head is leveraged on the pillow. his hair covers his face when he lowers himself to your aching hips you raise up with caution, trying not to smack him in the face with your stomach. eren’s mouth starts at the area under your breast, sloppily mouthing and licking until he finds his way to your twitching hips, shuddering loudly when he goes to bite there, a guttural noise emerging from his throat before he’s using the thickness of his tongue to drag at your hips and inner thighs.

“yess, baby. ooo, keep going, please,” your mouth falls open, vision blurring and skin prickling with heat. every touch he gives you sets you ablaze, not realizing you’ve been waiting to feel this for so long.

eren moves his mouth to the other side of your waist to repeat his actions, rushing his tongue over the mound of your pussy before he got there. the simple crusade makes you whine, bucking your hips. his fingers part your legs further apart, almost putting you back into that happy baby position you were in earlier. he takes the pads of four fingers and rubs at your clit in the slowest motions, palm on your hot mound, sinking your teeth into your lip and drenching his fingers with your slickness.

“i can’t, i need that pussy in my mouth,” eren’s grunting, hiking himself up so he can help you sit on your knees.

mindlessly, you let him pick you up, gawking at him as your arms clutch around his neck while he moves some pillows around to make you comfortable, literally clinging to him like a koala.

“stretch forward.”

blinking within a daze, he spreads you on top of the pillows, opening your knees so you’re bent over and arching yourself downwards, stretching your arms in front of yourself, belly cushioned in.

“fuckin’ god, baby. look at you,” his throat is burning, ready to say everything under the sun about you.

the prettiest fucking thing to ever bless his life. your skin looked incredibly smooth, ass up in the air and belly hanging low, painted toes curling anxiously from being seen. those adorable lines etched into your skin under the curve of your ass, and your pussy, bubblegum inside, labia spread open like a butterfly's wings, opening clenching for invitation. shiny with your cum begging to be slurped up. he wanted it so bad his fingers were thrumming to grab you up.

hugging a pillow to your face, you shut your eyes nervously, swaying your ass side to side like a cat because the silence was killing you. if he looked too long he could point out an insecurity. he had to act quick.

“put it in your mouth, eren.”

“i fuckin’ will,” he says with certainty, stroking his hands over the globes of your ass, cuffing his thumbs under the curve of it where it sits on your thighs to spread you open a little more, shaking your flesh and watching your entrance open wider. “fuck, so damn pretty. missed her. she need me? huh?”

when he spanks you again, you whimper feebly, grinding yourself back into his grasp. “missed you, daddy. need you.”

he’s bringing four of his fingers to rub circles on your clit again, an audible ‘shlick shlick’ noise bouncing off the walls from your drenched pussy, eren bending his head to kiss your tailbone, leading his mouth all around you once more. bright teeth resting on your flesh until his tongue and lips follow suit, guiding his face to finally drag his tongue from your clit to your puckering, forbidden star. he never misses a spot, meant it whenever he ate you out that he ate everywhere. the saliva trickling from the toughness of his tongue on your hole which glides down to your folds.

while switching his arm to still rub at your clit, he rushes his heavy tongue along your folds, rocking his head with your ass you move in want, fisting the sheets and dropping your mouth open. “baby . . ooh, god. daddy, want your tongue in me. pleaseplease.”

“unh huh,” he grunts against you, spanking you hard before manuvering his tongue to sink into your pussy, wriggling it to your liking and yanking you back on his face to fuck you on it.

“ungh, y-yess. s-show me how much you love me, daddy,” you moan weakly, voice cracking the further his tongue goes.

“mm-hmm,” with every dip of your ass he follows by stuffing his tongue into you, rubbing his hand up and back towards your stomach until you’re creaming on his hand and in his mouth.

going to reach behind yourself, your fingers tangle into the tresses of his hair to guide properly, throwing your ass back on his face. with every thrash of the heavy anatomy, his hand is iterating harsh hits to your skin. positioning your arms in a plank position, you dip your hips while eren grips there to help you move, a few fingers sprawled over your belly. his lips enclosed on the rest of you with every passing thrust. that familiar warmth begins to swim in your lower stomach, knowing you were going to cum. too quickly.

“noo,” you cry out, tears brimming your eyes. “cummin’ too . . fast.”

eren pulls his face away, sloppy kissing at your inner thighs. “s’okay, baby. cum in my mouth. i’ll get you to cum again.”

there’s frustrated tears pouring from you, sniffling and shaking your head in denial. you felt extremely vulnerable, eren immediately tending to you by massaging your lower back and hovering his body over you. “what is it?”

“i w’na cum with you inside me, please. i just need it that way.”

eren understood without further explanation. frankly, he never needed you to explain yourself when it came to your pleasure. expressing it was all he wanted. you craved for that moment of connection and intimacy. it was the only way you had to have it right now. you’d edge yourself if it meant you could have that.

“anything you want, baby,” licking his lips, he wiped his mouth with his hand before spreading it over your pussy to collect your juices and covering his dick with it. “jus’ one more thing. do it for me.”

eren could almost hear your gulp, his thumb sinking downwards into your pussy while his fingers strum your clit, eren’s face straining from the ring of cream coating his knuckle. dips it in and out a few more times before pressing the pad of it to your anus. “it’s been a min’, so breathe.”

sloshing the head of his dick against your folds, he pushes past that tight ring with his thumb the moment you steady your breath at the same speed he sinks his dick into you. you’re pulsating on both ends, gasping and moaning from the delicious stretch.

“s’good, sweetheart?” eren checks in, halting his movements to wait for your say-so.

while taking a minute, releasing a shaky breath, eren raises himself behind you in a crouching position, balancing on his feet and grabbing the headboard, balls smushed to your clit like a comforting blanket. exhaling, you answer with a soft ‘uh huh, good’ to make him feel at ease. eren’s dick twitches inside of you, halfway in but allowing you to adjust.

“fuck, ꒰♡꒱, lemme stretch you open. need you t’ take it allll in, baby,” he’s persuading you through gritted teeth, eyes scrolling white, trying to control how badly he wanted to drill into your shit right now.

“mmgh, it’s too tight,” you whimper, toes curling.

eren scoffs amusingly. “yeah, i feel that shit. relax yourself, baby. you’re clenching up.”

he runs by the fact that you’re probably not fully broken down, too in your head for a reason he’s unsure about. eren is careful when he takes his hand off the headboard, bringing it to take the back of your neck into his possession. he’s maintaining his balance, lowering his gorgeous face into yours that has your cheek squished into your forearm, the other digging its fingers into the pillow under your stomach.

“don’t feel pretty or sum, baby? is that what it is? you in your head?” eren skids his pink, plush lips over yours, kneading your neck gently and interlocking your mouth with his.

as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. you wanna hide your face, shield it from him and not have to admit that. didn’t want him to make you say it because it felt bothersome. you never had a problem with how you looked, you admired your body shape, even adored your pregnancy belly. it was hard for yourself to grasp what was wrong. it wasn’t him, it wasn’t you, then what was it?

“need me to make you feel pretty?” eren’s jaw tightens, gently biting at your neck to get a reaction out of you, anything to keep you from thinking.

“it’s not that,” you half lie.

eren hums, thinking a little harder before something clicks. he blinks. “she’s okay, baby. stop worrying so much. now repeat what i said.”

your cunt pulsates the instant he rushes his tongue along your neck to the back of your ear, expressions easing into elation, nibbling at your lip and swirling your eyes back as he grumbles into your skin.

“s-she’s okay.”

“that’s right.”

leisurely, he pushes in and retracts back, the french kisses allowing you to relax and take all of him to the hilt. one of your legs vibrates from the fullness, stifling a gasp and clasping your hand around your own throat to restrict your airways, eren laying his over yours to amplify the constraint.

“good girl, baby. good fuckin’ girl,” his voice in your ear makes you shudder, whining into his face as he angles his hips back to slip out just a bit before plunging back inside, that ring of white coating the base of his dick. “yes, take it. . ugnh.”

eren is careful about it, grinding his hips forward to mold the shape of his dick inside of you, making you remember, the back of your thighs clapping with his incredulously. the warmth of your pussy engulfs him, eren puffing out air strenuously, sinking his thumb further into you so he could get a good hook, sprawling his finger over your backside and yanking you back on his dick while giving you steady pounds, cunt squelching over it.

“ooh, love it. love it, love it. fuck,” the hiccups and whines are his favorite parts when you submerge into ecstasy. wailing from every thrust he gives you, eren removing his hand to set it back where it was originally on the headboard, doing his best to keep most of his weight off you.

“what you love, baby?” eren grits, fucking you a tad bit harder so he’s nudging on that sweet spot of yours, a high pitched squeal falling from you.

“mmgh . . a-ah,” the rupture of your tiny voice ensues, each pound harder than the last, absorbing it all. “ . . ungh, shittt.”

“you fuckin’ hear me, ꒰♡꒱. tell me what you love.”

the messiness of your pussy trickles down your inner thighs, coming out like water. every wet splat! resounding the area and it drives eren nuts. you’re slippery as fuck, he’s drowning in it, and he can’t help but whimper from how good you fucking feel, unable to help himself by fucking into you harder. the squeaks and gasps come out of you more, body shaking abnormally as he digs his dick into you, making you take every filthy inch.

“daddy youuu, fuck — it’s you. i love your dick.”

“yeahh, it loves you too, mama,” every sound that comes from him is carnal, prolonging guttural grunts and pistoning his defined pelvis against your ass that thunders back on him.

eren goes to rest his forehead against the headboard, sliding his hands to hold either side of your belly before he begins to drill his dick harder, balls slapping at your sticky clit. lifting your head, you lay it back on his abdomen, sloping your mouth along with his as the two of you silently listen in, unable to breathe. the derisive squelch from you glazing over his dick and messing up the sheets, some of it trickling down your stomach.

“ . . awe, shhit . . aunh, aunh! fuck yes—m’goddd, f-fuck, eren. right there, right there!” it comes out in the whiniest pitch he’s ever heard, surpassing a few octaves, kicking your feet and scrolling your eyes back as you slap and fist at the bedding.

“uh, uh,” his noises mimic yours, smushing his nose up against the headboard creating a pot of condensation, lips grazing it as he slows his movements, too close to cumming, grinding and spanking you. “fuuck, she’s grippin’ me so goddamn good. g’na make me tap out already.”

a dry heave submerses, pawing at the sheets in a haze to military crawl forward and relieve yourself for a mini break. “mmm, w’na lay down. gotta breathe.”

eren removes every part of himself from you, your cackles like a tender hug on his heart. swatting your ass again, he bends down to give the spot he hit a kiss before lying beside you, bringing your back to his chest.

with your thighs pressed together, eren wraps his forearm behind your neck to bring your mouth to his, the other smoothing over your overgrown belly up to your breast, molding them in his palms while passionately gliding his tongue over yours in a nasty kiss.

both of your eyes were closed, eren’s dick sitting on your back, the fixation he has with touching you only makes you absurdly wetter.

“put it back in,” you mumble against his lips, shifting your ass back, eren’s eyes low and locked on to you as he guides his dick down to your opening and slides back in with little to no hassle.

“i love you,” eren says softly, kissing behind your ear and on your collarbone, cupping your left tit to suck back into his mouth.

you cry, again. it seems to be never ending the amount of emotions you felt in this moment. “i love you.”

hooking his forearm under your neck, eren’s ample hand spreads your ass cheek apart as he thrusts harder. his grunts by your ear, even an occasional nibble, the compression of your thighs together as you arch your back all feels too good, enough to make you cum actually. in fear, you whine his name, eren trying his hardest to keep his focus, also close to his climax.

“i feel it, ‘ren. cum with me, cum in me please. i want it so bad. i need it.”

eren moans, whistling as he blew out air, laying you flat on your back so he could lift your left leg up to your chest, locking his forearm under the bend of it while removing the arm he had underneath your neck to hook under your belly, fingers touching the thigh he held up and beating his dick rougher into you. your head falls back, watching him as he watches you, tossing his head back and giving you all of him.

“f-fuck, baby. cum on it right now, please. be a good girl. know you got it,” his voice is shattering, balls thwacking on your clit, the head of his dick squishing deep on that spot that makes you gush out and coat his dick in your juices from every stroke.

“cu—mmin’, oooh, fuck yes. eren!”

sobs break out in waves, adoring the feeling of his cum streaking your inner walls as you cum as one. it’s emotional for you, crying in his face as he kisses you and swallows all the air from you. thanking him in whispers while eren rubs all over your body, unable to break apart from you. clutching your neck and deepening the kiss, his waist jumping as he gasps and shares this moment with you.

a week later you find yourself going into labor.

the entire process was unhurried, and extremely beautiful. eren held you the entire time, letting you dig your fingers into his arms and connecting your forehead with his, breathing you through it as rose rubbed your back. squatting into him comfortably as the warm water your body was submerged into along with the smell of herbs sprinkled around the floor and vanilla candles alleviated you. six contractions within an hour was how it started, your water breaking the moment you went to start your morning shower and yelling eren’s name in fright, staring at the water pooling around your feet.

he never moved so fast in his life. lifting you up and bringing you downstairs where he sat you on the couch with a towel and instructed you to breathe as he dialed the doula and midwife. they rushed here within fifteen minutes, and in that process eren blew up the birthing tub and filled it up so he could get you in as soon as possible. remembering to remind you to melt into the contractions instead of tensing since it’ll make them worse.

you told him you wanted to give birth while listening to destiny’s child, playing it on vinyl and humming along to the music currently. cater 2 u being your mental anthem. the room is dark, only candles lighting the area. eren makes sure to talk you through it, always good for that, ironically. speaking affirmations and praising you, until finally, your precious baby girl is born. with trembles and cries, rose and valeria gasp in excitement as your baby erupted in croaks and shrill cries, tears streaming down eren’s face as they place the baby on your chest so she could instantly hear your heartbeat.

weighing at six pounds and four ounces, she’s the perfect, tiny baby. caressing her fragile body as you weep and lay your cheek atop her head. eren’s sitting back on his feet, stun overcoming him as he sees the small human, coming to realize that the two of you could create such a magnificent thing. rose makes sure to give him some water, his eyes unable to leave the two of you. making eye contact, you gawk in astonishment, holding her miniature wrist between two of your fingers and waving at him.

“that’s daddy, he’s speechless right now. i promise he’s cool, and funny. you’re g’na have lots of laughs,” you speak softly, smiling wide.

he loves you, endlessly.

#꒰ ─── 𝓬𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓼.#eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x you #eren smut #aot smut #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren x y/n #snk smut

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satori-runa · 5 months ago

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—In the warmth

Summary: You are genuinely wondering why your captain doesn't show more skin despite Natlans hot temperatures.

Words: 0,6k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Natlan was quite the opposite of your home nation. The heat assaulted your body, forcing you to strip off your coat and minimize your movements before a heat stroke could knock you out in the middle of the mission.

Your hand barely created a cold breeze, no matter how hard you tried to wave it in front of your face to generate even the tiniest bit of fresh air. You could swear the air wasn't even moving; it was just warm and stuffy, even out in nature.

The only one unaffected by the oppressive climate was the captain himself. He still wore that large black coat lined with fur and heavy chains. His stance showed no sign of discomfort, indicating that he wasn’t affected like you or the others. In fact, he maintained his usual behaviour. It really irritated you—he didn’t shed a single piece of armour, didn’t roll up his sleeves, and never took off that giant coat in front of the team. Whenever you approached him to ask if he wasn’t hot, he would simply say, no, he wasn’t.

"If you need a break in this weather, you can take it." his deep voice told you. He shifted the focus from your concern for him directly back to you, like a mirror. After all, he knew you weren’t truly worried about him suffering in the heat. You were just curious to see even a little bit of his skin.

"I'll manage, but I appreciate the offer, Captain. I can’t slack off while the others are working so hard to set up the rest of the camp."

There was a hint of disappointment beneath your layer of gratitude, but he chose not to address it.

Later that night, Capitano sat alone by the campfire, his gaze directed toward the ground. He had sensed you nearby a while ago but said nothing as you approached his tall form. The heat of the nation was even worse at night, especially in a place like this, which only added to your irritation upon seeing the Captain seated in front of a fire.

"You should at least take off your mask." you finally said, breaking the silence. A few seconds passed before he responded. "There is no need." Of course, he wouldn’t, if he had wanted to, he would have done so long ago, even without your prompting. "I’m curious." There it was, the sheer honesty you had tried to mask with concern before. It made him chuckle. He liked that side of you.

Capitano and you had known each other for years. You were a loyal member of his regular troupe, yet you didn’t know him well. And still, he chose to trust you. His hands slowly lifted, removing the helmet and the mask that covered his face.

There he was, illuminated by the warm fire. His eyes were like stars, shining and deep, staring right through you with an expression that could be described as curiosity. His raven hair fell perfectly into place, framing his face and accentuating his features. But what caught your attention most was the rotting dark part—it looked strange, inhuman, more like it was tainted by the Abyss. It exposed part of his teeth, and yet, oddly, it suited him.

"I know what you’re thinking." He huffed, moving to put the helmet back on, but your hand caught his wrist just in time to stop him.

"The air feels good without the extra layer, right, Capitano?" He glanced at you, and all he could see was your genuine smile, no fear, no disgust, just radiant joy that burned in his chest more than Natlan’s heat ever could.

"It does."

#⊹₊⟡⋆satori.speaks #⊹₊⟡⋆writings #genshin impact #genshin capitano #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #capitano x reader #capitano #genshin impact x reader

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greengoblinswifey · 4 months ago

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When I Met you in that Hotel Room- Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you meet Nicholas Chavez during a solo vacation at a hotel pool. your flirtation quickly escalates into a passionate night together in his hotel room.

warnings— explicit content. unprotected sex, daddy kink, degrading kink, praise kink, ass slapping, possessive!nicholas, reader has a clit piercing, creampie, cockwarming, rough sex, oral(f receiving)

You had been enjoying the peace and quiet of your solo vacation. It was your second day at the hotel, a much needed break from everything at home. That night, after a day of exploring, you decided a swim was exactly what you needed before heading to bed. Wearing nothing but your bikini, you grabbed a towel and made your way to the pool.

As you walked through the hotel hallways, you stopped to take a selfie. The lighting was perfect, and the glow in the hallway made your caramel skin look radiant. You snapped the picture and sent it off to your little sister. She’d be thrilled to see you finally taking some time for yourself. Moments later, you felt your phone buzz in your hand, but before you could check it, you noticed a guy walking in the same direction as you.

He wasn’t bad-looking, in fact, he was really attractive, and you noticed he was glancing at you. He was tall, with brown eyes, and as you caught his gaze, you could tell he was checking you out. It wasn’t creepy, though. He seemed, intrigued. His eyes trailed over your body in your bikini, but he wasn’t being sleazy about it. You chuckled to yourself, rolling your eyes slightly.

“Not to be that creepy guy at the hotel, but you’re really beautiful,” he said with a sheepish grin, his voice deep and smooth.

“Well, you’re a little less creepy now that you’ve said that,” you teased back, trying to play it cool even though his compliment made your heart race a bit.

You both realized you were heading the same way and fell into step together. As you approached the elevator, you noticed how close he was standing to you, the air between you buzzing with an odd, electric tension. He was definitely throwing glances your way, and as the elevator doors closed behind you, it felt impossible to ignore.

You stared at the floor, trying to keep your cool. To break the awkward silence, you glanced at your phone, where a flurry of messages from your sister had come through. You furrowed your brow, confused as to why she had texted you so frantically.

Sis, OMG, do you know who that is?!

That’s Nicholas Chavez!!!

PLEASE ask for a picture!

You frowned, not immediately recognizing the name. Who was Nicholas Chavez? Before you could piece it together, another message from your sister came through with a TikTok link. You clicked it, and to your shock, it was an edit, a fan video of the man standing right next to you. The very same Nicholas Chavez. And oh my God, he was an actor? A famous one, apparently.

Your eyes widened, but you forced yourself to stay composed. You didn’t want to freak out or fangirl. In fact, you hadn’t even heard of him until just now. Instead of saying anything, you put your phone away and focused on the present moment.

When you arrived at the pool, you dropped your towel on a nearby chair and took off your robe, revealing your bikini-clad body. As you stepped toward the water, you heard a sharp intake of breath behind you. You turned to see Nicholas, Nicholas Chavez, you reminded yourself, standing still, his eyes fixed on you. He was clearly trying hard not to stare, but his gaze kept drifting over your figure.

You smirked at his reaction and chuckled softly. “See something you like?” you teased, your confidence boosted by the way he was looking at you.

Nicholas flushed a little and quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before finally taking off his shirt. And holy shit, he was hiding all that muscle under there? Your mouth went dry as you stared at him, your heart racing. His body was even better than the TikTok edits had let on. You could feel the heat between your legs growing at the sight, and you mentally cursed yourself. Not now, you thought, trying to get a grip.

You both slipped into the pool, swimming to opposite ends. The cool water did nothing to calm the heat between your thighs. As you floated there in silence, Nicholas spoke up.

“I’m Nicholas, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Nicholas. I’m Y/N,” you replied, your voice carrying softly across the water.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he said, his voice sounding sincere as he moved a little closer, cutting the distance between you.

You smiled softly, feeling a strange connection beginning to form between you two. There was something about him, beyond the fact that he was famous, that was pulling you in. The chemistry, it was all there, simmering beneath the surface.

The water felt cool against your skin, but the heat between you and Nicholas was undeniable. You stood there, trading glances, eyes locked, neither of you willing to break the tension. He moved closer, his body cutting through the water with an effortless grace. You could feel your heart beating faster with every step he took toward you.

When he finally reached you, his hand gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel the heat rising in your chest. His gaze dropped down to your lips, and instinctively, your eyes flickered to his.

God, kiss me already, you screamed internally, your breath catching in your throat. He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours, but he stopped himself. You could feel his breath against your skin, and the tension was nearly unbearable.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, his voice husky, filled with restraint.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. But before he could make the move, you grabbed the waistband of his swim trunks, pulling him in, your back pressing against the pool wall. The space between you vanished as his lips found yours, slow and deliberate. The kiss was deep, full of need but laced with patience, as if he wanted to savor every second.

You let out a soft moan against his mouth, and that sound seemed to do it. His body pressed into yours, wet skin sliding together as you reached up to grip his hair, pulling him in closer. The kiss intensified, deeper, hungrier, as you devoured each other. His lips moved against yours in perfect sync, the taste of chlorine and desire mixing together. You couldn’t get enough.

Nicholas groaned as your bodies molded together, your hands tangling in his damp hair, and you tugged him closer, wanting more, needing more. His hands found your waist, gripping tightly as he pushed his hips against yours, leaving you breathless.

Finally, you both pulled away, gasping for air, eyes searching each other. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

"Do you want to come up to my room?" he asked, his voice low, filled with urgency.

You hesitated for just a moment, your pulse racing as the weight of his words settled over you. But the way he looked at you, the way his lips were still swollen from your kiss, made it impossible to say no.

“God yes,” you whispered, nodding.

Without another word, you both grabbed your towels, hurriedly drying yourselves off as you made your way to the elevator. The air between you buzzed with excitement, anticipation simmering. You could barely keep your hands off each other as you rushed inside.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Nicholas had you up against the wall. His hands were on either side of your head as he kissed you again, this time with a ferocity that sent a surge of heat through your body. You groaned into his mouth, and he responded by slipping his hands under your ass, lifting you effortlessly. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him, locking your ankles behind his back.

You could feel the hardness of his bulge pressing between your legs as he pinned you to the wall, his body grinding against yours. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses, and you let out a breathless moan as you tilted your head back, giving him more access. His hands gripped your ass tighter, pulling you closer as you rolled your hips against him, feeling the heat of his arousal through your swimsuit.

“Fuck,” Nicholas groaned against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “You’re driving me crazy.”

You grinned, tugging at his hair, bringing his lips back to yours. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” you teased, your voice breathy as you ground against him harder.

His hips bucked against yours, and you could feel the rough fabric of his swim trunks pressing against your core, and it only made you want him more.

“I’m gonna do a lot more than that,” he growled, his lips crashing against yours once more, leaving you dizzy with need.

The elevator dinged, signaling that you had reached your floor. He didn’t even wait for the doors to open fully before he carried you out, still kissing you as if he couldn’t get enough. You were breathless, panting against his mouth as he carried you down the hall to his room. The door clicked open, and you both stumbled inside, the tension only growing with every second.

He set you down just long enough to rip off his swim trunks. The sight of him, of his sculpted, wet body, made your knees weak, and you bit your lip, trying to suppress a groan. His hands were back on you in an instant, pulling you to him as he kissed you hard, backing you up toward the bed.

Nicholas gazed at you, his eyes dark with desire as he pulled your bikini top aside. His hands gently caressed your breasts, and he let out a soft groan. “Your tits are perfect, your whole body is perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, feeling your cheeks flush from both his words and the heat radiating between your bodies. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, a laugh bubbling from your throat as the tension momentarily lightened. He chuckled softly with you, but it quickly faded into another passionate kiss.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, sucking and biting as he left marks on your skin. Each graze of his teeth sent shivers through your body, and your moans grew louder when he reached your breasts, his mouth closing around one of your nipples. The sensation made you arch into him, hands gripping his hair as you held him against you.

Nicholas wasn’t done. His kisses traveled lower, leaving a trail as he moved down your stomach. His lips brushed over your navel piercing, and then lower still, to your bikini bottoms. You bit your lip, anticipation building as you watched him.

He pulled the straps of your bikini bottom down with deliberate slowness, revealing more of you. The moment his eyes landed on your clit piercing, his breath hitched audibly. He looked up at you, eyes blazing with lust.

“Fuck,” he swore, licking his lips. “Like I said, you’re so beautiful, so fucking sexy.” His voice was low, almost a growl. “After tonight, no one’s gonna see that pretty pussy,” he paused, his fingers brushing over your clit piercing, sending a spark of pleasure through you, “or that fucking clit piercing. Only I will.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a wave of arousal through you, and you bit your lip, already dripping with need. His words were enough to make your body pulse with desire, but you had no time to react before his mouth was on you.

He wasted no time, his lips pressing against your core, tongue darting out to taste you. The moment his tongue flicked over your clit, you gasped, your back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through your body. He worked you with expert precision, alternating between long, slow licks and fast, teasing flicks of his tongue over your piercing. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself growing wetter with every second.

Your hands found his hair, tugging him closer as you bucked your hips against his face. “Oh fuck, daddy,” you moaned without thinking, and the moment the word left your lips, he groaned into your pussy.

His tongue worked even faster, and he pulled back just long enough to look up at you, his chin glistening with your arousal. “You little slut,” he growled, eyes dark with lust. “Calling me daddy, making a stranger eat your pussy? You like that, don’t you?”

You whimpered, the words sending a thrill through your entire body. “Yes, oh, fuck, yes,” you panted, not even caring how desperate you sounded.

He grinned, the smug look on his face making your heart race. “Good girl,” he purred, before diving back in. His tongue circled your clit relentlessly, and your moans grew louder as you felt the pressure building inside you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you like a man starved, and all you could do was writhe beneath him, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Fuck, daddy, m’ so close,” you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper.

He growled again, and the vibrations sent you over the edge. With one final flick of his tongue, the tension snapped, and you came undone beneath him, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

“Cum for me, baby,” Nicholas whispered against your pussy, and you cried out as your orgasm rippled through you, your thighs shaking as he worked you through it.

As your breathing slowly evened out, he pulled back, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I told you… only I get to see that,” he murmured, his voice full of possessive satisfaction.

You lay there, panting, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. But even in your blissed-out state, you managed to smirk up at him.

“Maybe, daddy,” you teased, “if you’re lucky.”

Nicholas smirked at you, eyes dark with lust. “Oh, if I’m lucky?” he echoed, his voice dripping with dominance. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “If I’m fucking lucky? No, I said no one else gets to see you like this.”

His hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, ruin every other man for you,” he growled. “Ruin you for every other man.”

His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper as his eyes raked over you. “I’d let you suck my cock like the whore you are, make you swallow every drop of my cum, have it simmer inside you,” His fingers lightly brushed over your trembling body. “But I need that sexy little pussy first.”

You watched as he reached to grab a condom, but you quickly stopped him, breathless. “I’m on the pill,” you whispered, biting your lip. His reaction was immediate.

His grin widened, eyes gleaming with excitement as he tossed the condom aside. “Fuck yes,” he growled, and before you could react, his hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing too hard, but enough to make your pulse race. He dragged his tongue up the side of your face, groaning like a man possessed. “I’m gonna fuck you raw, baby. You’re mine.”

You shivered as he positioned himself, the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes widened when you looked down, suddenly realizing just how big he was. You hesitated, a flicker of nervousness crossing your face. He noticed and paused, leaning down to kiss you softly, his lips gentle against yours. “It’ll fit, baby,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “I’ll take care of you.”

Before you could respond, he thrust the tip inside you, and the feeling had your back arching instantly, a loud scream escaping your lips. The stretch was overwhelming, filling you in ways you hadn’t imagined.

“I know, baby, I know,” he soothed, his voice deep and husky as he kissed along your neck. “It’s okay, you can take daddy’s cock. Be a good slut and take it for me.”

You nodded quickly, your breath shaky as your legs trembled. His hands gripped your thighs, pinning your legs behind your head, spreading you wide for him. The position gave him deeper access, and you gasped as he slid further inside, filling you completely. His cock throbbed inside you, every inch making you feel deliciously full.

He didn’t stop there. With a low groan, he started to move, thrusting deep and hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. His hand moved down between your legs, fingers expertly rubbing your clit, the piercing catching the pads of his fingers. The combination of his cock and the relentless stimulation of your clit was almost too much.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled, his hips moving faster. “This pussy was made for me, only me. No one else is gonna fuck you like this.”

You moaned loudly, your body trembling beneath him as the pressure built inside you. “Daddy!” you gasped, your hands gripping his arms tightly.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his thumb brushing over your piercing again, sending jolts of pleasure through you. “Cum for me. Be a good slut and cum for daddy.”

Your legs shook violently, and you felt the tight knot in your core finally unravel. With a loud cry, you came hard around his cock, your pussy clenching tight as waves of pleasure washed over you. He groaned loudly, thrusting deeper into you, riding out your orgasm as you trembled beneath him.

“Good girl,” he muttered, watching your body convulse from pleasure, his fingers still teasing your oversensitive clit. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Nicholas kissed your neck again, his lips trailing down your skin, sending shivers all over. Without warning, he lifted you properly, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. With one powerful thrust, he slammed you onto his thick cock, the sudden stretch making you gasp loudly.

“Oh my god,” you moaned breathlessly.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your ear. “Not God, baby. Me,” he growled, gripping you tighter. “Your daddy. I’m the one fucking this pussy. My pussy.”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer, as he held you there, trembling. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, stretching you out, filling you to the brim. Slowly at first, he started moving, lifting you up and slamming you back down on his cock. Every powerful thrust made your body jolt, your voice growing louder with each movement.

“Daddy,” you screamed, grinding against him, desperate for more. His thrusts grew faster, more intense, and you felt yourself nearing that familiar edge, your body trembling uncontrollably.

“Fuck, yes, grind on me, baby,” he panted, slamming you harder onto his cock. Your body responded, and before you could even speak, the pressure inside you erupted. You screamed, your entire body shaking as you squirted all over him, your juices splashing down his abs and dripping down his legs.

He groaned in pleasure, looking down at you with a grin. “Such a good girl,” he rasped. “Such a dirty little slut, squirting from a stranger fucking you.”

Your breath was still shaky, but he wasn’t done. He placed you down on the bed, but before you could even arch your back, he grabbed your legs. Your body hovered off the bed, only your upper half resting against the mattress, and he positioned himself behind you. Without hesitation, he thrust deep inside, slamming into you relentlessly.

You screamed in pleasure, feeling him reach so deep inside you, your moans echoing through the room. “Does daddy’s dick feel good?” he growled, slapping your ass roughly, his grip on your hips tight.

“Yes, daddy! Fuck me harder,” you begged, your voice barely coherent through the pleasure.

He responded with even deeper, rougher thrusts, his cock hitting all the right spots. You moaned louder, overwhelmed by the intense sensation, your body rocking with each thrust. When he slapped your ass again, you couldn’t hold back, and your body exploded once more, creaming all over his cock as another orgasm tore through you.

He groaned, his pace faltering as he followed right behind you, his thrusts becoming erratic. You felt the warmth of his cum filling you up, spilling deep inside, making you tremble in pleasure as your body relaxed.

Nicholas collapsed onto the bed, pulling you on top of him, your bodies still connected as he cockwarmed you. His hands gently cupped your tear-streaked cheeks, his lips brushing over them. “You did so good, baby,” he whispered, his voice soft now. “You’re so beautiful.”

You let out a soft hum, snuggling into his chest, feeling completely blissed out. He shifted, smiling. “I should clean you up,” he offered, his hand brushing gently over your back.

You shook your head, sighing contently. “I just want to cuddle.”

He laughed softly, pulling you closer. “Alright, baby. But we’re getting up early,” he said with a smile, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “I want to do this right. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

You smiled, feeling warmth spread through your chest, the perfect end to a wild night. You soon drifted off in his arms but not before snapping the picture your sister asked for. You had to turn on DND to silence the frantic messages she sent as soon as she saw the picture.

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