#several of them i think are likely really

[amelia-yap]

an idea that came to me this afternoon lol

[embbarnes]

Just As You Are. | B.B

summary: He tries his best for Valentine's Day.

warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | Fluff | CW!Bucky x Fem!reader | Cunnilingus | PiV sex | Light dirty talk | Unprotected sex | Slightly insecure Bucky

a/n: I'm not big into Valentine's Day just because it feels very commercialized to me, but I like imagining it with Bucky. This plot changed so many times lmao but I think I am satisfied with how this turned out. If you're allergic to strawberries, just imagine a different fruit. Not beta read. ;; wc: 4.2k

Bucky stood motionless in the bustling store, his steely eyes fixed with a deep frown upon the endless aisle dedicated to Valentine's Day merchandise.

He didn't remember it being so...big back in the day. The sheer volume of products and options left him feeling completely overwhelmed, his mind drifting back to simpler times when a thoughtful bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolate were considered more than acceptable tokens of affection for your sweetheart.

Now, he watched as frantic shoppers rushed past him, their arms laden with elaborate bouquets, towers of candy boxes, and enormous stuffed bears that seemed to grow more ridiculously sized with each passing year.

There were some shoppers who took a different approach, selecting items for personalized gift baskets filled with practical things like cozy socks or fragrant bath bombs. That seemed more personalized with his old-fashioned sensibilities, but you weren't particularly fond of long soaks in the tub, making that option feel somehow inadequate.

A wave of insecurity washed over him unexpectedly. Despite knowing that you had never once demonstrated materialistic tendencies or pressured him for presents, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he should be showering you with gifts. Traditional values ingrained in him insisted that as the man in the relationship, this was his role to fulfill. His heart warmed slightly at the mental image of you beaming with delight over an armful of fresh flowers or savoring each piece from a velvet-lined, heart-shaped box of premium, ridiculously expensive chocolates.

Truthfully, he felt completely lost about what would be the perfect gift for you. The confident, charming young man he used to be - the one who could effortlessly capture a lady's attention with just a well-timed smile or clever word - seemed like a stranger from another lifetime. These days, the gazes that would drift to him were filled with suspicion and barely concealed hostility.

Defeated and increasingly anxious, Bucky turned away from the crowded store aisle, his mind spinning with uncertainty as he struggled to think of what to get you for this special occasion. As he made his way through the bustling shop, he passed by an enthusiastic florist who was eagerly displaying enormous bouquets of perfectly arranged, vibrant red roses.

The vendor was encouraging every passing customer to purchase one, his sales pitch well-rehearsed and persistent. The sight made Bucky recall a conversation from several months ago, where you had expressed your views on traditional romantic gestures. You explained that while roses were undeniably a sweet and romantic gesture, they felt somewhat predictable and conventional to you. Too ordinary, you had said, preferring instead gifts that showed genuine thought and consideration.

"Sure, roses are beautiful. I think they're a wonderful gift for birthdays or valentine's, whatever. But...I don't know. Everyone gets roses. I would be happy but it would also sort of feel like you didn't really try, since they're so abundant and common. It makes them feel less special. Hopefully that doesn't make me sound snobbish. I'd rather get a more personalized bouquet or...one with my favorite flowers instead." You glanced up at Bucky who was nodding and listening, remembering, for later.

Though the roses were beautiful, their pristine petals catching the store's fluorescent lighting to aid in their deep crimson coloration, Bucky could practically envision the polite but slightly underwhelmed expression that would cross your face if he chose such a common option.

Plus...why were flowers so expensive these days? A dozen roses for almost a hundred dollars? The modern pricing was ridiculous - back in his day, that kind of money could have bought several weeks' worth of groceries. Besides, a lot of the bouquets contained wilted flowers. If he got you a bouquet, each and every flower would be alive and well.

He didn't want to leave without getting you something special, something that would bring a genuine smile to your face. He stood there for several long moments, running his flesh hand through his hair as he considered what kind of gift would truly resonate with you, something that would perfectly balance thoughtfulness with appropriateness while still managing to surprise you.

After spending what felt like hours wandering through the store's aisles and watching other men pick the big red hearts off the shelves without a second thought, he began to carefully examine each heart-shaped box of chocolates, reading every label and ingredient list to ensure he found the exact type of varieties you had mentioned loving. Finally satisfied with a winner, he put it in the basket he grabbed.

Moving through the store, he made his way to the stuffed animal section, where he spent considerable time comparing different plush versions of your favorite animal, wanting to select the one with the perfect expression and the softest fur. That one looked too grumpy, that one looked lopsided, that one wasn’t proportioned right - but he found the perfect one.

Then rather than settling for a pre-arranged bouquet, he thoughtfully handpicked each individual flower, remembering all the times you had pointed out different blooms during your walks together, creating a personalized arrangement that represented all your favorites. Even with the care and attention he put into each gift selection, a nagging feeling of inadequacy crept in - everything he chose, while thoughtful, still felt too ordinary.

Bucky shook his head and paid for the items, ignoring the feeling.

Back at home, he arranged everything perfectly. He individually wrapped each item, positioning them precisely in the basket alongside the plush animal and chocolates. Taking his time with the flowers, he trimmed each stem at exactly the right angle and arranged them in the vase until the composition was just right. When Bucky finally stepped back to assess his work, his heart sank slightly, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

The entire arrangement somehow still didn't feel special or unique enough.

Alpine gracefully leapt onto the counter, her blue eyes focusing intently on the array of gifts laid out. She lowered her head, her pink nose twitching as she investigated each item curiously. "What do you think, girl...good enough?" Bucky asked softly, his fingers running through the ragdoll's silky fur as he gently stroked from her head down along her back.

After her inspection, Alpine cast one final, contemplative glance at the presents. Then, with typical cat-like indifference, she turned away from them, her fluffy tail held high like a banner as she delicately padded across the counter to the edge, and descended to the floor with one smooth leap.

"Bad, huh?" Bucky released a heavy sigh, his eyes lingering on the carefully chosen gifts as waves of uncertainty began to wash over him, his anxiety gradually creeping in and eating away at him.

He didn't have more time to wrestle with his uncertainties as the sound of keys jingling at the front door caught his attention. You made your entrance quicker than he had anticipated, your exhausted form slowly making its way through the doorway after what was clearly an demanding day at work. You kicked off your shoes in a haphazard manner, letting them land wherever they might. The weariness etched across your features told him everything he needed to know about the challenging nature of your workday.

"Hey," Bucky offered in greeting as he made his way over to you in the entryway, his mind racing as he tried to keep you from noticing the carefully prepared gifts just yet. Perhaps if he could buy himself a little more time, he might figure out something better to give you than the basic gifts.

A soft, tired grumble was all you could muster in response, though the gentle warmth in his eyes worked its magic in lifting your spirits considerably. "Hey..." you murmured an actual response, crossing the space between you to wrap your arms around his sturdy frame. He gladly hugged you back, letting you bury yourself against him.

The thought of spending the entire day at home with him had been your secret wish throughout your shift, but responsibilities couldn't be ignored. He had promised to make the evening special, and that thought alone helped you persevere through the long hours of your workday.

Bucky thought fast, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze with those intense steel-blue eyes. "How about a hot bath? I can get one ready for you, make it nice and warm - it'll be perfect for those sore muscles of yours...plus, I know you’ve been on your feet all day." He offered gently, his flesh hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face. A playful smirk slowly spread across his lips as he added, "I could even feed you some fresh strawberries while you relax..."

"Ugh, that sounds so heavenly right now..." You agreed with a soft, appreciative moan, already imagining the soothing warmth of the water and the sweet taste of cool fruit.

Bucky made his way to the bathroom, wanting to create the perfect relaxing atmosphere for you after your long day. He tested the water temperature with his flesh hand until it reached that ideal warmth you always preferred, then clogged the drain.

While the tub filled, he selected your favorite aromatherapy soap, watching as it created billowing clouds of soft, luxurious bubbles that released that soothing scent you loved so much. He also scattered rose petals across the surface - special ones he had purchased with your other gifts. They would slowly dissolve into the water, but for now they created a nice, romantic display as they rested atop the peaks of foam.

In the bedroom, you gradually shed your work uniform, letting each piece fall away with relief before walking into the bathroom to meet him. He remained unaware of your presence for a moment until he turned, and when he did, he took the chance to admire you. Bucky rose up to his full height and approached you, his hands finding their familiar place on your hips. "You're so beautiful, doll..." he murmured, his voice full of affection as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek, before adding, "Bath's all ready..."

"It looks perfect," you replied in an equally soft and tired tone, carefully stepping into the steaming bath water and sinking down with a contented moan.

God, it felt absolutely amazing - after countless exhausting days of non-stop work, your muscles were crying out for relief. Your back and neck were especially sore from hunching over your desk for hours on end. The perfectly heated water enveloped your body like a warm hug, melting away the tension and aches that had built up over time. The chosen aromatherapy oils filled the air with a soothing blend of lavender and eucalyptus that relaxed you even further.

"Thank you, Bucky... this is... exactly what I needed," you mumbled appreciatively, slowly sinking lower into the luxurious bath until the fragrant bubble clouds rose around your shoulders like a soft blanket.

Bucky's lip quirked up with a gentle, knowing smile as he reached for a plump strawberry from the delicate pink crystal bowl beside the tub. His eyes sparkled with affection as he held the fruit up teasingly, "Of course doll... now open wide~"

"Tease," you said playfully, leaning for the strawberry he held between his fingers. You gladly accepted the offering, letting your lips brush against the plump, red fruit before taking a delicate bite. The sweetness burst across your tongue as you savored each moment, watching his expression intently. Unable to resist the temptation, you gently caught his finger between your lips, your tongue darting out to taste the lingering juice - a deliberately cheeky move to provoke a reaction.

Bucky's eyes darkened as he watched you, a knowing smile spreading slowly across his face. His fingers twitched slightly at the sensation of your tongue, and he leaned in closer. "Don't start something you can't finish, doll..." he warned in a low, honeyed voice that made you shiver, even in the steaming water. "You know exactly what'll happen. Besides, it's Valentine's Day..." He reached out to trace your jawline with his thumb, his touch feather-light and promising. "...I'll make it all about you..."

You couldn't resist the temptation that coursed through you, causing you to slowly emerge from the water just enough to delicately capture his hand between your teeth and deliver a playful nip. Your lips ghosted across his wrist and laid a kiss, "I think I wanna see what you mean..."

That's how you ended up on the bed with his face between your legs.

Your swollen, sensitive pussy being devoured by the soldier keeping your legs spread open. His tongue flatly lapped at you before he would encase your delicate clit in his lips and desperately suckle. The alternating movements kept you close enough to the brink of orgasm, but he wouldn't let you finish all the way yet.

"Bucky! Pl-please," you cried out desperately as he suctioned to your throbbing clit once more, his skilled tongue working magic against your sensitive bud. Your trembling hands clung tightly to the twisted sheets below your hips, your knuckles turning white from the intensity of your grip. Your cheeks were deeply flushed as tears of pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

It felt so fucking good - Bucky always dove into you like a starved man who hadn't tasted such sweetness in decades, you were a fruit from Eden and he wouldn’t stop until he has had all of you.

Which was kind of true, until you two had started dating and everything changed. Over time, he gradually gained the confidence he needed, becoming more and more comfortable with engaging in intimate acts. The hesitation that had once held him back melted away completely, and once that newfound bravado took over, he became a passionate and attentive lover who knew exactly how to make you come undone.

Bucky growled against you, tugging you even closer as he kept his face against your folds and lapped at you repeatedly. His eyes would peek at your expression from time to time, but he mostly kept them closed, purely focusing on your taste. So sweet and delectable, you were his favorite thing to lap up and devour. He never wanted to stop. This was his favorite thing ever. Being the source of your pleasure and hearing how you whined and squirmed underneath him.

"Come for me, baby...come on. Give it to me." He muffled against you as his tongue continued to move up and down with his repetitive licks, getting your juices and making sure to run over that swollen bud.

Fuck, you were. You were going to.

You moaned loudly as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, the tense burning sensation gradually building deep in your belly while your legs trembled uncontrollably. Bucky kept a firm hold on your legs, keeping himself buried in your pussy as he continued his feast. Heat radiated outward as you began to feel your nerves come alive, electric sensations traveling from your core and flowing down through your limbs to the tips of your fingers and toes. The pressure continued mounting until finally, everything began slowly blossoming and unwinding into an overwhelming, desperate climax.

When he pulled away from your folds, his face and dark scruff were thoroughly soaked with your juices. The smug, satisfied bastard slowly licked his lips and began climbing over your shaking body, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses from your sensitive belly all the way up to the crook of your neck. "Y'r so soft...god, I love every inch of you," he whispered in that husky, desire-laden voice as his lips grazed the shell of your ear.

"Bucky..." You whined needily, the desperate tone in your voice betraying just how affected you were, but you couldn't bring yourself to care - you were absolutely burning with desire for him. The delicious scratching sensation of his rough scruff against your skin felt absolutely divine, and you couldn't help but nuzzle your cheek against his strong jaw, seeking more of that friction. Your responsive action drew a knowing smile from Bucky as he pressed his body more firmly against yours, allowing his head to respond to your pressure and reaching his hand down to carefully position himself against you.

"Easy, my beautiful girl...I promise I'll give you everything you want and need. My perfect doll...just lay still for me, just like that...looking so gorgeous spread out underneath me..." He praised in that gentle, soothing voice that you normally adored, but in your current state of desperate arousal, his sweet words only served to turn you on even more. Something about it drove you insane.

When he finally breached you, your body arched off the bed and your hands immediately grabbed onto him, mindful not to claw at his heavily scarred shoulder.

The moan that escaped from between your parted lips was abruptly silenced as he captured your mouth with his own. The lingering taste of your pleasure danced on his tongue as it skillfully glided past your own, delving deeper to thoroughly explore every corner of your mouth. A deep, resonant hum of satisfaction rumbled in the soldier's chest and vibrated against your lips as he pressed into the kiss with mounting intensity, perfectly matching the quickening rhythm of the increasingly passionate snaps his hips made against you.

The gentle slapping that filled the room was drowned out by your cries of unison - the two of you spewing groans and moans of all kinds as his cockhead repeatedly kissed your cervix and coated it with his precum. The gummy walls of your tight cunt continued to squeeze and massage his cock with each little movement you made squirming beneath him and listening to his lower pitched sounds of pleasure.

"Bucky...ah, feels so good...feel so full," you whined and fell back onto the sheets, ignoring the gentle bulge that appeared beneath your skin each time he hilted himself inside you.

"So perfect for me, doll...made for me, made for my cock," he whispered with reverence, his voice thick and heavy. He leaned down, pressing hard, passionate kisses against your neck, which you willingly allowed. You tilted your head back, exposing more of your sensitive skin to him as he skillfully left a trail of bites and gentle purple bruises blooming across your flesh.

Prettier than any of those damned flowers he saw today.

"R'member when I bit all over you... 'round Christmas? I was so lost and confused back then and..nngh...all I knew was you. All I could think about was you. All I ever wanted was you...completely all to myself..." His voice came out rough and broken between desperate grunts as his hips pistoned at an increasingly frantic pace, his movements becoming more urgent with each thrust.

"Ah, yes...I remember it...you were so needy," You gasped breathlessly, a small knowing chuckle escaping your lips as you eagerly took him harder.

"Now look who's being needy...f-feel you squeezing around me so tight..." Bucky hissed through clenched teeth as he pushed even deeper inside you, his thick cock swelling noticeably with his rapidly approaching orgasm.

"Come for me, Buck Buck...I want it inside. Want you to fill me up," You reached up to him, yearning for more, pulling him down closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. His silken hair cascaded down like a brilliant curtain, framing his face while he let out pants from slightly parted lips. The cool metal of his hand gripped firmly at the meat of your thigh, his touch both gentle and possessive, chilling the skin beneath it.

Bucky ducked his face down and pressed closer to you, a deep groan tore through his throat as his rapid thrusts finally stilled - you felt his thick member twitching inside you as he coated your pretty velvet walls in his cum. As his orgasm washed over him and made him thrust a few more times for good measure, the overwhelming sensation brought you to yours again.

You both panted, breathing heavily in unison as you relished in the feeling of him still tucked inside you, thick cum oozing out as you let out soft laughs together.

"That was absolutely incredible..." You breathed out in a contented sigh, your voice thick with emotion, "I love you so much..." Your lips tenderly found his in a series of gentle, loving pecks, while your fingers delicately traced patterns across his cheek, savoring the warmth of his skin.

"I love you too, babydoll. And actually, I have something special waiting for you in the kitchen..." He began, his eyes flickering towards the doorway. With a knowing smile, you gently guided his face back to yours, your fingers lingering on his jaw.

"Would that happen to be that beautiful arrangement of flowers and those decadent chocolates I spotted sat next to an adorable plushie?"

"Wait, what? How did you -"

"I saw the setup when you were preparing my bath earlier...sweetheart, you really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble. I feel terrible now." You propped yourself up slightly on your elbows, guilt evident in your voice. "Work has been so hectic lately, I didn't even manage to find time to get you anything..."

He drew you even closer into his warm embrace and gently rolled both of you onto your sides. As his softened length slipped free, you nearly whimpered at the loss of connection, you held the pout back for now. "Doll, you should know by now that I don't need fancy gifts or presents. What matters most to me is having you here, sharing these moments together.” He winked playfully before returning to a more serious tone, “You coming home to me is the greatest gift I could ask for. And you know what? The night's still young - we could curl up together and watch a movie, if you'd like..."

You smiled and nodded, letting out a soft chuckle. "That sounds wonderful, but I really think we should freshen up first...things got pretty messy and you made me feel all sticky." You whispered with a playful lilt in your voice, carefully lifting yourself from the tangled sheets. As you made your way towards the bathroom, your hips swayed flirtatiously, each step a teasing invitation. Pausing at the doorway, you glanced over your shoulder with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "C'mon baby...if you're good, I’ll do that thing you always like..."

His reaction was instantaneous.

Like a coiled spring suddenly released, Bucky leapt from the bed with the same sharp reflexes from his military days - every muscle alert and ready. His blue eyes darkened with desire as a roguish grin spread across his face. "Yes ma'am," he responded, voice husky with anticipation. In two swift strides, he crossed the room and swept you up into his strong arms, making you squeal and laugh with surprise, cradling you against his chest as he carried you eagerly toward the shower.

When your feet touched the cool tile of the bathroom floor, Bucky was already eagerly anticipating another passionate moment together, but you gently placed your hands against his firm chest, causing him to pause. Your eyes met his as you spoke softly but earnestly, "And just so you know, everything you got me was absolutely perfect. I love it all so much. You really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble - just spending the evening together would have been more than enough for me, but...everything you did get makes me feel so special. The arranged bouquet with all those beautiful flowers, the adorable plushie of my favorite animal, and those delicious chocolates...it's all too much. You are perfect."

Bucky felt an overwhelming wave of relief wash over him at your heartfelt words, the tension he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying suddenly melting away. His voice was tender, slightly hesitant as he responded, "O-oh... yeah, of course. I...I really wanted to make tonight special for you in every way possible. I picked all your favorite colors and included those specific flowers you always stop to admire during our walks together...and I made absolutely certain the chocolates only contained ingredients and flavors I know you enjoy...and found you a soft, cuddle buddy to keep you company when I have to be away." He ducked his head slightly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he added with endearing awkwardness, "Besides Alpine, of course."

"Yeah, whenever she's in one of her affectionate moods and decides it's snuggle time," you added with a gentle, warm chuckle, your eyes crinkling at the corners. He swore his heart beat faster each time he saw those delicate lines. "You are enough, Bucky." You gazed deeply into his eyes, taking in every flicker of emotion that passed through them, before offering him a tender, reassuring smile.

Your hand came up to cup his cheek as you leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, feeling the tension slowly melt away from his body as he relaxed against you. Drawing back just enough to meet his gaze again, you whispered to him with absolute conviction so he could feel the words as much as possible.

"You are always enough, and don't you ever doubt that for a second..."

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

What if They were Dads?

SUMMARY: Headcanons of what I think they would be like as fathers to your child. And what if his dormmates were like honorary uncles to the child?

CHARACTERS: OB Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia)

TAGS: Headcanon; Fem!Reader (AFAB) (I never really know what tags to use but I hope you know what I mean)

WORD COUNT: An average of 690 words per character.

COMMENTS: I would have liked to have made a headcanon about the relationship with the boys' parents and siblings, but since we don't know them that well or at all on the Eng Server like Vil's father, I think I'll leave that for a possible post that complements this one. If you want.

Since I didn't want each character to have a big chunk of text, I put them as paragraphs instead of bullet points.

I hope you enjoy 🩵

CONTEXT: This was written with a cisgender female reader in mind. Reader is Yuu. But if you want (and can) read it in any other way, feel free to.

By the way, this is one of those moments when I wish English had a second person plural, instead of the singular and plural being the same. Whenever I write “your child” I mean it in the plural (you, the reader, and his)

Riddle’s child(ren) call him: Father

Riddle has the same demands and standards for his child that he has for himself. But he doesn't want to make the same mistakes as his mother, so in comparison he can be more permissive. Because of this he will ALWAYS listen to you if you tell him he is being too harsh.

In terms of studies, etiquette and behaviour he is quite strict as you would expect. But when it comes to play he lets his child do almost anything they want.

He doesn't know how to play with his child, but he will always make an effort to learn how to and do it with them. He almost seems to regress to the childhood he never had and wants to give to his child. Whenever the child learns a new game, they will show it and teach it to Riddle and he will be delighted with it.

Although he is strict, he is also relatively protective, especially if your child is a girl. He tries not to be overly protective, but he can't help but worry about your child. If there was a right way to raise a child, is he doing his job well enough? You will have several conversations at first to reassure him that he is doing a good job.

He will study any and all parenting books that experts in child behaviour and education recommend. This kind of knowledge is never too much. Which often leads you to try to convince him to relax and just trust his instincts and what he feels is right. The child is his, not all those authors and experts. Sometimes there are things that a parent simply knows.

Lawful and calm Uncle Trey. They love uncle Trey's sweets! Sometimes Riddle asks him if he's not giving them too much sweets and Trey always assures him that it's okay because he knows how to make healthier sweets and the limit for a child to eat. If they weren't already Riddle's child, the whole thing about always brushing their teeth could be scary.

Chaotic Uncle Che'nya. The crazy and fun Uncle! Your child and Che'nya join forces (maybe even with you) to play pranks on Riddle. Never anything that could get the child into trouble with their father, just enough for everyone, Riddle included, to have fun.

Uncle Ace and Uncle Deuce are more from your side than Riddle's honestly. Ace is a bit like Che'nya in the case of being one of the chaotic pranksters uncles. But he is also the uncle of magic tricks who is always deceiving, but also entertaining your child with them.

Deuce is the rad uncle with a cool moto and/or even cooler blastcycle, who offers to take your child for a ride in it with him. Your child also finds it funny to see the two of them arguing amicably. But it’s even funnier to see them imitating their father trying to order them to stop arguing.

Uncle Cater doesn't show up very often, but they like him. He's not chaotic like Ace and Che'nya, but he's also fun. Your child enjoys receiving compliments from him and taking pictures with him.

Your child imitates their father scolding Grim too. Just like Riddle (and probably because they're still little) they have a very bad temper. Riddle gets embarrassed whenever you say that someone takes after their father.

Leona’s child(ren) call him: Dad

Leona still doesn't like kids... your child(ren) is/are just an exception.

Yes, Leona would treat a daughter slightly differently than he would treat a son. In the same way that he treats men and women a little differently. But the only difference is that he would be tougher on a son than a daughter, but will still be affectionate regardless.

No matter what gender his child is, he wants the same for them: be strong both physically and mentally. To outsiders like some servants or citizens who don't know him, they may get to the point of thinking Leona is a harsh father who doesn't deserve all that love from his child, and he will tell both you and your child not to mind that. But the truth is that he is just like he was with you at school: a tough guy who hides a caring heart.

Leona continues to show himself to be a person who doesn't want anyone to upset him and who would growl at anyone who bothers him. The only people who can get close to him even when he's angry and remain safe and sound are you and your child. He'll still growl at you and your child quietly, but there will be a volume that is the line, like if his growl is louder than that limit it's because he's getting really angry, until then it's just him being him.

Your child will already have the best private teachers and tutors (one of them being Kifaji/Neji if he’s still alive), but even so, Leona will want to make them study and learn more. But in that discreet way that he knows. He will not force them to study more, he will find a way to convince them to want to learn more on their own.

You end up being the most affectionate parent and the one they trust for emotional comfort. Leona is the tough love, you are the soft love (at least in comparison). Leona will always tease you, insinuating that you are too soft and only spoil your child. Although he enjoys when you spoil him too.

He is 100% the ‘Go ask your mom’ kind of dad.

He lets his child take naps with him. And you too.

If he has more than one child, he will police himself not to favor any of them. He may have a tendency to favor the younger ones because of what he went through as the youngest himself, but none of his children will be treated in any special/different way based on their birth order. Neither the youngest nor the oldest.

He will try to convince his child not to be too close (emotionally) to their uncle or cousin, but won't stop them from playing with Cheka. When your child is old enough not to tell others what is said in your home, Leona and them will talk badly about Falena and Cheka behind their backs.

Leona will prefer your child to play with Ruggie and/or his children. On the one hand, he wants to keep them away from his family, but on the other hand, he also wants his child to know what the real world is like, to see both wealth and poverty, to know royalty as they knows their people and only then create their own judgement.

They don't call anyone uncle or aunt other than Falena and his wife. In the same way, Leona also doesn't give cute titles to anyone without being sarcastically. Even when he calls you “love”, “darling”, “honey” or something like that, it's to tease you.

Whenever you go to Shaftlands, whether for democratic reasons or on holiday, you always try to find a way to meet with Jack. Leona pretends that he only helps you with this because you want to see your friend and he wants to get rid of his family. Both you and Jack know that he just doesn't want to admit that he wants to see him too. Jack is the cool parent's friend who taught your child how to snowboard. While they are little they like to hug his tail because it’s fluffy.

Despite everything, he doesn't want his child to have the same lack of hope that he has, and despite trying to hide it, he always feels extremely guilty and bad whenever your child says something like that. At these times he relies on you to be the ray hope in that house, they will both need you for that.

Both Leona and your child are afraid of you when you get really serious or angry.

Do you know that scene from The Lion King where Mufasa uses Zazu to give Simba an pouncing lesson? Leona often does something similar, but instead of the target being a blue bird, it's a magical creature called Grim.

Azul’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Azul is an extremely emotional father, despite trying to hide it. There's going to be a lot of moments like: “HE/SHE IS THE CUTEST LITTLE THING IN THE WHOLE- *clears throat* I mean, he/she is such a charming little child.” He will most likely cry at your baby's first words, steps, anything.

Azul is overprotective! If any living creature even thinks about harming your child, he will tortu- that is, find a completely legal way to ensure that it never happens again. Now, if you'll excuse him, he suddenly felt like talking to Jade and Floyd. (The same protectiveness applies to you.)

Although he is very (secretly) emotional and loves to spoil his child, he is also relatively strict about their studies. He likes to spoil them (and you) when it's deserved, but he will not raise a spoiled child! This ends up balancing things out a bit.

He will hide the whole mafia-like part of his life from his child. Dad is just doing business, boring adult stuff. Maybe when your child is older he will start to reveal a little of that side of his life, if they later want to join their father it will be their choice. But until then, let them be innocent children, they are cuter and happier that way, there is time for everything.

He will always hold back his emotional side so as not to be overly affectionate. Unless his child starts crying. At that point his mask falls completely and he becomes the most affectionate and comforting father there can be, that is his weakness.

And if one day the child realizes this and starts using crying to get what they want from him, he won't know whether to be angry that he is being emotionally manipulated by his own child, or proud that they learned so quickly.

You will be the only one immune to the fake crying.

From the beginning, Azul has been wary and suspicious of letting Jade and Floyd be like uncles to your child. However, you two ended up letting this happen, but Azul will always keep an eye open.

Both Jade and Floyd will definitely use the child to play pranks on Azul. Mostly Floyd, Jade prefers to watch and assist. Azul will always be upset with the twins, never with his child. And depending on the severity of the prank, he will turn on his overprotective side and threaten Jade and Floyd that if that happens again they will never see your child again. They never go beyond that limit.

Every now and then when Floyd plays with your child, he will do that joke where he playfully tells them he's going to catch them and bite them. Actually in his playful voice, he doesn't want to scare them. And they will run to Azul and hide behind his legs asking for help while laughing. Or tentacles if they are in their merfolk form.

If you ask them Jade is the scary uncle (only sometimes) but they themselves don't even know why. It's just his vibe or something. However, they are not afraid to ask any of them for something, it being to play or for help.

Azul loves cooking for you and your child, and they love their father's cooking.

You know those little plastic cashiers where kids pretend to have a little shop and try to sell things to people at home? Usually parents or sibling. Azul loves to play this with his child because it is a great and fun way to pass on his knowledge. Both about sales and about taking care of your money. Usually using the Grim as a guinea pig. Grim also likes to play because he always ends up with food in exchange for toy money.

Jamil’s child(ren) call him: Dad (in informal moments) and Father (at formal events)

Jamil needed to learn to express himself more and better emotionally so as not to end up being a cold father without meaning to. He needs your help to teach your child when to hold back and when to know when they are in a safe space to let go.

The only thing that will follow Jamil forever is an inevitable feeling of guilt for your child having the same fate as him, simply for being his child: serving the Al-Asim family with no other choice. But you can be assured that if there is a way to stop this and give his child freedom of choice, whatever that method may be, he will not give up until he finds it and do it! Normally parents want to give their children what they always wanted and could never have, in Jamil's case it’s freedom.

There was something Jamil wanted to do, but he didn't have the courage to ask the Al-Asim for some kind of vacation. But you had! Using your great friendship with Kalim, you managed to get him to allow you to take a vacation long enough for you to travel as a family, as Jmail wanted. Jamil has always wanted to travel alone, but now with you and your child he would like to travel as a family and give his child the experiences he would have liked to have had himself.

He is quite demanding with his child's education and training. However, his attitude towards this is always calm and collected, and he is attentive to his child's limitations and needs. He is a great and responsible tutor, who knows how to distinguish between being a teacher and being a father.

He is usually quite serious, so you and your child are the ones who start messing with him to have fun and make him laugh. It's always nice when he reminds you two that he can also be a tease. Normal or biggest target of your joint teasing ends up being Grim at some point.

During his work as Kalim's servant, Jamil always had to cook a lot and he's not that big a fan of cooking, so so he can rest at home you're the one who cooks most of the time. He will teach you everything you want to learn and at first you will cook together a lot until you feel comfortable cooking alone. But even then he will continue to offer to help you. Your child will continue to say that Jamil's food is tastier, but yours is prettier. And the food you make together is the best because it’s tasty and pretty. Jamil will also encourage his child to cook with you two so that they can learn from a young age.

His child knows that there is only one thing in this world that can make their father scream in fear: Bugs! If your child is also afraid of insects, you're screwed, because you will be the insect killer in that house. However, if it is just the two of them, Jamil's protective instinct will be stronger and despite his fear he will protect his child. If your child is not afraid of insects, then Jamil will have two protectors. “Can you do dad a favor?”; “Where is it?”; “Living room, south wall last time I saw.”; “Does it fly?”; “...Yes.”

Kalim will treat your child almost like one of his own children, for loving you both so much. He got emotional when he found out you were pregnant, he wanted to help pay for your doctor's appointments if necessary (never was), and he got emotional again when your child was born. He loves buying toys for your child too and give them gifts. He would love for Jamil to let them call him Uncle Kalim. And he loves it when your kids play together.

Vil’s child(ren) call him: Father 

Vil wants to have a family that is at its best as he likes to be at his best himself. He wants you and your child to be as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside, just as he strives to be as well. However, he would treat a daughter slightly differently than a son because of the different pressures of societal beauty standards.

With a son he would be as strict with him as he is with himself. But with a daughter, he knows she's more likely to suffer from these kinds of things. So although he continues to be relatively strict and wants her to be the best she can be, he ends up being softer with criticism and stronger with praise and soft love than he would be with a son.

He would hire a specialist, like as a child psychologist or something like that, to always know the best ways to rise and protect your child. Children of famous people like him, especially in the digital and social media age, may need more protection from their parents in this regard, in addition to the toxic pressure of comparison that exists. However, because Vil cares so much about your child's personal development as their happiness, he may end up putting enormous pressure on himself to be a perfect parent too.

Both Vil and your child will need you to be the person who brings them both back to the real world and the life of a loving family with flaws like any human being. Vil will always listen to you if you feel he may be being too harsh and demanding with your child, or with himself in terms of parenting.

If you are the type of person who likes to tease Vil by letting yourself be sloppy from time to time, (always at home) then your child will also like to tease their father like that. “You have your mother’s cheekiness, I see.” Vil sighs but laughs. The teasing includes eating sweets and food that Vil would not approve of. You are the parent they ask for things from and who best comforts and pampers them. You two probably team up to make Vil relax and have fun with you.

His child will have the best teachers and tutors, go to the best schools and best establishments for any extracurricular activity they want to have. Vil will probably force them to have an extracurricular activity but they will be free to choose which one.

Rook is OBSESSED with your child! In a respectful way of course, he is just already a huge fan. The result of combining your DNA with Vil's? MERVEILLEUX! He won't hold back the tears when he sees the baby for the first time. He will LOVE playing with your child. He will babysit for free and will be happy to do so if you ever need. It will be a long time before he stops getting so emotional whenever your child calls him "Uncle Rook."

Uncle Epel is the rad uncle, when Vil is not around. He is that person who will help your child do cool activities that Vil may not allow. Like taking a blastcycle ride with him, eat grilled meats, playing with things that make the child very dirty or other things that Vil didn't like Epel to do when they were at NRC. But if at least one parent allows it (you), then there is no problem. Right? All this, of course, when Vil is not around.

When he is there, both Epel and your child behave like little angels. You and Epel have to be very careful that the child doesn't get careless and say something in Epel's dialect in front of Vil. They love Uncle Epel because it is fun to do cool things without their father knowing and with your help.

Your child likes to use Grim as a doll to dress up in cute clothes. The funny thing is that Grim likes it too because your child eventually realizes that if they tell him he looks cool instead of cute, he'll let them keep dressing him up.

Idia’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Idia doesn't believe he can be a good father. A shut-it and antisocial otaku like him? Are you crazy? That's a disaster! He can't take care of himself, how is he going to help you raise a child? However, and especially with you, he also has that overly cocky side that believes that even being an antisocial nerd he would be 1000 times better than a lot of parents out there. So basically he has a tendency to oscillate between these two moods.

In comparison, you are the strict parent, he is the parent who spoils the child. They are both afraid of you when you get upset. He's a ‘Don't tell your mother’ type of dad. He can't say no to his child, but, oddly enough, he can't be emotionally manipulated either. He may even let his child do a lot of things, but even he has limits to what he knows is good or bad for them.

Because he's the permissive father, he's also the scariest when he gets serious. He can never get really mad at his child, but he can say a firm and assertive “No” if necessary. However, if they are still very young and start crying, he will panic and call you immediately. You will then have to comfort Idia and tell him that no, he did not make a decision that put him on the path to the traumatic and apocalyptic ending. What he probably did was the opposite.

If it depends on him, his child will be a nerd/otaku just like his father. However, he doesn't want them to be socially anxious like him and will always encourage them to go for walks with you outside even if it's without him. That doesn't mean there aren't times you drag him outside with you.

Besides occasionally questioning whether he is being a good father, there is something else that haunts him... He still carries and will probably always carry the feeling of guilt for what happened to Ortho, so he is absolutely TERRIFIED that something like that may happen again.

Idia has always tried to keep your child as far away as possible from all areas that are dangerous or even remotely similar to the hallway where that happened. But if your child ever happens to even enter an area that their father did not allow, they will get to know a side of Idia that sometimes you yourself don’t even remember exists: The overprotective, traumatized side that isn't afraid to scare his child if it means keeping them away from the danger. And probably the only way they'll see his red hair. But it will probably be after that, that the two of you will have an open heart conversation and Idia will apologize.

Now, about Uncle Ortho, they LOVE uncle Ortho! He's the one who goes for a walk with you and your child when you and he can't convince Idia to go too. He is a cheerful uncle who loves to play with your child. You three made up stories to explain why uncle Ortho was a humanoid. You always make up different and crazy stories to jest with them and make them change the subject. The day will come when they will be old enough to know the truth.

Idia may even talk badly about himself a lot of the times, but no matter what his child do, they are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular and everything good. “Of course that's because they inherited it from you, not me.” He will say with a smile.

Both Idia and your child treat Grim like a pet cat and find it funny to see him getting grumpy.

Idia spoke to his child in that baby voice when they themselves were also babies. And maybe also when they are children to the point where they tell him to stop treating them like babies.

Malleus’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older) Father (at formal events)

The day Malleus found out you were pregnant was already a happy day, but the day your child was born was the happiest day of his life! And every moment with them is the happiest moment of his day. And of course with you too. He totally and completely loves his family!

Anyone who dares to speak ill of the child of Malleus Draconia, especially about the fact that they are half-human, will suffer the consequences! Anyone who spoke openly about the child being something of a disgrace, shame or an abomination was either killed or imprisoned. (Depending on how opposed you really are to Malleus killing or ordering someone to be killed.) and of course, the same applies to talking bad about you.

The problem is that this is doing the same thing to your child that was done to him. He's scaring everyone and making them afraid to come near your child for fear of saying or doing something that might upset them or Malleus. He listens to you and agrees with you, showing concern and thoughtfulness about what should be done. He hates people being disrespectful to the ones he loves, but he also doesn't want his child to go through what he went through.

What ends up happening is that, on Malleus's part, he realizes that he has to start learning ways for people to respect his child without using fear, but to do that he also has to start letting certain insults slide. He doesn't like it, but if it's what's best for his child, he'll do the best he can. Although the same applies if they disrespect you. He hates it so much!

In the case of your child, you are helped by Lilia (if he’s still alive), Silver, Sebek and their families. Perhaps trying to spend more time among their people and with other fae, humans, and half-fae might be beneficial to a child's social development.

Lilia would treat the child as if they were his own grandchild. Even if Silver also has children, they are ALL Lilia's grandchildren! “There's no denying it any longer... I am... officially... an old man... For the best possible reasons!” Everyone will rescue your child from Lilia's food. “Never eat anything that Grandpa Lilia cooks, you hear?”

Silver is the calm uncle who, despite not being the most fun to play with, is the one they turn to when they want to rest and simply have a good chill time. Or take a nap. Probably who they turn to to run away and hide from Sebek when he's being annoying. He ends up being the adult (than is not their parents) that they trust most and feel most comfortable with. Silver is very happy when they ask him for help to get closer to an animal to see it better, and even more so if they and the animals end up interacting and playing with each other.

Now about Uncle Sebek... If there is anyone more protective and flattering of that child than Malleus, it is Sebek. He cried when the child was born, for sure. And cried even more when the child said his name, or whenever they at least tried to. The day they called him "Uncle Sebek" he was about to have a heart attack. The problem is that he ends up being one of those type of person who adores children (although in his case the only ones he likes would be Malleus's and his own children) to the point that the child finds them annoying and clingy. “But don't tell Uncle Sebek that, he'll be sad.”

Whenever the child throws a tantrum that ends up causing their powers to manifest in storms or uncontrolled magic, Malleus will take care of it while you stay away and safe. To him, any attack would be mere tickling, but he always made sure that your child knows that the same does not apply to you. They may end up thinking that you are very fragile while they are little, but it is better this way to ensure that they do not hurt you unintentionally.

This also means that whenever you need to say ‘No’ to your child, Malleus will do it if there is a possibility that they would start throwing tantrums. At least while they are young and cannot control their powers well.

Malleus also runs the risk of being a father who spoils his children.

Your child and Grim probably burn a lot of things around the castle because they play together and they both have fire powers.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

And if you would like to read this but with other characters you can write in the comments. If this post has a lot of notes (likes and reblogs) I might consider making a second part with other characters.

[gatheringbones]

[“Oftentimes when we think about preparing for penetrative sex, we think about the willingness and readiness of the penetrator: a penis becoming a boner, a dildo being lubed up. And yes, sadly, a phallus can usually make its way inside a canal whether the canal is ready or not. But wet and swollen pussies and rectums and throats are, simply put, better for fucking.

That’s one of the many advantages of fisting for people who enjoy being penetrated: unlike a cylindrical phallus, it requires patience and finesse to get the considerably bumpier shape of a hand inside. It’s easier for most penises to slip into most vaginas or rectums, but “easy” doesn’t necessarily translate to “more pleasurable” for anyone involved. Fisting emphasizes what the fistee wants and needs in order to relax and open, which changes the act of penetration from “let’s get this done” to “let’s take our time.” It’s not that it always requires hours of tantric foreplay: I’ve seen people swallow hands in a matter of minutes. But fisting tops and bottoms do need to be attuned to each other more than in any other kind of intercourse.

Adamczak mentions fisting several times in her piece (“a closed hand around a dildo, of lips around a foot, of a vagina stretched over a fist”). To my mind, getting fisted is the ultimate act of circlusion, even if the term itself refers to the penetrating body part. Fisting necessitates communication, patience, finesse, embodied listening, and active breathwork. This may go some way toward explaining why fisters tend to enter a meditative, trance-like state. Fisting requires intentional engagement from the bottom, because in order to take a fist you really have to breathe deeply, to communicate about slowing down or wanting more, to reach for the poppers, to ask for the lube. And these are all things bottoms could be doing all the time, but fisting takes us out of our assumptions that the bottom is there to satisfy the top’s lust, to simply take it. A fistee must be a size queen, someone who loves to be filled up with something massive. Opening to a fist is a trust fall for everyone involved. When your hand is deep inside someone, you can feel their heart beating back against you. Sometimes when I’m up to my wrist in an aroused, engorged bottom, watching and feeling and listening to and smelling a partner so aroused they’re thrashing and bearing down and grasping back and contracting over and over, I think: Why would you fuck a hole that isn’t turned on? Sure, I take pride in turning people on and driving them insane with ecstasy, but fucking an engorged hole is just more fun, like bouncing on a trampoline or being tossed into the air by a taut parachute, with all the verve that inspires.

It’s not just penises that enjoy being circluded either. Clit heads respond to pressing and smashing and mashing, especially once they’ve been teased into arousal. The suction of a mouth or pump toy vacuum sealed around the vulva can create the feeling that your junk is swollen enough to put inside of something or someone. “What matters is not what parts a body possesses, but rather, which parts are put into action,” concludes Adamczak, and this is a queer manifesto bigger than circlusion, bigger even than fisting. When we reinvent and remap our anatomy for the purpose of pleasure, we leave behind inherited anxiety and shame around what our bodies are capable of, opening wide to engulf the future.”]

tina horn, from why are people into that? a cultural investigation of kink, 2024

[yejifire]

My headcanon is that this is the moment in-ho started taking an interest in gi-hun:

Because it was such an unusual thing to do. An unusually kind thing to do. In a moment where you couldn't really blame anyone for pairing up with someone they thought would help them survive (most people would prioritize their own lives in this moment, it's completely natural), gi-hun instead chose to extend his hand to the elderly man he had befriended because he couldn't bear to see him left alone without a partner. Even if it meant gi-hun himself would be at a severe disadvantage for the next game.

I like to think this is the moment that made in-ho pause and realize there is something different about gi-hun.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Question for #AEIWAM, about the Hogyoku: In Canon, Aizen is using one Hogyoku to figure out how to make Shinigami into Hollow, and Urahara is discovered to have a second Hogyoku when he tries to undo the Hollowfication on the group that would become the Visored. But it's never adequately explained where either of them came from, other than "they were invented by [Aizen & Urahara". In #AEIWAM, if the Hogyoku was used to make the first Kami, but using it for what Urahara & Aizen were doing, it seems so... low-powered. What if it's not two separate Hogyoku, but rather one Hogyoku split into two parts? Man, I bet Kaname was waiting for the best moment to tell Aizen that Urahara had one

Oh no.

It's MUCH stupider than that.

The *exact* nature and purpose of the hogyoku (and why the instructions for how to make one were just out there for Gin to find on the Soul King's worktable) are MAJOR SPOILERS for the TYBW arc of AEIWAM, but as far as functions go: A Hogyoku is a device used to accumulate massive amounts of Reiryoku (Soul Energy), compress and purify it, and then squeeze it out into an organism later to make it extremely powerful.

If you can guess the spoilers from those two sentences, you get a gold star and drafted into helping me write this damn fic.

I'm not sure where you got the bit about them being used to make the first Kami, but that is (at least now) not the case- Kami form from a similar function, but were not intentionally *made*, and not with a Hogyoku.

ANYWAY,

You are right, the two hogyoku in AEIWAM are under-powered compared to the original plan, but that's mostly because neither Aizen or Urahara could comprehend the sheer scale of Nobody's design, so what they actually made were, essentially Micro-hogyokus.

The Approximate Order of Events:

A fuckass long time ago:

Nobody, Ichibei and Shinso all get the shit stabbed out of them during the Godslaying Event.

Gin is formed from the physical and metaphysical viscera of all three.

As a result, Nobody dies, Ichibei is left a shell of his former self and Shinso loses his body.

Gin realizes that, with Nobody dead and Their various body parts jamming up the wheel of Samsara, there is a very real possibility the Current Life Machine will starve and die before it can give birth to the next one, and the universe they're in will retroactively cease to exist.

Gin decides the best course of action is to put the current Life Machine on life support so it doesn't starve or miscarry while he figures out how to unjam the wheel.

While Gin is figuring this shit out, Ichibei shoves Nobody's corpse in amber and locks the palace to prevent anyone from finding out the "Soul King" is dead, and traps Shinso inside.

Gin finds the plans for The Hogyoku (note the capitalization) on Nobody's worktable, and realizes a smaller version could be used to fill a single soul with an absolute shitwack of energy and that soul could then become an energy capri-sun for the Life Machine.

Gin, however, lacks the engineering knowledge or skill to actually MAKE a micro-hogyoku, let alone convince a soul to submit themselves to the torture of becoming a Divine Juice Box.

...Unless they think it was their idea in the first place.

Gin redacts a few key points about The Hogyoku, including it's scale and intended purpose, and then takes the redacted plans- which are not paper but Concepts- and travels to Spirit World, where most of the Reiriyoku is to dangle the plans in the dreams of various likely-looking maniacs that are slightly too smart for their own good.

late 1700's to early 1800's

After several false starts, Gin finally hits his mark in the disillusioned and bitter Sosuke Aizen, who lost his entire family in a series of catastrophes and is realizing just how cruel and incompetent the afterlife really is.

Aizen changes careers from "Assistant to the central 46" to "Shinigami" and starts his research into the nature of Reiryoku to build "his" vision to make himself God and Fix Everything Forever.

Gin continues jiggling the bait while he waits for Aizen to get some results, and finds a second mark in a bright-eyed and naieve Kisuke Urahara, who thinks he can use it to infuse hollows with whatever it is they're missing and Fix That Forever.

Satisfied that he now has a Juice Box and a Backup Juice box, Gin transforms into a human-shaped soul and appears as a child in the Rukongai as part of his long con to get close to Aizen and Urahara and keep them on track.

late 1800's ish:

Progress is SLOW with both men and Gin is getting frustrated.

Aizen is slighty further along, having learned about Arrancar and the growth instars of hollows while Kisuke was learning how to become a cop, so Gin enters the academy, speedruns it, and attatches himself to Aizen to herd him in the right direction faster.

Aizen is also fucking terrible at Opsec and is discovered by Kaname Tousen, who is immune to Aizen's Illusion Bullshit, but mistakenly thinks that Aizen's lackey, Kiganjo, is the mastermind, and confides in Aizen.

Aizen is about to straight-up murder Kaname to keep him from blowing it when Gin remembers Kaname from the academy and realizes that where Aizen has ambition instead of brains, Kaname is the real genius here, and will definitely speed things up.

Whether he wants to or not.

Shortly after Kaname is cursed into compliance, Kirio Hikifune is recruited into the Royal Guard and Urahara becomes captain of the 12th, where he devotes himself to figuring out how to make his hogyoku.

Everything is coming up Gin!

1900:

Despite being cursed all to hell, Tousen VERY NEARLY blows the whole operation by alerting the rest of the court guard to the location of Aizen's lab, but Gin is able to step in at the last second and stop him.

...By turning 14 of the Ninth's seated officers into hollows that were absorbed by the hogyoku, and the subsequent rescue party into hollows that Urahara spirits away.

Instead of absorbing the rescue party into his own hogyoku, urahara turns them into Visored and they all abscond to the living world/vanish as far as Gin can tell.

Fuck.

Gin redoubles his efforts to keep Aizen on track now that he only has one Juice Box, which means things get a whole lot worse for Tousen but hey, gotta save the universe and that means Aizen Absolutely Cannot Fuck This Up.

1980:

Aizen Fucks it All Up.

Gin has to sprint back to Soul King Palace to molt real fast, and in the fucking three days he's gone, Aizen:

figures out how to use the "export energy" feature on his hogyoku and

instead of exporting the energy into HIMSELF, Aisen makes a sort of super-hollow he calls "White" because that's his favorite color, and dumps all 10,000 souls worth of energy into it.

Aizen then orders Kaname to take White to the Living World to go fuck shit up, just to see what it can do.

Kaname, in the midst of an extreme nervous breakdown, abandons White in downtown Karakura because Aizen forgot to give him end commands, and goes to ground in hopes that Aizen gets his dumb ass killed doing this, or Kaname dies quietly before he can be forced to mutilate or kill anyone else.

Kaname's Obvious Nervous Breakdown is witnessed by Captain Isshin Shiba, who follows Kaname to his meeting with... someone, he looks like a human-shaped mirage? and some creepy-ass hollow, which Kaname takes to the living world and then just... leaves?

White starts to Fuck Shit Up, mostly by wandering around while being a dangerously radioactive to souls, and Isshin decides he needs to kill this thing before it destroys the whole city.

Quincy Prodigy and current host to the ghost of Quincy Freishutz sees White and has the same idea.

Looney-tunes ass battle between White, Isshin, and Masaki breaks out.

Meanwhile, Kaname's continuing nervous breakdown is witnessed by Yoruichi, who stalks him in cat form for a while before she senses the fight break out, and calls Urahara on the way to tell him Shit's Afoot.

Meanwhile, Isshin and Masaki are falling in love. Or at least, Isshin is falling in love with the most insane woman he's ever met. Masaki thinks he's a very cute tactical advantage.

White, all of two hours old, has no fucking clue what the fuck is happening, just that these asshole are trying to kill him.

Isshin and Masaki do a coordinated double attack that backfires and effectively tears everyone's souls in half- Isshin and Masaki are seperated from their Yume-kon: Engetsu and Quincy Freishutz.

Yoruichi gets to the fight and kicks White into two pieces that had not yet quite figured out who is king and who is horse, and then Yoruichi is KO'd by the resulting recoil.

Urahara arrives just in time to see his former coworker and some woman(???) with their souls falling apart, and two large glops of energy. Isshin demands urahara save this woman. Urahara, attempting to figure out how to do that: I can. uh. frankenstein your souls together? Masaki, seeing her way out of Yhwach's grasp: DO THAT.

Urahara uses his hogyoku to stuff the glops of energy into the holes where thier Yume-kon should be, then stitches Isshin and Masaki's souls together to contain the glops within both of them.

Inside Masaki and Isshin, Quincy Freischutz and Engetsu both fuse with/are absorbed by the glops formerly known as white.

This causes Isshin to develop severe amnesia and Masaki to lose her the use of quincy abilities/breaks her connection to Ywach.

Aizen realizes that his hogyoku is now Empty (and useless), but witnesses Urahara use his before absconding with Isshin and whoever that woman was.

Kaname wakes up in bed in the ninth with exactly zero memory of how the fuck he got back from his saw-trap-like bolt hole in the living world, and a really weird headache.

1983:

Isshin and Masaki get HAMMERED at a Halloween party and make Ichigo.

Both halves of the being formerly known as White jump from parent to child, taking whats left of Engetsu and Quincy Freischutz with them, and inside the fetal ichigo, the entities re-fuse into a chimera that decides its name is Zangetsu.

Zangetsu then promptly goes dormant because yume-kon are not supposed to be body hopping and reverse-parthenogenesising like this no matter how much energy they have to burn and he's TIRED.

Orihime's parents get drunk and have nasty hate sex in a closet during an office christmas party and make Orihime, setting Shinso's much better secret "Fix The Life Machine" plan in motion.

Urahara finally gets the idea "Hey maybe this hogyoku thing isn't a great idea"

He thinks that he can destroy his hogyoku by sealing it, then sealing it inside a sturdy mortal soul, and letting that mortal die.

Unfortunately, no souls in the living world can handle the radiation of the sealed hogyoku, so he's got to stuff it into a shinigami and then make that shinigami mortal.

2000:

Instead of doing the sane thing and stuffing it into the most immediately available shinigami (himself), Urahara fucks around for 20 years until Rukia comes around, and he stuffs it into her soul instead.

In a weird coincidence that ABSOLUTELY NOBODY COULD HAVE SEEN COMING, Rukia, who is patrolling the area Ichigo lives in, comes into contact with Ichigo, the kid whose parents Urahara stuffed full of hogyoku glop.

This contact makes the dormant Zangetsu WAKE THE FUCK UP, and reflexively slorp the soul energy out of Rukia. Instead of the full powers of Urahara's hogyoku, Zangetsu only gets Rukia's personal reserves, but its enough for him to be concious and see that OH FUCK THAT'S A BIGASS HOLLOW, ICHIGO'S GONNA DIE FUCK, FUCK WE NEED A WEAPON- BOW? NO, TOO CLOSE. SWORD? YEAH! WE REMEMBER HOW TO BE A SWORD!!

Thus: Shinigami!Ichigo.

This event trips Aizen's radar, and he starts his plan to get his hands on Urahara's still-active hogyoku/fuck over soul society/destroy karakura/make himself the new soul king

the first and second parts of that plan (mostly) work, and Aizen yoinks urahara's hogyoku from rukia and absconds with it, Gin and Kaname, who has been working on his own plan to break the curse, but is exhausted.

Aizen, just to be a dick to ichigo, kidnaps Orihime.

Kaname explains that the hogyokus are tools that consume souls and convert them into energy, and that Aizen is planning to use the one he stole from urahara to devour karakura and make himself into the new god. "What do you mean 'new' god?" "I'm like 99% sure the soul king is dead. there's God-sized body parts all over the spirit world." "Ah. Bad."

Aizen shows Orihime his own, empty hogyoku and monolouges about how only an incompetent and cruel god would make the living and spirit worlds like this. While he's distracted, Orihime grabs the hogyoku and eats it, bringing the next part of Shinso's plan to fruition.

Orihime starts being able to see connections other people don't but she's had AuDHD her whole life so that's nothing new. Her Shun Shun Rikka suddenly gets a whole lot stronger though, and she helps kaname start to break his curse by pulling the nails out of his spine with it.

At the battle of Fake Karakura, Kaname finally breaks his curse and beats the SHIT out of Aizen until he cracks Urahara's hogyoku that aizen loged in his chest, preventing it from absorbing any more power, so Aizen can't absorb real karakura and become a god.

In retaliation, Aizen decides that if he can't be god, then he will at least kill the gotei-13, and fuses with urahara's hogyoku to become stupid powerful

Zangetsu has been trying to speed-train ichigo but the kid is only 16 and this is the apocalypse unless they do something UHHHHH HERE KID, HAVE SOME OF OUR HOGYOKU POWERS YEAH THEY'RE HOLLOW FLAVORED DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT-

Hollow!Ichigo finishes kicking Aizen's ass until he's unable to fight back and surrenders, losing control of, but unable to let of his immense power.

Gin pops up from where he'd been pretending to be a corpse, paralyzes Aizen by stabbing him in the back of the neck, says "thanks kid!" and absconds with his Juice box back to Soul King Palace, and then to the workings of the Life machine beyond.

Gin puts Aizen into something that greatly resembles a horrible combination of The Machine from princess bride, a mouth, and a taffy puller, which operates in much the same fashion as all three to extract all that delicious soul energy from him.

2001:

Kaname wakes up from the coma Unohana had to put him in to let him recover on Valentines day, finally a free man for the first time in over a century.

It's not the first thing he does with his freedom, but kicking urahara's ass for making a hogyoku at all is up there.

Orihime continues to get... weirder.

...and that's as far as I've gotten with much specificity in drafts.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You mentioned how ace's dream was like a vague fanfiction addressing some fun fandom theories and ideas but I think whats the best part about it was how the progression up to that point made sense. Theyve dropped so many moments showing ace caring dearly for yuu to the point where this dream as fanservicey like that it was it feels natural for ace to have such a dream if that makes sense WAAGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

What did you think of the dream though ms raven? The dream made me wail so badly ough hes finally cried too m sure hes been through a lot 🥹 seeing cater talk to ace so sincerly it hits me so hard in the feels im so glad hes finally got to cry (a little anyways)

Ace’s dream felt like fanfiction, but at least it felt natural or like everything up to this point was leading up to this being his wish. I unfortunately cannot say that for several other dreams. Certainly ones definitely felt egregious or contrived. Some were largely fanservice (Savanaclaw Rook, dorm leader Cater, delinquent Deuce) or just excuses to make new cards (merform twins), even if it didn’t make complete sense for the character to wish for it.

dgjswvizjsowk I know you’re probably expecting me to comment on Ace in his own darn dream, but I actually have a lot more to say about Cater. Ace’s motivations + butting heads with the rescue squad were what I expected them to be (though I give him props for being the only character so far to resist waking up right away). More on my precursory thoughts in this post (but based the exact wording of your ask. I’d be tired to guess you’ve already read it 😅)! But CATER????? TELL ME WHY HE WAS THE GOAT THIS UPDATE 😭

Cater does SO much???? First he suggests the third years help Trey cook BBQ so the darkness is distracted while the others can isolate Ace and try to wake him. When that attempt fails, Cater pretends to agree with Leona’s proposal to leave Ace behind to bait Deuce to come after him to play as his support. Cater sitting down to have a heart-to-heart convo with Ace??? And then mercilessly using his UM to gang up on Ace and beat him up??? 😭 Him reminding Ace about his courage facing off against OB Riddle… Cater confessing he wanted to run, but being encouraged to join the fight because aaaaah his kouhai looked so cool and dashing!! Thanking Ace??? Finally verbalizing some of his feelings???!?!?!?!???! CATER PULLING ACE OUT OF THE DARK????? MY GOD… OTL ThE biG BRoTHER EnERGGY WaS SO DTRONgGGGGGggGGGGG

And he kept this up even into Trey’s dream???????? Where Cater once again does a TON. He volunteers to investigate since makes the most sense (he is a Heartslabyul student so it’s not shady to be in the dorm and his UM is useful for combat). Cater also the third years with him into the kitchen to have a look around. Him saying he’s impressed with Silver’s will and how he would’ve given up so much sooner if he were him???? Dropping interesting lore about Trey??? Cater admitting that he has always been a spectator and now realizes he should have done more than just watch events unfold???

CATER CONSISTeNTLY puTTING hIMSELF AnD THE THirD YEARS IN hARm’s WAy FiRST… StRAtEGIzING… mAnIPULATING… AND ACTUAL SELF-REFLECTION AnD SINCERiTY????

Cater got to shine SO much this update, especially in Ace’s dream. He really came off like a big brother figure to Ace. A little mean, but also able to be so very vulnerable with him. Him not wanting to give up on Ace even though he later says if he were Silver, he’d have given up on everyone a while ago… MAN. CaTER cARES SO muCHHHHHhhh 😭 This might actually bump him up a little in my tier list… I didn’t like him much before 💦

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello!! I hope you're doing well! Do you have any recs for books about twisted/problematic relationships but with woc? Obviously there's our queen octavia butler but unfortunately for me i've finished reading all her books so i'm desperately craving for books that scratch this itch. Thank you for this blog btw i really love reading all your thoughts & reviews ♥️

goddd okay this list is not going to be nearly as long as I wish it was but it is extreeeeemely varied, so at least we have that going for us lmao. and hopefully you find something interesting in here:

right out of the gate if you're chasing that Octavia high, Rivers Solomon's novel Sorrowland feels very very in that vein. it starts with a teenage girl escaping from a Black separatist fundie cult while heavily pregnant with the cult leader's twins, deciding to give birth to the babies in the woods and raise them there. and boy, does it get crazier from there! there are some eventual transformative body horror sci-fi elements that I shan't spoil, but it's a time. the relationships are pretty secondary and genuinely not the most fucked up thing here, but our main girlie Vern is very much into girls and trying to figure that out on top of all the other horrors.

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is the first book in a fantasy trilogy by specfic queen NK Jemisin, and the first book in particular is really like. problematic relationship city. the protagonist is called to be an heir to a dying emperor and IMMEDIATELY gets embroiled in a love triangle with two of the gods that her family enslaves for power??? crazy shit.

I just kicked off this year reading a book called Darknesses by Lachelle Seville, which ALSO features a young Black woman fresh out of a cult (this one loves self harm and anorexia). and then she meets another Black girl who casually drops that she's Dracula, and oh boy do things get weirder from there. this book is like kind of Not Good but it is very entertaining; at a certain point you just have to turn off your brain and go with the vibes. it's sweeter than a lot of examples but listen, obsession and bloodlust are obsession and bloodust no matter how much your gf Dracula respects consent. there's a lot of murder!

this one doesn't have any supernatural bullshit afoot and is instead just regular degular #problematic, but Raven Leilani's Luster was one of my favorite books last year and follows an absolute shitshow of a young Black woman's extremely loaded and weird relationship with her older white boyfriend and his insane wife, as well as their adopted Black daughter.

anther no magic entry: I really love Oyinkan Braithwaite's My Sister, The Serial Killer, which is about exactly what you think it's about! the narrator is a put-upon Nigerian woman whose beautiful, beloved sister has murdered her last several boyfriends and has come crying to her dutiful sister to help her clean it up each time; the plot kicks in when the murdery sister sets her sights on the narrator's boss, a doctor to whom the narrator is also attracted. I know it's a sibling relationship instead of a romantic one but you didn't specify so! I am counting it!

this one is like very very very niceys compared to everything else I'm going to put on this list but it's also pretty hot so I have to mention it: Little Rabbit by Alyssa Songsiridej is about a young, bisexual Asian-American woman struggling to get a writing career off the ground falling in love with a Notably Older and wealthier white man and figuring out how to navigate the subsequent problems both within their own interpersonal dynamic and in how their relationship is received by others.

honorary mentions: books about fucked up white women that are written by women of color who Know!!

Under the Pendulum Sun by Jeannette Ng is a Victorian alternate history in which the English discovered the fairy realm and promptly did what the English did, ie, sending missionaries to teach the fairies about Jesus. the novel follows a woman traveling to the fairy kingdom to look for her missing missionary brother and promptly going insane as fairies gaslight gatekeep girlboss from all sides, complete with a side of everyone's favorite gothic horror trope: repressed sibling incest!

My Nemesis by Charmaine Craig is another very lowkey and grounded example, comparatively, but I thought it was neat and worth a mention! it's told from the POV of truly insufferable white woman writer whose emotional affair with a philosopher gets thrown for a fucking loop by the philosopher's wife, an enigmatic Chinese woman whose motivation the MC cannot guess literally at all. it's not the most exciting read in the world but the reveals hit hard and the reveals at the end made me YELL.

also for short story collections by WOC that can bring the #yikes factor in big ways I heartily endorse Roxane Gay's Difficult Women and Carmen Maria Machado's Her Body and Other Parties.

I wish I had more to throw you here; please if anyone has something to add to this list I am LISTENING

[chiliconsharls]

So, I caved in and I did it in detail! A few days ago I posted a meme of the Charlos lore iceberg but then I had some people asking about some bits and I thought, oh, might as well make the whole masterpost. LOW AND BEHOLD, it is here; an extensive compilation of the rich Charlos lore

Below the cut because boy is this bitch long

DISCLAIMER: before we begin I must note a few things. First, this isn't a whole detailed timeline of Charles&Carlos' relationship and every single bit of their moments bc I would've genuinely gone insane, so, like with the iceberg meme, this is merely key details of their relationship that make ME particularly unwell. This is also almost 2K words long. Lastly, not all points are linked as some of them are rather quite simple to find with an easy Google search

They have the same name in different languages. (In fact, Carlos has explained that his ‘chilli’ nickname comes from the fact that a lot of his friends went from calling him ‘charlie’ to calling him ‘chilli’). Their name is of Germanic origin and it means “free man”. Charles is the French/English version of it, Carlos is the Spanish one.

Beginnings & Pre-Ferrari era (2017-2020)

“I knew you before you knew me” – Charles said he had heard about Carlos when he was coming up in racing while Carlos was competing in KF3 (2008-2009)

They were already hanging out by 2017, when Charles was still only a Ferrari academy driver – as told by a reddit user who works in the Yas Marina circuit and shared the story with a tiny Renault helmet signed by Carlos

“I said this guy’s not beating me, no fucking way” – Carlos in Drive to Survive S01E02 after his battle with Charles in the Azerbaijan GP. (Sidenote: The first episode of DTS dedicated to Charles –S01E08– also showcases a battle with Carlos briefly)

Marina Bay Sands pool story – in several instances now, they both have shared the story of their first meeting/first ‘real’ conversation back in 2018, during the race week of the Singapore GP. They both said they saw each other at the pool of Marina Bay Sands hotel (it’s still unclear whether they were inside the pool or just by), and they had dinner where they talked for a while.

Carlos’ said that that first conversation made him think Charles was a good guy but also that when he first talked to him, he seemed innocent

2018 Autosport Awards interview  – Charles is giving an interview about how his exciting new season is coming and Carlos pops in and tugs him by the ear, making as if to give him a little smooch

“Carlos! My future teammate!”

Ferrari era (paper & cotton years – 2021-2022)

Youngest Ferrari duo

Lord Perceval nickname is born – despite claims that Charles disliked the nickname Carlos gave him (as requested by Charles himself that Carlos ‘from now on, call me Lord Perceval”), Charles went on to have it as his personal tag on his cap –made for driver use only. He’s also used ‘Perceval’ as his aviator call sign when he did some training with the French Air Force.

Jenga challenge video

Fiorano music challenge – this is their core happy memory, as they have said a few times themselves

“I started to listen to some jazz in the mornings” “Jazz?”

Chess – chess is one core activity they do. They would play a lot, even online. Charles would even stop talking to Carlos when he lost sometimes, and Carlos has stated that he only plays it with Charles.

Charles’ said Carlos plays better at night, and he plays better in the morning to evening. “The flights together are probably the ones I enjoy the most (...) we will put our phones away and play chess. That’s where we have the most interesting and deep conversations and I have really, really good memories of that”

“You haven’t showered together?” “We’re not that close yet” // “I find you spontaneously funny” “Carlos doesn’t do anything but he makes me laugh” – Sky Sports game interview in 2021

Charles going to watch Carlos on the podium in Monaco – Carlos talked later in 2024 about how much it meant for him to see Charles there

“Mate! You are looking at me!”

Red porn couch debriefs videos – not much to say, tbh, Ferrari sat them in a sus red couch to shoot the debrief post-race videos. Some of them are quite something

“Come on, Charles, don’t do this!” – Carlos’ radio in Saudi Arabia ‘21

Jean Alesi calling them ‘la bella coppia’ (“the beautiful couple”) // also, Jean Alesi doing photoshop manips when Charlos fought in 2024

Carlos: “good looking couple” “we make a good couple” “most beautiful pair”

Carlos showing off his strength to Charles in that Ferrari party thing

Everything that was written in the GQ article (by Tom Lamont) as well as the photoshoot

Calling each other beautiful

Charles sharing a sandwich with Carlos

Them calling each other ‘sweetie’, ‘honey’, ‘baby’, ‘love’ // ‘like this or more, darling?’ // ‘thank you, my love’  

Bahrain 1-2

Carlos checking in on Charles before his post-race interview in Monza 22’ despite being told he had to go some other place

Ferrari era (leather & forced divorce – 2023-2024)

Football watching together (despite the fact that Charles’ said he doesn’t really follow football) // “Yes, Carlos will be really happy” – Charles after someone asked him if he watched El Clasico and Real Madrid had won that time

Paddle playing too

“Can I choose the position he needs to be in? Take off your clothes, Carlos!”

The gingerbread cookies video

“He loves me” – the whole shell challenges in Zandvoort actually

Talked about racing Le Mans

Charles being jealous of Lando

“Together or nothing. We come as a package”

Charles hiding in Carlos’ closet to surprise him for his birthday

Monza 23’ battle

The Curious Case of Charlos and Pierre Gasly’s PR accusations – During a fan forum in the Singapore GP ’23 weekend, Carlos joked that he would’ve picked Charles to be stuck with in a deserted island, saying: “You see, I would’ve picked Charles, Esteban, I like my teammate” (because Esteban had been asked the same question just before and upon being told he wasn’t allowed to pick his own teammate, Esteban jokingly went: “I wasn’t going to pick Pierre anyway”).

Pierre and Esteban Ocon had a rocky relationship as teammates in Alpine, on top of having an already complicated past together since they’ve known each other since they were kids. Nearing the end of 2023 season, after Pierre (and Esteban) had been criticized for their poor relationship, Pierre talked about friendships in the paddock in an interview and he name-dropped Carlos and Charles, claiming that people “shouldn’t think that they’re all friends”. Despite Pierre having also named Mercedes and Red Bull pairs, people seemed to only latch onto Charlos

It’s important to note that Pierre Gasly is the driver Charles is famously closest to in the whole grid (as they’ve been friends since childhood) but also, he was teammates with Carlos in Toro Rosso for two races in 2017, and is fairly one of the drivers that are close-ish to Carlos as well. In fact, Pierre sometimes hangs with both of them, too.

Puma couch picture we never got the context of

Fred: “are you still single?” Carlos: *looks at Charles* “anyway, changing subject…” – DTS S06E08 // (Sidenote: theres some joking that Charles’ current girlfriend, Alexandra Saint Mleux, and Carlos’ current girlfriend, Rebecca Donaldson, seem to have a slight resemblance to Carlos and Charles, respectively (and the girls also seem to get along quite well))

New York event

Charles timing Carlos’ laps

“I want to give this to you, so you remember me for the rest of your life. For our post teammate era” // “You’re going to leave it there” “No, I won’t" – Carlos gifting him a chili plushie.

“Tell Charles to come close to me and we celebrate this one together” – Australia 24’

China Sprint 24’ incident: “He’s fighting me harder than the rest” // “A kiss on the mouth, everything okay”

Spanish reporter calling them roommates

Insane sim racing videos (almost all of them have some degree of craziness but specially Saudi Arabia, Austria, Dutch, Monza, COTA, Brazil)

Both of them thinking about their morning wood live on camera… then Carlos knowing Charles’ a sleepy guy

Miami merch promo video being cut just right as Carlos seems to go for Charles’ face

“We go from hating each other to loving each other real quick” – actually, that whole motorsport interview for Miami was awesome

Spain 24' inchident - Charles: “He was trying to do something extraordinary because it’s his home race and important moment in his career” // Carlos: “It’s too many times he complains about something”

“Charles and I have one or two ding-dongs a year”

“We look at each other and we smiled like we’re used to” // “We look at each other in the eyes and we understand immediately”

Gladiator II premiere

“Complicate me. Complicate my life, like you always do”

Charles letting Carlos drive his Ferrari in Monaco and show Carlos Sr

“I wanna smash you”

Carlos grabbing Charles’ balls in Mexico 24’

“You should try the chilli crab … I am the chilli crab”

“Try in Spanish” – Charles post Vegas 24’

“Carlos is not my girlfriend, I’m not gonna miss him like crazy”

“I would listen to you for hours”

Abu Dhabi 24’ radio: “it hurts a lot… I really wish we could’ve won it also for the last season with Carlos”

Charles goodbye to Carlos: “Now, I can call him a friend outside of racing” // Charles calling him 'chilli' in IG post (Carlos' said his personal friends call him chilli)

“I wouldn’t be the driver I am today if he hadn’t been my teammate”

“I was happy with Charles. I would’ve continued with Leclerc for life”

“Amazing four years fighting for Ferrari” — Carlos on IG

Fred: “I have never in all my time of racing seen two teammates so intensely preoccupied with what the other one is doing”

Charles being in Fiorano for Carlos’ last farewell with his father driving a Formula 1

Timeless traditions/Uncategorized info

Starting almost all videos with: “Helloooo” “hola”

“Are you ready?” “I’m always ready, Carlos”

Zero concept of personal space

Charles often looks smaller than Carlos despite actually being taller

Hand size difference

Yapper & Yapper

Carlos’ love language is physical violence

Carlos –a self-proclaimed butt guy— often taps Charles’ butt

They had 9 podiums and three 1-2s

They had 90 races together and never crashed

They’re each other’s longest teammates as of date

[stollengoods]

The Longer the Wait, The Sweeter the Kisses

Requested Nam-gyu Fluff~

Warnings: Cursing, slight smut but not much (they don’t go all the way), mentions of drug use, overdose, and recovery.

Summary: Your friend Mi-na is tired of you third wheeling her and Thanos so she has him set you up on a date with his friend Nam-gyu. Surprisingly you and Nam-gyu really hit it off. So much so you invite him to your place, but what happens when you guys start making out/touching each other and you inform him that you won’t go all the way ?

P.S. This one’s a bit long… I apologize I got carried away haha

————

Thanos and Mi-na were cuddling on the couch while you were sitting in the arm chair beside them. He booped her nose with a blue colored finger nail, “You’re so cute.”

She giggled touching her forehead to his, “You’re so handsome.”

“And I so want to kill myself right now.” You murmured, scrolling through your phone.

In the background you saw Mi-na’s head turn towards you. “I told you it was just gonna be Thanos and I this weekend. You’re the one who invited yourself, remember ?”

You scrolled mindlessly on Instagram, “Yeah, but I didn’t think you guys would be like this.”

“It’s called being in a relationship.” She remarked and you snorted, “Gosh, thats what I have to look forward to ?”

“I used to think that way too until I met my soul mate.” You heard their lips smacking and immediately felt sick.

“Ewww, if I ever get like that shoot me. Please.”

Thanos chuckled and your friend giggled rolling her eyes, “When are you going to get a boyfriend y/n ? You’re old enough to drink why don’t you go to the bar and find one, you’ll get one asap.”

“Yeah… there are several reasons why I would never do that, plus I think what you’re describing is a hook up not a boyfriend.”

She huffed, “Well maybe you need a hookup, you’re like always a negative nancy.”

You looked up from your phone and glared at her for a second before looking back at your screen.

“See ! That’s what I’m talking about.” Mi-na said.

“Oh !” She put a hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder, “Baby, why don’t you set her up with one of your friends ?”

You immediately clicked your phone screen off and shoved it in your pocket, “Fuck no.”

Thanos looked over at you confused and Mi-na furrowed her eyebrows at you and tilted her head towards Thanos basically telling you your being rude.

You awkwardly laughed, “I’m sorry, that came out wrong… it’s just I’ve seen Thanos’s instagram. All him and his friends do is drugs, drink, and party. That’s not my scene, I need someone more-“

You were about to say mature but bit your tongue, “-what’s the word I’m looking for… umm- mellow I guess ?”

Thanos nodded his head in understanding, “Everyone has there preferences.” He shrugged.

“What about Nam-gyu ?” Mi-na asked Thanos with a smile on her face, “Didn’t he just make 3 months sober ?”

Thanos raised his eyebrows, “Oh yeah, I guess I do have a mellow friend.”

“He’s an ex addict ?” You asked, not very surprised since it is Thanos’s friend.

“Yup, he almost died of a heroine overdose a few months back and has been clean from drugs and drinking ever since.” He grinned, “I’m proud of him.”

“I’m sorry did you say- Heroine ??”

Thanos nodded, “Yeah, I’m surprised heroine was the one that got to him. He was on all sorts of things: cocaine, ecstasy-“

Mi-na put both her hands on his shoulders, “Alright babe, he can fill her in, you don’t have to give her his whole backstory.” She raised her eyebrows at him and you knew that look too well, she was basically telling him to stop talking. “You’ll scare her off before she even goes on the date.”

“Yeah because if there’s nothing better than an addict, it’s a recovering one.” You muttered.

She crossed her arms, “Okay, so now he’s too mellow ?”

“No.” You narrowed your eyes at her, “I would love someone who doesn’t drink or do drugs but Mi-na he’s in recovery.”

“And ?”

“And ?! What if he relapses ? I don’t want to be somebody’s mom.” You spat, crossing your arms as well.

Mi-na pulled out her phone, “I think you’ll change your mind once you see a picture of him. He’s really cute.” She glanced over at her boyfriend, “I’m saying in the sense that she would find him cute, I know her type pretty well by now.”

She tossed her phone to you, “He’s the one in the white t-shirt.”

“Oh yeah, I recognize him, he’s the one that’s always holding onto Thanos whenever Thanos posts pictures of him and his friends.”

“He’s not always holding on to me ?”

You turned the phone so they could see the screen, “Dude he’s literally hugging your arm and his head is resting on your shoulder.”

Thanos looked at the phone, “It was cold that day.”

Mi-na laughed grabbing her phone, “Anyways, he’s single, sober, and cute. He’s perfect for you y/n.”

You pursed your lips, you were pretty lonely. You had friends but they all had partners which made it hard for you to hang out unless you wanted to third wheel like you are now.

“I mean… he is kind of cute I guess.”

Mi-na shrieked, “Yay ! Thanos will send him your number.” She kissed her boyfriend on the cheek and clapped her hands in excitement, “If this works out, we could even go on double dates !”

————

You and Nam-gyu had texted back and forth for a few days now, planning to have your first date this weekend. You suggested getting coffee and Nam-gyu loved the idea saying that he knows the perfect spot and sent you the address.

Once there, you spotted him sitting down. “Hey Nam-gyu right ?”

He looked up from his phone and smiled, quickly putting it away. “Yes and you must be y/n.” He stood up and gave you a friendly hug.

You felt yourself blushing from the contact, you knew he was touchy feely with Thanos but figured it was because they were friends.

He smelled of the ocean mixed with amber and you could tell from how healthy the ends of his hair looked he recently got a haircut.

“You’re going to love this place. It has everything: coffee, teas, desserts. It’s amazing.”

When you guys got to the front, the cashier asked what you guys wanted. Nam-gyu answered it fairly quickly, not giving your eyes much time to scan the menu above you.

After the cashier entered his order she looked at you, “umm-“ You made eye contact with Nam-gyu, “What would you recommend ? I’m more of a coffee person but there’s so many options.”

“Hmm… do you like your coffee more on the bitter or sweet side ?”

“Sweet.”

He smiled, “Then I’d suggest their Carmel Macchiato. It’s sounds boring, I know, but for your first time being here I’d start with that, it’s really good.”

You nodded your head and turned your attention back to the cashier, “I’ll get a small Carmel Macchiato please.”

“Okie dokie.” She typed in your order and then smiled while reading out your total.

Nam-gyu pulled out a twenty dollar bill and told her to keep the change, “Thank you.” She said, “We’ll call your order out when it’s ready.”

You guys walked over to a table and sat down across from each other, “Thank you for buying my coffee.” You blushed.

“Oh yeah of course.”

You rubbed your hands together under the table feeling them sweat. You haven’t been on a date in a while and have never had an actual boyfriend before so this was all new to you.

“How did you and Thanos meet ?” You asked, trying to ease your nerves by getting him to talk.

“I used to work at this club downtown and the owner of the club would always let him come in for free because it would attract more people to his club. After a while of being there, Thanos and I got familiar with each other and one day he asked me if I knew anybody who sold drugs. I hooked him up with one of my buddies and we started doing them together, the rest is history.”

You weren’t expecting him to be such an open book but felt yourself slowly becoming more comfortable around him, he seemed like a chill guy.

“One Americano and one Carmel Macchiato.”

“That’s us.” Nam-gyu said, he went over to the counter and grabbed your coffees. When he came back he handed you your drink and you thanked him.

“You wanna go take a walk ?” He asked.

“Sure.” You grinned, following him outside.

You actually preferred this, walking side by side instead of sitting down and looking at each other face to face. It took a lot of the pressure off and you found yourself talking a lot more than you thought you would.

He told you about his battle with addiction and how it nearly killed him. You felt bad for judging him so harshly when Thanos and Mi-na told you about it.

Getting his side of the story made you realize that he wasn’t just a a sleazy guy who drank and did drugs to have fun, he had past trauma that he was dealing with. Now that he’s sober, he told you he’s found better ways to cope like going to therapy and exercising.

He finished his drink first, throwing it away and a few minutes later you finished yours, throwing it in a trash bin as well.

You only knew him for about 30 minutes but already felt safe with him, like he was a long time friend.

“So…” you stopped walking and finally faced him making eye contact, “What now ?” You asked with a smile.

He returned the smile, “I really enjoyed our date and would like to continue it but it’s up to you. We can hang out another time if you’re busy.”

It was weird, you felt special for the first time in a while and that excited you. You didn’t want this date to end anytime soon either.

You bit your lip, “I had fun too.” You said, rocking back and forth a bit. “Would it be odd of me to ask you to hang out at my place ?”

“No, not at all.”

————

When you got to your place, Nam-gyu removed his jacket and you told him he could hang it up on the coat rack. He wore a brown tank top underneath his jacket and, every now and then, you caught yourself stealing glances of his veiny arms; and at the way the material would outline his chest and abdomen.

You guys continued chatting on the couch as you guys tried to find something to watch on Netflix. You ended up settling on a comedy that neither of you have seen yet.

He clicked a button to play the movie, setting the remote down on the arm rest next to him and then threw his other arm over the couch.

A thought popped into your head of scooting over and leaning into his side, but you knew that would be kind of weird. Then again, it seems that Nam-gyu’s love language is physical contact so maybe he wouldn’t mind ?

You casually scooted yourself over and Nam-gyu’s head turned. You looked up to meet his eyes, “Is this okay ?” You asked, scooting into his side and placing a hand on his chest.

He nodded, “Yeah I don’t mind.” His hand dropped to around your shoulders as he went back to watching the movie.

You tried watching the movie as well, you really did but all you could think about was his body against yours. The heat radiating off of him made you want to snuggle into him more like a weighted blanket.

Half way through the movie, you were able to concentrate on the plot a little bit, until Nam-guy’s thumb began rubbing back and forth on your arm. It was a simple gesture and you were pretty sure he was doing it unconsciously but it made the inside of your stomach fill with butterflies.

When the movie was over, Nam-gyu looked over at you. “It was alright, I thought it was kind of funny, how about you ?”

You turned and made eye contact with for a split second before licking your lips and attaching them to his. You were surprised by your hunger for him and you could tell he was shocked as well by the way he didn’t react for a few seconds.

When he reciprocated the kiss, you positioned your body on top of his. Your knees on either side of his legs, as your hands went to his hair.

His hands made their way to your hips pulling you closer into him and you moaned. Pulling away from him, you ripped your shirt off over your head, throwing it to the floor before reattaching your mouths.

His cold fingers snaked up your back, unclipping your bra. Once done, you threw it to the floor as well. One of his hands cupped your breast and you broke the kiss leaning your head against his.

“You okay ?” He whispered.

“Yeah.” You breathed, “But…”

He removed his hand from your breast, waiting for you to finish.

You sighed, “I know I’ve only known you for less than a day and I really like you.” You watched as your hands trialed down his chest, “And don’t get me wrong I really like what we have going on right now.”

You looked him in the eyes, he was smiling listening to you. “But I’m also not the kind of person to hook up with someone after just meeting them. I want to get to know you better before we get to that point.”

His hand cupped your face, caressing it with his thumb. “I respect that. Since my sobriety I’ve made a rule for myself as well, to not hook up with anybody unless we are dating. I’ve been doing good so far but I’ll be honest if you hadn’t stopped, I don’t think I would’ve stuck to it.” He blushed biting his lip.

You giggled, “I like that rule, I think I’ll adopt that as well.”

He smirked, “Does this mean cuddling is off the table too ?”

You rolled your eyes at his silly question, “Off course not.” You smiled before wrapping your arms around his neck and sinking into him. He interlocked his hands behind you while resting his head on your shoulder.

[witherby]

Assuming that Punchline is successfully rehabilitated, what do you think she'd be like as an adult? Do you think she'd keep a lot of the same traits or she'd change a lot?

Also, how do you think both current and future Punchline would react to seeing Joker?

- 🌃

All fantastic questions. I had to sit on these for a couple days.

Adult!Punchline:

Changed her name. It was one of the last things she did in order to really sever her identity from the Joker's. What would it be now? Maybe an off-set name from her old one, like Lin, or something completely new.

Chatty! She's got autonomy and opinions, now, and boy is she gonna use her autonomy to express those opinions!!

Out of Gotham. As grateful as she is for the Wayne's and their willingness to rehabilitate her, she can't stay in the city that's consumed her childhood. There are too many triggers and too many chances to regress.

Using her talent for good. Punchline grew up learning how to destroy and cause harm, making a normal 9-to-5 excruciatingly boring to her. One of her specialties was bombs, only now instead of making them, she found a job where she gets called in to diffuse. She quickly becomes one of the best in the field for her quick dismantling time and even teaches courses on how to identify different types for safe handling.

Pen pals! She writes to the Batfamily! Originally Alfred requested she send correspondence to let them know she was doing okay and not to be afraid to ask for help, but now she sends little post cards and notes to all of them.

Uses aids. She got a hearing aid for her right ear to help restore some of the sound, can often be seen walking around with knee braces to prevent hyperextension, and has timers set on her phone to remind her to eat because she has no hunger cues.

Self-soothes. She still knocks her feet together to regulate her emotions, particularly when she feels exceptionally bored or like she shouldn't be lounging around or relaxing.

Wears her natural hair and face. No more hair dye, no more clown paint, no more green or purple clothes.

She still laughs like her dad, though. When she hears a particularly funny joke, she's done for. Couldn't de-condition that one out of her.

If Adult!Punchline happened to run into her father, she would still Fawn. Still as a statue. Shocked. Appalled. Immediately putting a smile on her face and clicking her feet. Hoping and praying one of the bats will come help, because she is very much afraid of him.

As for Current!Punchline meeting the Joker? Well. That's being written, so you'll have to see. :)

[musingsofmajesty]

𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 → 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬]

summary over than span of the school year, you go from the girl who plays with Eddie's hair to so much more | wc 700

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

Shy!eddie who doesn’t dare say anything when you begin twirling the end of his curls around your finger by week three of sitting behind him in Mrs. O’Donnel’s class.

The gentle tug feels nice, and he’d be devastated if you stopped. He knew who you were—all of Hawkins High did. You always smiled at him in the halls, and he’d know the scent of your vanilla perfume anywhere. 

Then one day, playing with his hair transitions to you drawing small shapes on his back. When the dismissal bell rings, he finally musters the courage to turn around and look you in the eyes with a shy smile. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You realize then that he has faint freckles dotted on his cheeks. Over the bridge of his nose. You smile back like it’s the easiest thing to do. 

“Hi.”

He didn’t think this far ahead. Doesn’t know what to say, so he dips his head down and lets out a chuckle while praying his cheeks aren’t the dusty pink color he remembers his mother’s rose bed being when he was a little boy. 

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I can stop.” 

His brows lift a bit as if you startled him. He doesn’t have time to muster up a façade of nonchalance, so he rushes out, “No, it’s okay, you don’t have to. I don’t mind.” 

You bite your lip and tilt your head at him as you fight off your growing smile. “Okay.”

“Okay.” 

Next week at lunch, you mosey over to where he’s sitting by himself listening to music. 

Upon noticing you, he clumsily takes his headphones off and sets them on the table. He’s nearly halfway through his lunch. What he’s not expecting is for you to reach for the headphones and put them on your own ears. He shifts as if he instinctively wants to stop you but ends up refraining. 

Warmth rises to his cheeks. “It’s, uh, Metallica.” 

You hum. “Obey your master, huh?” you quote the lyrics back to him as they rattle in your ears. 

Eddie smiles sheepishly. 

“Are you doing anything after school today?” 

He blinks like he misheard the question, but musters up an answer anyway. “I—no. Not really...” 

You smile in a sweet way that makes his chest flutter. “Would you like to?” 

Shy!Eddie who starts seeing you outside of school more and more. At Lover’s Lake, the diner, the arcade, Family Video. You come to realize that turtles do come out of their shells. It’s easy to talk to him, and it helps that he’s cute. He feels the same way about you. 

You go to see him play at The Hideout, and wave at him from within the small crowd. You’ve listened to him practice in his room on multiple occasions, and there’s something gratifying about watching him do his thing in front of an audience of more than just you. 

Shy!Eddie who lets it slip that he’s glad he met you. 

One fateful evening, several months into this friendship, the two of you are sitting on his couch as rain patters onto the windows outside. There’s a sitcom playing on the TV, and even though you’re both looking at the screen, neither of you are paying attention. Over the span of thirty minutes, you’ve managed to press yourself even closer to his side without saying a single word. 

Finally, like he did back before you were friends, he musters up the nerve to peek over at you. The way you bite your lip makes something flutter low in his gut.

“Hi,” he murmurs, beginning to smile because he can’t help himself. 

You reach out to tug one of his curls. As you scoot even closer, your thigh presses against his. Eddie holds his breath when you close the gap between you to place a gentle peck on his lips. 

“Hey,” you whisper. 

Shy!Eddie who’s warm all over and can’t help but lean back in.

Thanks for reading ♡

[ladiesworldsblog]

I nodded silently, my cock tried to get hard, but she locked it and reminded me, that it’s her privilege afterwards to release me.

I lost sight of her during the party several times, but as she appeared again, she had that lovely sexy smile, that special glow on her face - and I instantly knew where this was coming from.

It was a great party and I really enjoyed to see some of my friends again, there aren’t too many chances as some of them live far away from our place.

As he last guest left our house, I looked around to search for my wife, I heard her calling me to the bedroom. She made herself feel comfy on our bed, had taken her shoes off and gave me a daring peek on her pussy. She was so swollen red and slimy, I discovered lots of dried cum on her cunt.

My slutty wife had fun for sure. She spread her legs for me and I could see, that cum was oozing out of her pussy. I knew what she expected from me. I crawled onto our bed between her legs and started to kiss and lick her sensitive area.

She started to tell me, that she has snacked some of my friends and she reminded me, that obviously everyone of them has so much more to offer in size, thickness, technique and stamina compared to me. And she let them cum inside of her.

She undressed her blouse to let me see her beautiful boobs, while I was eating her out like a hungry wolf. Obviously I did it right, she was getting close and finally she came so hard and had her contractions, he toe curled and she gave me her lovely O-face.

She needed to calm down a minute or two and told me to get rid of my clothes, she’s ready to give me her birthday gift now and she showed me the key. I had hoped for a release tonight, but of course I didn’t dared to ask or beg for it, otherwise I would have risked to ruin my chance.

We snuggled and cuddled while she unlocked me, I still had sperm on my lips and in my face and she kissed me passionately to get a taste of cum, she loves the taste. She rolled on her back and let me mount her, my cock was hard and she helped me to get it into her well used pussy.

She usually doesn’t like the missionary position - at least not with me, she did it as a favor for me. And I enjoyed it, much more than she did. Her silky and sloppy cunt felt so fucking great, it has been a while for me, since she gave me that pleasure.

While I was slowly fucking her and she faked some moans to give me an impression that I‘m making something right, she started to tell me the names of our guests, who had the same pleasure before. She already had told me four names as she made a pause and I thought this would be it. But she pulled me close and whispered a fifth name in my ear.

I was shocked and looked deep into her lustful eyes, I couldn’t believe it, but she just nodded and I pulled out and jerked my cock until I sprayed her whole body with my juice. She gave me a winning smile and instantly locked me up again.

Of course, I licked her clean and enjoyed the taste of my hot sperm and inhaled the scent of sex from her lovely body. She didn’t told me the name of another friend, it was my dad’s name. He always had an eye on her and I remember that I‘d seen him flirting with her today, but I never imagined that she‘ll let him have her. I was so wrong.

She told me that she can’t believe that I‘m his son as he’s quite hung and knows how to fuck a woman and make her cum on his cock. She cuddled and kissed me, telling me to get some sleep now. And as my mind was already spinning, thinking about my old man having fun with my wife, she added that he invited us for dinner the next day. And I felt how my cock was trying hard to escape its prison, but I won’t get lucky again soon.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Pull This Move

0.8k+ words of chaotic Tim Bradford fluff

A/N: Have you guys seen the "when he's copying your snaps so you pull this move" thing? I saw a drawing of it with the Batboys and then this happened.

“Tim never keeps his ringer on,” Lucy muses after your phone buzzes again. “Is that a cop-to-cop thing?”

“Yeah, some people have problems with it, others don’t mind,” you explain. “I usually have mine silenced, I just forgot.”

“Do you know why Tim is off today?”

“Just needed a break,” you explain. “Have to have to a balance in a job like this.”

“And Snapchat gives you that balance?” Lucy teases as your phone chimes with an incoming photo. 

“If it’s from who I think it is, maybe,” you answer cryptically. 

“Who do you think it is?!” she inquires loudly. 

“Hold that thought, we’ve got a reckless driver ahead.”

During your lunch break, you open the new Snapchat and roll your eyes. 

“So,” Lucy says as she sits beside you. “Who is it? New boyfriend? Potential boyfriend?”

“Let’s go with really good friend,” you reply. “Who doesn’t know how to use the app and just copies my snaps.”

“Cute!!”

You hum, then think of the snap you wish to get. So, you open the app and move the phone to one side to capture your flexed bicep. Lucy gasps as you lock the screen, and you furrow your brows at her. 

“What?” you ask. 

“It is a guy! Why else would you flex to have them copy it? Tell me everything!”

“New rule, when I’m substituting as your TO, you have to talk to me like Tim.”

Lucy sighs and raises her hands in surrender when your phone chimes again. Yet, after you unlock it, she snatches your phone out of your hand. 

“Lucy!” you yell as she stands. “No, stop- listen. I will blue page you, Chen!”

Lucy freezes. Half-standing with your arm extended over the table, you exhale. 

“Give it back and I’ll- I’ll let you see the picture. That’s it, and you have to learn to respect boundaries.”

“Will you tell Tim?” she asks, blocking your phone with her free hand. 

“Not if you listen.”

Lucy nods and passes your phone back with a quiet apology. You sit, and Lucy pulls her chair beside yours. You click the red square in the app and lift a brow appreciatively at the muscled arm on the screen. There is a familiar gray shirt stretched tightly around the flexed bicep, and you hold the screen for several seconds to prolong your enjoyment of the picture. 

“There,” you say, shifting your hips to slide your phone into your pocket. “Happy, Chen?”

Lucy doesn’t answer, and you turn toward her. Her jaw drops as she stares at you. 

“What?”

“Was that Tim?” she asks. 

“Why would you think that?” you say rather than answering. 

“He wears a lot of gray shirts, and you… I don’t know how to say this without getting in trouble again.”

You cross your arms below your powered-off body cam and lean back in your seat. “Speak freely, Lucy.”

“Everyone knows you have a crush on him,” she blurts out. 

“So, a gray shirt and a workplace crush lead you to believe that Tim - officer stoic and serious - would send me a Snapchat?” you challenge. 

“Well when you put it like that,” Lucy mumbles, “it sounds ridiculous.”

“I’ll give you something if you give me something,” you offer. “I need some dirt on Lopez. Help me get that, and I’ll tell you something.”

“Done,” Lucy agrees. Then, she asks, “Wait, why? What’d she do?”

“No questions. Agree or don’t,” you reply. Lucy nods, and you say, “I’m going on a date with the guy in the picture tonight. We’ve been dating for a while.”

“Will you tell me more later? If things work out and I get something on Angela?”

You stand to return to the shop and say, “We’ll see.”

Walking into your house after your shift ends, you sigh. 

“Did you actually help my boot today or just send Snapchats?” someone asks from the kitchen.

Laughing, you enter the room and lean your forehead between your boyfriend’s shoulder blades. 

“Lucy saw the picture,” you say. “It was a really good picture, though.”

“How?” he asks, holding your arm as he turns toward you. 

“She wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t tell her much, and she’s helping with our Angela problem.”

“Your Angela problem,” Tim corrects. 

“Which will become our Angela problem when she finds out that my fiancé and my least favorite sergeant are the same man,” you point out. 

“Shouldn’t have told her you were engaged.”

“I didn’t!” 

Tim chuckles, so you sigh and fall against his chest. 

“It’ll be fine,” he assures you. 

“As long as you keep showing those Bradford biceps,” you grumble against his chest. 

“Hey,” Tim begins carefully. 

You pull back and narrow your eyes at him. 

“If Angela already has an idea, and Wade knows… maybe we should ask them to help,” he suggests. 

“You want Wade and Angela to be our witnesses?” you clarify. After a moment, you concede, “It could work. She’d keep it a secret if we let her come to the wedding.”

“Not what most people think about when they’re wedding planning.”

You smile and kiss Tim, thankful that your relationship is anything but average. Most people don’t have Tim Bradford going down the aisle with them, you think.

[petermorwood]

A quick thank-you...

...to everyone who wished me well, and who satisfied my (and other folks') curiosity about what the US version of my recent ambulance and A&E (ER) trip would have cost.

My answer to that curiosity has upgraded from "a couple of..." to "potentially several thousand dollars, depending on location."

Since a couple of the people asking me were doing so because of planned holidays in the US, I'll warn them "have insurance, and don't skimp on what it covers."

*****

This also explains why I've heard / read about US tourists over here (Europe-wide) trying to refuse ambulances after accidents, clearly from fear of what they think it'll cost.

To reassure anyone heading this way: an ambulance call is nothing like as pricey as in the US, and often costs nothing at all.

That said, buying full-cover travel insurance for a vacation is always good practice, and never expensive. (And yes, people I know well might laugh to see me in the role of Mr Sensible. Sometimes it's a good role to play.)

*****

Anyway, thanks again!

Normal service will resume after a message from our sponsor... ;->

*****

Don't want to buy #ebooks from a billionaire? Try buying them from a thousandaire...the one who wrote them. 😄 Pre-holiday sale prices are back, as I figure people can really use them around now. (Offer not valid in UK due to Brexit: sorry, GB friends.)

[therapyplacebo]

𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚂𝚘 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚎

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62475340

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

Pairing: Zayne x f reader SMUT

Word count: 6,485

Content warning : Smut, shower sex (fingering), unprotected sex, it's your bday but Zayne missed it, apologetic Zayne, slightest bit of angst in the form of self-hatred and doubt

Zayne lets out a defeated sigh as he shoves his hand in the depth of the left pocket of his jacket to retrieve his keys. His shoulders are sunken with exhaustion, and the stabbing pain in his lower back radiates up to the nape of his neck the way it does after an excruciatingly long surgery.

Guilt gnaws at his mind—redundant thoughts swirling in a dangerous pattern he recognizes too well but is too tired to put an end to. The keys in his hand jangle as he pulls them out, staring at the small seal keychain you won for him at the claw machine. It matches the larger plushie he won for you that you keep on a shelf in your office. 

He already knows he missed the party, but somehow, the dimmed lights and empty apartment shatter something inside of him as he shrugs off his coat. There are balloons hanging down from your kitchen cabinets, confetti littering the floor and sticking to his socks. 

As he makes his way to the kitchen, Zayne has to duck under a beautiful handmade banner hanging from the ceiling with your age written on it along with birthday wishes scribbled on it. Wrapping papers stick out of your trash can—hastily shoved inside. There are several glasses of wine lined near your sink where the dirty dishes are neatly piled.

Zayne makes a mental note to put them in the dishwasher tomorrow morning. 

Silence hangs in the air, echoes of another birthday missed haunting him like an earworm he’s forgotten the lyrics of. Just as he’s about to turn on the living room light, he spots you, hunched over the kitchen table, cheek resting on your arms with a ridiculously small cardboard hat on your head. If the sight of it hadn’t instantly made him nauseous with resentment for no one but himself, he would have laughed. 

He drops the gift bag to the ground, walking around the misplaced chairs as he makes his way to you. The floor creaks, and you stir awake, meeting his eyes with a confused expression that melts away into the softer one of relief. With a tired smile, you stretch your arms above your head, letting out a groan. 

“Hey, when did you get here?” You ask him with a yawn, squinting at the lack of light as you take in the sight of him—wearing his best dress shirt and some formal black trousers. “Did you change at work?” Your eyebrow raises itself as you fail to suppress your grin. 

Zayne scoffs at your seemingly unbothered attitude, taking a seat right next to you. “I did. I packed it this morning thinking I would make it in time to…” He trails off, not knowing what to say as he cradles the side of your face and rubs your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. You nuzzle his wrist, pressing a soft kiss to the exposed skin there. “I’m sorry,” Zayne dejects, his eyes searching yours in hopes they convey the depth of his regret and how much he wishes he could rewind time. 

You click your tongue softly, shaking your head obstinately. “Zayne. It’s fine. I understand work will always be work,” you chuckle in an almost bitter way, grabbing his hand that rests on his leg to squeeze it comfortingly. 

“I really was on my way here when I texted you. There was an emergency, and I had to scrub in,” Zayne insists, looking at the two slices of cake still untouched in their cardboard plates—the candles on one of them have been reduced to a melted mess.  

It reminds him with daunting resemblance of the lonely sight of his own birthdays. 

You lean on the table, resting your chin inside your hand as you glance at the mess around the room. “Tara got really drunk and decided to kiss Greyson, believe it or not,” you laugh, reminiscing about the scene. “I should’ve taken a picture. The face he made was worth a hundred bucks.” 

Zayne forces himself to chuckle with you, but it does not fool you. With a soft sigh, you grab his hand harder this time. “You know what? Technically, you didn’t miss my birthday at all,” you say, glancing at your watch with a knowing smile, trying your best to cheer the dejected man in front of you. “My birthday officially started four hours ago.” 

Zayne scoffs softly—a true chuckle this time. “Nice try.” You roll your eyes playfully, pushing towards him the slice of cake you reserved. You know he’s always famished whenever he comes out of surgery and the adrenaline wears off. 

Relief floods you when he begrudgingly accepts the bribe and picks at the almond-flavoured cake before shoving a forkful in his mouth. “You like it? I had it made with extra frosting for you.” 

The grin on your face warms his heart instantly, but the sugary taste sours in his mouth as your mask slips a little and he notices with surgical accuracy the sadness in your gaze. “It’s good. Is it from that bakery near the hospital?”

You nod enthusiastically, picking at his slice with your fork—your own cake ruined by colourful wax. Your lipstick is smudged on your cheek, but Zayne makes no mention of it. 

“Did you make a wish?” He finally asks, gesturing to the candles. You fold your index in front of your mouth, mumbling something with your mouth full as you swallow your bite. 

His furrowed eyebrows are enough for you to repeat yourself. “I didn’t. I was waiting for you.” Zayne stands up without another word, walking the short distance to your kitchen where he knows you keep the lighter—third drawer to the left. There’s an already lit candle from your previous birthday last year. The number is one year too little, but he grabs it regardless. 

“This is all I could find,” he states, sitting back on the edge of the chair, his knees touching yours. “I should’ve brought some.” 

You make a noise of disagreement, taking a quick bite of the frosting on the side before grabbing the lighter from his hands. “Nonsense. This is perfectly fine. It’s like I’m aging backwards; this is great,” you ramble as you light the candle with shaking fingers after placing it on top of your untouched slice.

An uncomfortable quietness falls, and the two of you sit, watching the mesmerizing way the flame dances in the darkness of the room. You glance at Zayne, admiring the warm highlights that the fire casts on his face and the seemingly serene expression he bears. 

Much to your surprise, Zayne starts to hum Happy Birthday under his breath. You laugh out loud, unbridled glee shining in your gaze, which makes him blush up to the top of his ears. The intimacy of your kitchen hits you all at once. Zayne’s soft, raspy voice echoes off the walls, his coat hung by the door and his shoes lined up with yours by the entryway. 

You already know what wish to make before he even finishes slightly off-key but so endearing singing. 

“Do you also want to make a wish?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Zayne frowns, staring at you dubiously. “I don’t mind sharing.” It doesn’t seem to be enough to convince him.

He shakes his head, glancing down at the flickering flame before his green eyes meet yours once more—fleeting heartache tinting them one shade darker. “Hurry before the flame goes out.” 

Glancing at him sideways, you softly blow out the candles—making the same wish as last year and the one before that. The scent of burnt wax tickles your nostrils and almost makes you sneeze. Zayne's soft breathing reaches your ears. Linkon is asleep at this hour; the streetlights illuminate deserted streets, and only the occasional car breaks the silence with the dulled hum of their engine as they drive down your street. “What did you wish for?”

You smirk, turning your head towards him with a tired expression. “I am not falling for it this time. I want it to come true this year.” Zayne smiles softly, recalling last year when you had been tricked by Tara into admitting your birthday wish—your lips loosened by alcohol. 

“Alright then. May I get a clue, then?” Part of him wishes for you to be angrier at him, for you to not fall so easily for meagre apologies and soft looks. It makes overlooking his neglect a bit too easy for his liking. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes glinting with mischief and affection—his heart stutters in his chest. 

Your soft sigh graces the heated skin of his cheek as you press a chaste kiss against it. His eyes flutter close, his breathing stilling as if scared that a single movement could render him undeserving of such tenderness. The hand resting on his knee instinctively reaches out to your bare leg, his thumb rubbing circles against the skin of your inner thigh.

“Is that a new dress?” His raspy tone falls flat, though his eyes convey what his voice cannot carry. You nod, your cheeks flushing the shade of a ripe pomegranate as you play with the light green fabric of the garment that you bought specifically for the occasion. “You look beautiful,” Zayne then adds, letting his eyes run over the rosy glow on your lips, the way your hair is pinned back to the sides, and the delicate bracelet he bought you that dangles from your left wrist. The briefest wave of possessiveness carries his next movements as he grabs your chin and slots his lips against yours, swiping his tongue on your bottom lip as he kisses you hungrily. 

It sends your heartbeat in a frenzy—a stark comparison with the slow and torturous crescendo that Zayne is setting up. The gentle tug of his fingers as they pull your hair loose from the pins, the unhurried glide of his hands down your arms, the steady yet shuddering breathing that fills the gap between your lips as he rests his forehead against yours—it’s all so overwhelmingly sickening, the way with which he unravels you thread by thread.

Darkened eyes meet yours, and the first genuine smile appears on his lips as he wipes the smudged lipstick mark from your cheek. “Happy birthday,” Zayne huffs, gliding the pad of his thumb against your swollen lip. Your grin spreads to your eyes—the skin at their corners wrinkling as you chuckle softly. 

A small, light blue gift bag catches your attention by his feet. You raise an eyebrow and watch the way his cheeks change colour. “Zayne,” you drag his name out. “I told you I didn't need anything.” He picks up the bag and sets it on your lap—the tissue paper sticking out has little snowflakes embossed on it, and the sight of it warms your chest.

You pull out a photo album; the cover is decorated with stickers, and a picture you thought lost to time. The corners have been flattened back into place after being folded for years, and the colours have faded considerably. 

A disbelieving chuckle slips out. “What—where did you get this?” Zayne smiles softly. 

“My parents cleaned their attic recently and mailed it back to me.” You glide your index on the protective layer on the album, marvelling at the photobooth strip that dates back from well over a decade ago. Zayne looks out of place; his pose is awkwardly static, and his expression is pinched in contrast to your carefree one. “There’s more inside.”

You cast him a glance, opening the front page with a shaky hand from the anticipation. One by one, you flip through the pages with pure shock written all over your face. 

Pictures of the two of you, coffee date receipts, movie tickets, and other memorabilia that Zayne kept. His terrible handwriting accompanies each memory, a brief description scribbled along each one. There’s a picture of your grandmother standing with Zayne’s parents at his eleventh birthday—Zayne stands by your side, matching to the best of his ability your crooked grin. Tears blur your vision, but you wipe them away unceremoniously with the back of your hand, not wanting to miss a single detail. 

He clears his throat, not too sure what to say. “I left some pages empty, so you can add the new ones we take at the photobooth.” You hurriedly flip to the last pages, fingers hovering over the empty spots in the shape of photo strips. 

“You made this? When did you even get the time?” you say incredulously, a chuckle coming out to join your words. You know Zayne’s schedule; he is either working or spending time with you. How he managed to pour this amount of effort into a gift is beyond comprehension. You tighten your grip on the album, pressing it against your chest. 

Zayne rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve been working on it for a while,” is all he says. “I take it you like it?” he asks you, having the nerve to sound uncertain. You instantly frown at him.

“Do I like it? Zayne, this is….” Words escape you, your brain scrambling to find a word that adequately conveys the meaning this gift holds.

Since the explosion, every single memory of the past was taken away from you—picture books, old sentimental letters, drawings. Nothing remained, and it left a gap that you struggled to reconcile with. You never finish the sentence, but Zayne does not need you to. His hand grips yours with a reassuring strength, and you pull him in for a hug, tucking your face in the collar of his shirt. 

He smells of the soap he uses at the hospital—it’s slightly citrusy with a lingering sterile and chemical scent.

“Did you shower?” You ask him, leaning back in the chair as you straighten the fabric of your dress where his hands had bunched it up. Zayne nods curtly, his eyes still on you when your shoulders sag in disappointment. He shakes his head in amusement, standing up before offering you a hand.

“C’mon, let’s get you in the shower.” Your limbs are heavy with exhaustion, but you follow him to the confines of your bathroom regardless. The space should feel much more crowded with him standing right behind you, but it only soothes the nerves frayed by waiting for him all night.

If you close your eyes long enough, you can picture the sympathetic looks from your friends—the intensity of them growing with each passing hour. You’re used to it—Zayne’s schedule is always hectic, and the long hours mean that the time spent together is as sparse as it is precious. Whenever he is on the night shift, it can be weeks before the two of you can finally spend a night together. The reunions are always bittersweet, honeyed professions and apologies hushed against bare skin whenever Zayne finally gets his hands on you. 

You can tell the distance and time spent apart wounds him, his impatience and neediness always coming through with the way he calls out your name in the early hours of the morning.

Which is why there is lingering culpability whenever a bud of resentment inevitably sprouts inside you—whenever he misses an important event because of an emergency. The rational side of you knows that there is no malicious intent in the way he consistently misses a date, a birthday, or a ceremony. However, insecurity’s roots run deep, and their grip persists stubbornly for weeks following. 

“Are you alright?” Zayne’s voice almost startles you as you turn to him. He’s holding two clean towels against his hip. The worry etched on his face mirrors your own. You nod, swallowing the lump that peskily lingers in the back of your throat. You turn your back to him, pretending to be absorbed with the ties of your dress so he doesn’t notice the tears welling down your lash line.

Zayne comes forward to rest his chin in the crook of your neck, putting down the towels before wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m really sorry for missing your birthday.” His tone is strained with regret, heavied by the burden you know plagues him daily—it only furthers your anguish.

You feel ridiculous as tears escape and roll down the side of your cheek. You sniff loudly, the sound of it echoing off the tiles, and you feel Zayne tense up against your back. He sighs your name tenderly—another apology. A chuckle breaks its way past your lips, muffled by a strangled sob that overtakes it. “I’m sorry. I swear, I’m fine. It’s so stupid that—” Zayne grabs you by the shoulder, spinning you around so you face him. 

You almost flinch, tempted to hide your face in the crook of your elbow to spare him the sight of your loss of temper. His eyes search for yours, visibly pained by your tears. “I know you can’t help it and that it’s work—you’re saving lives for fuck’s sake, and I’m here crying over a birthday dinner,” you bitterly let out, laughing at yourself for even being this upset about it in the first place. 

Zayne’s chest feels tight; the feeling spreads to his throat as he softens his gaze at you. “Are you done talking?” You nod, tucking your trembling lip between your teeth and biting down until it leaves indents on the plush skin. Zayne opens his mouth, carefully weighing his words. “I know how important this dinner was to you, and I still missed it. What you’re feeling is only the natural reaction to my actions.” You’re about to protest, but his stern expression has you immediately shut your mouth. “Let me apologize properly. Let me make it up to you, please.”

He casts you a heated look, hungry eyes landing on your bitten mouth—a gaze so intense that it sends a shiver down your spine. It takes you a second, but you find the strength to move, to nod at him.

Without wasting a second, Zayne’s fingers reach for the zipper on the side of your dress without taking his eyes off your face. He intently watches the small, anticipating crease in your brows and the way with which your lips part when his cold fingers finally touch the bare skin of your ribs. “Did I tell you you looked beautiful?” He speaks, lowering his lips to your collarbone as he peels down one of the sleeves. 

You let out a nervous chuckle as he traces a path from your neck to your ear. “You might have mentioned it.” Your last words are lost to him as he lets the dress fall to the tiled floor. You take it upon yourself to unbutton his shirt, focusing on the task at hand even though you feel the intensity of his gaze on your face. 

It’s a slow race—both too tired to rush but pushed by a sense of urgency to lay claim on one another. Zayne kisses you deeper as he pushes you towards the shower—he still tastes like the sugary frosting. He sighs in relief against your mouth like one does when slipping into a warm bath in the dead of winter. You let your underwear fall to the ground—Zayne’s following suit right after. 

The water is too warm—it makes his frigid touch sting, but the pain soothes something rotten inside of you, so you make no mention of it to him. Pressed against the wall with nowhere to run, you watch affectionately as he steps forward, trapping you between his arms. You’re the one reaching out this time, pulling him down for another lazy kiss, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip just the way he likes. A soft moan leaves his mouth as his breathing grows more laboured. Rivulets of water trickle a path down your sternum, and Zayne’s hand follows—it lands on your waist, where he uses the leverage to pull you impossibly closer.

His knee slots between your legs, and he swallows your whine with a satisfied grin. The friction is just enough to make your mind cloudy but not overwhelming enough to pull you away from the syrupy words that Zayne lets drip out of his mouth.

“I really tried,” he utters as his hands grip your hips, haunching you further on his thigh as it makes direct contact with your core. You mumble his name as a praise. “I even went out to that bookstore you like during a lunch break. The one where they sell the terrible birthday cards with the puns that you somehow find hilarious.”

You frown. “They are hilarious.” Your falsely offended tone visibly amuses him, but he makes no further comment. He instead chooses to kiss you, effectively shutting you up. Your hand slips between your bodies, finding his hardened length pressed against his stomach. Zayne groans softly, a shuddering moan falling from his mouth as you run your hand along, keeping the pressure light enough—just to tease him. 

“Let me take care of you first,” he insists, wrapping his fingers around your wrist to pull your hand away. You know better than to argue with him, so you simply nod—wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with the longer tufts of hair where his nape is. 

With one hand between your legs and the other resting right above your breast, Zayne wastes no time. He knows you better than anyone—which spot makes you sigh, which one makes you moan. His thumb finds your clit as he slowly dips his index and middle fingers inside of you—a small satisfied noise building at the back of his throat. You tense up at the intrusion, your back arching as a reaction. You did not expect to be so sensitive, but the slow-paced circles he rubs against your bundle of nerves send warmth in waves down to your toes—it’s addicting and mind-numbing as pleasure runs its course.

“You’re so warm,” Zayne mumbles against the skin of your neck—biting lovingly at the wet skin. Your reply starts with a pleasured gasp as he curls his finger inside of you. 

“I think your hands are just abnormally cold,” you reply nonchalantly, meeting his eyes only to laugh at him quietly at the slightly puzzled expression that he gives you. His gestures pause for a second as he processes the information.

“All the time?” The surprise in his tone makes your heart throb with affection. Pursing your lips to the side, you debate whether to lie or not. “Why haven’t you ever mentioned it before?” Looking down at his still hand, you greedily urge him to continue his ministrations with your own hand. And while he resumes, earning a soft moan from you, he keeps his inquisitive gaze on you. 

“It’s not a bad thing. I like it,” you admit, cradling the side of his face, admiring the abyssal shade of black his hair turns into once it’s wet. “It feels like you.” Zayne lets out a small hum, seemingly satisfied, as he then picks up the pace of the fingers slipping in and out of you. The sudden change makes you clench around him, and a hiccup breaches past your lips as your head thuds against the wall behind you. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Zayne asks, letting his free hand wander down your breasts, where he watches as his fingers sink into the supple flesh. You nod, eyes screwed shut as the pressure in your lower stomach keeps building up, tightening its hold on your limbs until your toes feel numb. “It’s alright. I got you.”

The soft reassurance he so freely gives you is all it takes. The knot finally snaps, and your back arches off the wall—your chest now pressed firmly against his own. Zayne diligently works you through the waves of pleasure, his fingers knowing exactly what to do as you come down from your high. He pulls them out, letting the warm water wash on the remnants of you on his hand. 

Boneless and tired, you lean against the wall as Zayne gently puts you down—legs wobbling as your feet touch the tiled floor. “Can you stand while I clean you up?” You nod, brainlessly agreeing as Zayne grabs your soap and a washcloth. The soft raspberry and vanilla scent fills the air—it purposefully smells like his favourite dessert. With his surgical precision, he quickly washes you off, limb by limb, as he kneels to the ground to clean your legs. 

“This is the greatest birthday gift ever,” you wearily mumble, a dumb smile on your face. Zayne scoffs softly as he washes your hair, noticing the way you sag against him at the head massage. 

“Want me to help you?” You offer him, opening one eye only as he grabs the bottle of shower gel that he leaves permanently at your place. He seems amused by your offer but shakes his head softly. 

“I’m not too sure that I trust the reliability of your services right now,” he jokes, though his tone remains dry. You chuckle as Zayne rinses out the conditioner, making sure to work through the knots with his fingers. 

“You can always file a complaint,” you deject, stepping foot out of the shower and reaching for the towels he laid out earlier. The steam inside the bathroom fogs up the mirror, and you have to reach over and wipe it to witness the extent of Zayne’s markings on your neck. Unable to suppress the roll of the eye that follows, you part your hair for it to hide most of it before roughly towel drying it.

Zayne shuts the water off, wiping most of the water from the glass door—something you never do yourself, but he diligently does whenever he uses your shower. You hand him the towel, admiring the way the light casts soft shadows on the ridges of his back as he dries himself—the freckles and scars highlighting the planes of his muscles like starlight on the night sky.

The two of you brush your teeth in silence, shoulder to shoulder, and catch glimpses of each other through the mirror—it makes him blush deep red up to the tip of his ears. 

You’ve never felt this at ease, and the domestic feeling grips you by the throat but finds you to be a willing victim. 

You shiver as you open the door, the colder air slipping inside as you walk on your tiptoes to your bedroom. The curtains flail open in the chill of the breeze, and the first rays of timid sunlight tint the sky a deep magenta that fades into a lighter orange over the lilac expanse of the Linkon skyline. The sight takes your breath away.

Zayne enters the bedroom, his towel loosely wrapped around his waist—his gaze instantly finds yours even through the low light of the dusk that seeps into your bedroom. It casts in his eyes both the longing of yesterday and the exciting promise of tomorrow. 

He stops right behind you, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist and pulling your towel to the ground. It falls with a faint thud, and the air makes your warm skin pebble as Zayne runs his palms up and down your arms.

“Do you want to sleep?” He asks you, voice low and raw—there’s an underlying question that makes you smile.

“Did you have any other plans?” The grin in your voice is contagious—Zayne chuckles. 

He presses a tender peck to the side of your neck, softly breathing in the sweetened scent of your skin—he almost salivates. “I had an idea or two in mind. The night is still young.” You turn around to face him with a mirthful expression.

“The sun is rising as we speak.” Zayne’s mouth remains a straight line, but you notice the shift in his gaze.

“Pay no attention to it,” he whispers, grabbing you by the waist to pull you down with him on the bed. The two of you fall in the tangled mess that is your bedsheet—you never find the time in the morning to make it. Zayne always silently judges you for it but goes out of his way to clean up your room whenever he comes over. 

Naked limbs tangled together, Zayne settles between your thighs, taking his time to litter your chest with kisses. Your breath gets stuck in your throat—half plea, half whine. It’s delirious, the ease with which his hands know their way around the curves of your body. As if entirely mapped out inside his head, tucked away under the knowledge he always surprises you with. 

The fear of the missed days always lurks in the back of your mind—plaguing you with stubborn grief over things that haven’t happened. That each time he cancels a date, each time he gets held back at the hospital—it’s time that you’ll never recover. It’s greedy and selfish; you are aware of that at least, but it doesn’t ease the burning betrayal you feel as the days pass by, never to be seen again. 

“What are you thinking about?” Zayne asks, raising himself on his arms to take a good look at you—he’s visibly worried, and you flash him a reassuring smile.

“I just love you, that’s all.” Zayne looks momentarily stunned by your words; his breathing stops, and you wonder if you delivered the final blow. His eyes roam over your face, retracing soft contours of it with uncurbed endearment. He seems to be thinking for a split second before he captures your lips between his.

You kiss him back devotedly, pouring all of what you cannot say into a reciprocal chase of the lips that has Zayne groan against your panting mouth. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he reverently admits, pulling your hips against his in a needy motion to feel your heat pressed against his hardening length.

Your retort dies in your throat, a soft whine that sounds like his name leaving your lips instead.

Hurried words are hushed in your ear, his breath mingling with your own as he kisses you from an awkward angle—too impatient to be parted from your mouth for more than a few seconds. “You think you can take me like this? Or do you want me to go down on you?” 

You shake your head, mind heady with both need and exhaustion that threatens to send it all tumbling down. “I’m good. You’re good.” Zayne gives you one last look, scanning your face.

He lines himself up to your entrance before pressing in, claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss as he moans softly. The needy sound he makes sets your skin on fire as he sinks to the hilt—the fullness steals your breath away. Time stops, and you brush away a few humid strands that are falling in front of Zayne’s eyes. 

“I need a moment,” he mutters, voice strained as he grips the sheets next to your head. You let him take all the time he wants, letting your hand wander down his neck, tracing invisible paths on the skin of his chest. There are small ice crystals forming down his forearms, but you smooth them over with your heated hands, the water pebbling down in his skin onto your bedsheets. When Zayne finally reopens his eyes, the evident need in them should feel overwhelming, but it serves to quench the reciprocal feeling that wrecks through you whenever he is nearby.

“Are you alright?” It’s your turn to express concern, and as per usual, Zayne brushes you off before the last syllable. He cradles your face, his irises almost entirely obscured by his dilated pupils. You swallow audibly, leaning into his palm to press a kiss on it.

Without much warning, Zayne moves his hip, snapping them forward with a soft grunt. The burn from the stretch is pleasurable—a constant reminder. Urging him, you slide back before arching your back so his length slides in. Getting the message, Zayne sets the pace—deep thrusts making your breath stutter. He drags his nose along the length of your neck to mumble your name along with a soft praise.

“You feel so good. I missed you all week, my pretty girl.” Zayne uncharacteristically blabs out of guilt, his words muffled by the delicate skin of your neck that he sucks into his mouth. His rhythm picks up as the muscles of his abdomen flex. One of his hands tightly grips your calf and brings your left leg over his shoulder. You whine—both at his honeyed words and the deeper angle at which he slams his hips into you.

“Fuck, ah—Zayne,” you pant out, clinging to his broad shoulders until your nails leave crimson streaks on his alabaster skin. 

His heavy-lidded gaze is the only thing betraying his exhaustion as he keeps up a brutal pace, taking out his week’s frustrations on you. His hands are everywhere, on your breasts, wrapping loosely around your neck as he captures your lips into a searing kiss—drinking in your sweet, soft pleas that warm him up from the inside like mulled wine. 

Each of his movements is deliberate, imbued with such care and devotion that a sob threatens its way up your throat. It’s a game of give and take in which neither feels deserving to be the winner. The both of you pour as much as you can in the hopes that as much of it can stick to the other—mending broken parts together. 

It heals old scars and soothes any bitterness that remains from the distance that creeps between the two of you whenever apart. It melts away like the frost on a cold autumn morning when the sunlight grazes the shimmering grass blades. 

Zayne’s fingers slip between your bodies and find with ease what he searches—dipping to where his cock is buried inside your heat before dragging them upward to your clit. Pleasure surges forward, and your world suddenly narrows to the rhythm of his touch, the scent of him, and the soft noises he lets out as he nips your earlobe to distract himself. 

Your breath catches—rising and falling in desperate, unsteady gasps as the pressure builds and builds. A wildfire catching ablaze and running its course through your bloodstream with an urgency that makes your head spin. Zayne follows close behind, his movements getting more erratic and less consistent as he rapidly feels the thread fraying.

He forces himself to open his eyes, struck with pure awe at the blissed-out expression on your face, at the otherworldly glow with which your skin catches the early light—a pearlescent sheen that mesmerizes him. Zayne mutters your name brokenly—a prayer, a praise, a plea for forgiveness that he earned lifetimes ago. 

For a moment, you forget everything but the warmth, the pressure, the overwhelming rush of him—of this—and when it finally breaks. Zayne is quick to notice; it’s a quiet surrender, a shiver that hums through every nerve, but he’s fluent in the tells of your body. A tremor runs through your every limb as he slows his pace down, savouring the way you clench impossibly tight around him. 

There’s a raw vulnerability in your gaze—a sudden outpouring of emotions that seeps into his skin like spilled ink on parchment. It chokes him up as the voices in the back of his head echo words he knows by heart by now. A tale as old as time that paints him as undeserving of this. Undeserving of you. You touch his cheek, and he blinks, momentarily stunned and brought back to the moment. The tender and loving grazing of your fingers against his forehead as you push his hair away from where it falls in front of his eyes.

It’s enough for him to ignore the pesky thoughts—at least for tonight. 

With a deeper thrust, burying his head into the crook of your neck where he unapologetically bites your shoulder, Zayne spills into you with a soft grunt. His hips stutter, slowing down until he is completely static and lets out the most delectable grunt that ends in a low whine that makes you acutely aware of how much he needed this. 

He collapses to your side—bone-deep exhaustion finally setting in. You wince as he pulls out of you, but he wastes no time cleaning the mess he left between your legs with your towel laying further on the bed. Sweat clings to your heated skin, but the gentle breeze cools it down almost immediately. 

“We should have showered after,” you flatly comment, and Zayne laughs—a strikingly loud and out-of-character laugh that takes you by surprise. He must be delirious with fatigue, but you tuck the sound of it away in your mind as you join him until your ribs hurt.

He exhales loudly, tracing circles on your arm. “I made a reservation at your favourite cafe tomorrow,” Zayne says, flipping on his side to look at you tenderly. He is absentmindedly playing with some unruly hair strands down your neck, his face still red. “I believe it’s in 5 hours. I can cancel if you want to sleep in.”

You huff softly, grabbing a pillow that fell to the floor and tucking it under your arm. “It’s alright. I’ll set an alarm.”

He looks at you unconvinced. “Is the alarm intended to wake me up? You’re not known to be easily awakened,” Zayne comments, an eyebrow inquisitively raised as he taunts you.

You wait a few seconds before answering, weighing your options. “What if I say it is?” As expected, Zayne rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest further. With one quick gesture, he drags the bed covers over the two of you and pulls you tightly against him. Though his breathing has returned to normal, his heartbeat betrays his seemingly calm state. 

He presses a kiss to the crown of your hair. “Happy birthday.” You hum, smiling as you tilt your head up to press a kiss on the top of his nose. “Get some sleep, doctor’s order,” he immediately adds with his usual sternness. You’re about to snarkily reply but stop yourself, knowing better than to argue with him when he uses such a tone. 

You settle against him, lulled to sleep by the steadying beat of his heart and the soft tickle of his breathing against your temple as the sun starts pouring its warm golden light in the quietude of your bedroom.