#the world is not soft and so my writing will be

[areislol]

how honkai star rail men would be with their very heavily pregnant wife

pairings. jing yuan, blade, anaxa, phainon, mydei, aventurine, boothill, dr ratio, gepard, sunday, sampo, moze x fem/afab! reader

warnings. phainon and mydei might be ooc! slightly suggestive for mydei, angst if you squint for boothill

a/n. my professor is pregnant and i got inspired, is that weird? i think i went a little overboard when writing.

wc. 18.2k

jing yuan

✧  super protective general mode activated – jing yuan won’t let you lift a single finger. you’re a literal empress in his eyes, and he treats you like one.

✧ he constantly rubs your belly, murmuring sweet nothings to your baby, calling them “little cub” or “our future star.”

✧ yanqing is over the moon, already asking when he can start training the baby. jing yuan just laughs and tells him to be patient.

✧ he pretends to be chill, but he secretly has his cloud knights monitoring your every move. if you so much as sigh, he’s rushing to your side with a massage ready.

✧ jing yuan is so unbelievably soft with you. he treats you like you're the most precious thing in the world, because to him, you are. he’s already a laid-back general, but when it comes to you and your pregnancy, he becomes even lazier—only because he insists on doing everything for you, so you don’t have to lift a single finger.

✧ “why would i let you do anything, my love? you’re already doing the most important thing—bringing our child into this world.” he says it so smoothly, like it’s the most obvious thing ever, all while he’s feeding you slices of fresh fruit.

✧ he loves talking to the baby. every night, he rests his head against your belly, rubbing slow circles over your stretched skin as he murmurs soft words. “are you being good to your mother? not causing too much trouble, i hope.” his voice is teasing, but there’s so much warmth in it.

✧ yanqing is excited beyond belief. he treats your belly like a sacred treasure, constantly checking in and promising to be the best big brother figure. jing yuan just watches with an amused smile, letting the boy go on about how he’ll train the baby to be the best swordsman when they’re older.

✧ if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately at your side. tired? he’s carrying you. back hurting? he’s massaging you. craving something? he already sent someone to get it.

✧ he lets you sleep on him whenever you want. if you’re tired in the middle of the day, he just pulls you into his lap, arms wrapped securely around you as he leans back, perfectly content to stay like that for hours.

✧ you catch him daydreaming about your child a lot. he’ll be sitting at his desk, chin in his palm, a soft smile on his lips as he imagines what they’ll look like. “will they have your eyes?” he asks one day, reaching out to brush his fingers over your cheek. “i hope they do.”

✧ he’s secretly very nervous about the birth. he won’t show it, but you catch the way his fingers tighten slightly when he thinks about it. he just loves you so much, and he hates the idea of you being in pain. he’ll be right by your side when the time comes, holding your hand, whispering reassurances in that deep, soothing voice of his.

✧ at the end of the day, jing yuan is just so deeply in love with you. every moment, every touch, every gentle smile—he’s cherishing all of it, because this is the family he’s always dreamed of.

✧ jing yuan is absolutely smitten with you and your pregnancy. he’s always been affectionate, but now? now he’s downright insatiable when it comes to touching you. his hands are always somewhere—resting on your belly, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back, cupping your cheek as he presses soft kisses against your lips. he just wants you to feel loved every second of the day.

✧ he’s a chronic nuzzler. when you’re sitting together, he leans in to bury his face in your neck, breathing in your scent, his hands splayed across your belly. when you’re lying down, he rests his forehead against yours, murmuring sweet little reassurances about how well you’re doing. if he could, he’d never let you leave his embrace.

✧ he absolutely spoils you. your cravings? already fulfilled before you even realize you’re hungry. your feet hurt? he’s massaging them while looking at you with those warm, golden eyes. you’re feeling emotional? he’s pulling you into his lap, whispering words of love as he strokes your hair.

✧ his favorite thing is feeling the baby kick. he lights up every single time—his eyes softening, a slow smile tugging at his lips as he presses his palm to your belly. “ah, little one, i see you’re already training to be a warrior.” he chuckles, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.

✧ he reads to you at night. sometimes it’s poetry, sometimes it’s old tales of the xianzhou, but he loves the idea of his voice lulling both you and the baby into sleep. he takes it as an unspoken duty to make sure you’re as comfortable and relaxed as possible.

✧ he will not let you lift a single thing. you could be reaching for something as light as a teacup, and suddenly his arm is there, effortlessly taking it from you. “tsk, tsk, my dear. what did i say about doing things yourself?” he smirks as he hands it to you, obviously enjoying how much he gets to dote on you.

✧ yanqing is so excited that it makes jing yuan even more excited. when yanqing starts talking about how he’s going to train the baby in swordsmanship, jing yuan suddenly finds himself indulging in the fantasy, too. “hm… perhaps they’ll wield a greatsword like me,” he muses, stroking his chin before glancing at you with a teasing smirk. “or maybe they’ll be as quick-witted and sharp as their mother.”

✧ he secretly makes a journal about the pregnancy. he writes down little notes—about the first time he felt the baby kick, about how breathtaking you looked under the moonlight as you rested, about how his heart aches with how much he loves you both. he never tells you about it, but he plans to give it to your child when they’re older, so they’ll know just how much their father adored their mother.

✧ he absolutely, 100% cries when the baby is born. he tries to be strong, tries to keep his composure, but the moment he hears that first cry, he’s done for. he cups your face with shaky hands, pressing his forehead to yours as he whispers, “you did so well, my love… so well.” and when he finally holds the baby, his chest tightens with overwhelming love—he’s never known a happiness like this before.

blade —

✧ he rarely shows outward emotions, but his hands always find their way to your belly, as if grounding himself in the reality of your shared future.

✧ if you ever feel pain, even if it’s normal pregnancy discomfort, he tenses up immediately, staring at you with worry. “are you okay? do you need something?”

✧ he lets you sleep curled up against him, his body warmth soothing you. even if he doesn’t need rest, he’ll lay beside you, hand on your stomach, eyes half-lidded.

✧ the stellaron hunters tease him for being so soft for you, but he doesn’t care. his priority is you and the baby—nothing else.

✧ buys you those pregnancy pillows, not one, not two, not three, but FIVE of them. why? don't ask why. he just did what he had to do.

✧ blade is both the most terrifying and the softest man you have ever seen during your pregnancy. anyone who so much as glances at you the wrong way gets a death glare so sharp it could cut through steel. he becomes hyper-aware of his surroundings, his protective instincts dialed up to a thousand. but when he's with you? when he's resting his palm on your belly, feeling the faint kicks of your child? he's tender in a way no one else will ever see.

✧ he doesn't speak much, but his actions say everything. he’s not the type to whisper poetic words about his love for you, but when he pulls you into his chest, his calloused fingers brushing through your hair—when he kneels in front of you, pressing the softest kiss to your swollen belly—you know exactly how much he cherishes you.

✧ he has a habit of placing his hand on your belly whenever you're together. it’s instinctual, protective, like he’s always ready to shield both you and your child from harm. even in his sleep, his hand finds its way to your stomach, fingers twitching slightly as if standing guard.

✧ he worries about you, even if he doesn’t always say it outright. you catch him watching you with furrowed brows when you move around too much, his lips pressing into a thin line when he sees you wince. if he had his way, you'd be in bed all day, wrapped up in the safest cocoon possible—but he knows you’re strong, so he holds back. barely.

✧ he is unbelievably gentle when touching you. it’s almost ironic—blade, a man who knows nothing but violence, whose hands are stained with countless battles, touches you like you’re made of the finest glass. every time he cups your face, every time he trails his fingers over your belly, his touch is so, so careful. he would rather die than cause you any harm.

✧ he talks to the baby when he thinks you're asleep. late at night, when the world is silent and you’re curled up against him, he whispers words he could never say when you're awake. “i will protect you.” his voice is barely above a breath, his hand splayed over your belly. “you and your mother. always.”

✧ he makes sure you're eating properly, even if it means forcing you to sit down while he prepares something himself. he doesn’t care if he’s never been much of a cook—he will make sure you're fed and taken care of, even if it means standing in the kitchen for an hour, staring at a recipe with a deep frown.

✧ he pretends not to care about the baby shopping, but he totally does. when you bring him to look at baby clothes, he acts indifferent at first, hands tucked into his coat. but the second he sees a tiny onesie in your favorite color? he picks it up, runs his fingers over the fabric, and mutters something about how “this one looks… acceptable.” (he buys it immediately.)

✧ he doesn't know how to express it, but he's excited to be a father. he never thought he’d have something like this—something soft, something real. he never thought he’d have a future beyond endless battles. but now, with you by his side, carrying a child that is part of both of you, he finally starts to believe in something more.

✧ when the baby is born, he is completely, utterly still. for the first time in his life, blade feels like he has no words. he holds the tiny bundle in his arms, staring down at this little life he helped create, and something deep inside him shifts. when he finally looks at you, eyes glassy with unspoken emotion, he whispers the only thing he can say—“thank you.”

✧ blade is absolutely helpless when it comes to your cravings. you want something specific in the middle of the night? he’s already putting on his coat, ready to hunt it down no matter how absurd it is. he doesn’t even question it anymore. one time, you craved something bizarre—like spicy pickles dipped in chocolate—and he just stared at you for a full ten seconds before silently retrieving the ingredients. when he watched you eat it with a satisfied hum, he muttered, “...i have never feared anything more than i fear your cravings.”

✧ there was one time when he brought you the wrong food, and you almost burst into tears. your craving was very specific—a warm peach bun from a particular vendor—but he accidentally got a different flavor. when he saw your lip tremble, he immediately turned on his heel and went straight back out to find the exact one you wanted. “i will not return until i retrieve it,” he swore, like he was going on some life-or-death mission.

✧ he tries to act like he doesn’t care when you make him try your strange craving combinations, but the second you say, “if you love me, you’ll try it,” he knows he’s lost. cue him begrudgingly taking a bite of something absolutely cursed (like ice cream and soy sauce) while you eagerly watch for his reaction. he chews. he swallows. he slowly looks away and mutters, “i am never doing that again.” (he does it again the next time you ask.)

✧ one time, you craved something so bad that you started getting emotional over it. “blade… what if i never get to eat it again?” you sniffled, burying your face in your hands. panic. absolute panic. he thought this was an actual emergency. he dropped everything he was doing, ready to fight the universe itself if it meant securing your food. when he finally got it and handed it to you, you sighed dreamily, saying, “you’re my hero.” his ears turned a little red after that.

✧ you get unbelievably clingy, and it’s both endearing and confusing to blade. he’ll be standing still, minding his own business, when you just attach yourself to him, draping yourself over his back like a koala. “don’t move,” you mumble. he doesn’t. if anything, he just shifts slightly so that you’re more comfortable.

✧ there was a moment when you dramatically flopped onto the bed, groaning about how your feet hurt. before you could even finish your sentence, blade was already kneeling down, silently massaging your feet. you gasped. “oh my god, you’re actually good at this—” his fingers worked into the sore spots with expert precision. you immediately melted. blade, meanwhile, just continued as if he’d been doing this for centuries. “your body is under strain,” he simply said. “this is the least i can do.”

✧ blade has an uncanny ability to appear whenever you need help. you’re struggling to bend down to grab something? suddenly, he’s there. you’re about to lift something heavier than he deems acceptable? boom, he’s already taking it from you. you once tested this by whispering, “i’m craving something…” and within seconds, he materialized behind you with an unreadable expression, already holding his coat, waiting for instructions.

✧ he does not tolerate anyone making unnecessary comments about your size. one time, a stranger made an offhand remark about how big your belly was, and before you could even react, blade was staring them down with the most chilling gaze imaginable. he didn’t even say a word—just narrowed his eyes ever so slightly—and the person immediately backpedaled.

✧ despite his serious nature, there was one time he made a mistake that neither of you will ever forget. you asked him to fetch your favorite snack, and he misheard you. instead of returning with the correct one, he came back with something completely different. when he handed it to you, looking all serious, you just… stared at it. “blade… what is this.” he frowned. “the food you asked for.” you shook your head.

✧ “no, this is not what i asked for.” a long silence. then, without a word, he simply turned around and walked right back out to get the correct one.

✧ sometimes, he gets so used to catering to you that he forgets he doesn’t need to keep doing it after the baby is born. one time, you got up to get something for yourself, and blade immediately tried to stop you. “sit down,” he said automatically, already moving to do it for you. you had to gently remind him, “blade, i can move now.” he paused. thought about it. then, in a deadpan voice, muttered, “...i don’t like that.”

anaxa —

✧ the man is obsessed with your pregnancy. every single day, he’s marveling at your growing belly, resting his head on it, whispering to the baby.

✧ “can you hear me, little one? your father loves you very, very much~” and then he looks up at you with stars in his eyes. you can’t walk five steps without him offering to carry you.

✧ he’d literally sweep you off your feet in public if you let him. he handmakes baby clothes, paints the nursery with celestial patterns, and makes sure you’re always surrounded by warmth and love.

✧ anaxa is absolutely ecstatic about you carrying his child. he’s a man of passion, and this is the most exciting thing to ever happen in his life. he showers you in affection constantly, hands never far from your belly, and every little change in your pregnancy fascinates him. one day, he catches sight of your growing bump in the mirror, and his golden eyes widen with pure admiration.

✧ “by the aeons, look at you… you’re stunning.” he twirls you around, beaming, like you’re the most divine sight in the universe.

✧ he is obnoxiously protective but in a warm, dramatic way. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately cupping your face, his gaze filled with concern. “beloved, are you unwell? do you need anything? say the word, and i shall move the stars themselves to bring you comfort.” if you so much as stumble, he is catching you like a hero in a romantic novel, dipping you slightly as if it were a dance.

✧ he goes insane over your cravings. no matter how ridiculous, he takes it as a personal challenge. one time, you craved the most specific fruit from a distant planet, and before you could even consider changing your mind, he was already making arrangements to have it imported. it arrived within hours. you stared at him in disbelief as he proudly presented it. “for you, my beloved, there is no distance too far.”

✧ he gets competitive about taking care of you. he must be the one to do everything. need a foot massage? he’s already doing it. thirsty? your drink is already in your hands. you tried to reach for something on a high shelf once, and he gasped dramatically, lifting you into his arms instead. “such tasks are far beneath you, my dear.” you just wanted a plate.

✧ when the baby kicks for the first time, he is overwhelmed. his hands freeze over your stomach, golden eyes widening in shock. he looks up at you, utterly stunned, before breaking into the most lovesick grin you have ever seen. “they’re strong,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. “our child is strong.”

✧ he talks to your belly. all the time. and not just little greetings—he has full conversations. he tells your baby about the adventures he’s had, the beautiful places they’ll see, and how lucky they are to have you as their mother. sometimes, when he thinks you’re asleep, he whispers soft promises to them. “you will be loved beyond measure, little one. i swear it upon the stars.”

✧ he spoils you rotten. anything you want, you get. it’s impossible to stop him. the moment you so much as glance at a pretty item, he’s already purchasing it. if you tell him “you don’t have to—” he hushes you with a kiss to your forehead. “nonsense, my love. you deserve the world.”

✧ he gets extremely emotional when you’re in labour. despite his usual confidence, he is on edge, pacing the room, running a hand through his hair, whispering prayers under his breath. the second he hears your baby’s first cry, he collapses into the chair, exhaling a deep breath of relief (like he was the one giving birth.... 😒).

✧ when he finally holds them for the first time, he is speechless. his usual poetic words fail him, and he just stares, eyes glossy with unshed tears, before finally whispering, “you are the greatest gift i have ever received.”

✧ anaxa treats your pregnancy like the most important quest of his life. from the moment he learns you’re expecting, he dives headfirst into research. he devours every article, medical journal, and ancient text on pregnancy, memorizing every detail.

✧ at night, he’s hunched over stacks of datapads, reading about fetal development, prenatal nutrition, and even obscure childbirth traditions across different planets. when you wake up and ask what he’s doing, he simply replies, “studying for the most important role of my existence.”

✧ he takes notes. meticulous, detailed notes. he carries around a small journal where he writes everything—your mood shifts, your cravings, even what time of day the baby kicks the most. it’s filled with observations like “beloved seemed irritated today—possible correlation with lack of midday nap?” and “baby prefers right side of belly—will investigate further.”

✧ one time, you peeked into his notes and found a page titled “top ten ways to make my love comfortable” with a ranked list of his most successful strategies.

✧ he does field research. he doesn’t just rely on books—he goes out and seeks firsthand knowledge. he interviews every mother he can find, from warriors to scholars, recording their experiences and advice with intense focus.

✧ he once stopped an entire group of mothers in the marketplace just to ask, “ladies, if i may—what was the most effective way your partners supported you during pregnancy?” he listened very seriously, nodding at each answer, before thanking them with a deep bow.

✧ he becomes hyper-aware of pregnancy symptoms before you even notice them. you sigh slightly, and before you can say anything, he’s already handing you water because “dehydration can cause fatigue, my dear.”

✧ If you rub your lower back even once, he instantly offers a massage. one time, you mentioned feeling warm, and within seconds, he adjusted the room’s temperature to the optimal degree for pregnant comfort.

✧ no one can escape his lectures. if someone offers you food that’s even slightly questionable for pregnancy, he immediately intervenes, launching into a detailed explanation of why you cannot eat it. “that dish contains an ingredient known to cause nausea in twelve percent of expectant mothers. i simply cannot allow it.”

✧ you once caught him educating a fellow father-to-be about the importance of emotional support during pregnancy. “your partner’s needs must always come first. if she craves something at midnight, you go. no hesitation.”

✧ he gets way too into prenatal bonding. he doesn’t just talk to the baby—he reads stories, sings songs, and even plays music. one day, you walked in on him reciting a dramatic monologue from one of his favorite plays to your belly, gesturing passionately. “and so, my dear child, this is the tale of heroes and honor… may you inherit my love for storytelling.” you couldn’t stop laughing.

✧ when you’re nearing your due date, he prepares a full emergency plan. he has a route mapped out to the medical facility, a list of supplies packed and double-checked, and contingency plans for every possible scenario.

✧ if labor starts unexpectedly, he has multiple escape routes memorized for a quick departure. one time, he even did a practice drill, making sure he could carry you effortlessly if needed. “i must be ready, beloved. i refuse to falter in your moment of need.”

✧ the moment you go into labor, he activates like a man on a mission. his usually playful and dramatic nature is replaced with laser-sharp focus. he’s immediately by your side, holding your hand, guiding you through breathing exercises he memorized. but internally, he is barely holding it together.

✧ the second he hears the baby’s first cry, he lets out a shaky breath, his entire body relaxing. when he finally holds your child, all the stress melts away, and he just gazes at them in awe, whispering, “you were worth every moment.”

phainon

✧ this man treats you like the most precious treasure. If anyone so much as breathes near you the wrong way, he’s glaring at them. every craving? immediately fulfilled.

✧ even if you wake up at 3 am and want the most obscure food, he’ll find a way to get it for you. he’s fascinated by the baby’s movements and constantly asks, “did they kick just now?”

✧ when you can’t sleep, he’ll hold you close and hum soft lullabies, stroking your hair until you drift off in his arms.

✧ phainon is absolutely obsessed with the idea of being a father. from the moment he learns you’re pregnant, he acts like he just won the greatest cosmic jackpot in existence. he picks you up and spins you around before freezing and setting you down gently, apologizing because “right, right, must be careful now.” but he’s grinning ear to ear, already talking about all the things he wants to do with the baby. “do you think they’ll like stargazing? i’ll teach them all about the constellations, and we can name a star after them.”

✧ he immediately starts making preparations. within days, he’s turned an entire room into a nursery, but it’s not just any nursery—it’s a masterpiece. he hand-paints galaxies on the ceiling so the baby will always feel like they’re sleeping under the stars.

✧ he even commissions a custom-built crib that gently rocks like a spaceship in zero gravity. he’s so proud of it, constantly adjusting tiny details to make it perfect. “our little star deserves the best, don’t you think?”

✧ he takes baby-proofing to an extreme. he starts evaluating your entire home with the scrutiny of a scientist studying an uncharted planet. “this corner? too sharp. that table? unstable. this step? a potential hazard.”

✧ you catch him padding furniture, securing every single cabinet, and even installing a soft landing zone in case the baby ever falls. you try to tell him that it’s way too early for this, but he just winks and says, “better to be safe than sorry, starlight.”

✧ cravings are his absolute favourite part of the pregnancy. the moment you mention wanting something, he’s on it. he once woke up at three in the morning to hunt down a very specific dessert you were craving.

✧ when he finally returned, slightly dishevelled but victorious, he proudly presented it to you like he had just returned from a heroic quest. if you ever apologise for asking for something difficult, he just kisses your forehead and says, “there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you and our little one.”

✧ he gets really into talking to the baby. not just casual conversations—full-blown storytelling. he lies with his head on your belly, telling the baby about all the wonders of the universe, all the places they’ll visit, all the things they’ll see.

✧ “you’re gonna love it out here. just wait until you see your first comet—it’s breathtaking.” he also sings lullabies, soft celestial melodies he swears have been passed down in his family. even you find yourself falling asleep to them.

✧ he fusses over you constantly. anytime you so much as sigh, he’s immediately checking in. “are you okay? do you need anything? here, let me get you some water. or a pillow. or—” you have to physically stop him from treating you like a fragile piece of glass.

✧ if you so much as try to lift something heavier than a book, he swoops in immediately. “whoa, whoa, whoa—absolutely not. no heavy lifting for my love. let me handle it.”

✧ despite all his excitement, he does have moments of deep, quiet reflection. sometimes you’ll find him sitting by the nursery, looking up at the painted stars with a soft smile. when you ask what’s on his mind, he just pulls you close and murmurs, “i just… can’t believe this is real. that i get to have this with you.”

✧ his hand will rest on your belly, his thumb tracing slow circles as he whispers, “i promise to be the best father i can be. i swear it.”

✧ when the day finally comes, he is a wreck. for all his usual charm and confidence, the moment you tell him it’s time, he panics. he grabs the hospital bag, then forgets where he put the hospital bag. he tries to call someone but dials the wrong number. you have to physically pull him back to reality.

✧ but once he sees you, really sees you, he takes a deep breath, centers himself, and holds your hand with all the love in the universe. when he hears the baby’s first cry, his eyes fill with tears, and he laughs, breathless, as he whispers, “welcome home, little star.”

✧ phainon is an absolute menace when it comes to public displays of affection, and your pregnancy just makes it ten times worse. he’s already the type to drape himself over you, kiss you whenever he pleases, and hold your hand no matter where you go, but now? now he’s practically glued to you. he’s always resting a hand on your belly, rubbing soothing circles over it, or just holding you close like he’s staking a claim. whenever someone congratulates him on the baby, he just beams and says, “i know, isn’t it wonderful? my starlight is glowing.”

✧ the chrysos heirs do not make things easy for him. the moment they find out you’re pregnant, it’s like they’ve been given free rein to tease him relentlessly. they’re always making comments about how he’s become soft, how he’s acting like an overexcited first-time dad, how he’s basically your personal servant at this point. phainon just waves them off with a smug grin, completely unbothered. “jealous? i would be too if i didn’t have someone as perfect as my starlight carrying my child.” the teasing only gets worse after that.

✧ some of them take it a step further, trying to rile him up by making bets on what kind of father he’ll be. “ten credits says he cries when he holds the baby for the first time.” “twenty says he panics and passes out before the baby even arrives.” phainon just scoffs, but the truth is? he does cry when he holds the baby for the first time, and he almost passes out from the sheer emotional overload. the heirs never let him live it down.

✧ despite their teasing, some of them are actually really invested in your pregnancy. they offer parenting books, advice (some useful, some absolutely ridiculous), and even propose setting up a baby fund to spoil the child the moment they’re born.

✧ phainon, of course, refuses. “i appreciate the thought, but my little one won’t need all that nonsense.” ten minutes later, he’s accepting a tiny celestial-themed onesie from one of the heirs with a soft, “... okay, maybe just this one.”

✧ in public, phainon is the proudest future father to ever exist. he makes sure everyone knows. if you go out together, he’s showing you off like you’re the most precious treasure in the galaxy—which, in his eyes, you are. if someone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s immediately on guard, slipping an arm around your waist and fixing them with a look that says don’t even think about it.

✧ he gets so protective when you’re in crowded areas. he insists on keeping a hand on you at all times, whether it’s resting on the small of your back or holding your hand tightly. if someone bumps into you even slightly, his entire demeanor shifts—his usual easygoing attitude replaced by something much sharper. “watch where you’re going,” he says, his voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

✧ if you ever get tired while walking, he doesn’t even hesitate before picking you up. bridal style, over his shoulder, whatever gets the job done. you try to protest, but he just grins. “what? i can’t have my starlight overexerting themselves. besides, you deserve to be treated like royalty.” people definitely stare, but phainon does not care in the slightest.

✧ you catch him buying so many baby-related things on impulse. he’ll see a tiny pair of star-patterned socks and immediately grab them, muttering “they’re going to look adorable in these.” his collection of baby clothes, plushies, and toys gets so out of hand that you have to physically stop him from buying more.

✧ he gets so smug when people comment on how lucky your child will be to have him as a father. he’ll flash you a knowing grin and say something like, “of course they’re lucky. they have the best parents in the universe.” and then he’ll lean in and murmur against your ear, “but between you and me, they’re going to love you more.”

✧ at the end of the day, despite all the teasing from the heirs, the doting, and the over-the-top protection, phainon is just so deeply in love with you and the life you’re building together.

✧ every time he looks at you, he sees the future he’s always dreamed of. and every time he places a hand on your belly, he’s reminded that his greatest adventure is just beginning.

mydei

✧ overly doting husband award goes to… mydei! he treats you like royalty.

✧ if you ever try to do anything yourself, he’s immediately stopping you. “what do you think you're doing? you are carrying our child. i’ll do everything.”

✧ and he means it. he writes letters to your baby before they’re born, leaving them in a box for them to read one day. you constantly wake up to breakfast in bed, your favourite drinks prepared exactly how you like them, and soft, warm blankets because he wants you as comfy as possible.

✧ mydei is absolutely obsessed with your pregnancy in the best way possible. the moment he finds out, it’s like his entire world shifts—everything he does, everything he thinks about, revolves around you and the little life growing inside you.

✧ he becomes so soft, his usual cold, distant demeanor melting away when he’s with you. whenever he talks about the baby, his voice is filled with nothing but warmth. “our little one is going to be amazing. just like their mother.”

✧ he takes everything about pregnancy very seriously. he practically turns into a scholar overnight, gathering every book, article, and medical journal he can find. he takes meticulous notes, cross-references sources, and even reaches out to professionals—doctors, experienced parents, even midwives.

✧ he even asks random pregnant women and mothers about their experiences, carefully logging every detail. “everyone’s journey is different,” he tells you, eyes filled with determination. “but i need to be prepared for anything.”

✧ his research leads to some very specific routines. he makes sure your diet is perfectly balanced, ensuring you get all the necessary nutrients while still indulging your cravings.

✧ he tracks your hydration levels, sleep patterns, and even stress levels. if he notices you looking tired or overwhelmed, he immediately whisks you away to rest. “no arguments. you need to take care of yourself.”

✧ despite his usually elegant and refined nature, he is so comically weak to your cravings. he will go to the ends of the universe to find whatever it is you’re craving, no matter how difficult or absurd. “you want a very specific fruit that only grows on a planet halfway across the cosmos? give me a moment.” he does not settle for substitutes. if it’s not exactly what you want, he will not rest until he finds it.

✧ he gets extremely protective in public. he’s already the type to keep an eye on his surroundings, but now? he’s on high alert. he positions himself between you and any potential danger, shields you from crowds, and death-glares anyone who so much as bumps into you. he carries extra layers if it gets cold, makes sure you’re never overexerting yourself, and always finds the safest routes when walking anywhere.

✧ if anyone even dares to make an inappropriate comment about your pregnancy—whether it’s about your body changing or unsolicited parenting advice—his entire demeanor darkens. his polite mask drops, and his voice turns icy as he calmly but mercilessly shuts them down. “your opinion was neither needed nor wanted. kindly leave before i lose my patience.”

✧ pda with him becomes softer, sweeter, and more frequent. he was always a little reserved when it came to public affection, but now? he doesn’t care who’s watching.

✧ he kisses your forehead absentmindedly, holds your hand everywhere, and often keeps an arm around your waist, rubbing gentle circles over your belly. when he talks to people, his hand naturally rests on your stomach as if it’s second nature.

✧ at night, he always falls asleep with a hand on your belly. he whispers to the baby, telling them stories, making quiet promises. “i’ll keep you and your mother safe. always.” his fingers trace light patterns against your skin, his voice laced with adoration. if the baby kicks, his eyes light up with wonder, a rare, unguarded smile stretching across his lips. “already so strong.”

✧ he takes nesting very seriously. he personally oversees the nursery, ensuring everything is perfect. the colors, the furniture, even the atmosphere—he carefully selects everything with precision and care. he tests the crib himself, sits in the rocking chair to make sure it’s comfortable, and painstakingly arranges and rearranges decorations until he’s satisfied. if something isn’t up to his standards, it’s gone. “only the best for our child.”

✧ the moment the baby arrives, all the walls he’s ever had completely crumble. he holds them with the gentlest touch, his eyes brimming with emotions he can’t even put into words.

✧ he presses the softest kiss to their forehead, whispering their name like it’s something sacred. he looks at you, exhausted yet radiant, and for the first time in his life, he feels truly complete.

✧ mydei insists on accompanying you every single time you go shopping for maternity wear. at first, you think he’s just being his usual meticulous, overprotective self, but then you realise—he genuinely enjoys it.

✧ he treats it like an event, carefully selecting pieces he thinks will be both comfortable and stylish for you. he has impeccable taste, so he always picks out the most flattering outfits, running his hands over the fabrics with a thoughtful hum before handing them to you. “this one will look beautiful on you. try it on.”

✧ the moment you start feeling insecure about your belly, he notices. you run your fingers over the curve of your stomach, frowning slightly at how different your body feels, how nothing fits the way it used to. the way you sigh while looking at yourself in the mirror doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

✧ he steps behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. his hands slide over the curve of your belly, holding you close.

✧ “why do you look so troubled, my love?” his voice is so smooth, low, and filled with warmth. when you mutter about how different your body feels, how you don’t feel as attractive, he simply tilts his head, his lips brushing against your ear.

✧ “you look breathtaking. absolutely divine.” he turns you around gently, his fingers lightly tracing patterns against your stomach. “do you even realise how incredible you are? you’re carrying our child, our future. there is nothing more beautiful than that.”

✧ his reassurance does not stop there. if anything, it becomes a little suggestive. his lips trail down to your neck, placing slow, deliberate kisses as his hands roam your sides. “this body, this belly, this softness... all of it is perfect. you are perfect.” his voice is velvety, filled with unfiltered adoration, and when you let out a small, embarrassed laugh, he just smiles against your skin.

✧ “you don’t believe me?” he whispers, his hands sliding lower before resting firmly on your hips. “perhaps I should show you just how irresistible you are to me.”

✧ you swat at his chest, flustered beyond belief, telling him you’re in the middle of a clothing store, but he only chuckles, tilting your chin up so you meet his gaze. “fine, fine. I’ll behave… for now.” but the way he lingers, the way his eyes darken just a little, tells you that he’s far from done.

✧ even after leaving the store, his hands never stop touching you—tracing over your belly absentmindedly, rubbing soothing circles over your back, occasionally squeezing your hips just to see you flustered. whenever you wear the clothes he picked out, he cannot take his eyes off you.

✧ if you ask him why he’s staring, he simply smirks. “admiring my wife. is that a crime?” he pauses before leaning in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “though, I must say, I quite enjoy seeing you without these clothes, too.”

aventurine

✧ he acts nonchalant (well not really...), but deep down? he’s besotted with you and the baby. he boasts about you to everyone at the family, showing off the sonograms like they’re a rare jackpot he won at a casino.

✧ every time you walk into the room, his eyes immediately land on you. “and how is my favourite future mother doing today?”

✧ if you’re feeling down, he spoils you like crazy, showering you with gifts and trips to the fanciest places just to see you smile.

✧ aventurine treats you like absolute royalty the moment he finds out you’re pregnant. not that he didn’t already spoil you before, but now? it’s on a completely different level. you barely have to lift a finger—he’s already taking care of everything before you even think about needing it.

✧ he immediately starts building a nursery, and by "building," he means designing the most extravagant, high-end, luxurious baby room money can buy.

✧ he spares no expense—custom furniture, premium-quality baby clothes, plush toys imported from different planets, the softest blankets in existence, a crib that probably costs more than a spaceship, you name it. everything is top-tier, only the best for his child.

✧ he goes overboard with baby shopping. you tell him the baby isn’t even here yet, and he just smirks, unbothered. “better to be prepared, sweetheart. besides, it’s fun.” he buys every cute outfit he sees, from tiny formal suits to cozy little onesies, and don’t even get him started on toys. he buys so many that you swear your baby won’t even get to play with half of them.

✧ food? taken care of. cravings? immediately satisfied. he has chefs on standby ready to make whatever you want, whenever you want it. at 2 am, when you wake up craving something obscure, you hesitate to wake him, but the moment he stirs and hears you shifting in bed, he insists. “tell me what you want, love. i’ll get it for you right now.”

✧ and if it’s something rare or hard to find? he pulls strings, makes calls, and by some miracle, has it in front of you within the hour. if that’s not possible, he personally goes out to find it himself. no complaints, no hesitation. he does it happily.

✧ he is obsessed with making sure you’re comfortable. if he catches you shifting around, trying to find a better position, he’s already fluffing your pillows, adjusting your seat, anything to make sure you’re perfectly cozy.

✧ he arranges regular massages for you, has the softest, most luxurious blankets at your disposal, and if he catches you even looking slightly uncomfortable, he fixes it before you can even say a word.

✧ the way he dotes on you is almost comical. he won’t even let you walk too much without insisting you rest. “why strain yourself when I can carry you, hm?” and if you protest? he smirks, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet anyway.

✧ he loves talking to your belly. at first, it’s just quiet murmurs when he thinks you’re asleep, soft reassurances and promises. but then? he gets dramatic. “you better take after your mother. if you inherit my gambling habits, we’re going to have a problem.” he fully has conversations with your unborn child, completely shameless, and honestly? it’s adorable.

✧ he lives for your flustered reactions. if you ever feel insecure about your body changing, he makes sure you never doubt how beautiful you are. “look at you,” he purrs, eyes gleaming as he trails his fingers over your belly.

✧ “glowing. divine. absolutely stunning. you have no idea how breathtaking you are, do you?” and when you get all shy? he just chuckles, pleased. “should I remind you some more?”

✧ the second you complain about your feet being sore, aventurine doesn’t hesitate—he immediately takes off his shoes, swapping them with yours. it’s a comical sight, especially when you see his ridiculously expensive, immaculate shoes paired with your cozy, worn-out sneakers. you can’t help but laugh, but he just smiles, so proud of his solution. “there, that’s better, right?”

✧ he then proceeds to buy you an entire new wardrobe of sneakers—comfort over style, he insists. no more heels unless you want them. “you don’t need to suffer in those when we can make you look just as good in something more comfortable,” he says, his voice serious, as he orders half a dozen pairs of different styles, colours, and designs of the softest sneakers imaginable.

✧ he doesn’t even flinch when the bill comes in, just waves it off like it’s nothing.

✧ lord your man is sexy.

✧ of course, if you really want to wear heels for an occasion, he’ll never stop you. “you look stunning in heels, my love. wear them for as long as you like,” he says, but he always makes sure there’s a soft, padded seat nearby for when you need to rest, and he’ll literally help you change your shoes afterward.

✧ now, when it comes to mood swings, aventurine is the ultimate calm presence. he knows it’s just one of those things, so he simply adjusts to whatever mood you’re in. when you get irritated, frustrated, or upset, he’s there with a soft, unwavering smile, letting you vent as much as you need to.

✧ if you snap at him, he’s not offended at all. in fact, he’s almost amused by it, seeing it as just another aspect of your beauty—your passion, your fire. “feel free to let it all out, darling,” he says, taking your hand, his grip steady and soothing. “I’m right here. whatever you need, I’m here for you.” he doesn’t try to calm you down immediately, because he knows it’s important for you to express yourself.

✧ after you’ve finished ranting, he checks in with you again, his voice soft and considerate. “are you okay now? did yelling at me help?” he asks with genuine care, his smile patient and gentle, never judging. if you’re still upset, he’ll simply hold you and let you settle into his arms, letting you know that whatever mood you’re in, he’s not going anywhere.

✧ nothing rattles him. no matter how dramatic your mood swings get, he handles it with endless patience, making sure you feel safe and loved through every moment. if you start to feel guilty afterwards, he’ll just smile and say, “you have every right to feel how you feel. nothing to apologise for.”

boothill

✧ rough cowboy, soft husband. he insists on carrying you everywhere.

✧ walking is not an option for you, his pregnant wife.

✧ calls you “darlin’”

✧ speaks so softly when talking to the baby, completely in awe that you’re carrying his kid. he always has a protective hand on your back, guiding you gently.

✧ if anyone stares too long, his hand moves to his holster. (you have to smack his hand and scold him)

✧ when you can’t sleep, he sits beside you and talks about life on the frontier, his deep voice lulling you into peaceful dreams.

✧ boothill’s love for you is overwhelming, and yet, at times, you can’t help but notice a slight weight behind his affection. when he spoils you, it’s not out of simple joy—it’s out of a deep need to make sure you’re always okay, that you’re always happy, and it’s almost like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him if he doesn’t try hard enough.

✧ he goes all out with everything—buying the best things, preparing the most extravagant meals, filling the house with comforts, and making sure you never have to lift a finger. he does it all with a quiet, unshakable intensity, like if he’s not constantly doing something for you, he’ll fail somehow.

✧ his attention is unrelenting. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately there, asking if you’re feeling okay, if you need anything, if you’re comfortable. and while you know it’s all out of love, sometimes you wonder if it’s a little too much.

✧ there’s an unspoken tension that lingers in his actions—an underlying anxiety that if he doesn’t care for you in every way, you’ll somehow slip from his grasp.

✧ when you become pregnant, that tension only intensifies. suddenly, he’s not just worried about you—he’s anxious about the baby, too. the world around him seems to sharpen, and he starts doting on you even more, almost to the point where it feels like he’s smothering you. but his love isn’t suffocating—it’s desperate.

✧ in the quiet moments, when he watches you sleep or rubs his hand over your belly, there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—a quiet fear. he’s afraid, deep down, of losing you, or the baby, or both.

✧ he hates the thought of you being in any kind of discomfort. when you tell him about the aching in your back or the soreness in your feet, he acts immediately, as if your pain is his fault. it’s as if he believes that if he doesn’t fix it right away, something terrible will happen.

✧ he’s obsessive in his need to make everything perfect for you, and even though you appreciate it, sometimes you wish he would just let you be. let you have some space to breathe, to exist on your own terms.

✧ in moments when the weight of it all gets to him, he retreats a little—his jaw tightens, his eyes harden. when he’s alone with his thoughts, you can see the flicker of self-doubt, a slight crack in his usually confident demeanour. he knows that his fear is something he needs to deal with, but it feels so out of control that it’s hard for him to admit it. he doesn’t want to show you his vulnerability, doesn’t want to burden you with his insecurities.

✧ but you see it in the way he holds you at night, the tightness in his arms, the way he checks on you repeatedly, his hands brushing over your body as if he’s trying to make sure you’re all still there. and when you ask him what’s wrong, he’s quick to mask it, brushing it off with a grin, but you know. you can always tell. the angst isn’t loud or overt—it’s hidden beneath his gestures, his actions, his love.

✧ still, his devotion to you is undeniable. even though he has his own silent battles, even though there’s a constant flicker of fear within him, he loves you with every ounce of his being. the moments when he’s vulnerable with you are rare, but when they come, he holds you closer, as if afraid of letting go for even a second.

✧ you can feel the fragility in his touch, the quiet fear that you might slip away from him.

✧ he doesn’t always have the words to express what he’s feeling, but his actions speak louder than anything. and in the silence, when he looks at you, you know. you know that despite all of his worries and fears, he will always protect you, even if he has to keep some of that pain hidden in the quiet corners of his heart.

✧ when the sun is a little too bright for you, boothill doesn’t hesitate. he’s quick to take off his hat and place it gently on your head, adjusting it with a playful smile. “there, now you can enjoy the sunshine without turning into a tomato,” he says, chuckling at how cute you look in his oversized hat.

✧ if the sun is especially brutal, he’ll even suggest you both find some shade or just spend time indoors with the air conditioning, but he knows it’s about making you feel comfortable, not just avoiding the heat.

✧ if you’re feeling particularly tired, he doesn’t wait for you to ask. the moment he sees you yawn or slump a little, he’s already sweeping you off your feet, giving you a piggyback ride with the kind of enthusiasm that’s almost comical considering his usual serious demeanour. “i’ve got you,” he says, grinning widely, despite his usual stoic nature.

✧ if you’re too tired for a piggyback ride or just don’t feel like walking, he’ll immediately scoop you up in his arms. it’s as if you’re his most precious treasure, and he wants nothing more than to ensure your comfort at all times.

✧ “you know, if you just need to be carried all day, I’m perfectly fine with that,” he teases, and you can see the gleam of amusement in his eyes. he loves it when he gets to take care of you, and he’s never shy about showing it.

✧ sometimes, when you’re nestled in his arms, you’ll catch him quietly grinning to himself, probably at how happy he is just to be with you. you can tell it makes him feel lighthearted to see you enjoy these little moments of care.

✧ when he does these little things for you, it’s clear that he’s not doing them out of obligation, but because it genuinely brings him joy to see you happy, even in the smallest ways.

✧ girl do NOT get me started on "oh i'm too big for you" you are NEVER too big 😒 😒 matter of fact if boothill ever hear those words slip out of your mouth you best believe he won't be tolerating it (and hunting down whoever said that)

✧ if you ever tell boothill that you’re too big for him to carry, he won’t hesitate for a second to shut you down. “don’t even start,” he’ll warn you with a smirk, and before you can protest further, he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your lips, leaving you momentarily breathless.

✧ before you can even process what just happened, he’s already lifting you into his arms, effortlessly cradling you like you’re the lightest thing in the world. “see? not too big at all,” he says with a playful grin, clearly enjoying how flustered you get when he carries you, no questions asked.

✧ despite your attempts to argue, he’s not hearing any of it. “I’m carrying you whether you like it or not,” he adds with a wink, and when you roll your eyes or try to squirm out of his grasp, he just holds you tighter.

✧ his love for you is so overwhelming that he doesn’t care if you’re tired, big, or anything else—if you need to be carried, he’s more than happy to do it, and nothing will stop him from showing you just how much he cares.

✧ honestly, seeing you trying to act tough or insisting you’re fine just makes him more determined to spoil you even more, and he won’t back down until he’s made you comfortable.

cthe look on your face when you realize you’re in his arms is priceless, and he can't help but tease you a little more, enjoying every moment of your adorably flustered reaction.

dr. ratio

✧ he’s cocky as always, but so in love. if anyone dares to say anything about your size, he smirks and goes, “they’re carrying the most important person in the universe. of course, they’re radiant.”

✧ he’s fascinated by the baby’s development and reads every medical book on pregnancy, making sure you get the best care possible.

✧ he massages your feet with so much care, just pure, devoted attention.

✧ if you ever feel insecure, he immediately shuts it down with the most poetic, heartfelt words. “there is no beauty greater than you right now, my love.”

✧ dr. ratio is a caring but incredibly meticulous partner, and when you’re pregnant, that side of him intensifies even more. he’s deeply invested in making sure everything is perfect for you, often researching new ways to ease your discomfort, asking you how you feel every few hours, and keeping track of your health and well-being like he’s running a scientific experiment.

✧ his medical knowledge, which is already impressive, becomes even more focused on pregnancy, and he treats every small change in your body like vital data.

✧ he always has a plan, and that plan often revolves around making sure you’re as comfortable and well taken care of as possible. if you mention even the slightest symptom or discomfort, he’s already reading through notes or pulling out his tablet to find solutions. while it can feel like being under constant observation, you can’t help but appreciate how much he genuinely cares about making sure you’re healthy and happy.

✧ when it comes to cravings, he’s often a step ahead. if you mention wanting a specific snack, he already knows where to get it, and if it’s something unusual or rare, he’s willing to go to great lengths to satisfy it. he finds it endearing, but you can also see his scientific curiosity come into play as he observes how your body reacts to certain cravings or foods.

✧ at this point you're convinced he's some sort of magical being.

✧ in moments of stress or discomfort, he’s your rock. he has a calming presence, always knowing just what to say to put you at ease. if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the changes your body is going through or the looming responsibilities of parenthood, he’ll gently remind you that you don’t have to do this alone. his reassuring words have a way of grounding you, and the love he shows through his actions makes you feel like everything will be okay.

✧ his gestures of affection are quieter but deeply meaningful. he’s not as overt with PDA as others might be, but when you’re not looking, you’ll catch him gently rubbing your back or offering you a hand when you need to stand. when you’re tired, he insists on carrying your things or opening doors for you, always thinking about the little things that make your day easier.

✧ even in moments of humour, dr. ratio’s playful side comes through. if you’re grumpy because of a pregnancy-related mood swing, he might joke about the scientific nature of your hormonal fluctuations, but it’s all in good fun and meant to make you laugh.

✧ he knows exactly when to lighten the mood with a well-timed quip, which helps take the edge off when things feel heavy.

✧ though he’s not as expressive with physical affection as others might be, his love is shown in the constant attention he gives you and the thoughtfulness behind every action. when you’re feeling down, he’s there with a cup of tea, a warm blanket, and a comforting smile.

✧ dr. ratio also gets very protective when it comes to your health. if you’ve been overdoing it, he’ll gently scold you, reminding you that you need to take care of yourself. when he catches you ignoring his advice, he might get a little frustrated, but he’s quick to calm down, making sure to reassure you that he’s just concerned for both you and the baby.

✧ you can always feel the intensity of his care, and while it might feel a bit overbearing at times, you know it comes from a place of deep love.

✧ when it comes to the baby, he’s already making plans for the future, trying to ensure everything will be in place. he’ll bring up practical things like cribs, baby monitors, and even names, all while jotting down notes.

✧ he’s already mentally preparing for the next phase of your life together, and though it might seem like he's focusing on the logistics, it’s clear that he’s doing it all because he wants to make sure your little family is as secure and happy as possible.

✧dr. ratio’s care for you and your pregnancy is absolute, while his approach might seem a bit clinical at times, it’s easy to see that everything he does is out of love, ensuring both you and the baby are taken care of in every way.

✧ dr. ratio’s students are surprisingly invested in your pregnancy, much to his exasperation. at first, he tries to keep things professional, but it’s impossible when they bombard him with questions. “sir, is it true your wife’s craving the weirdest foods? can she still beat you in an argument with pregnancy hormones? is the baby gonna be as smart as you?!” the sheer enthusiasm wears him down, and despite his usual cool demeanor, he eventually (and very reluctantly) brings you along one day to satisfy their curiosity.

✧ the moment you step into the room, his students light up like it’s their favorite lecture of the year. they’re practically buzzing with excitement, treating you like an honored guest. some of them even bring small gifts—cute little trinkets, baby books, and even a stuffed animal or two—much to ratio’s dismay.

✧ he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, but there’s a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, betraying the fondness he has for them (not that he’ll ever admit it).

✧ and of course, the moment everyone settles down, they start betting on the baby’s gender. someone pulls out a makeshift betting board with tally marks, arguments breaking out as they debate whether you’re carrying a boy or a girl.

✧ “based on my calculations, professor ratio will absolutely have a daughter—” “nah, the baby’s definitely gonna be a mini him.” you’re laughing at the chaos while ratio sighs dramatically, muttering about the intellectual downfall of his students.

✧ what really makes you melt, though, is how gentle and considerate his students are toward you. they ask how you’re feeling, if you need anything, if you have any weird cravings (which, of course, leads to them trying to outdo each other with the weirdest food combinations to test your reaction). ratio, meanwhile, is standing beside you with his arms crossed, watching his classroom turn into a circus with a half-annoyed, half-amused look.

✧ “if you all put this much effort into your studies, perhaps your grades wouldn’t be so pitiful,” he finally deadpans, earning groans and protests from the students.

✧ but despite his sarcastic remarks and eye-rolls, he’s oddly protective over the whole situation. if any of the students even joke about you overexerting yourself or getting too tired, he shuts them down immediately. “don’t encourage bad habits,” he scolds. “she needs to be resting.” and then he’s ushering you to sit down, subtly adjusting a pillow behind your back like the doting husband he is.

✧ he pretends to be indifferent, but when he catches one of his students quietly mentioning how cute you two are together, he doesn’t correct them. if anything, he just glances at you, and for a brief moment, the smallest, softest smile crosses his lips before he composes himself again.

✧ when you finally leave, he huffs as if he’s endured the most exhausting day of his life, but the way he holds your hand just a little tighter tells you otherwise. despite all his grumbling, he secretly doesn’t mind how much his students adore you, and maybe—just maybe—he even enjoys it.

✧ DON'T POINT IT OUT THOUGH

✧ dr. ratio will never outright admit it, but deep down, he doesn’t care whether the baby is a boy or a girl. all that truly matters to him is that the baby is healthy and, if he’s being honest, hopefully inherits some intelligence.

✧ “no child of mine will be foolish,” he says with a smirk. Still, the underlying meaning is clear—he wants the baby to thrive, to have every opportunity to succeed. He’s already mentally drafting an entire syllabus on how to make that happen.

✧ however, if he had to pick something personal, something that isn’t dictated by logic or science, he’d want the baby to look like you. he won’t outright say it, but there are little moments where it slips out.

✧ like when he’s absentmindedly staring at you with a thoughtful expression, then mutters under his breath, “it would be preferable if they took after you.” when you catch him saying it and ask what he means, he simply waves it off with a “don’t worry about it.”

✧ the truth is, he thinks you’re beautiful, and the idea of a child with your features makes something warm settle in his chest. he pictures small hands, bright eyes, a little face that mirrors yours—and the thought alone is enough to make him pause.

✧ when he sees you asleep, one hand resting on your stomach, he wonders if the baby will have your smile, your expressions, your way of looking at the world.

✧ and maybe the idea of a mini-you running around makes his heart clench in a way he isn’t quite ready to admit.

gepard

✧ overprotective knight mode: ACTIVATED. he refuses to let you do anything remotely strenuous.

✧ literally the type of pick you up effortlessly and throw you (gently) on his shoulder when he sees you doing something you shouldn't be doing.

✧ he wakes up early to make sure you have everything you need—food, comfort, warmth. you’re never lacking anything.

✧ every night, he reads to your belly, his deep, soothing voice telling fairy tales as if he’s already preparing your baby to sleep peacefully.

✧ you catch him practising how to hold a baby with stuffed animals, and he gets so flustered when you tease him about it. (oml you're gonna overload him with kisses at this point!!!)

✧ gepard tries—he really, really tries—to be there for you as much as possible, but being a knight, let alone the captain of the silvermane guards, means he’s constantly being pulled away for duty. he feels horrible about it.

✧ every time he has to leave you alone at home, every time he misses one of your check-ups, every time he’s not there to comfort you when you’re feeling exhausted, it gnaws at him. he’ll come home late, tired and covered in the dust of another long patrol, only to see you already asleep, curled up in bed with your hands resting on your belly. it makes his heart ache.

✧ he tries to make up for it whenever he can. he’ll bring home small gifts—a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a dessert from that bakery you love, anything to make you smile. when he does have a free moment, he dedicates it all to you, making sure you’re comfortable, massaging your sore feet, listening intently to you talk about your day because he wants to be involved in every way he can.

✧ “i’m sorry i haven’t been around much,” he murmurs against your hair one night, voice heavy with guilt. “i should be here with you more.”

✧ and you understand—you always have. you know his duty to belobog is important, that he’s responsible for so many people. so you reassure him, tell him it’s okay, that you’re not upset because you know he’s doing his best. but no matter how much you insist, he still feels guilty, still thinks he should be doing more.

✧ it’s sweet, really, how much he wants to be present, but you wish he’d stop beating himself up over something he can’t control.

✧ sometimes, though, frustration does creep in—not at him, but at the sheer unfairness of it all. one particularly bad day, when you’re feeling extra emotional, you storm into the silvermane guards' headquarters, demanding to speak to the general.

✧ the poor guards are stunned, unsure how to handle their captain’s very pregnant wife glaring daggers at them. when you finally get an audience with the general, you don’t hold back. “my husband is working himself to the bone while i’m carrying his child, and you can’t even spare him a little time off?!”

✧ the general tries to placate you, explaining that gepard is needed, but you cross your arms, huffing, “well, i need him too.”

✧ word of your little outburst spreads quickly, and when gepard hears about it, he’s equal parts embarrassed and touched. “you... actually scolded the general?” he asks, eyes wide. when you nod, still grumpy about it, he lets out a chuckle before pulling you into his arms.

✧ “i appreciate it, but you don’t have to fight my battles for me.” but you just pout, mumbling, “if they won’t give you a break, then i will.”

✧ and despite everything, despite the exhaustion and the never-ending duty, gepard swears to himself that no matter how busy he gets, he’ll always find a way to be there for you and your child. because at the end of the day, you’re the most important thing in his world.

✧ despite his constant guilt, gepard does everything in his power to make things easier for you when he is around. he wakes up extra early to prepare breakfast before heading out for duty, making sure to leave little notes beside your plate if he has to leave before you wake up.

✧ “good morning, my love. make sure to eat well today, and don’t forget to drink plenty of water. i’ll be home as soon as i can.” sometimes, he even sneaks in a silly doodle of a chubby little knight standing guard over a tiny baby, which never fails to make you smile.

✧ when he finally does have time off, he dedicates every second to you. he follows you around like a loyal knight, carrying anything remotely heavy before you can even try to lift it.

✧ he’s constantly fluffing your pillows, adjusting your blanket, and making sure you’re not overexerting yourself. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately asking, “are you okay? do you need anything?” you start to joke that having him home is almost more exhausting than when he’s away because he fusses over you like a mother hen.

✧ sometimes, the exhaustion from work catches up to him, and you find him nodding off while sitting beside you, his head drooping onto your shoulder. you know he should be resting, but there’s something endearing about how he fights off sleep just so he can be near you.

✧ “gepard, go to bed,” you whisper, brushing a hand through his hair. he grumbles something incoherent before shifting to hold you close, murmuring, “just a little longer…” and really, how can you say no to that?

✧ his fellow silvermane guards are incredibly supportive, though they also love teasing him about how smitten he is. “captain, you should see yourself when you talk about your wife. it’s like watching a lovesick puppy,” they joke, and while he tries to maintain his usual composure, the tips of his ears turn red every single time. but he doesn’t deny it—he is completely and utterly devoted to you.

✧ if he ever gets called in for an emergency while he’s finally spending time with you, he gets so frustrated. “i just got home,” he mutters under his breath, clearly torn between duty and being with you.

✧ you give him a small smile, placing your hands on his cheeks and gently pressing a kiss to his forehead. “it’s okay, love. go, do what you need to do. i’ll be right here when you get back.” and he sighs, pressing his forehead against yours before reluctantly heading out.

✧ but the moment he returns, he makes up for it tenfold. he brings back your favourite snacks, runs a warm bath for you, and massages your feet until you’re practically melting into the couch. and when you’re in bed, he places a hand on your belly, speaking softly to the baby as if making up for lost time.

✧ “i’ll be around more soon, i promise,” he murmurs, his voice filled with love and determination.

✧ and no matter how much his duty calls him away, you know one thing for certain—gepard will always come home to you.

✧ serval is your biggest supporter and, quite frankly, your partner-in-crime when it comes to dealing with gepard’s overwhelming guilt. she checks in on you constantly—not just for you, but because she knows her brother would want her to.

✧ “if gepard had it his way, he’d probably never leave your side,” she jokes, plopping down next to you and handing you some of your favorite snacks. “but since he’s stuck being captain serious all the time, you’ve got me.”

✧ she’s a lifesaver when gepard is too busy with work, stopping by with homemade meals, comfortable clothes, and the occasional silly gift to make you smile.

✧ she even offers to help you with stretches and light exercises, claiming that a rockstar like her knows all about keeping the body in top condition. sometimes, she’ll strum a gentle melody on her guitar while chatting with you, creating a warm and relaxing atmosphere that makes the time pass a little easier.

✧ and of course, she’s the first to tease gepard whenever he finally has time to come home. “wow, look who finally decided to show up! i was starting to think you’d abandoned your poor wife.” she grins as gepard groans, running a hand through his hair.

✧ “i didn’t—i was just busy—” but serval only laughs, nudging him toward you. “relax, i’m just messing with you. now go dote on your wife before she decides i’m her favorite landau instead.”

✧ she’s also not afraid to scold him when he’s being too hard on himself. “gepard, you’re doing the best you can,” she tells him one evening when he’s sitting on the couch, guilt heavy in his expression. “she understands, you know? stop acting like you’re failing when you’re clearly not.” and though gepard still struggles with his guilt, serval’s words always stick with him, reminding him that he’s doing enough.

✧ but perhaps the funniest part of all is how she sometimes acts as an undercover spy, gathering intel on your moods and cravings to report back to gepard.

✧ “hey, just so you know, she’s been craving those honey pastries from that bakery again. if you don’t bring some home tomorrow, you might be sleeping on the couch,” she whispers conspiratorially to him one night, and gepard immediately makes a mental note to buy them on his next break.

✧ at the end of the day, serval is always there—not just for you, but for gepard, too. she makes sure both of you are taken care of, keeping an eye on her little brother when he gets too caught up in his responsibilities and making sure you never feel lonely. and when the baby finally arrives, you already know serval is going to be the coolest aunt in all of belobog.

sunday

✧ he’s the most excited husband ever. every day, he’s kissing your belly, murmuring sweet promises to your unborn child.

✧ he calls you “sunshine” even more, saying you’re literally glowing with life.

✧ if you so much as sigh tiredly, he immediately rushes over, rubbing your shoulders and making sure you’re comfortable.

✧ he’s already planning family outings, even though the baby isn’t born yet. “oh, i can’t wait to take them to see the stars. you think they’ll like astronomy?”

✧ "honey i think they'll just be obsessed with your cute fluffy wings like me!!"

✧ but lets be real...sunday is, without a doubt, the most dramatic and doting husband in existence. from the moment you wake up to the second you go to sleep, he is right there, acting as if you are the most delicate, precious treasure in the entire universe.

✧ “ah, my love, are you comfortable? do you need anything? shall i fetch you the moon? pluck the stars from the sky?” you’re used to his flowery words, but pregnancy has made him even more extra, if that was even possible.

✧ he spoils you absolutely rotten. he treats you like royalty, making sure every possible luxury is at your fingertips. you so much as glance at something while out shopping? it's already paid for. your back aches? he's on his knees, massaging you with a level of devotion that could make poets weep. the moment you sigh even a little, he's dramatically lamenting,

✧ “alas, this cruel world dares to bring discomfort to my beloved! how dare it!” you roll your eyes, but the way he kisses your hands so reverently makes your heart flutter every time.

✧ when you’re out together, he is practically glued to your side, one arm always wrapped protectively around you. if it’s too sunny, his coat is suddenly draped over your head to shield you.

✧ if you so much as stumble, he’s catching you before you can even process it, scolding the ground for daring to trip you. he doesn’t care who’s watching—his priority is you, always.

✧ sometimes, his dramatics get absolutely ridiculous. one time, you had a small craving for a very specific dish from a very specific place, and before you could even tell him it wasn’t a big deal, he was already on a mission. “fear not, my love! i shall return with your heart’s desire!” he declared, disappearing into the night like some kind of hero embarking on an epic quest.

✧ when he finally returned, victorious, with the food in hand, he dramatically collapsed into your lap. “it was a perilous journey… but for you, I would traverse the ends of the world.” you simply kissed his forehead and enjoyed your meal.

✧ he is obsessed with talking to your belly. no matter where you are, no matter who’s around, he kneels down, placing his hands gently on your stomach and whispering sweet nothings to your unborn child.

✧ “ah, little one, do you hear me? it is i, your devoted father, who eagerly awaits your arrival.” if he feels a kick, he gasps like he just witnessed a divine miracle, his eyes practically sparkling. “they kicked! they love me, my love!”

✧ sunday does everything in his power to make sure you never feel lonely, even when he’s busy. he writes letters to you if he has to be away, each one filled with poetic declarations of love and exaggerated longing, as if he’s been separated from you for years rather than a few hours. when he finally returns, he rushes to embrace you like a man starved, spinning you carefully in his arms (if you let him).

✧ and when he thinks you’re asleep, he gazes at you with so much adoration it’s almost overwhelming. he runs his fingers gently through your hair, his voice soft as he murmurs, “you and our child… my greatest treasures. i will cherish you both for all eternity.” even in slumber, you can feel his warmth, his love wrapping around you like a promise—one that you know he’ll keep forever.

✧ sunday has always been a man of grand gestures, poetic words, and boundless devotion—but this, this is his dream made real. to love and to be loved, to have a family with you, to witness the very embodiment of your love growing within you… it is almost too perfect, too beautiful. sometimes, when he watches you rest, his hand gently cradling your belly, he wonders if he is merely lost in a dream.

✧ he never thought he would find something—someone—that truly anchored him. he always spoke of eternity, of the stars and the endless sky, but nothing in the cosmos compares to you. and now, with your child on the way, that love has expanded into something even greater, something he didn’t know was possible.

✧ late at night, when the world is quiet and you’re curled up against him, he traces slow circles over your stomach and whispers, “this is my dream… and you’ve made it come true.” his voice is softer than usual, lacking its usual theatrics, filled only with raw, unfiltered love. and even though you’re half-asleep, you squeeze his hand in response, as if to say, i know. me too.

✧ sunday absolutely refuses to leave you unguarded when he’s away for business or handling matters of the reverie. even though you insist it’s unnecessary, that you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, he simply will not take the risk. the moment he steps away, you have a team of skilled agents discreetly watching over you. “indulge me, my love,” he pleads with that charming smile of his. “i would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you or our precious little one.” and really, how can you argue with that?

✧ when he returns, however, it’s as if he’s been deprived of air itself. the second he sees you, he sweeps you into his arms, pressing lingering kisses to your temple, your hands, your stomach—anywhere he can reach. “ah, my beloved, i have been lost without you,” he murmurs dramatically, holding you as if you might disappear. and though you roll your eyes at his theatrics, you let him cling, because you know he truly means it.

✧ public appearances with sunday are nothing short of dazzling. he insists that the two of you look absolutely impeccable whenever you step out together—not because of status, but because he sees you as his perfect match, his divine counterpart. “you always look breathtaking,” he muses, adjusting your accessories with delicate fingers. “i must simply strive to be worthy of standing beside you.”

✧ when you’re out together, he is attached to your side, his arm securely around your waist, hip to hip, refusing to let an inch of space come between you. he whispers sweet things in your ear, makes you laugh with his endless romantic declarations, and shoots sharp glares at anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way.

✧ if the sun is too bright, his coat is draped over your shoulders in an instant. literally the definition of "is the sun bothering you, queen?"

✧ iykyk

✧ if the crowd gets overwhelming, he subtly maneuvers you to a quieter space, all while keeping his usual suave demeanor. if you even look the slightest bit tired, he’s already preparing to whisk you away somewhere more comfortable.

✧ and when the night finally winds down and it’s just the two of you again, he presses a kiss to your hand and murmurs, “no matter where we go, no matter who is watching… my love for you remains the most magnificent thing in this world.”

✧ sunday takes so much pride in being your husband that it’s almost ridiculous. the way he says "my wife" is always so smooth, so deliberate, like he’s showing off a rare treasure. even in the most casual conversations, he will find a way to bring you up.

✧ “ah, yes, that reminds me of something my wife said the other day—brilliant, truly.”

✧ “oh, you need advice? well, my wife is an expert in these matters, allow me to consult her.”

✧ even when it’s unnecessary, he finds a way to slip it in. someone asks him how his day is going? “Better now that I’ve spoken to my wife.” A meeting about logistics? “Oh, my wife would find this terribly boring, but let me humor you all.”

✧ it gets to the point where even his closest advisors and subordinates are just nodding along, fully expecting him to mention you in every conversation. you overheard one of them sigh, “yes, yes, we know your wife is the most wonderful being in existence, my lord.” sunday only grinned and said, “it’s good that you understand.”

✧ and of course, he boasts about you endlessly. your intelligence, your beauty, your kindness—every little thing about you is worthy of praise in his eyes. “have i mentioned how radiant my wife looks today? oh, but she always does, so I suppose that goes without saying.”

✧ sometimes, he’ll purposely say it just to fluster you. if you’re walking together and he spots someone eyeing you for too long, he’ll lean in, voice full of smug adoration, “ah, my wife, the most stunning woman in the room. it’s only natural they’d stare, but truly, they stand no chance.”

✧ even when you roll your eyes or playfully smack his arm, he just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “what can I say? I’m simply a man who adores his wife.”

✧ the second you even mention a craving, sunday is already making arrangements to have it delivered to you. it doesn’t matter how strange, complicated, or impossible it seems—he will find a way.

✧ “you want watermelon dipped in honey at three in the morning? say no more, my love.” within minutes, he’s either personally retrieving it or sending someone out on an urgent mission.

✧ once, you offhandedly mumbled, “i kinda want ice cream… but with pickles.” sunday, ever the devoted husband, merely nodded and said, “consider it done.” you expected him to hesitate or at least question your taste buds, but instead, he had it in front of you within the hour, presented on a fancy plate as if it were some gourmet dish.

✧ he has absolutely no shame in going out himself to fetch your cravings. the sight of sunday, regal and refined, walking into a market and asking for the most bizarre food combinations with a perfectly serious face is something to behold.

✧ one time, a vendor tried to stifle a laugh when he requested “mango slices with chili powder and a side of marshmallows” and he just smirked, “ah, you must not be married. love requires dedication, my friend.”

✧ if your cravings happen while you’re out in public, he wastes zero time in getting it. you once sighed, “i really want those fried dumplings from that one place…” and before you could even finish your sentence, sunday was already steering you toward the restaurant, ordering extra just in case you wanted more later.

✧ on the rare occasion that something isn’t immediately available, sunday turns it into an entire event. “so, my beloved desires an elusive dish? very well. give me a moment.” cue him charming his way into exclusive restaurants, pulling strings with high-profile chefs, or even attempting to make it himself (which… well, let’s just say his skills lie outside the kitchen).

✧ no matter what, he refuses to let you go without the things you crave. “nothing is too extravagant for my wife,” he insists. “if she wants it, she shall have it.”

sampo

✧ sampo is the type to absolutely spoil you when you're craving something, even if it's something a little... unusual. he loves seeing you happy, and the thought of you having that big smile on your face when you get what you want? priceless.

✧ the minute you mention a craving, he's already brainstorming how to get it, and he won't take no for an answer. if it's something he doesn't have access to, well... prepare for a wild goose chase. he'll sweet-talk vendors, bribe people, or pull off the most ridiculous stunts just to get his hands on that weird combination of foods you’re desperate for.

✧ one time, you casually mentioned wanting a mix of sweet and salty—like peanut butter on pretzels with chocolate chips—and the next thing you knew, he had a whole banquet of different combinations lined up. there were different dips, chocolates, chips, nuts, and a few other things he thought you might like. it’s over-the-top, but it’s his way of making sure you feel cared for and, well, indulged.

✧ sometimes he’ll get the most outlandish things, especially if he finds out you want something quirky. “you want... a spicy banana with a side of vanilla ice cream?” he'd ask, grinning mischievously, clearly excited for the challenge. even if he finds it a little odd, he's all in for making sure your cravings are satisfied.

✧ when you're pregnant, sampo loves the idea of you being pampered and treated like royalty. he buys you all sorts of snacks, drinks, and little comforts to make sure you're always content. when he's busy, he'll bring you a stash of your favorite treats or send someone to deliver it, ensuring you never go without.

✧ though he's a bit playful and mischievous, when it comes to your cravings, he’s incredibly attentive. if you need him to grab something in the middle of the night, he’ll pull on his jacket without a second thought and head out, even if it’s something bizarre like kimchi-flavored cupcakes or a weirdly specific kind of sushi.

✧ sampo is honestly obsessed with making sure you’re taken care of, especially when it comes to cravings. as soon as you mention something—even if it’s just in passing—he’s on it. like, the minute the words leave your mouth, he’s already thinking of how he’s going to get it for you.

✧ one time, you half-jokingly mentioned wanting pineapple pizza with extra olives, and sampo didn’t even hesitate. you thought he was just humoring you at first, but nope, by the time you blinked, he was on his way out the door, calling a bunch of places to find one that would make that monstrosity of a pizza.

✧ he’s ridiculously resourceful, so if the craving is something that seems impossible, he’s more than willing to go to extreme lengths. you want blueberry-flavored potato chips? he’s already calling his contacts in different cities or bartering for them. at one point, you had a small shipment of weird snacks from different parts of the world just for you. it was honestly a lot, but the joy it brought you made it all worth it for him.

✧ despite his usually carefree, mischievous attitude, when it comes to satisfying your cravings, sampo becomes the most serious person. nothing else matters—nothing. it’s almost like a personal mission for him.

✧ and don’t get him started on your late-night cravings. there was one instance where you groggily mentioned wanting chocolate-covered pretzels with marshmallow fluff and coconut water (a combo you swore sounded amazing) at 2 AM. most people would groan at this, but not sampo. he simply flashed you a grin, grabbed his jacket, and was out the door, whispering, “leave it to me, darling. i’ll have it before you know it.”

✧ when he comes back, it’s always with a dramatic flair. whether it’s him showing up with a big bag of snacks or an entire custom-made meal just for you, he’ll present it like it’s the most important thing in the world. “look what i’ve brought you, my love,” he’ll say, “your cravings are my top priority.”

✧ he loves watching you enjoy whatever it is you’re craving. he’s that guy who will sit beside you, watching you devour your food, completely delighted. when you make a happy sound after taking a bite, he’ll do a little victory dance in his head. “it’s always worth it,” he’ll think, watching you savor the food.

✧ sometimes, when he’s really feeling it, he’ll even surprise you with a whole set of snacks or meals. if you mention anything at all—whether it’s flavored milk or a certain kind of fruit—you better believe sampo will get it, and he’ll make it fun.

✧ and don’t even get started on the weird cravings. when you randomly crave something odd like caviar and ice cream, he’ll be the one to ask, “is that really what you want?” but then, of course, he’ll follow through and go out and find it, all while making jokes about how only you could crave something so bizarre. “but you’re worth it, darling,” he’ll say with a wink, even if he thinks it's totally ridiculous.

✧ when you’re pregnant, sampo gets extra excited. there’s something about the idea of making sure you’re always happy and comfortable that makes him go all-in on the care and attention. you mention wanting a certain kind of food? he’s already planning his next move to make sure it gets to you—whether it’s food from a restaurant, a local shop, or a weird internet order.

✧ the best part? he’s not even embarrassed about the effort. he’s proud of it. he’ll happily boast about how he’s the one who got you exactly what you wanted, often bragging about how efficient he is at taking care of you. “no one does it like i do, darling.”

✧ sampo loves to live life on the edge, and that often leads him into all sorts of trouble. whether it’s a cheeky scheme gone wrong or him getting caught up in some questionable business deals, he’s not exactly a stranger to trouble. but when you scold him—especially with that concerned look on your face—it hits him harder than anything else.

✧ you’re his weakness, and the thought of his reckless actions affecting your baby’s future stings. when you point out how he’s putting the family in danger, he can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. you’ve got that motherly tone, and even though he’s used to being the troublemaker, something about you scolding him like that makes him pause.

✧ sampo never expected to feel this way. before, he was all about living in the moment, but now, with you carrying his child, things are different. he realizes that his impulsiveness can affect more than just him—it could affect your life, the baby’s life, and even the future you two are building. it’s a huge wake-up call for him.

✧ though he tries to laugh it off and shrug off your scolding, he can’t deny that it bothers him. he wants to be the best for you, to provide and protect, but sometimes his overconfidence and mischievous nature put him in situations he shouldn’t be in.

✧ after you scold him, he’s quiet for a while, just processing everything you said. he doesn’t like seeing you upset, and he definitely doesn’t like the idea of his actions potentially affecting the baby. so he really takes it to heart.

✧ eventually, he’ll come to you, genuinely apologizing. it’s not like him to be serious about these things, but the thought of his baby’s future shifts something in him. he’ll say something like, “you’re right. i can’t keep being reckless. i’ll tone it down, i promise. for you... and for the little one.”

✧ from then on, you’ll notice a shift. he’ll still be his playful, mischievous self, but there’s a little less of the risk-taking, and a bit more thought behind his actions. sampo may not be perfect, but he really wants to be better for the sake of his growing family.

✧ even though he might still slip up occasionally—because it’s just who he is—he tries harder, always making sure to check in with you and reassess how his choices could impact you both. and when you see him being more cautious, you can’t help but smile, knowing he’s trying his best.

✧ and of course, he’ll make it up to you in the sweetest way possible: with more gifts, more little surprises, and tons of affection. he might be reckless sometimes, but when it comes to you and your baby, he knows he has to change, even if it takes a bit of effort.

moze

✧ moze, being the quiet and secretive type, is surprisingly very attentive when it comes to your cravings. he’s not the type to joke around about it or make a big deal, but rest assured, he listens intently and takes note of every single thing you say.

✧ the second you mention a craving, even if it's something a little weird, he silently goes into action. if he doesn’t have it on hand, he will immediately find a way to acquire it, no matter how obscure or hard to find it is.

✧ when you crave something specific, he won’t make a show of it, but he will go out of his way to make sure you get it—whether it’s a rare ingredient or a dish from a different part of the world, moze finds it without fail. if you want a specific kind of fruit, he’ll find the best one, even if it means going to multiple stores or making a special trip somewhere.

✧ he enjoys seeing the soft smile on your face when you get what you’ve been wanting, and while he may not say much about it, there's this quiet satisfaction in his eyes.

✧ moze is also keenly aware of when you’re craving something. sometimes, he picks up on your hints without you even saying anything, noticing a small change in your mood, or when you absentmindedly mention wanting a snack, he’ll be right there to offer it to you.

✧ although he’s a man of few words, there’s a certain gentleness to the way he cares for you. when you’re restless and craving something comforting, he’ll get it, set it down beside you, and quietly say, “this should help.” he’ll never ask for recognition, but the satisfaction he gets from seeing you happy is more than enough for him.

✧ when it comes to very odd cravings, he’ll just give you a knowing look, grab his coat, and leave to get it—sometimes even with a hint of a chuckle, as if he secretly finds your requests amusing. but in his heart, he enjoys making you happy more than anything else.

✧ moze’s stealth skills are incredible. he’s so good at sneaking up on you that it’s become almost a reflex for him to appear out of nowhere, especially when he’s busy with his work. but when you’re pregnant and a little more sensitive, the sudden pop-up can be a bit much. he doesn’t mean to scare you—he really doesn’t—but sometimes, he forgets just how silent he is. ✧ the first time it happens, you let out a startled gasp, and moze immediately freezes, guilt washing over him. he’s used to appearing out of thin air and being the silent observer, but the thought of scaring you, especially with the baby on the way, sends a pang of worry through his chest. ✧ his usual nonchalant demeanor falters. "i'm sorry," he says, his voice almost too soft, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. "i didn’t mean to startle you." there’s something in his tone that sounds almost apologetic, more so than usual. ✧ you laugh it off, brushing it off as an accident, but moze is still visibly uneasy. later, when he’s alone, he keeps thinking about it—wondering if his unexpected entrances could potentially stress you out or, worse, harm the baby. he’s never been particularly affectionate in the traditional sense, but with you pregnant, he’s suddenly a lot more aware of everything. ✧ after that, every time he needs to come in or check on you, he makes it a point to announce his presence. it’s not like moze to do that—he’s always preferred moving in the shadows—but for you and the baby, he decides it’s best to make his approach a little less jarring. ✧ when you’re just relaxing, maybe reading or resting, you’ll hear him say something like, “it’s me, moze. i’m here.” he’ll even knock on the door sometimes before entering, something he’s never done before. it’s funny at first, but also endearing to see him adjust his behavior for you. ✧ moze starts being extra cautious, constantly checking on you but in a much gentler, less intrusive way. the last thing he wants is for you to feel uneasy because of him. he’ll still show up in his usual manner—quiet, reserved, but now with the added softness of his voice when he speaks to you. ✧ when you ask him if he’s okay, he’ll quietly admit that he’s worried about scaring you again, and maybe even causing some harm to the baby. you can see the genuine concern in his eyes, something he rarely lets slip. it’s strange for him to care this much, but when you’re carrying his child, his protective instincts are starting to kick in. ✧ when you reassure him, telling him that you’re okay, he seems to relax a little. but don’t be surprised if you catch him giving you a small smile in his usual quiet way, his fingers lightly brushing against yours in a rare display of affection. it’s subtle, but for moze, it’s a huge step forward.

✧ and the next time he appears out of nowhere? he’ll make sure to be extra careful, just to make sure you don’t get a shock again. it might not be his usual way of doing things, but with you, he’s willing to change—even in the smallest ways.

✧ moze's protectiveness reaches a whole new level once he finds out you’re pregnant. while he’s always been a careful and observant person, this new development has him acting in ways he never expected. the thought of you and his child growing inside you ignites a fierce, almost primal instinct to keep both of you safe at all costs.

✧ he becomes hyper-aware of your surroundings, always analyzing every situation to ensure there’s no danger nearby. if someone even looks at you wrong, he’s already on high alert. he’s never been one for confrontation, but when it comes to you and the baby, any potential threat—no matter how small—will make him react swiftly and decisively.

✧ if anyone dares to make a comment about your pregnancy—whether it’s an unintentional insult or even a curious question about your condition—moze is there, stepping in before you can even respond.

✧ he’ll be quick to intervene, his voice cold and firm. “is there a problem?” he’ll ask, his tone leaving no room for argument. he doesn’t care if it’s a stranger or a close friend, he’ll defend you without hesitation.

✧ sometimes, though, his protectiveness comes off as a bit much. when you’re out and about, he’s constantly by your side, his eyes scanning the area. if there’s a slight shift in the atmosphere, if someone moves too fast or too close to you, he’s immediately on guard, subtly stepping in front of you to shield you from whatever danger his sharp instincts are sensing.

✧ even in private, when you’re just relaxing or resting, he’s often hovering nearby, keeping a watchful eye. it’s not that he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that his protective nature has escalated to the point where he feels he can’t leave your side for too long. it’s almost as if being near you makes him feel like he has more control over your safety, as irrational as it may be.

✧ there are moments when you notice him getting anxious if you’re out of his sight for too long. whether you’re running errands or simply walking in another room, moze’s mind starts racing with worries about what could go wrong. he’ll quickly excuse himself from whatever he’s doing to make sure you’re okay, often without telling you beforehand.

✧ when you call him out on his behaviour—teasing him about how overprotective he’s become—he’ll brush it off, his usual calm demeanour faltering for just a moment. deep down, he knows he’s being a little too much, but he can’t help it. the thought of anything happening to you or the baby is unbearable to him. “I’m just making sure you’re safe,” he’ll say, his voice almost apologetic, but there’s an undeniable seriousness in his words.

✧ the most intense expression of his protectiveness comes when you’re asleep. when he knows you’re resting, moze will often sit beside you, his eyes flicking to the door, the window, anything that could pose a threat. it’s not out of a lack of trust in the people around you—it’s just that he can’t help but imagine all the worst-case scenarios.

✧ when he’s out on missions, he’ll always leave something behind for you: a note, a small gift, or even a piece of clothing with his scent on it. it’s his way of reassuring you that he’s thinking of you, even when he’s not physically present. but it’s also his way of ensuring you feel protected, even when he’s far away.

✧ he’s so protective that even the slightest health concern about you makes him panic. if you’re feeling a little tired or have a headache, he’s there, checking your temperature, demanding you rest, and refusing to leave until you’re fully recovered.

✧ moze’s protectiveness isn’t just physical; it’s emotional, too. when you’re dealing with the stress or uncertainty of pregnancy, he’s your steady rock. he’ll listen to every concern, soothe every worry, and make sure you know that you’re not alone. he’s already planning for the future, researching everything he can about raising a child, so he can be the best father possible.

✧ in quiet moments, when he’s just holding you or resting beside you, he might admit his fears. “i’m scared,” he’ll say softly, his usual stoic expression softening. “i don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby.” his vulnerability is rare, but it’s a testament to just how much he loves you both.

✧ his protectiveness never fades—it only grows stronger the closer you get to your due date. he’s constantly by your side, offering comfort, reassurance, and unspoken protection in every gesture, every word, and every action.

✧ moze is already extremely attentive to your cravings, and when you start to ask for something a bit more specific or unusual, he’s not one to shy away. but there's a catch—he’s not exactly a culinary expert. while he’s incredibly skilled in other areas, cooking is not his strong suit. so, naturally, when you have a craving, he’s quick to ask jiaoqiu to cook for you.

✧ at first, moze might be a bit embarrassed, but he genuinely wants you to feel comfortable and satisfied with whatever you’re craving. he might come to jiaoqiu with a sheepish smile, saying something along the lines of, "i’m afraid I’m not very good in the kitchen... could you help me?" his usual composed demeanor is a little shaken because he knows that jiaoqiu is probably a much better cook than he could ever hope to be.

✧ jiaoqiu, ever the understanding friend, is happy to oblige. he can’t resist helping out when moze comes to him with that rare moment of vulnerability. but knowing that moze is trying to be thoughtful and learn, jiaoqiu has a bit of fun with it. he doesn’t just cook the food—he starts teaching moze along the way, much to moze’s discomfort.

✧ “You need to do this carefully... and don’t forget the seasoning,” jiaoqiu will say, demonstrating how to chop ingredients just right or stir the pot at the perfect pace. moze, on the other hand, looks a bit lost, trying his best to follow along but occasionally making a mess. it’s clear he’s not exactly a natural, and jiaoqiu’s teasing makes it even more amusing. “i thought you were good at everything, moze? this looks like a disaster in the making.”

✧ moze, determined not to fail you, listens closely, even though he might grumble under his breath when jiaoqiu critiques his knife skills or the way he’s holding the pan. he’s doing it all to make sure you’re satisfied and happy, even if it means a little bit of embarrassment along the way.

✧ meanwhile, he’s still keeping a protective eye on you from the kitchen, glancing over to make sure you’re resting and not pushing yourself. “you’re doing okay?” he’ll ask, even if it’s just a quick glance. he doesn’t trust anyone else to take care of you as well as he does, and he’s constantly checking in.

✧ when jiaoqiu hands over the finished dish, moze’s face lights up, but there's still a hint of guilt for not being able to do it himself. he insists on thanking jiaoqiu profusely, though deep down, he’s already planning his next attempt at cooking so he can surprise you one day.

✧ “i’ll get better at this... for you.” he’ll say to you later that evening, offering you a gentle smile. “next time, i’ll cook it myself.” and while jiaoqiu might snicker at his attempts, moze’s resolve is firm. after all, he’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, even if it means learning how to cook your cravings—even if it takes more than a few lessons from jiaoqiu.

note: i'm obsessed with anaxa n mydei

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[mihanisms]

the art of submission.

— while you usually indulge your fish boyfriend's antics, calling you a pain in the ass was...too much. you decide to show him just how much of a pain in the ass you can be.

— so um...4.6k words of pegging, bottom rafayel in subspace, you manhandling him and being mean, overstimulation & dumbification, degradation / slutty brat raf......fluff and aftercare at the end of pure devastating filth. might be a bit ooc idk i was writing with my dick

"You are such a pain in the ass," Rafayel whines. "My ass, specifically. My cheeks are red and sore from how much I have to deal with you being away from me, cutie. Think about that — Rafayel, master painter and artist, unable to create because he can't sit down for 5 seconds without his butt hurting because of how much his girlfriend pains it by not being by his side! Think about i-"

Before he can continue his tirade, your finger presses against his lips, effectively shutting him up. His face reddens at the gesture, and his eyes go wide as he reaches for your arm to pull it away. Much to his dismay, he only gets as far as wrapping his fingers around your wrist before you swoop down and hook your arm behind his knees, successfully flipping him over and holding him half-upside-down as you make your way from the entrance of his house to his living room.

As expected, Rafayel immediately flails, his protests getting louder and more vigorous, his arms flailing as he holds onto your torso for dear life. "Hey-! Hey cutie, baby, sweetheart I'mgoingtodiefisharen'tmeantobeheldlike-"

His protests get cut off with your exasperated sigh as you toss him onto the couch. He lands with a small 'oomph!', looking up at you with a flustered expression as he attempts to regain his bearings.

"You- You- You-" His head turns away from you in frustration, his voice breathless and indignant.

This is your chance.

You slide on top of him, your hands trailing down his sides, resting on his waist. The touch sends a shiver throughout his body, his words caught in his mouth.

You look him up and down idly, another sigh leaving your lips as your gaze focuses on his slightly unbuttoned shirt. "Pain in the ass, Rafayel? Who's the one who called me all day, begging me to finish up work so that he could- What? Whine about me doing exactly what he wanted?"

He only flushes darker, gulping down his growing anxiety while he stumbles over his words. "L-Look, look! Can you get mad at me? I just w-wanted to see my beautiful gorgeous amazing kind girlfriend really bad and-" He attempts to compose himself, flaring red as he pouts and tries to calm down, only to look like a fish out of water. "I...I didn’t mean...to...hurt you, baby...no...that’s not what I meant to say...I just…" 

You raise an eyebrow, silencing him as your gaze grows stern. "Did you forget that this beautiful, gorgeous, amazing and kind girlfriend has work? Despite that, I do my best to come home earlier....and you call me a pain in the ass? Do you know how unfair that is, Raf?"

A soft huff escapes him at your cutting tone, and as your hand rests on his chest, he finds himself losing resistance for anything else you had to say — or do.

"I'm- I'm sorry, baby...." His eyes flick to the pressure of your hand on him, feeling the weight of your frustration....and something else. Something that would only bring him to ruin.

He tries to speak again, knowing how futile it'd be. "I didn't mean-"

"Rafayel?" The look in your eyes is sharp, cutting, and hungry.

He gulps again, feeling like he's losing air. His pulse quickens as his cheeks flush even deeper, his voice small yet underlined with need."...Yes, Miss?"

You finally let a small smile pull up at your lips, though the command in your next words is palpable. "Get the strap."

His entire world seems to freeze for a moment.

Rafayel stares at you, stunned, his breath catching in his throat. His cheeks are positively burning, his body now humming with anticipation. For a moment, neither of you move. Then slowly, he swallows, his wide eyes darting around as if searching for an escape that doesn't exist. 

"Do I need to tell you twice?" Your voice is quieter now, but the command is still there. His hesitation thickens the air between you both, as he knows exactly what will happen if he doesn’t comply. He lingers, just a second longer—before stumbling off the couch, clearing his throat in a poor attempt to mask his flustered state. His legs feel like jelly as he heads toward the bedroom.

A few minutes later, he returns, holding the box in his arms. His fingers tighten around the corners and his eyes flit around the room, searching for anything to focus on but you. His lips press into a thin line, embarrassment coloring his features—but the way he shifts, the way his fingers twitch? That betrays the real story.

Unfortunately for him, he knew exactly what he was getting himself into the moment those words left his mouth.

You don’t say anything at first, simply lifting two fingers and gesturing him forward. Your eyes flick to the empty space beside you, silent and expectant.

He hesitates. Then, reluctantly, he steps closer, lowering himself onto the couch with stiff, uncertain movements. Still, he avoids your gaze, fumbling with the lid of the box as if stalling would change his fate.

First comes out a sleek, white harness. Next is a thick, pink dildo. He exhales shakily—looking at it makes him feel so full, and you haven’t even touched him yet.

"You know what to do, baby." Your voice is low, an intoxicating purr that slides down his spine like silk, wrapping around him and tightening.

"Stop fumbling like this is your first time, okay?"

He stiffens, feeling his heart beating in his throat. Maybe—just maybe, he was starting to regret greeting you with so much attitude. Good, you’ll fuck the rest of it out of his system.

Obediently, borderline mechanically, he pulls the harness from the box, setting it between the two of you. The lube comes next. Finally, the dildo. All three items are resting between the two of you, a tense silence filled with the weight of anticipation.

You stare, silent and unmoving, your eyes never wavering from him. It's an unspoken command, one that wordlessly strips away the last of his defenses. He's exposed, raw—even more so as his fingers slip beneath the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head.

His pale, toned skin is revealed inch by inch, and you let out a soft, approving hum that has his cock twitching beneath his clothes. You don’t even have to say a word. The way your eyes drink him in, slow and deliberate, is enough.

His breaths are now shallow, erratic. He forces himself to sit still, but it’s impossible to ignore how his arousal strains against his pants, how his body betrays every inch of himself with the burning desire to be under your command.

Rafayel bites his cheek, trying, trying so hard to keep the whimper locked down his throat. His chest rises and falls erratically as your fingers work their way down his body, tracing each curve and ridge of his muscles. He bites down on his lip to stifle a moan, but you see the way his body trembles beneath your hand, a silent admission of his growing need.

Soon enough, Rafayel finds himself bare, his cock drooling onto his stomach as your fingers work him open. He grips on the cushions below him, knuckles white with how tightly he's holding on. Each slow, deliberate movement of your fingers pulls a reaction from him—a shuddering gasp, a breathless moan, a whine so sweet you can feel the heat pooling between your legs.

By the time he's prepped and ready for you, his cock is stiff against his stomach, the tip red and needy, slick smeared across his skin. His mind is hazy with pleasure and anticipation as you take the bottle of lube, coating the strap with methodical, practiced movements. The wet sounds alone have him mewling, his thighs twitching as he struggles to keep still. His sounds catch in his throat when he finally meets your gaze, amusement glinting in your eyes as a lazy smirk tugs at your lips.

"...Look at you." Your voice is oozing with fake sympathy and thick with hunger that threatened to devour him whole. "You’ve taken barely anything, yet you’re already shaking."

Rafayel tries—and fails—to stifle himself with a bite to his lip, the muffled sound escaping anyway, somehow even filthier for the effort. His hips cant in search of friction, his voice wrecked with want. "Miss, please- I-I need-"

"Need what, baby?" Your fingers trail down his chest, pressing against the planes of his body to still his squirming. His breathing stutters under your touch, his skin burning hot like a fever. "Mm....you know, I think you've forgotten something already."

He whines, louder this time, brows furrowing in confusion as his scrambled, desire-fogged mind struggles to process what you might possibly be talking about. What could you possibly mean when everything you wanted from him was right in front of you—right?

"M-Miss wha-" His sentence cuts off in a strangled moan as you align yourself with him and thrust forward, filling him in one smooth motion. His back arches off the cushions, his mouth falling open in a wrecked gasp, a whimpering mix of surprise and pleasure spilling from his lips. "Miss- oh fuck- Baby, ah- ahh- Wha-What did I- hngh do?!"

"Oh no. You've already gone dumb on me?" You sigh and tut at the pitiful, confused sight below you. You draw yourself out achingly slow, before snapping your hips forward, burying yourself to the hilt again. He cries out, hands gripping the cushions, his body jolting at the force of your thrust. Words tumble from his lips, barely coherent, lost between moans and gasps.

"So desperate," you murmur, letting your nails trace his sides and smirking at how he shivers. "I bet this is what you wanted all along. Running that mouth, acting up—just so I'd fuck you stupid. Now you get to feel just how much of a pain in the ass I can be."

Your fingers slide up his trembling thighs, moving them to rest against your shoulders as you set a punishing pace, pulling out of him halfway only to slam back in. With each thrust, he quivers, the impact leading his cock to bounce helplessly against his stomach. "Look at you," you hum, voice syrup-sweet, yet laced with something cruel. "Already shaking. What happened to all that attitude, hm?"

Desperate sounds wrenched from his throat are his only answer, his fingers holding onto the cushions for dear life. His lips part, trying, but no words follow. His mind is too fogged, too lost in the rhythm of your hips and the way you fuck him just right, keeping him on the edge.

You chuckle, your grip tightening. "Nothing to say now? Or did I fuck the fight out of you already?" You lean in, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, voice dripping with amusement. "You'll take what I give you. And you'll be thankful for it."

All he manages is a choked sob in response. Rafayel's mind is completely fuzzy as you keep repeating your actions, pulling out halfway only to slam yourself all the way back in. The constant stretch has him shaking, lips parting in loud moans as his hole constantly squeezes around your strap, sucking you in deeper.

"Miiiss….!" He slurs out, his hands letting go of the cushions to cover his face. Too embarrassing, too vulnerable, his brain screams—but you grab his wrists, pinning them down above his head and his eyes roll back, fully overwhelmed by the moment. Sensing that maybe he was going to break too quickly, you slow down your movements, pacing it out to be more slow, more deliberate.

Your lover whimpers at the change, his lashes fluttering as he blinks up at you, completely at your mercy. His breath comes in tiny stutters as he catches it, arms twitching as you hold them down. "Miiss…please- please I can’t- ‘s all too much-"

You slow down even more, letting the tip grind into him, sending little shocks of pleasure throughout him. "You seem-" you punctuate your words by gripping his wrists tighter, "perfectly pretty and fucked. Besides, I told you to take what I give you. I’m even being a little nice, nicer than a little slut like you deserves right now."

Rafayel sobs at your words, his body tensing beneath your touch. He squirms beneath you, wrists testing against your grip, but you don’t let up. You watch the way his flushed chest rises and falls, his breaths shaky, needy, completely wrecked.

You continue, voice slow and teasing, "But, since you’re already falling apart…" You lift your hips ever so slightly, the tip of your strap barely pressing inside him before sinking back in agonizingly slow. His body clenches around you instinctively, and you feel him shudder as his cock twitches. "Maybe I should really give you something to cry about."

A confused, broken sound is all that’s able to fall from his lips before you slam back into him, resuming your punishing pace. His body shakes yet arches into every thrust, pleasure coursing through him until all he can do is take it—take you.

"Miss-! Ahh, Miss, I-It’s-!" His voice cracks, his head tilting back as his eyes lose focus, mouth falling open in a soundless moan before another cry escapes. His cock is leaking, neglected and weeping onto his stomach, each thrust making his mind delve further into the blinding haze of pleasure.

"You're what, baby?" You coo, letting your nails drag lightly down his arms, making him shiver. "Losing your mind? Coming already? Just from getting fucked like this?"

He mewls frantically, but you tsk, slowing your movements again, enough to force him to plead with you desperately. "N-no, no, no- Miss, please!" He cries, his hips trying to chase your thrusts, but your grip keeps him in place. "Please no, I want to- I need it, Need you pleasepleaseplease—"

You smirk, taking pity on him—for now—as he unravels beneath you. "So greedy," you murmur, and with one sharp thrust, you make sure to grind deep, right against that perfect spot inside him, and the scream that rips from his throat is downright filthy.

"But that was nice." Your voice drips with satisfaction, nearly manifesting as a low purr. "Now, be a dear and come for me."

Rafayel screams—and all he sees is white as thick spurts of cum shoot out of his completely untouched cock, painting his stomach and even his chest. Your name flows from his mouth like a waterfall, praises and ‘thank yous’ slurred in between all the loud moans and desperate gasps for air.

While he experiences his high, you start stroking his cock, coaxing out any leftover seed from him. He whimpers at the slight overstimulation, but what you have planned for him is much worse. Sliding your fingers down, you grip the base of his length, and his response is immediate—even in his half-delirious state, he jolts in surprise, a high-pitched whine catching in his throat as his body spasms beneath you, his sensitivity cranked to the max. His thighs are trying to clamp shut around your waist, but you let go of your other hand that was holding his wrists, instead forcing his legs open for you.

Rafayel tries to protest—again, hasn’t he learned his lesson? Yet you only croon, your grip on his cock firm as you squeeze just enough to send another jolt of sensation through him. "Shh, baby. You can take more. You wouldn’t want to….disappoint me now, would you?"

He sobs, his head shaking weakly, but his body betrays him. He twitches in your hold, already starting to get hard again despite the oversensitivity wrecking him. His body knows it belongs to you, even when his mind is too far gone to process it.

You answer for him, a smirk curling on your lips as you loosen your grip just enough to stroke him again, slow, teasing. "You can. And you will."

He chokes out a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan, legs shaking beneath your hold as his nails dig into the palm of his hand. His flushed, tear-streaked face is a sight to behold—his lips are parted, his eyes are glassy, and he’s completely at your mercy.

"I c-can't-!" he hics, his breath ragged, but his body is already proving him a liar. Every nerve in his body is alight, each stroke only winding him tighter, pushing him further into the pleasure he claims he can’t take. His cock twitches, standing rigid in your palm, glistening with need despite his desperate pleas. The contradiction is almost adorable.

"Mm, but look at you." You roll your hips again, grinding into his oversensitive hole, and his back arches beautifully. "Hard again already. Such a good little thing for me."

At the same time, your hand resumes its pace along his slick length, stroking him in time with your thrusts. The dual sensation has Rafayel outright wailing, trembling violently as he tries to escape both the pleasure and the overwhelming stimulation—but there’s nowhere to go. Every grind of your hips presses against that spot inside him that makes him see stars, and your fingers work him mercilessly, coaxing more from him even as he shudders from the aftershocks of his last orgasm.

His nails dig into the cushions, his body trembling like he might shatter apart at any moment. "No, Miss, it's- it's t-too much-"  

You chuckle, briefly letting go of his cock to smear the mess he made across his flushed skin before you return to stroking him, your hand now wet and sticky from his release. "Too much?" You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you give a particularly sharp thrust, making him cry out. "Or too good?"  

"Oh fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuc- Miss please, I can'tIcan'tIreallyca-" His rambles get cut off by a thrust directly to his prostate, his eyes rolling back in bliss as thick streams of cum erupt from his cock again, painting his stomach in hot bursts. His voice reaches a pitch that seems almost impossible, a desperate cry that echoes in the room, pure ecstasy spilling from his lips as he completely loses himself to pleasure.

Each pulse of his release sends another jolt through him, and he’s overwhelmed, breathless, and utterly defenseless. Spurred on by his sensitivity and mindless babbles, you only move your hips faster, slamming your hips against his ass and relishing in every sob that left his mouth. All his protests were slurred together, words that he didn't really mean — and at some point, they turn into cockdrunk praises.

"Miss please, 's-sho good i hngh- ah! M-Miss, I...I..." His voice is cracked, tears running down his face as he struggles to form coherent thoughts, lost in the haze of pleasure you’ve crafted for him. His body trembles beneath you, every thrust sending ripples of sensation coursing through him, igniting every nerve ending.

He shudders, the mix of shame and pleasure swirling within him, but there’s no denying the truth behind his moans—especially not after he’s been fucked like this. "I want more, I want-" His words dissolve into another sob, your relentless pace making it impossible to keep his thoughts straight.

"There we go, that’s the Rafayel I know. Always so needy, begging for more even after being broken." Each thrust of yours is deliberate and deep as you pick up the tempo, aiming for that sweet spot inside him that makes him see white. With every powerful slam of your hips, he feels himself unraveling all over again, drowning in a sea of bliss.

"M-Miss! A-Again, I'm gonna-!" he cries out, desperate for release yet still teetering on the edge. You can see his muscles tensing, his walls pulsing as he gets close again. 

"Good boy," you murmur, leaning down to capture his lips in a heated kiss, your tongue sweeping against his as your hips drive harder, faster. With one hand gripping his hip to steady him, your other hand wraps around his cock, stroking him in time with your thrusts.

"I want you to come for me one last time, Rafayel. Let go."

With that command, his body succumbs to the overwhelming pleasure. Complete and utter bliss crashes over him, his voice rising to a desperate pitch as he comes once more, thick ropes of cum spilling from him, slicking his stomach and chest. You feel his cock throb in your hand as you continue to stroke him through his release, coaxing every last drop from him, relishing the way he trembles and writhes beneath you, utterly lost in the moment. 

His cries echo in the room, a symphony of need and satisfaction, and you can’t help but smirk into his lips. You can feel his entire body quaking beneath you, the sheer intensity of his release leaving him breathless and utterly spent. His sobs mellow out as you slow down, letting him ride out the last remnants of his high and making sure he feels every last bit of it.

"You did so well, baby," you murmur, voice soft as you pull away from his lips—your dominant, commanding disposition now fades, only leaving behind a warm smile on your face as you kiss his forehead. The contrast of your touch, gentle on his trembling body, makes him shudder, and he’s so far gone that even your whisper feels like a balm against the ache. "I know it’s overwhelming. But you took it, didn’t you? All for me."

Your words are soft, your fingers gently threading through his hair and offering him a sanctuary to recover in. He whimpers quietly, his body still shaking from the aftershocks of his release, but he melts into your embrace, his breathing slow and steadying as you comfort him.

You hold him close, the warmth of your bodies grounding you both as the frantic rhythm fades, and all that’s left behind is the quiet hum of your breaths mingling, the steady rise and fall of your chests pressed together. The world outside feels distant, inconsequential—right now, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other, basking in the afterglow.

His eyes flutter shut at your actions, a mix of tears and pleasure glistening in his gaze, overwhelmed by everything he’s just experienced. As his breathing begins to slow, you lean in and place soft kisses along his neck, sending shivers down his spine, his body so sensitive that even your softest touch makes him gasp.

He’s lost in the sweet daze of exhaustion, and with a final soft sigh, his body relaxes beneath yours. The tension leaves his limbs in waves, his pulse slowly beginning to stabilize. You hold him close, the heat of his body against yours comforting, grounding, as everything slows down.

As you feel the last shivers of pleasure fade from his body, you press one final kiss to his temple before carefully shifting your weight. “Easy, baby,” you murmur, your voice low and soothing as you place a hand on his side. Slowly, you begin to pull out, mindful of his sensitivity.

The moment you do, Rafayel whimpers, his body shuddering at the loss of fullness. His thighs twitch, and his breath hitches as the overwhelming emptiness sets in. A soft gasp escapes his lips, and he instinctively clenches around nothing, his oversensitive body quivering with every move.

You soothe him with quiet murmurs, pressing soft kisses to his damp skin as you run your fingers through his damp hair. He barely reacts beyond a faint, contented sigh, his limbs loose and pliant in your hold. His exhaustion is evident, his body sinking deeper into the mattress, boneless and spent.

“Mine,” he mumbles sleepily, his fingers curling around your wrist, holding you in place.

You smile and press another lingering kiss to his forehead. “Yours,” you promise, your voices a quiet vow in the peaceful stillness of the room.

- - -

The soft sound of your breaths mingling drift throughout the bedroom, both of you settled in the quiet aftermath, where nothing exists but the closeness between you. You carefully pull Rafayel closer, your hand lingering on his skin for a moment as you reach out to gently brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "Did I…push you too far?"

Rafayel blinks up at you, still drowsy, his expression tender and vulnerable. He exhales slowly, his fingers lazily tracing idle patterns against your hip. “No,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion.

You only chuckle in response, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I see." You shift closer, pulling the blanket over the both of you. "Then…." you continue with a teasing glint in your eye, "Why were you being such a brat earlier, huh? Calling me a pain in the ass?"

Rafayel shifts in your arms, his gaze avoiding yours as if debating whether to argue. His body tenses for just a moment, but then he exhales, shoulders slumping as he gives in. ".…I just wanted your attention," he mutters, pouting slightly. His admission is quiet and laced with embarrassment and sincerity. "I meant it when I said I missed you."

"Huh. Well, you definitely got it…" You start off, softening at his hesitation and press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Y'know, Raf, next time, you can just be nice. Then we can have slow, sweet make-up sex, and your ass won’t be the one suffering for it."

He groans and buries his face into your shoulder, inhaling your scent and muffling his voice. “No promises.”

You chuckle and raise an eyebrow, running a soothing hand down his back. “But I know your ass liked it, anyways.”

That causes him to huff indignantly, his grip on you tightening as you feel his lips pulling down into a deeper pout. He can’t deny it, however, and merely leaves a few tender bites on your neck in protest.

"Oh, come on," you tsk, amusement lacing your tone despite the feigned irritation. You smirk, tilting your head just enough to grant him better access. "Resorting to biting, now? Not exactly the best way to say you're upset."

Rafayel just grumbles against your skin, his warm breath sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "M'not upset," he admits, though his sulky tone says otherwise.

You hum, running your fingers lazily through his hair. "Mhm. So, what I'm hearing is...you loved every second of it, and you're just being a sore loser."

His head snaps out of your neck, his eyes narrowing at you. "I didn’t say anything,” he whines, looking a lot like a cat denied a treat.

You grin, poking at his cheek. "Didn't have to. Your body gave you away."

His groan is muffled once more as he flops onto your chest dramatically, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he settles closer, letting out a soft sigh as his fingers trace idle patterns on your skin. "You're insufferable."

"Says you," you counter, pressing another kiss to the top of his head.

Rafayel doesn’t argue this time, just grumbles something unintelligible against your chest, his fingers still lazily tracing patterns on your skin. The weight of him, the warmth he radiates, feels grounding—a stark contrast to the teasing moments before. Slowly, the playful energy between you begins to settle into something softer, something quieter. You feel the way his body melts against yours, his breathing evening out, the tension from earlier fading entirely.

As the quiet stretches between you, the world outside your little bubble feels obscure. There's only the sound of your breathing, the comfort of his body in your arms, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing you're both right where you need to be.

a/n: a bribe for my friend to get her to play yttd; she suffered but gets 4.6k words of her fave being pegged in the ass instead 😋 local I hope u love this

[godricgryffinsnore]

You, You, Always You ♡ : A James Potter Fan Fiction.

pairing : James Potter x female!reader

summary : James Potter is utterly and hopelessly in love with you. So much so that he can’t stop talking about you—to anyone who will listen. Whether it’s your eyes, your smile, or the way you simply exist, he worships every part of you with poetic devotion. His friends have long accepted that he’ll never shut up about you, and honestly? He doesn’t want to.

warnings : Extreme fluff, Ridiculously lovesick James, Marauders teasing James mercilessly, You being the light of James' entire existence. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3. This is a drabble, i.e., an extremely short fan fiction.

Word Count : 1k

main master list <3

answering this request <33333

della’s note : OH MY GOD SUNNY!!! I feel honored (really) to answer your request. I was slightly trembling while writing this, afraid if I could reach your expectations. I HOPE I DID!!! @sunflowersonatas

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

James Potter was in love. Hopelessly, boundlessly, unforgivably in love.

And everyone knew it.

He loved you the way the sun loved the horizon—desperate to cling to it, to spill its light over it and hope that it could somehow hold on just a little longer. He loved you with the ferocity of wild waves chasing the shore—never once doubting they belonged together.

And he told everyone.

The Marauders had long since given up on keeping him quiet.

“—and her eyes,” James was saying, his elbows propped on the table in the Gryffindor common room, eyes dreamy and faraway. His voice was soft with reverence, as if uttering the mere syllables of your name was a sacred prayer. "You should’ve seen her today. Sunlight caught in them, and—Merlin’s balls—I swear, I saw entire galaxies swirling in those irises. Just—just shimmering like liquid gold, I’m telling you.”

Sirius—who had already heard about your eyes approximately seventy-two times that week—groaned dramatically and flopped over onto Remus’ lap. “Prongs, mate, please. My ears are going to start bleeding.”

James ignored him. He always did. He turned to Remus instead, eyes wide with earnestness.

“Moony, you know how her lips go all pink when she bites them? Like when she’s nervous or thinking really hard?” he gushed, his hands gesturing wildly. "And there’s this tiny crease between her brows when she’s concentrating, and I just want to kiss it away, you know?"

Remus gave him a flat stare, slowly dragging a hand down his face. “James,” he said, voice as dry as parchment, "I know. You’ve told me. About... fifty times.”

James didn’t miss a beat. His eyes turned soft, lovestruck, and completely unrepentant. “Yeah, but have I mentioned the way she smiles at me like I’m her whole world? Because, Moony, I swear, I’d walk through hell barefoot if it meant I could see that smile for the rest of my life.”

Peter snorted into his pumpkin juice. "You’re beyond help, Prongs."

But James didn’t care. He was already looking at Sirius again, eyes glimmering with rapture. "And Pads," he pressed, "she wore that blue sweater yesterday—the one that makes her look like she spun the sky itself into wool and slipped into it. I mean, bloody hell, how is it even possible to look that good doing absolutely nothing?”

Sirius let out a long, suffering sigh, draping his arm dramatically over his face. "I’m going to start charging you for therapy at this point."

James merely beamed. Oblivious. Blissful. Hopelessly, pathetically smitten.

"She’s so amazing," he sighed wistfully, staring at some far-off point only he could see. "We have the best relationship, you know? Like—perfect. I’m going to marry her. I mean, I haven’t asked yet. But I will. Soon. Obviously."

“Obviously,” Sirius deadpanned.

James’ eyes softened even further, his voice nothing more than a reverent murmur, meant only for the gods and the stars and perhaps the wind itself. “I’m gonna spend my whole life with her,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a breath. "She just... she makes everything brighter. Like I could be standing in the middle of a war, but if she was next to me, holding my hand, I’d swear I was walking through a field of wildflowers."

Remus groaned and let his head fall onto the table with a thud. "Oh, for Merlin’s sake—"

“Hi.”

The single, casual word cut through the air like lightning on a still night.

The entire table stiffened. James’ head snapped up so fast he nearly dislocated his neck.

And there you were, all casual and beautiful and oblivious. Your lips were pulled into a soft smile, eyes glimmering with mischief. You knew. You knew he’d been talking about you again.

“Hey, love," you greeted, voice soft and sweet. Casual. As if James Potter hadn’t just declared his undying devotion to you for the thousandth time.

For one glorious, fleeting moment, the Marauders savored the rare sight of James Potter completely and utterly speechless.

His jaw slackened slightly, and he blinked once. Twice.

Then he lit up.

"Hey, sweetheart," he practically breathed, leaning toward you with wide, adoring eyes. His hand immediately found yours, tangling your fingers together like they were meant to be that way. Because they were.

He beamed at you—boyish and breathtaking. His eyes glimmered with so much love that it could’ve split the heavens in two.

“You look—bloody hell, you look perfect.” His voice was so soft, like he was half-dreaming, afraid that if he spoke too loud, he might wake up.

Sirius smirked smugly, elbowing Remus. "Watch this," he muttered.

Without missing a beat, James turned to the Marauders, positively glowing, and gestured toward you like he’d just found the cure to every illness in existence.

"Isn’t she stunning?" he gushed, voice breathless, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "Merlin, she’s—she’s actually perfect, isn’t she? Like... look at her." He turned back to you, eyes wide with awe. "I was just telling them about you."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your smile, but your eyes gave you away. “Oh?” you teased, tilting your head. "Good things, I hope?"

"Only the best things, love," he swore, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a reverent kiss against your knuckles. His voice dropped lower, more tender, meant only for you. "I was just telling them how... how you’re the only thing I ever want to wake up next to for the rest of my life."

You flushed, eyes wide and disbelieving. James could be dramatic, yes, but the way he was looking at you now—like you hung the stars, the sun, and all the skies—stole the breath from your lungs.

He glanced back at the Marauders with a hopelessly besotted grin, voice breathless with awe. “I told you. She’s perfect.”

And the Marauders groaned in exasperation because, Merlin help them, James Potter was never going to shut up about you.

And you? You wouldn’t, ever, have it any other way.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[dxckgrxsonx]

#9 with Jason Todd PLEASE I beg of u

Title: Payback, Backfired. Pairing: Jason Todd x (F) Reader, (Mentions of ExBF!Dick Grayson x (F) Reader). Words: 1.4k Warnings: SMUT 18+ Plot: Prompt 9 from this list. Revenge Sex. (Readers ex is Dick Grayson.) Notes: i literally had so much fun writing this. also hi my beautiful darling @sio-ina-bottle thank you sm for requesting this prompt ily <3

****

“Tell me.” Jason starts the second he sinks the tip of his cock into you, mouth twisted into a fucked up grin, all sharp and triumphant; like getting into your pants grants him some sort of award, maybe something akin to bragging rights. “Is he better than me?”

Your answer circles around a snarl, fury swelling thick and suffocating between your teeth, “Shut the fuck up. The last thing I want to be thinking about is my ex whilst you’re fucking me!”

Hindsight knocks at the edges of your skull, perspective swinging on its head to offer a different look at what you’ve gotten yourself into, because decisions birthed in the face of spite and heartbreak don’t typically have happy endings.

If you’re honest with yourself though, things have limits.

However, a compelling argument to it is this: you’re long past caring.

You’re hurting–more than you ever thought capable–and more than three-quarters of you wants him to hurt too.

You think of the breakup all over again and your stomach rolls, eyes burning, Dick Grayson was supposed to be the one you built a future with; the one you looked at and never turned away from. But he didn’t seem to have much trouble walking away from a relationship spanning almost a year.

“Hm.” Jason almost purrs, bottoming out, stretching your pussy wider than it’s ever been before because he’s thick and so heavy. “Your ex must have been something special if you’re getting all teary on me.”

His hand reaches up, palm covering your cheek so he can thumb away the wetness from your eyes. Under different circumstances the action would make you melt–would probably have you squeezing at his cock like you’re coming–but Dick would do the same thing when your emotions bubbled over and you can’t stand it.

There’s also the look on Jason’s face, the twitch in his mouth, the glimmer in his eyes. It’s almost like he’s conquered something; capitalised on someone else’s failure and taken it as his own.

“Be quiet.” Your voice shakes until you tighten your jaw to settle it. “And take your fucking hand off my face before I chew it off.”

Jason’s hand grabs at your jaw as he shifts, pulling out and sinking back in so your eyes roll to the back of your skull. He laughs, free hand sliding around the back of your knee to stretch you open wider, and you can’t quite silence your whimper as the head of his cock rubs so sweetly inside you.

“You’ve got a filthy mouth.” He hisses, pressing his fingers into your cheek to force open your mouth, the callouses on the tip of his pointer finger digs into your skin and you kick up your hips in frustration. “I take it he didn’t treat you like this very often, huh? You’re clearly not used to anything like this.”

The rhythm Jason sets is easy, a slick glide of his cock splitting you open until the empty space Dick left is filled with pleasure and your own weeping cunt. Something sparks up the length of your spine when he rubs at your clit and you groan, body shaking apart.

“You have no idea of the things he did to me.” Your words are slightly slurred from the way Jason shoves his fingers into your cheek, and the discomfort from it overlaps with the wet smack of his hips. “You’d be appalled.”

In your relationship, Dick was many things to you, a soft touch, a problem solver, clever beyond anything you’d ever seen before. But there were moments in your sex life where he was mean; when he guided you beyond anything you thought possible and made you hurt and beg and cry.

And the truth of it is: you absolutely loved it.

The world tips when Jason flips you over, and instead of being flat on your back–his well muscled body bullying you into the mattress–you’re manhandled onto your knees, face down in the pillows. His cock parts your folds, the tip pushing from your entrance to your clit and back again.

He angles his hips and pushes into you in one long stroke.

You moan and spasm around him.

“How about here?” He asks, pausing to hold himself deep in your pussy as his thumb rubs over your asshole. “Did he ever fuck you here?”

The noise you make is unhinged, a sob stuck between fury and ecstasy. Of course he’s fucked you there, you want to snap, worked you open using his fingers and tongue until you cried so softly for him to please, please fuck your ass.

But you can’t speak. Not when Jason fucks you, sinks his thumb juuust past that tight ring of muscle and praises you for taking it so well.

“Stop talking about him.” You try to say, every part of you shaking and fucked open. “The whole point of fucking you is to stop thinking of him.”

Jason stops talking eventually, which should have been a relief. But rather than putting energy into taunting reactions out of you. He fucks you through orgasm after orgasm until you splinter and crack, calling Jason’s name, overstimulated and vibrating like a live-wire.

His resounding laugh in response holds weight, holds something you’re not privy to.

If you had any sense about you, you would almost think he knows exactly who your ex is, despite the fact you’ve not once mentioned his name. Hell. The whole point of you taking Jason home was out of revenge because maybe, just maybe, Dick would find out and hurt just as much as you.

****

There’s noise coming from the living room.

Sheets off, you shuffle around your bedroom, Jason still sleeping in your bed. He’s completely naked, fabric pooling at his waist. The expanse of his chest is littered with scars, some thin and faded, others thick and pink with raised tissue. Oddly, it makes him more attractive, but you’re not sure if it’s because Dick had scars too.

You should know, after all, you’d pressed your lips against every single one of them.

The closest article of clothing is his t-shirt and you slip it over your head, the hem settling comfortably against the tops of your thighs. Underwear comes next, but the pair you find are torn, seams ripped apart under Jason’s hands. You ignore the arousal still clinging to the gusset of the fabric, the wetness soaked through when you flirted with Jason.

Frustration flares. He’s such a prick.

Finding your pyjama pants you slip them on and move towards the door. Glancing back at Jason you hesitate for a handful of seconds before exhaling and continuing forwards. He can get himself up if things go to shit.

Coming into the living room you freeze.

“What are you doing here?”

Dick stops at the sound of your voice, head snapping towards you so fast you take a half-step back. There’s a box on the coffee table, half filled with his things, in his hand is one of his hoodies–all black with a brilliant blue stripe down the sleeves–the very first one of his you ever wore.

“Getting my things.” Dick answers eventually. He sounds tired. You want to cry. “Figured I’d be able to get them before you woke up.”

You hum, not trusting your voice.

You still haven’t moved.

He continues, “I think there's some more stuff in the bedroom if you don’t mind.” It’s not a question, it’s a heads up of where he’ll be going next and you bristle.

“You can’t go in there right now.”

Dick’s eyebrows furrow, attention shifting to your slightly ajar bedroom door, “Why not.” He looks at you again, bright blue eyes lingering on the shirt you’re wearing. “That’s not mine.” Everything about his voice is unrecognisable and all the hair along your arms prick up.

Time stutters and stalls when Jason breaks the threshold, still shirtless, jeans hung obscenely low at his hips. The grin on his face is downright mocking, there isn’t a single thing on his face that isn’t coated in near cruelty.

You feel caught up in the middle of something you had no idea about. Jason was a quick, easy fuck. Someone you didn't know, someone you didn't think had any real connection to Dick; someone you could have used to make him jealous.

But right now, looking at the outright horror on Dick's face, and remembering the way Jason looked at you last night, you think he might have played you both.

“What’s up, Dickie.” Jason says, tone scarily even. He slings an arm over your shoulders and stares Dick in the eye, “You don’t mind me fucking your ex do you?”

****

[neigepomme]

˙ ✩°˖ ☃️ try again / zayne x reader

synopsis; right person, wrong time, but even after a year, the heartache remains. you looked for him in everyone you met, and so did zayne — but when the universe lets you cross paths again, will it be kind enough to let you try again?

🍎 pomme's notes — i made a playlist for this fic! this is loosely based on jaehyun and d.ear's try again, but all of these songs were played while i was writing and i think they make the reading experience better!! also if there are typos forgive me i finished writing this at 5am oops

✴︎ 5.5k words ⋆ hurt/comfort ⋆ set in a world with no evol (also caleb cameo and zaynecaleb are best friends because i said so) ⋆ fem reader ⋆ 2nd person

it was a snowy december night when you decided to mutually break up.

the night was quiet and so peaceful, but your heart was in turmoil upon seeing his defeated face, and so was his when tears started to fall from your eyes.

it wasn’t always like this though.

you met him in college, he was two years your senior and you’d been taking the same ethics class — one he'd pushed off until his last semester before his residency. always kind and soft-spoken, you eventually got to work on a group project together and when the other people in your team decided to play hooky, zayne was the one to let the professor know and invite you to work together.

he eventually started reaching out to you under the pretense of studying together at a new cafe, only for the both of you to talk endlessly, with no real studying being done. your bashful expression when he'd compliment your new earrings didn't go unnoticed, and you also didn't miss the shy glances followed by a cough when you glanced back.

this went on for two whole months, until you encountered one of zayne's friends, caleb, at a party you both attended. drunk out of his mind, with zayne following in tow (sporting a worried expression that you found quite cute), he spotted you and made a beeline for you. the brunette pointed at you, and spoke with a slurred speech.

"you. you're the girl he's been talking about non-stop right? the cute one from his ethics class? dude, zayne's in looooove with you."

at a loss for words, you glanced at zayne — who was running a hand over his face, clearly flustered out of his mind and trying his best to get caleb to shut up.

the butterflies in your stomach were batting their wings furiously, and your own face started feeling hot. before you could even speak though, caleb spoke again, a little more agitated now.

"poor guy cannot take you off his mind, so for my mental wellbeing, please date him. i can't keep living like this, my ears are gonna fall off if i hear one more thing about you — no offense. if there's an equivalent to the bechdel test for men, we're failing and we're failing haaaaard. all because of him. i'm gonna grab another beer but you've gotta date him. please."

as caleb walked away, you stared at zayne. it was a clumsy indirect admission of feelings, but gosh was it a sweet one. his face burned red, unable to stop his friend from revealing all of that info to you — but it's not like it was a lie. whenever the two of them would hang out, he'd ask caleb for advice on what to wear for your next outing or check whether or not a text you sent him had a hidden message. hell, zayne would text him asking for good date spots to take you to.

running a hand through his hair, zayne watched his friend walk away and cleared his throat before grabbing a hold of your hand, his serious expression not doing much to distract you from the red of his cheeks.

"this wasn't how i planned on letting you know how i feel and asking you out but.. he wasn't really lying."

his cold hand gripped yours a bit more tightly, before he exhaled in a feeble attempt at steadying his nerves.

"i really do like you though, and i'd love to take you out. not as the guy from your ethics class that you're stuck doing a project with, but as your boyfriend."

that's how it started. loving zayne was comfortable. it came as easily as breathing. the late nights he'd spend in your dorm room, reading one of his cardiology textbooks while you slept soundly on his chest were your favorites. no words needed to be exchanged, his heartbeat told you everything you had to know about his love for you.

when you received a job offer from your dream company, zayne was there with a bouquet of your favorite flowers to congratulate you. kissing your face softly and whispering sweetly about how proud he was, and how he knew you'd get in. you melted in his embrace, remembering the times you'd cried in his arms, afraid of being rejected while he held you and gave you soft reassurances.

in return, you were there for him — preparing boxes of snacks for him to keep in his car while he did his residency. his own apartment was left neglected, as he preferred spending nights at your place, sleeping only for a few hours before he went back to the hospital.

it was comfortable when you were still in university, but life caught up with you rapidly. your job was rewarding, but the long hours and the overtime you had to work because of how new you were, drained you.

zayne also had a hard time. his mentor was spread thin, and he had to take on more responsibilities as a resident physician than he'd had to during his internship. coming back home to you was difficult, the shifts seemed never-ending — basically working 24 to 36 hours regularly.

the date nights became more and more sparse. you spoke to each other less and less, not wanting to drain the other further. zayne would spend more time at his place, given that it was closer to the hospital, and you'd be exhausted from the overtime to visit him. he called you during his breaks, but more often than not, he got interrupted by responsibilities or different emergency codes, only being able to talk to you for two minutes at most if he was lucky.

you were having a hard time too. trying your best to text him, but your boss seemed hellbent on making sure you were always hard at work, never allowing you the time to send zayne a quick text. the mandatory overtime was irritating to say the least — always menial tasks that took an infuriating amount of time and that kept you in the office for hours, forcing you to come home late at night. staying up was an almost impossible ask, no matter how much you loved zayne. your eyes practically closed upon entering your home, and you'd forget to wipe your makeup way too many times. the rare times you'd stay awake, he'd have to stay later, because of a young patient having a heart attack or a new admission at the hospital.

it was exhausting, and neither of you were to blame. the universe had made it difficult and you couldn't hold any resentment because you knew how much this job meant to zayne. on the other hand, he also didn't want to ask you to accommodate him — feeling that it'd be unfair to ask you to stay up, knowing just how tired you were.

eventually, it had been enough.

you tried your best to push that feeling down, convincing yourself that you two will be alright, that this is just a hardship that will pass, but it was eating away at you. you missed zayne so much, and this whole thing just wasn't doable. it wasn't sustainable for either of you. when your friend tara said, "right person, wrong time! it's unfortunate, but you can't help it," you never thought it'd apply to you. never in a million years would you have thought that this relationship would be a fleeting thing, that it'd be rendered difficult and heartache inducing. zayne was perfect for you, as you were for him — but whichever divine entity looked down upon you didn't seem to agree. the days seemed to drag on, and you missed your boyfriend so deeply, but life seemed set on making you and zayne exhausted, not even having the time to see one another.

you were the only thing on zayne's mind while he worked. the surgeries never ended, and he just wanted to take a nap in your arms, but his attending seemed keen on making him work until he keeled over. he was so worn out, every single one of his limbs sore, but he still thought about you and how lonely you must feel. this job is his dream, saving people is something he's always yearned to do, but that doesn't take away from the fact that he feels like the worst boyfriend to have ever existed. you never complained, never asked him to abandon his job to spend time with you, and whenever he'd have to cut your calls short, you'd tell him it's okay, your voice laced with an unspoken sadness.

he sometimes wished you'd get angry at him. demand he spend some time with you but you were always understandind and patient. you were too good to him, and zayne felt so selfish. you didn't deserve to wait for him, especially not when you already had so much on your plate with your new job and boss. his conscience weighed on him, and he couldn't let you keep going and be unhappy.

and so, he told his supervisor that there was a personal emergency, and he headed over to your place after sending you a message; one you dreaded but expected in the back of your mind.

"love, we need to talk. i'll come over to your place in 20 mins."

his heart ached upon sending it, and he only wished that your heart hurt less than his — unfortunately it was far from being the case. you had just gotten home when you received the text, and you could already feel tears welling up in your eyes. you knew what was going to follow, but you were exhausted, and you knew he was too. you wanted to fight for this relationship. you loved zayne so much, so desperately, it made your heart hurt, and god, you knew he loved you too. you wanted to fight, but you felt selfish doing so. in your heartbreak, you still cared about him so much. his eyebags were getting more and more pronounced, and there was nothing you could do to take away from his tiredness. at this point, you just wanted him to rest, and if you could take away one thing off his mind at the cost of your own unhappiness, you'd do it.

zayne drove to your place, his hands tight on the steering wheel. he didn't want to do this, but he loves you so much. he loves you so bad, he cannot let you wither away, waiting for him. you deserved the world and he couldn't even give you a full hour without being interrupted by a call from the hospital, or without him desperately needing sleep. he started going through his memory, trying to remember the last time he took you out on a date. the last time he gave you his full attention, the last time he saw you laugh, the last time he made you blush. all these instances seemed so far away, and he couldn't forgive himself for leaving you alone for so long. you deserved too much, and if you could be your bright, joyful self without him by your side, then so be it.

it was snowing outside, so softly. it felt as if the universe was mocking you, as if it interpreted your relationship as an insult towards itself, and was hellbent on getting rid of it. your heart was breaking in anticipation, but the world would keep on moving.

you choke back tears.

no matter how much you wanted the earth to stop spinning, just for a moment with him again, it never would. you were doomed to stride forward, whether you wanted to or not.

the twenty minutes went by at a grueling slow pace, yet it didn't feel like enough time for either of you to prepare for the inevitable. when you hear that familiar rhythmic knock on your door, it suddenly feels like the beginning of the end. there were so many thoughts going through your mind — what if you didn't answer the door? would he still stay by your side? no, that was too cruel. your stomach hurts at the thought of paining him further, and so you stood from the couch where you were sitting and walked towards the door. your whole body felt weighed down when you opened it, only to see zayne — a painful expression painted on his face. he seemed thinner than before, more tired. you wanted to reach up and cradle his face, one last time, but you held back. you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

all he wanted was to hold you in his arms, as tight as he could, and tell you, "we'll be alright, we'll be okay."

you looked so worried about him, it shattered zayne's heart. he couldn't believe you still cared, even after being so worn out from the long work hours. even in your most tired moments, when you looked so fragile, when your eyes held back tears, you still cared about him so much. he didn't want to hurt you, never wanted to — but he'd ended up doing it, and he couldn't keep dragging this on further. he didn't want to tell you how much he loved you, how much it broke him to do this.

when you invite him in, hesitant to hold his hand in fear of your resolve wavering, he refuses. if he took a step inside your home, he wouldn't want to let you go. you look up to stare into his eyes, only for him to shake his head and inhale shakily.

"i'm so sorry. i.. i think we should break up."

you heard his voice. you know what he said. you knew from before, knew it was coming, knew it was inevitable.

you knew, but it still hurt.

it hurt so terribly, and you couldn't even do anything to make it hurt less. you couldn't hate him, couldn't get angry, couldn't scream, couldn't do anything.

trying your best not to let your voice crack, you respond while choking back a sob.

"okay. i'm sorry, zayne."

when the tears started falling from your eyes, zayne wanted to reach out and wipe them away. he loathed to see you cry, but the only thing he loathed more than that at that moment was himself. his throat was closing up, and he wanted to fall to his knees.

he wanted to beg you to get angry.

beg you to love him less.

beg you to hate him.

beg you to do anything that could make it less painful for him to end things with you.

he couldn't do it, though. he could never do it, and he felt like a coward for that. so what did he do? he nodded and spoke one last time before leaving your doorstep.

"i'm so sorry. please, take care of yourself. i can't apologize enough."

as zayne walks back to his car, he has to fight with himself to not look back at you, despite the difficult breathing and the sniffles he hears from you. because if he does, he'll just run back to you. but he wants you to be free from him. free from the burden of his love — so he keeps on walking, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying.

you look at his back when he walks away.

you only allow yourself to sob once his car pulls out of your apartment's parking lot. the tears are falling freely, each one more painful than the next, and you can't help yourself from wailing, from silently begging him to come back, to tell you that everything is going to be fine, that you shouldn't break up.

sobbing on your doorstep, harder than you've ever cried before, harder than you thought you could ever cry.

one of your neighbor walks out to see you on your knees, and she asks you "what's wrong sweetie? are you hurt?", and you can only cry out that you love him, you love him so much it hurts, that you just want him. she holds you in her arms, tells you it's okay, that you'll be okay, but it's no use.

your heart hurts so bad.

it's not her you want comforting you.

it's zayne.

you want him to hold you tight, to tell you that everything will be okay.

it shouldn't have ended like this. you didn't want it to end like this, and neither did he, but there was nothing either of you could do.

right person, wrong time.

the day after was terrible. you had no choice but to show up to work, despite your voice being hoarse and your eyes being painfully puffy from all the tears you shed the night before.

everything felt off. you didn't text him during your break, and at no point did he call you. 

it made you want to cry again, but you couldn't. you had to be strong because the world kept on spinning, and zayne wouldn't have wanted you to sob for him endlessly — though you were certain that once you got home, you'd start sobbing and pleading for him in your room. 

the day went by quickly. too fast, really. there was just numbness when you were at your desk, something like autopilot mode kicking in. 

when the clock hit 5, and your boss let you go home with no overtime, you felt the tears resurface. the one day you had wished for a distraction, away from your feelings, your boss decided to be considerate. no words were said, though. you packed your bag and walked out. 

the chinese restaurant you went to with zayne was on your way home. the place where he found out he'd gotten matched into a cardiology residency at akso hospital, where he'd stood and hugged you so tightly, in front of onlookers — so unlike his usual self, who shyed away from PDA. he was so happy to share the good news with you, his favorite person. 

the memories resurfaced, and it felt like you could see him in everything you've ever loved. zayne had left a permanent mark on you, and you wanted to hate him for ruining so many things for you, but you couldn't bring yourself to.

you held your tears back during the entire walk home.

maybe you should call tara. do anything to distract you from this. from feeling like a ghost, a shell of yourself without him by your side. you needed to change, to prepare food, to sleep, to work, and to repeat all of this again tomorrow. so with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, you opened your closet to grab some comfortable clothes — that was when you saw it.

one of zayne's sweaters, one that he'd given you to wear when you were cold during a date. it still smelled like his cologne, like his jasmine fragrance.

it was unfair. you inhaled sharply and looked up, trying your best to stop the sobs, but it was of no use. 

it still smelled like him.

you grabbed your phone before the tears completely blurred your vision and called tara, all while clutching his sweater to your chest.

“hey babe! you got off work?”

and the sobs resumed. you cried your heart out, desperately asking her, if it was for the best, then why does it hurt so bad? why does it feel like a part of yourself got removed when he walked away? everything seemed like a blur, but you remember the door unlocking and her worried face. hands cradling your face, telling you to let it all out, to cry until you couldn't anymore. that it was okay to hurt. you didn't need to put on a front. you didn't need to look so strong — you could fall apart because you'd build yourself back up.

so you did just that. you cried in her arms. you cried for him, cried at the world, cried at the unfairness of it all. she rocked you back and forth, comfort reminiscent of zayne's arms.

you cried harder than the night before. and you kept on crying every single day for a week.

the months passed by slowly after that. you still didn't text him during your breaks, and he still didn't call you. you still loved him, you still longed for him, but you hoped he was relieved of some burden. maybe he'd finally sleep a little better at night, maybe his eyebags went away, even if you weren't there to see it. you'd be okay eventually, but now wasn't quite the time yet.

following tara's recommendation, you downloaded dating apps. not to properly date anyone, just to take your mind off him, but it proved to be harder than she said. the men you matched with all resembled him slightly. one of them had similar eyes, the other had the same fashion sense, and another had a similar smile. when you talked to them, you tried to find traces of him within their speaking habits. none of them had his dry humor, nor did they have his tender voice or his laugh.

none of them called you to check in between shifts.

none of them were zayne.

dating was off the table when you realized that; maybe you need some more time to yourself? perhaps you need to learn to visit the places you went to with him, get used to going to the cafes you two favored on your own.

your boss wasn't breathing down your neck anymore, so you could spend your next evening visiting that pastry shop zayne adored — the one he'd order macarons from and personally deliver to your home to share with you.

however, each time you told yourself you'd do it, you felt afraid.

afraid of running into him. afraid of seeing him too happy without you by his side. what if he'd already found another woman? someone from the hospital, maybe a nurse or a fellow resident. you wouldn't be able to handle it, so you pushed it off.

"i'll do it tomorrow," you'd tell yourself.

soon, it'll be a whole year without zayne. his birthday was the most difficult day since the night you lost him. funnily enough, you thought you'd be able not to cry, but you missed him even more than before. you had the day off — a PTO you scheduled ahead of the breakup, but now you were just surrounded by the silence. the autumn breeze blew through your window and reminded you of him.

“you'll catch a cold, my love.”

“mmh, the breeze feels so nice, though. but maybe if my favorite snowman hugged me and kept me warm, i'd be okay.”

“sure, darling. i'll keep you warm in my icy embrace and shield you from the cold, won't i?”

you hugged the snowman plushie he'd won you a little tighter upon reminiscing. you cried softly against it, your heart aching again — but you found solace in knowing that he was out here working hard towards his goal. you'd support him from afar, no matter what.

today marked 12 months since the breakup. an entire year.

and today, you were going to visit the pastry shop. you had to get over him, and as painful as it sounded, it had been almost a year, and you had to keep moving. zayne would become a beloved memory, treasured within both your heart and your mind. 

dressed for the weather, you walked towards the quiet cafe but hesitated before opening the door to the establishment. the walk on the way here was familiar, and the pastry shop remained the same way you'd left it when you last visited it with zayne. the same regulars, the same jingle of the bell when you pushed the door open, the same chairs and the same staff. you searched for the seats you'd usually sit at with zayne, and you thought your eyes failed you when you see those familiar hazel eyes looking over the cafe, as if they were waiting for something to happen.

or someone to come in.

he was sitting alone, the same jasmine tea latte on the table in front of him — the one he'd meticulously pour three sugar packets in before stirring counterclockwise for 20 seconds to dissolve the sugar. he looked the same as he did that december night, if only more tired. his eyebags did not go away, it seemed.

gathering all the courage you could muster, you walk towards him. you'd get your closure today no matter what.

but when he looked your way, your steps faltered. his gaze softened, his shoulders slumped a bit, as if he'd let go of some tension he didn't know he held. zayne smiled, and you had to hold back from jumping into his arms, telling him how much you'd missed him. he spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb you — as if you'd blow away in the wind, like a dandelion's bristles.

"hi," he'd whisper, his voice as soothing as the day you last heard it.

your breath catches in your throat, and you have to inhale a bit before replying.

“hi, zayne. can i sit here?”

and he nodded, his lips slightly curling upwards. you hoped it was you he was waiting for. maybe he'd wanted to see as much as you did, and maybe he too longed to hold you in his arms. 

you waited for him to speak again, and as if reading your mind, he did. fidgeting a bit in his chair, zayne looked over at you so fondly. 

“how have you been?”

his voice. you missed his voice so much. you missed him asking about you about your day with that tone, that patient and tender, love filled tone. 

"oh i've been.. decent." 

that seemed like a good answer. you weren't good, nor were you fine. you had the man you loved, the man you love, sitting in front of you after close to a year of yearning for him, following the worst heartbreak you had ever experienced. 

“work's been tiring, but my boss stopped breathing down my neck. i get home on time now, with no mandatory overtime. it's okay now. how about you?”

zayne wasn't fine. the hospital took in some new cardiology residents, so the workload calmed down, but he still felt restless without you by his side. he gazed over all of your features, and you looked so beautiful. he missed you to death.

“i'm handling everything okay. we have new attending physicians, so the amount of long shifts has significantly decreased.”

he spoke truthfully, you knew it, but you couldn't make sense of his eyebags if that was the truth. he looked like he's had sleepless nights for months, his eyes tired and not as bright as they used to be. he still looked so charming, though, and you thought to yourself, that it wasn't your place to inquire any further.

the two of you caught up for two hours, akin to old friends having a heartfelt reunion — except you were ex-lovers. ex-lovers who valued the other's happiness over your own, leaving you both miserable but under the impression that the other was doing better without you.

he asked if you dated in the past year, and you shook your head, explaining that you had a hard time and chose to take some time to yourself. zayne didn't need to know you were unable to date because you wanted him. he didn't need to know that you refused to give a chance to anyone who wasn't him, that you looked for him in everyone you met.

secretly, zayne felt relief upon learning that. he wanted you to be happy, of course he did, but selfishly, he wanted to be the one to bring you happiness. in all honesty, he couldn't bring himself to date anyone either. the women around him weren't you. they didn't smile at him the way you did, never cared to learn more about him beyond his face and job, and none of them texted him sweet little love messages to check up on him. you were the only one for him.

you only started heading out when the cafe announced it'd be closing its doors, and even then, neither of you seemed to be in a rush. a strange sense of longing lingered around you both, a warm feeling — something that quietly begged for one more moment spent together.

zayne offered to drive you home, and you took him up on that. the car hummed quietly as you sat in comfortable silence. the last rays of sunlight quickly disappeared, leaving behind them a deep blue night. snowflakes slowly started drifting down from the sky, and you were reminded of that night when you decided to part ways. sooner than you'd hoped, zayne pulled into your apartment's parking lot.

he still knew the way to your place.

if you asked him about it, he'd answer simply. he never forgot, never could bring himself to remove the path to your home from his memory. he'd spent countless nights there, holding you in his arms while he rested before the hospital inevitably called him for a new 36h shift. zayne could never forget the way home. not your apartment, he could never forget the way to you — his real home.

getting out of his car, he walked you to your apartment. soon, you'd have to say goodbye to him, and you grew restless at the thought. it felt like if you said goodbye today, it'd be the last time you'd see him. you didn't want to bother him any longer, nor keep him tied down.

it seemed inevitable, though. it felt like it was last year again when you had to fight tears from falling upon agreeing on breaking up. helpless, unable to speak, and to ask him to stay. unable to be selfish, for once. but what could you do? you just nodded and wished him a goodnight and goodbye. it'd be over soon enough. you'd see his back as he walked away from you for the last time.

you're the first to turn away, focusing your gaze on your doorknob, trying to type in the digits to his birthday to unlock your apartment. the tears rose up, and your eyes were misty again, fog taking over your field of vision. 

it was the end.

zayne took a step back and looked at you. a feeling of doom, helplessness, and fear took over him. he'd let you go a second time, and it'd be the last this time around. no more chances — he'd never get to see your face agaim after this, but if you were happy it was worth it, wasn't it?

he watched you type in your password and heard the familiar jingle when your door unlocked.

it really was the end.

god, he really couldn't do this. he needed to be selfish for once, and he prayed you'd forgive him for it.

before you can take a step inside, you hear him call out your name, and before you can fully process it, you just feel his arms around you. he held you so tightly.

zayne was holding you in his arms. the way he desperately wanted to when he heard you cry a year ago. the way you wished he'd held you a year ago. 

“i'm sorry. i'm selfish. i can't even let you go, so please, please.”

you couldn't stop the sobs that took over your body when you heard him plead for you. you clutched onto his sweater as tight as you could, the smell of jasmine so soothing while you sobbed in his arms. his arms tighten around you when he feels you tremble against him, desperate in the way he shook slightly too.

he spoke again, his voice breaking. more vulnerable than you'd ever heard him before. more raw, full of yearning, longing, desperation and love. so much love.

“i love you. i love you so much, i love you more than life itself.”

zayne kissed the top of your head, soft tears falling down his cheeks while he whispered soft apologies and promises of a future together. he missed you so much. a part of his heart went missing without you next to him. he needed you by his side, as selfish as that made him seem.

“we'll be alright. please, let's try again.”

those words you wanted to hear, so very badly on that night, a year ago. you nodded against his chest, the sobs not showing any signs of stopping.

except this time around, zayne was there to hold you in his arms. two lovers who longed for each other's warmth for a year, finally into each other's embrace again.

it was a snowy december night when you reunited with your love, and you'd never let go this time.

🍎 pomme's final notes — if the zaynejaehyun agenda has a million fans then i am one of them if the zaynejaehyun agenda has one fan it is me and if the zaynejaehyun agenda has no fans i am dead. also i bawled while writing the breakup part don't kick me too hard

also if at any point while reading this fic you wanted to kill me just know that i was probably also wanting to kill myself but hey all's well that ends well am i right :P

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Cyber sex

Requested by @kittentaegu. Tysm, this was very interesting to write. I hope you like it 💜

This is from my prompt list (complete now). Click here to check it out 😊

Word count: 774

Warnings: masturbation

Alexa, play Cyber Sex by Doja Cat

A late night Facetime call while you're miles apart

You hadn’t even meant to start anything. It was just supposed to be a late night Facetime call— a few sleepy conversations over the screen, maybe some teasing as usual. But the second you saw him, shirtless, hair messy and jaw clenching as he adjusted his phone on the pillow, something in you flipped. Hyunjin and you had been apart for weeks now as he was off on world tour, performing in countless cities and living his dream, but it was starting to feel like an eternity without him

“Miss me?”, he asked with that lazy grin, voice deep and a little scratchy from sleep. You curled a hand under your cheek, tugging your blanket up just a little, “Always. You look so good like this”. “Yeah?”, his gaze dropped, “Thanks, baby. What’re you wearing?”.

You pulled the camera back just enough to show that you were in one of his t-shirts, bare thighs peeking out beneath it. “This. Nothing underneath”. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, “You’re seriously testing my self control”.

You let your legs shift a little wider on the bed, knowing exactly what you were doing, “You could help yourself out, you know. I wouldn’t mind watching”. His brows lifted, surprised, but he didn’t hesitate for too long, “You wanna see me jerk off for you?”. You bit your lip and nodded shyly, “I want to see everything”.

Hyunjin’s breath caught,  “Fuck”. He shifted again, propping the phone at an angle that gave you a full view of his body— toned, lean, veins bulging on his forearms flexing as he pushed the covers down. He was already hard beneath his boxers, and the sight of it alone had your clenching between your thighs.

“God”, you breathed, eyes trailing over every inch of him. “You look like temptation”. He chuckled lowly, palming himself through the fabric, “Then go ahead… watch me give in to it”.

Slowly, calculatedly, he pushed his boxers down, letting his cock pop free— thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. Your breath hitched at the sight, mouth watering. Fuck, you missed him so much.

Hyunjin’s hand wrapped around himself, slow at first, dragging from base to tip while his eyes stayed locked on yours, “You’re not touching yourself?” “I just wanna watch”, you murmured but your core pulsed already. “I want to see how you fuck your hand thinking about me”. His groan was deep, guttural. He spread his legs wider, stroking himself more firmly now, hips barely lifting from the bed.

“I’ve been thinking about your mouth”, he confessed, breath ragged, “The way you moan when I slide in… how warm you feel wrapped around me”. You whined softly, fingers digging into your sheets as your eyes stayed fixed on him. The way his chest was rising and falling, the veins in his arm became more prominent, pulsing beneath his skin as he pumped faster, precum dripping over his fist.

“Wish I was there to lick it up”, you said softly, “I’d let you come all over me” “Fuck”, he hissed, head falling back slightly before lifting it again to stare at you. “You’d let me paint your thighs with it, wouldn’t you?”. You nodded, dazed, “Every drop”. He let out another broken groan, then reached offscreen and when he returned, he was holding something.

Your panties.

You gasped, “You found them” “Oh, I found them”, he said with a grin, bringing the soft lace to his face and inhaling deeply, “They smell like you. Sweet and naughty”. Then, still stroking his cock, he wrapped the panties around his shaft and the image of it had your core pulsing harder. “Fuck, Hyunjin” “I’m so close”, he panted, “All because of you” 

His hand moved faster now, slick from arousal and the delicate fabric. You could hear the sound of it over the line— obscene and addictive. His thighs tensed, stomach muscles tight, jaw clenched as he chased the edge. “I want you to come for me”, you whispered, fingers finally slipping between your legs as you watched him unravel.

And with one more stroke, his hips jerked off the bed, eyes rolling back as his release spilled out, dripping hot and messy over his fist and your panties. He panted heavily, chest rising in sharp waves as he brought the lace to his lips again, kissing it with a smirk on his lips.

“Damn,” he muttered, “You drive me fucking insane. You smiled softly, cheeks flushed, “Glad I could help”. He gave you a look— hungry, still not completely satisfied. “Next time I see you, you’re gonna ride me while wearing nothing but that shirt”. Your stomach flipped, “Oh, really?” “Promise. And next time, baby…”.  He leaned closer to the camera, eyes dark, “You’re not just watching”.

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

Also, I made a playlist with all the songs I recommend on this blog. You can find it here if you're interested in listening 💜

[billiesleftboobie]

Morning glow

Billie eilish x reader

Summary: A gentle morning with Billie filled with emotion and confessions

Warnings: Just pure fluff and some kissing. Tell me if i missed something :)

a/n: Somehow blonde Billie reminds me of soft mornings and sunrises so it inspired me to write this small fic :] I hope you enjoy!

The morning breeze chilled my skin through the open window. My eyes flutterrd as I felt the glimmery rays of sunlight kiss my delicate features. My face was pressed into the soft pillows and an arm was draped around my waist, holding me tightly aginst another body.

I could feel the warmth of her breath hit the back of my neck and a yawn escaped my mouth.

Billie stirs softly behind me, mumbling something under her breath before her lips press to the back of my neck.

"Good morning sweet girl"

I giggle softly as Billie keeps pressing light kisses along my neck before trailing down to my shoulder. I could feel her smile aginst my skin, sending a warm, fuzzy feeling through me.

"Good morning..." her voice was still laced with sleep as she spoke.

I slowly turn around to face her. Billie smiles at me sleepily, her eyes were still slightly drooped as I observed her features. There was only pure love written into Billies gaze.

Billies hand reaches to brush a strand of hair from my face as I stare into her eyes softly.

"Hi my baby" I say.

If I could choose I'd never let these gentle mornings with Billie to end—wrapped in each other's presence, tucked under soft blankets, bathed in the glimmery glow of the morning sun and laying in a room filled with warmth.

"Lets just stay in bed all day" I mumble as I nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck.

Billie lets out a laugh, and  wraps her arms tighter around my body. I'd never get tired of hearing her laugh.

"You sleepy girl.." Billie says her voice thick with affection. Our bare legs are tangled together beneath the plush covers, both of us in nothing but big t-shirts.

A deep sigh leaves my mouth and I snuggle my face into Billie's chest. "I love you.."

Before I can even stop myself those words slide out of my mouth. I can feel Billie tense up slightly—but not for long—then a gentle hand threads through my hair, caressing the back of my head.

"I love you too.. so much"

Her voice is light full of softenss, but the weight of those words fill my heart to the brim. A deep warmth settles in my chest rushing through my entire body.

She truly loves me.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to say that.." Billie exhales.

I lift my head from resting on her chest, my brows slightly furrowed. "Then why didn't you say it?" I ask my voice laced with gentlesness but also a hint of curiosity. I search Billie's eyes for some sort of reaction or an answer.

Billie's eyes aren't meeting mine before she exhales in a shaky voice "I was scared" her voice is vunerable.

"Scared?" I ask. "Why were you scared my love?" I ask again, cupping Billie's cheek and lifting her face so she would look at me.

Billie's eyes flicker down for a moment before meeting mine again. Her mouth opens ready to speak but she hesitates for a moment "...maybe I was afraid of your reaction. I was scared that you might not feel the same and things would shift between us. I was afraid of loosing you and I- I can't lose you."

Billie's words hit me like a comet smashing down to earth. "Why would you ever think I wouldn't feel the same way? Billie you mean the world to me and I'd never let you go.. I can't let you go"

Before I've even notices it a tear is sliding down on Billie's cheek. My thumb brushes that tear drop away. "Trust me Billie I was a bit scared too. I was afraid that saying it out loud to you would make it so real.. and I'd have something to lose. Something that I couldn't handle losing."

My voice weavers little and my lower lip trembles but I keep going "but in this moment I felt so safe and so truly comfortable that I couldn't stop the words from slipping out"

Billie chuckles and leans into my touch, closing her eyes and letting those words settle deep into her chest. She leans in to kiss me, so softly, so caringly.

Her lips move gently aginst mine like a promise that neither of us have anything to be scared of anymore. As we pull away I rest my forehead aginst hers, my eyes still closed and our breaths mingling between us.

Billie's hand cups my cheeks gently "so no more being scared?" Her voice is calm and reassuring.

"No more being scared" I repeat her words. Billie's arms wrap around me again. Her warm body close to mine feels like home to me.

I tuck myself deeper into her embrace. A deep sigh of relief leaves my body knowing we wont have to hide love beneath fear any longer.

a/n: this is a bit corny but I hope you guys liked it :) Also feel free to send any requests or just talk to me!

[prettygirl-gabi]

Can I Have This Dance?

Paring:Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

Word Count: 2.4k

First-Person POV | Fluff | Hopeless Romantic Reader

Summary: it was never a stupid thing… not once

🏷️: @yailtsv , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @paigeluvvr

A/N: Yes, i wanted hsm3:sy while writing this… (in my feels… blame da hormones)

I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. The kind that believes in love letters, forehead kisses, and slow dancing under the stars. The kind that dreams of a fairytale moment, rain falling, music playing, and two hearts moving in sync like they were meant to.

But every time I brought it up in past relationships, I was met with eye rolls or dismissive laughs. “Dancing in the rain? That’s childish.” “We’ll get sick.” “That’s something out of a movie, babe. Be real.”

And so, I buried that dream deep, convincing myself that maybe it was silly. Maybe love wasn’t meant to be like the movies.

Then I met Paige.

Paige, who always listened, even when I thought she wasn’t. Paige, who memorized my coffee order down to the exact pumps of vanilla. Paige, who pulled me closer in crowded rooms like she was afraid of losing me. Paige, who—on our one-year anniversary—reminded me that some dreams were never too silly.

⸻

The rain started sometime in the late afternoon, a gentle drizzle tapping against the windshield as we drove back from our anniversary dinner. It had been perfect—Paige took me to this small, candlelit restaurant in town, the kind that made you feel like the only two people in the world. We shared dessert, she let me steal bites from her plate, and she had that soft, lovestruck look in her eyes the whole night.

But as the rain picked up, thunder rumbling low in the distance, I sighed, pressing my forehead against the window.

“You good, baby?” Paige asked, sparing me a glance as she drove.

I hummed, tracing patterns in the fog gathering on the glass. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

I hesitated before shrugging. “Nothing important.”

She didn’t press. Paige never did. She let me have my space when I needed it, knowing I’d talk when I was ready.

Lightning flashed across the sky, and suddenly, Paige’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel in a thoughtful rhythm. I turned to look at her, but she was already reaching for her phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked, watching her unlock it.

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” she murmured, a small, secret smile pulling at her lips.

She scrolled for a moment, then tapped the screen. A second later, the car filled with a soft, familiar melody.

“Take my hand, take a breath…”

I froze.

My heart skipped a beat as Vanessa Hudgens and Zac Efron’s voices floated through the speakers, their harmonies weaving a memory into the air. Can I Have This Dance.

My dream.

I turned to Paige, my throat tightening. “Paige…”

She pulled the car onto the side of the road, turning to face me fully. The rain was coming down harder now, a steady curtain outside the windows, the occasional flicker of lightning illuminating her face.

“You told me once,” she said softly, reaching for my hand. “That you always wanted to dance in the rain to this song. And every single person before me made you feel stupid for wanting that.”

My breath hitched as she squeezed my fingers.

“But I don’t think it’s stupid,” she continued, voice warm with something that felt a lot like love. “I think it’s you. And I don’t ever want you to think that what makes you happy is silly.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to fight the sting of tears. “Paige…”

She grinned, pushing open the driver’s side door.

“Come on, baby,” she said, stepping out into the downpour.

For a second, I just sat there, stunned. Then, I let out a watery laugh and followed, shivering as the rain soaked through my dress.

Paige met me in front of the car, her blonde hair sticking to her forehead, her blue eyes shining even in the dim streetlights. She reached for my hands, pulling me close.

“Keep your eyes locked on mine…”

I exhaled shakily, placing my hands on her shoulders as she guided me into a slow sway. The world melted away—there was only Paige, only us, only the soft glow of the headlights and the music wrapping around us like a spell.

She spun me gently, then pulled me back in, resting her forehead against mine.

“Won’t you promise me… that you’ll never forget?”

My breath shuddered as I gripped her tighter.

“I won’t,” I whispered. “I swear.”

Paige smiled, tucking a wet curl behind my ear. “Good.”

The thunder rumbled again, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the chorus as it swelled around us.

“It’s like catching lightning, the chances of finding someone like you…”

Paige twirled me again, her laughter mixing with mine as our feet splashed through puddles. The rain blurred everything around us, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t cold, wasn’t uncomfortable—how could I be when I was wrapped up in Paige, in this moment that was everything I had ever wanted?

The song swelled into the final verse, and Paige pulled me closer, her hands warm on my waist.

“Let it rain, let it pour,” she murmured, her voice melting into the lyrics. “What we have is worth fighting for.”

I swallowed hard, my heart swelling in my chest. “Paige…”

Her fingers brushed against my cheek, tilting my face up.

“I love you,” she said, as sure as the rain that fell around us.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, but they blended into the rain, lost between the drops. “I love you too.”

She leaned in, and I met her halfway, our lips colliding in a soft, rain-soaked kiss. It was slow, unhurried—like a love song unfolding between us.

And for the first time, I didn’t have to dream.

This was real.

Paige was real.

And she had given me my dance.

⸻

When the song finally ended, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting together as we swayed in the quiet hum of the rain.

Paige chuckled, wiping a stray droplet from my nose. “So… did that live up to the fantasy?”

I let out a watery laugh, cupping her face. “It was better.”

She grinned, kissing me one more time before taking my hand, leading me back to the car.

As we climbed inside, shivering but grinning like idiots, Paige reached over and took my hand, lacing our fingers together.

“You deserve every fairytale moment, baby,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand.

I squeezed her fingers, my heart so full I thought it might burst.

With Paige, I didn’t have to hope for love like the movies.

Because this?

This was better.

⸻

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Heyy! Could you maybe write for Oscar, his 2 year old babygirl being very cuddly and clingy? She doesn’t want to be separated from him or her mom. Just very fluffy and sweet

Little Miss Clingy

The moment Oscar and Lily laid eyes on their baby girl two years ago, their world shifted. They had thought they understood love before, but seeing their daughter for the first time, tiny and perfect, was something else entirely. They adored every part of her—the way her little fingers curled around theirs, the sleepy sighs she made when she rested on their chests, and now, at two years old, the way she toddled around their home, her chubby arms always reaching for them.

Yn was the center of their universe, and she knew it.

So, when Oscar suggested bringing her to a race for the first time, Lily had been hesitant. "She’s never been around so many people before, Osc," she had said, running her fingers through Yn’s soft curls as the little girl played with her stuffed rabbit. "She might get overwhelmed."

Oscar, ever the optimist, had grinned. "She’ll be fine, love. She’s got us."

And now, standing in the middle of the paddock with Yn perched on Oscar’s hip, her little fists gripping his shirt tightly, Lily wasn’t so sure about that.

Yn’s big eyes darted around, scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces. People were everywhere—talking, laughing, pointing cameras in their direction. Some even called out to her daddy, waving excitedly.

Yn didn’t like it.

She turned her head, burying her face into Oscar’s shoulder. He let out a small chuckle, rubbing her back. "Not a fan of the crowd, huh, sweetheart?"

Yn only gripped him tighter.

"She’s definitely overwhelmed," Lily murmured, adjusting the pink bucket hat on Yn’s head. She had fought hard for that hat. Everyone in the team had wanted to dress their daughter in orange, but Yn had refused. The second Lily showed her the pink one, she had clapped her hands and declared, "Pinky!"

So pink it was.

Oscar pressed a kiss to Yn’s hair. "It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it, bub?"

Yn peeked up at him with wide eyes, then at Lily, before reaching for her. "Mama," she mumbled, her little voice barely audible over the noise of the paddock.

Lily took her immediately, smoothing a hand over her curls. "I’ve got you, baby."

They made their way toward the hospitality area, where a few drivers were gathered, chatting casually. When they spotted Oscar, their faces lit up.

"Ah, so this is the famous Yn!" Lando was the first to approach, grinning wide. "Hey there, little one."

Yn stared at him for a long moment, then turned her face into Lily’s neck.

Lando gasped dramatically. "Rejected. That one stings, not gonna lie."

Alex snorted, leaning over to get a peek at Yn. "She’s shy, mate. Give her a second."

Oscar reached out, stroking Yn’s back. "You okay, bub? These are my friends."

Yn peeked up, glancing at the group again before curling back into her mom’s arms.

Lily chuckled. "She’s in a clingy mood today."

Carlos, standing nearby, tilted his head. "She doesn’t like crowds?"

"She’s just confused," Oscar explained. "This is her first race, and she has no idea what’s going on."

Max, who had been quiet, suddenly crouched down to Yn’s eye level. "Do you like racing, little one?"

Yn blinked at him, then shook her head. "No."

A beat of silence. Then, Lando burst into laughter. "Oh, Oscar, you’re in trouble."

Oscar let out a dramatic sigh. "Come on, bub, you’re breaking my heart here."

Yn just nestled deeper into Lily’s arms.

"You’re not into racing?" Lando tried again. "But your dad is really good at it!"

Yn furrowed her brows. "Where Daddy go?"

Oscar chuckled. "I’m right here, bub."

She shook her head, patting his chest. "No. Later."

It took them a moment to understand what she meant.

"She’s asking where you go during the race," Lily realized, rubbing Yn’s back.

"Ohhh," Oscar grinned. "Daddy goes in the car, sweetheart."

Yn looked unimpressed.

"To drive really fast," Oscar added.

Still unimpressed.

"You don’t think that’s cool?"

Yn shook her head.

Alex doubled over laughing. "She’s killing me!"

Oscar pouted dramatically. "Alright, bub, what do you think is cool?"

Yn thought for a moment, then lifted her hat. "Pinky."

Lily smirked. "Pink is her favorite color. She wasn’t having any of the orange merch."

Carlos hummed. "You have taste, pequeña. Pink is a great color."

Yn finally pulled her face away from Lily’s neck, her big eyes looking at Carlos. "Pink good."

"See?" Carlos beamed. "Smart girl."

Just as she was starting to relax, a crew member approached, handing Oscar his helmet.

"It’s time?" Oscar asked.

"Yeah, you’re needed in the garage."

Oscar turned back to his wife and daughter, taking Yn into his arms and running a soothing hand down Yn’s back. "Alright, bub, Daddy has to go drive now, okay?"

Yn’s little brows furrowed.

"Daddy will be back soon," he promised. "You stay with Mama."

Then, before she could protest, he gently transferred her into Lily’s arms.

Yn made a confused noise, blinking as if trying to process what just happened. Then—

"Daddy!"

Oscar turned just in time to see his little girl reaching for him, her lower lip wobbling.

"Oh, sweetheart," Lily cooed, bouncing her slightly. "It’s okay, baby. Daddy will be back."

But Yn wasn’t having it.

She let out a frustrated whine, her small hands grasping at the air in Oscar’s direction. "Daddy!"

Oscar winced. "Oh man, this is gonna hurt."

"You need to go," Lily said, though she was clearly struggling not to cave at the sight of their daughter’s distress.

"Yeah, but—"

"Daddy!"

It took everything in Oscar not to take her back. But he knew if he did, he’d never leave.

"I love you, bub," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I’ll be back before you know it."

Yn whined again, but this time, she slumped against Lily’s shoulder, defeated.

Oscar gave her one last look, blowing her a kiss, before heading off, feeling a pang in his chest at the sound of her little sniffles.

Lily sighed, adjusting Yn in her arms. "It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you."

Still, Yn was clearly not happy.

And when Lily started talking to a man called Zak Brown, the two-year-old had had enough.

She curled into her mother, pressing her face into Lily’s neck.

Zak chuckled. "She’s not much of a people person, huh?"

Lily smiled, rubbing small circles on Yn’s back. "She’s usually very social. But today is a lot for her."

Zak nodded understandingly. "First race?"

"Yeah. She doesn’t get why people keep wanting Oscar’s attention or where he goes. She just wants her parents."

Yn clung tighter.

"Well," Zak said, giving the little girl a warm smile, "I think she’s got a great support system."

Lily pressed a kiss to her daughter’s head. "That she does."

Yn didn’t understand racing, or why people were so interested in her dad, or why they kept trying to put her in orange when pink was clearly superior.

But she knew one thing for sure.

As long as she was with her mommy and daddy, everything would be okay.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves! I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[pupkashi]

satoru loves spring

a/n: hi hi ! writing for my lover once more because i miss him dearly <33 please let me know what yall think :3

masterlist

satoru celebrates the first day of spring like it’s a major holiday. he dresses himself in linens and light colors that make his eyes pop and hair shine, his dimples on full display as he smiles at you.

“we need to go feed the ducks! and soak in the sun past six o’clock” satoru is all but radiating sunlight himself as he drags you out the door, beyond happy as he slips his hand in yours as the two of you head to the small park by your house. there’s a bounce in his steps, humming softly as he looks at the fresh leaves on the plants and trees, green finally joining the color pallet of the world.

as the two of you arrive at the park the white haired sorcerer is quick to take the wicker basket from you, laying down the blanket on the grass and taking out the duck feed the two of you had brought. there’s ducks seem to recognize the two of you, (maybe just satoru’s striking appearance) excited quacks as they swim over where you’re situated. the slight breeze brings in fresh air, satoru inhaling as much of it as he can as he tosses the food for the ducks.

his demeanor is more relaxed, there’s a softness to him that seems to only come out during the spring time. the dimples that adorn his glowing smile take residence on his face all afternoon as the two you talk the evening away, giggling and amassing a shocking number of ducks until you run out of feed.

satoru lays back on the blanket, his arms crossed behind his head, watching the clouds pass slowly. he can’t help but smile, especially since he feels your gaze on him, loving eyes staring at him.

“take a picture” he teases, not bothering to turn to face you as you roll your eyes at him. you shove him softly, a small grin on your lips as you lay next to him, blushing when he extends his arm for you to lay on it, pulling you into him. “doesn’t that cloud look a bit like a cow?”

“i was thinking more sheep but i can see cow” you hum, satoru laughs and pulls you closer.

“you never told me why you like spring so much” you comment after a moment of silence. satoru hums in thought, quiet for a moment before he finally answers.

“i like the idea of fresh starts, life being born again after the harshness of dreadful winter” the longing in his voice makes your heart ache for him, but before you can feel bad he turns and looks at you, “plus we met in the spring so,” the charming smile on his face is enough to make you place a small kiss on you nose.

“you’re so poetic, y’know” satoru nods in agreement to your words, you find him too endearing at the moment to smack him. “winter doesn’t have to be dreadful, i think of it as a time to recharge, like a hibernating bear,” you add on, waiting a moment before turning to look at your lover.

satoru is already staring back at you, his eyes soft and full of love as he smiles at you, turning on his side and cupping your face with one hand, crashing his lips onto yours.

“god you make my life so much better” he mumbles against your lips, pulling away after one more peck. “i wanna hibernate with you for the rest of my life,” satoru says, face flushed when you pull him in for another kiss.

“I’ll happily spend all my springs with you,” you reply, it makes satoru’s heart skip a beat as his grins at you, tackling you into a hug that makes you burst into laughter.

the sun sets at seven thirty that day, and the two of you spent the extra hour of sunlight soaking up every last ray, walking hand in hand back home and settling under the covers after a shower.

satoru loves spring, he loves the way the world is seemingly brought back to life after the winter. he loves how the world goes from sad neutrals to bursting greens and bright colors seemingly overnight. it reminds him of you. the way you brought color and life back to him after only the first time the two of you met. his world going from mission to mission being interrupted by crocheted knick knacks and colorful trinkets for his home.

satoru loves spring because he loves you, he loves the way you breathed life into him when he thought it was over. you were his fresh start, his spring.

[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ bsf!rafe kissing you for the first time.

warnings — none, really! bestfriend!rafe and innocent!reader

cherie's note — trying to post most of my drafts (◜ᴗ◝) . i luv writing for bsf!rafe. <3

rafe cameron had always been good at getting what he wanted.

it was easy. people caved for him — whether it was out of fear, admiration, or sheer bad luck, it didn't matter. and you? you were no exception. you bended to his every whim, eager and ready to appease him whenever he was around.

you were different from the people he surrounded himself with — softer, sweeter, too innocent to be wrapped up in his world. but that only made him want to sink his teeth in deeper. every inappropriate joke that went over your head, or a phrase he'd use around you that had you shooting him a puzzled look, the more the urge to completely corrupt you, took over.

and right now? with you curled up on his bed, your legs tucked beneath you, wearing his old t-shirt that swallowed your smaller frame? he wanted to ruin you.

not that you'd even realize it.

you were so oblivious, so trusting. it would almost be cruel. almost.

his lips twitched as he watched you, attention half on the movie playing in the background, half on the way your fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your — his — shirt. you had no idea how easy you were making this for him.

"y'know," he mused, stretching an arm behind his head in an attempt at getting comfortable, "i've never seen you with a guy before."

you blinked, glancing at him. "what?"

"i mean, like... dating. kissing. any of it." he smirked. "you ever even been kissed before?"

your face heats instantly, a crimson red blush dusting over your cheeks. "rafe—"

"oh, shit." he let out a low laugh, sitting up against his headboard. "you haven't, have you?"

your shoulders collapsed in defeated, embarrassed by the teasing laced in his voice. "it's not a big deal..."

"not a big deal?" he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "you're tellin' me no guys ever wanted to kiss you?"

what a stupid question, he thought. of course guys had wanted to kiss you — he'd be the first one in line if it ever came down to it.

you fidgeted anxiously, "i-i don't know. i never really..."

"you never really what?" he tilts his head, blue eyes glinting with amusement. "paid attention? noticed?"

you bit your lip, looking away. "... i guess."

he laughed again, but this time, it was softer — more indulgent. he shifted closer, his knee knocking against yours.

"damn," he muttered, shaking his head in honest disbelief. he wasn't sure if the idea was pathetic, or cute. "you're really that innocent, huh?"

you swallowed, your stomach twisting at the way he was looking at you.

"not that innocent," you mumbled, your bottom lip sticking out in a pathetic little pout.

he raised an eyebrow, "oh yeah? prove it."

you hesitate, furrowing your brows at his challenge. "...how?"

rafe's smirk widened, his voice dropping a lower octave, "let me kiss you."

your breath caught, "what?"

"c'mon," he coaxed, his fingers reaching out, brushing lightly against your jaw. "just a little one. just so you can say you've done it."

your pretty little head was spinning. you should say no — shouldn't let him do this — but he was already tilting your chin up, his touch warm and firm.

and then, before your brain could even think about it, he kissed you.

it was soft at first — gentle. almost sweet, like he was testing you. but when you didn't pull away, he pressed in deeper, his other hand slipping to your waist.

you stiffened slightly, unsure of what to do, and rafe felt it.

he hummed against your lips, his hand squeezing the exposed flesh of your hip. "relax," he murmured, barely pulling away. "don't think so hard."

you nodded shakily, a bit unsure of yourself, letting him guide you.

"good girl," he praises, his voice low and warm. "see? you're learning."

your knees felt weak, hanging on by a thread as you listened to every word he mustered, like it was a biblical prayer.

his lips ghosted against yours before he kissed you again, slower this time, his tongue barely brushing against your bottom lip. whimpering out at the sensation, your fingers tightened in the fabric of his bedsheets.

rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening.

"fuck," he muttered, his breath warm against your skin, "you don't even know what you're doing to me."

swallowing the lump in your throat again, your heart stammered in you chest. "i-i don't?"

he chuckles darkly at your stammering, his calloused thumb tracing slow circles on the skin of your hip. "no, baby," he murmurs, his nose brushing against yours as he presses another lingering kiss to your lips.

"but don't worry." his lips connected with the side of your jaw, pressing light kisses to the sensitive skin as your eyes fluttered close, eyelashes tickling your blushed cheeks.

"i'll teach you everything."

[pukefactory]

if you’re up for it, could you write a shrimpo x reader (gender neutral) where after getting into a relationship, shrimpo starts pulling the reader aside for angry kisses or cuddles to calm down?

i love your writing <3

Thank you, Anon! I’m so glad you enjoy my writing, and I hope you like this request just as much!

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི LOVE TO HATE YOU ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

.ᐟ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring A Cuddly Shrimpo X Reader

.ᐟ Character(s): Shrimpo the Shrimp (Dandy’s World)

.ᐟ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

.ᐟ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

.ᐟ Image Credits: @sceneryocean

⳻⳺ Shrimpo doesn’t ask for kisses. He takes them. If he’s mad—which is always—he’ll grab you by the wrist, drag you to a corner, and shout something like, “I HATE BEING MAD, FIX IT!!!” before aggressively pressing his face against yours. It’s a kiss, technically, but mostly just Shrimpo angrily squishing his mouth against yours before stomping off, face redder than usual.

⳻⳺ He acts like cuddles are your idea, even when he’s the one dragging you onto the couch and throwing a blanket over both of you. “I HATE THIS. I HATE THIS SO MUCH,” he growls, arms locked around your waist. When you try to leave, he tightens his grip. “NO, SHUT UP. YOU CAN’T GO. SHRIMPO WINS.”

⳻⳺ Shrimpo never admits to wanting affection. Instead, he’ll snatch your hand with a glare and yell, “I HATE LOSING YOU IN CROWDS.” There is no crowd. You’re in an empty hallway. He just refuses to say, I like holding your hand.

⳻⳺ If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, Shrimpo is in their face. “WHAT DID YOU SAY TO THEM?! YOU WANNA FIGHT?! I’LL WIN. SHRIMPO ALWAYS WINS.” He’ll stay mad for hours after, muttering, “I HATE THEM. I HATE THEM SO MUCH,” while aggressively nuzzling against your shoulder.

⳻⳺ If someone calls him out on his soft spot for you, he snaps. “I HATE THEM!!!” (He does not. He adores you.) “I DON’T CARE ABOUT THEM!!!” (He does. So much.) Then he yanks you into a side room, scowling. “…TELL THEM I HATE YOU.” You do not. Instead, you kiss his forehead. He turns pink and screeches.

⳻⳺ Shrimpo is short. You are (probably) taller. He hates it. “I HATE LOOKING UP AT YOU!!!” But when he’s mad and needs comfort, he climbs onto something to be your height, grabs your face, and kisses you aggressively before jumping down and pretending it never happened.

⳻⳺ If he gets upset around the other Toons, you know what’s coming. “COME HERE.” “Shrimpo, I’m talking to-.” “NOW.” Suddenly, he’s wrapped around you, face buried in your neck. Everyone is staring. You try to say something, but he shushes you. “I HATE EVERYONE LOOKING AT US.” Then why are you doing this, Shrimpo?

⳻⳺ He insults you right before demanding affection. “I HATE YOUR FACE. IT’S SO ANNOYING.” You blink. “…Oh.” Shrimpo grabs your collar. “NOW LET ME KISS IT SO IT BOTHERS ME LESS.”

⳻⳺ Shrimpo claims he doesn’t nap. But when he’s mad, he’ll grab you, yell something like, “I HATE EVERYONE, BUT YOU’RE WARM!!!” and immediately pass out on top of you. If you move, he growls. “DON’T. MOVE. SHRIMPO NEEDS THIS.”

⳻⳺ Late at night, when he’s too tired to keep up the act, he tugs on your sleeve, glaring at the floor. “I HATE ASKING.” You sigh. “What do you want, Shrimpo?” He hesitates, then whispers: “…hug.” If you tease him, he screeches and leaves. If you just hold him, he goes quiet.

[harbours-lighthouse]

Black Eyes & Confessions (Jason Todd x F!Reader)

⁀➴ pairing: jason todd x f!reader

— summary: jason falls apart.

— author's note: decided to write something small while figuring out the second part to my apocalyptic series. i also wrote this with very uncomfortable cramps, so that made me more inclined towards the angst...sorry.

THE OVERHEAD light buzzes above you, flickering in and out occasionally. You can hear the traffic outside the small bathroom window. You can hear your heartbeat pulsing inside your ears, feel the heat of blood in your hands. 

“Hey.”

Your voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it that forces Jason’s gaze to flicker up to you. 

“Why won’t you talk to me?” you whisper. 

You watch as the slope of Jason’s shoulders drops, heavy with a burden he refuses to share. It pains you to see him like this, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. The sickly green light above you highlights the swelling along his cheek and the mottled purple and blue ringed around his eye. 

"I want you to talk to me, Jason," you emphasize, and you want him to understand—he's not obligated to tell you, but you want him to. You want to share his burdens, the baggage he carries with sheer willpower and spite. And though it's easy to glorify a man that holds the weight of the world on his shoulders, even Atlas grew tired.

Jason pushes a long breath through his nose, the muscles along his jaw shifting. He's thinking. You can tell by the way his gaze flickers rapidly along the linoleum tiles.

There's blood smeared inside the grout lines now. You wonder if it bothers him. 

"I don't know what to tell you," Jason mumbles, words wrapped in hesitance. Uncertainty.

You tilt your head. "Just tell me what's on your mind. What you're thinking."

“I don’t even know what I’m thinking.” 

He looks frustrated. One of his hands that’s resting on his thigh clenches, fingers curling around a crease in his jeans. 

“I—yeah. I don’t know, babe. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” you say slowly—softly, “then tell me what you’re feeling. Even if it’s not exact. Just a…just a basic one. Like anger—”  

“Sadness.”

You’re silent. Jason’s eyes have lifted to your face, and you can see the remnants of something strong crumbling. Cliffs falling into an ocean. A glacier breaking in half. You see the way the dark hue of his eyes shines, quivering.

“Jason....”

You step into the space between his legs, and the breath in your lungs is nearly knocked out of you as Jason grapples you to him.  His arms squeeze around your midriff, and he buries his face deeply into your stomach.

His sobs shake his entire frame. They shatter whatever wall he’s placed between the two of you. 

“I’m here, Jay,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his head. “I’m here.” 

Jason’s shoulders tremble. He fists handfuls of your shirt with a grip you couldn’t get out of even if you wanted to—but you don’t. You don’t want to. You never will. 

“I’m sorry—” Jason whispers brokenly into your stomach, muffled and barely audible.

“No. No. Don’t apologise. Please, never apologise.” 

You sway your body side to side gently, hoping that the motion might soothe him. It helps you when you cry, when you’ve got no one to hold onto. 

Jason doesn’t say anything else, and though his body doesn’t stop shaking, he cries almost silently. Refusing to be heard even now.

You hate that. You want to change that. 

But you can’t. You’re not supposed to—only Jason can learn that it’s safe for him to be heard by you. Seen by you. Only Jason can finally realise that you’re not going to hurt him, and the only intention you have with your hands is to soothe away the lingering wounds that refuse to heal.

To gently pry away his fingers from the scabs he keeps picking at.

"I promise you," you breathe against his scalp, "that I'm not going anywhere. And I'm listening, Jason. I'm listening."

No, you can’t change Jason. You can’t fix the deeply broken parts of him. But you can guide him. You can lead him to a place that’s warm and soft. Gentle and kind. Safe and tender. 

“I love you, Jay."

Jason holds you tighter. 

© harbours-lighthouse 2025

tags: @kitkatlover015

(if you want to be on the tag list for my dc stuff, just shoot me a message!)

[inquisitivelee]

Mythal & Solas - were they romantic?

Heres the thing - The devs made it ambigious on purpose in veilgaurd, for YOU the player to chose. It was left open purposefully for your own world building needs as they tend to do sometimes. So what I write below is based on what ive seen and my own world state, but if you hc something different thats totally fine and prob by design by the devs. If they wanted to clear up the relationship they wouldve, but they didnt on purpose. Lets start with what I personally think - Solas and Mythal loved each other - it was a mother son type of relationship or atleast a gaurdian and charge type relationship : No Solas and Mythal were physically intimate but never romantically linked or it was one-sided: No Solas and Mythal had a romantic relationship that was imbalanced and complicated: No Solas and Mythal were in a complicated toxic friendship: No...but close Solas and Mythal had a deeply complicated emotional connection - they loved each other, but it wasnt simple as a romantic, physical or as simple as just friendship: Yes Lets start by ripping off the bandaid - first things first - :

Its implied Solas has NEVER been IN love before. He had no clue what being in love would mean or intail because he never had been in love before, thats the only way that sentence can make sense. But what was Mythal then? Well take a look at Veilgaurd - the entire point of veilgaurd was to break the social norms of gender, sexuality, and what it means to love someone. Solas absolutely loved Mythal and yes Mythal loved Solas. Its why she let him kill her, its why whoever inherited Mythals fragment and memories could never stand to raise a hand or even THINK about standing against Solas - Morrigan who famously hated and spited Solas before Mythals memories , coudnt even stomach the thought of striking him down in Veilgaurd when Rook asks if she will stand against him.

(full gifset here x by Lucaanis) That being said - It was a deeply unablanced toxic relationship regardless, and one Mythal and even Solas acknowledged as being flawed. It was to the point that Mythal regretted it deeply as seen by what she says in Veilgaurd, and it can be partially interpreted in INQ with her lament of regrets (i think it was also about the elven peple and the titans) (Also - Tumblr is limiting the amount of imgs so for some of these scenes you will have to look up on your own) Solas in INQ mentions how Mythal was a being of Retribution and the way the dalish viewed her was implied to be overly flattering and soft - Justice was a kind view of her, and he almost sneered the comment out. In Veilgaurd the fragment of Mythal stuck in crossroads was VERY quick to be offended, quick to anger, and very quick to attack anyone who she felt overstepped with boundaries (which their were many and very easily tripped) so it gives a pretty good insight into how Mythal was before in ancient arlathan and towards her own people, AND Solas himself. (The fact that she was considered the 'kindest' of the evanuris really puts how the evanuris were with the elves into perspective, given her personality) - Putting this in real quick, Mythal despite having this very prickly personality DID still help and wanted to help her people when asked, she did genuinely care - but it was being WORHTY in HER EYES to be worth the effort of her helping you that made her such a complicated character to deal with. Mythal - like Solas is not a black and white character, she has plenty contradictions and is very complex. - So imagine Solas and her relationship. She calls him love and coarces him into having a body, she only heeds his advice and wisdom when it furthers her own plans and coldly brushes solas off and lets the other evanuris insult him when he doesnt follow her placidly like a dog.

Whether Solas was struck by Mythal (I dont think he was, i think it was all verbal considering how Mythal could never seem to bring herself to actually HURT him or stand against him) or not, she deffinetly tore him down to nothing and often if Solas earned the moniker of being Mythal's lapdog - one who always followed after her and had statues in her temple even after all those centuries. I think its similar to a narcissitic parenting relationship in the way - it had to be done in HER way by HER rules and she was all fondness and affection but the minute he stepped outside of it or had conflicting opinions she lashed out at him or degraded him for not filling the role she wanted him to. Bellara says that ancient elves had an entirely different way of viewing and expereincing relationships - that friendship to them nowadays would seem like romantic in the past because of how closely connected they were to each other. You have to remember these were initially spirits that spent ages uncounted with each other in the fade before taking bodies and learning what emotions and physical feelings were. It would never be as simple as "Romance, platonic, or sexual". or rather "Mother, Lover, or friend". Theirs even a codex excerpt that said ancient elves would someties spend YEARS having sex to give you an insight to how time and emotions were different for them. I think Solas and Mythal loved each other deeply. I think Solas loved Fellassan deeply. I think Solas loved Wisdom spirit deeply. Because ancient elves felt deeply in ways modern elves dont seem to which is part of the reason Solas didnt even consider modern elves REAL. That they would so neatly pack their emotions in tiny catogories defied what elves once were, beings of pure emotion that came from spirits of the fade.

Relationships were not simple things and were deeply complicated whether it was platonic OR romantic in ancient arlathan. Does that mean that Solas loving Mythal platonically make their bond any less powerful? No I think that was the point in showing the redemption ending. Lavellan was swaying Solas but in the end Mythal had to be the one to release Solas. It wasnt that Mythal meant more to him or Lavellan meant more to him than the other. Both types of love were equally as powerful to Solas, because ancient elves loved WHOLY and ENTIRELY. Different types of love didnt mean less powerful, it was never a contest between the two. They both held his heart in very diferent ways, just as WISDOM and Fellassan did.

(Your heart can break for more than just romance love, theirs familial and friendship heartbreak. You can feel kinship - to the point of someone being your soulmate for more than just romance, theirs platonic soulmates too, thats the entire point.) Mythal represented everything he WAS, everything he had been, and been created for. His duty to his people, all his sacrifices. It HAD to have been Mythal in the end to cut ties because she was the physical representation of ALL OF IT leading up to veilgaurd. all the mistakes he made the pain he and she both caused.

it was never choosing one lover over the other - it was never a question of which love was stronger.

So in short - Mythal and Solas relationship is not simple - it was complicated and toxic, and yes they loved each other deeply, but no i dont think that meant it was physical or romantic.

[kxsagi]

Hey hey hey Okay okay wait just read thru your two fics one of iasagi’s thigh obsession and your obsession with his biceps. So what if what if, he has his arms wrapped around your thighs… holding you in place and you can just SEE his biceps flexing to hold you down… best of both worlds for the both of us 🥰🥰 anyways thank you love you love your writing <33

“𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮”

a/n: thank you!!! i love writing about possessive isagi (i can be his soccer field)

isagi has a thigh obsession. no, seriously. man is down catastrophic. the kind of down bad that makes him stare when you’re sitting on the couch, legs crossed over each other, just there. like you’re not even doing anything remotely suggestive, just existing. wearing those casual, loose shorts that always ride up a little when you sit. your skin peeks out and suddenly he’s gripping his phone tighter like he’s about to crush it. 

but here’s the thing. you’re no better. your bicep obsession has you downright feral. the man could be stretching after a nap, arms lifting over his head with a sleepy groan, and the second his shirt rides up slightly, your eyes are locked. when he crosses his arms? it’s game over. and if he dares to adjust his wristband mid-game, flexing just enough to make the muscles stand out? you’re ready to risk it all, no questions asked. 

so when isagi’s arms are currently wrapped around your thighs, holding you in place, it’s like both of you have won the lottery. 

he’s got you straddling his lap on the couch, and you swear it wasn’t even your idea. one minute you were teasing him, draping your legs over his lap just to mess with him. next thing you know, he growled something low about you “testing him” before dragging you into his lap with a grip that made you gasp. 

his large hands are warm, thumbs pressing into the soft skin of your inner thighs, holding you there as if you’ll disappear if he loosens his hold. you feel his fingers flex against you, palms possessive. and god, it’s not even the way he’s gripping you that makes your head spin. it’s the biceps. 

those stupidly perfect biceps. 

his arms are caging you in, flexed with the sheer strength it takes to keep you still. veins slightly prominent beneath his skin, tendons taut from the pressure, making his muscles stand out more. your eyes stay glued to them, practically drooling. you even reach out without thinking, fingers brushing over the solid muscle, feeling how warm and firm he is. 

“you’re not slick, you know,” he mutters, voice low and amused, catching the way you’re blatantly admiring him. his lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk. “you’ve been eyeing my arms for the past five minutes.” 

“yeah? well, you’ve been staring at my thighs for five months,” you shoot back, your voice just as teasing, but he just narrows his eyes slightly, his grip on your thighs tightening ever so slightly. 

“that supposed to be a complaint?” his voice drops lower, like a challenge, eyes flickering down to the way your thighs look pressed between his hands. his thumbs stroke circles over the skin there, slow and deliberate, like he’s taking his time, savoring the feeling. 

and when you squirm a little, testing the strength of his grip, you feel his biceps tighten, flexing even harder to keep you down. your eyes immediately snap back to them, and you can’t help it, you run your fingers along the muscle again, deliberately tracing the curve of his arm just to watch him flex harder. 

“oh, you like that?” he murmurs with a cocky grin, noticing exactly what you’re doing. he leans in a little closer, voice dropping lower, teasing against your ear. “feeling a little weak for me, huh?” 

you roll your eyes, but it’s a weak attempt at playing it cool, especially when your fingers shamelessly trace his arms again. your legs twitch slightly under his grip, and his hands instantly tighten, fingers digging in with a possessive sort of desperation. you know it’s probably driving him insane, the way your thighs clench in his hands, giving him the slightest resistance only to have him hold you down tighter. 

“mm, cute,” he mutters, watching you squirm slightly. his voice is thick with satisfaction, and you hate how much you love it. “go ahead. try to move again.” 

the dare is all you need. you shift your weight slightly, just enough to test him, and it earns you an immediate, almost feral reaction. his arms flex with more force, biceps bulging slightly with the effort, holding you right where he wants you. 

the sight makes your breath catch. your fingers instinctively curl around his upper arms, squeezing slightly just to feel how solid they are. and you swear he flexes harder, just to drive you mad. 

“show-off,” you mutter, but you’re already leaning down, brushing your lips along the ridge of his bicep. you press slow, deliberate kisses there, and you feel his grip falter ever so slightly as he exhales sharply, his breath heavy. 

“nah,” he rasps, voice lower than before, hoarse with need. his grip on your thighs tightens again, enough to make you gasp slightly. his eyes meet yours, dark with hunger. “i’m just giving you what you want.” 

and as his arms tighten around you, locking you into place with a smug smirk and a barely restrained groan, you realize you could live like this forever. caught in the crossfire of each other’s obsessions, perfectly trapped. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[paucubarsisimp]

f1 drivers when you don’t say “i love you” back 

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: my first time writing like this! lmk how it is!

carlos sainz

it was a lazy sunday morning. you and carlos were lounging on the couch, him half-watching some race highlights while you scrolled mindlessly on your phone. it was the perfect moment to try the “don’t say i love you back” prank on him.

carlos always says “i love you” first, without hesitation. so today, you decided to change things up.

you waited for him to glance over at you, his usual smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“hey, cariño, i love you,” he said, his voice soft and warm.

you didn’t even look up from your phone. “okay,” you said, as casually as possible.

carlos blinked, waiting for your usual response. when you didn’t say it back, he sat up a little straighter, clearly confused. “wait, what? i said i love you.”

you kept scrolling, unfazed. “uh-huh.”

he raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “babe, i love you.”

still not breaking your focus, you simply said, “yeah, i heard you.”

carlos’s face shifted from confusion to slight amusement. “you’re really not gonna say it back?”

you looked at him with a blank expression, shrugging. “nope.”

he sat back, his hands raised in a “what’s going on” gesture. “are you serious right now? i love you and you’re not gonna say it back?”

“yep,” you replied casually, pretending to go back to your phone.

carlos stared at you, mouth slightly open. “te amo and you’re just leaving me hanging?”

you raised your eyebrows. “i heard you.”

he rubbed his face in disbelief. “babe, i love you,” he said, dragging it out like you were the most confusing person on earth.

you finally put your phone down and turned to him, trying to look serious. “yeah, i heard you. thanks.”

he was clearly trying not to laugh, but still confused as hell. “you’re really not going to say it back?”

“nope,” you said again, crossing your arms.

carlos let out an exaggerated sigh. “estás matándome,” he said, pacing in front of you like he was dealing with a crisis. “i love you and you won’t say it back? what is this?”

“nah, not today,” you said, completely deadpan.

now he was fighting a grin. “me estás jugando,” he said with a little chuckle, stepping closer to you. “say it back.”

you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, trying to hold back your own smile. “nope.”

he sighed like it was the end of the world. “por favor, i love you. just say it back, mi amor.”

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “fine,” you finally said, pretending to give in. “i love you.”

“ah, there we go!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a kiss. “i knew you couldn’t resist.”

“yeah, yeah,” you giggled. “love you too, drama queen.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you’re lucky you’re cute. te amo.”

alex albon

it was one of those perfect lazy sundays. the kind where the world outside seemed to pause, and you and alex were just existing together in a bubble of comfort. alex was sprawled on the couch, lazily flipping through the channels on tv, probably watching some old race highlights or something you’d both seen a hundred times. you, on the other hand, were glued to your phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media.

it was the ideal moment for a little fun. the kind of fun where you could mess with alex and see how far you could take it. he always said “i love you” first, without a second thought, and you could never resist returning it with a smile and a “love you too.” but today, you’d decided to flip the script.

you waited for him to glance over at you, his eyes lighting up as he always did when he saw you. you could tell he was about to say it, and that’s when you decided to make your move.

“i love you,” alex murmured, his voice warm and genuine, as he shifted on the couch and smiled at you.

you didn’t even look up from your phone. “mhm,” you replied, as casually as possible, pretending like you hadn’t even heard him.

alex paused. he blinked a few times, confusion creeping into his expression. “wait, what? did you hear me? i said i love you.”

you just shrugged, still absorbed in your phone. “yeah, okay.”

he tilted his head slightly, looking at you like you’d just spoken in a foreign language. “aren’t you gonna say it back?”

you didn’t break your focus from the screen. “nah.”

his eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned forward slightly, clearly trying to figure out what was going on. “come on, babe, i said i love you. at least say it back.”

you let out a nonchalant hum, swiping through your phone with exaggerated calmness. “yeah, i heard you.”

alex’s expression shifted from confusion to playful disbelief. “really? you’re just gonna leave me hanging?”

without looking at him, you kept scrolling. “yep.”

he let out a small laugh, sitting up a bit straighter now. “what’s going on here? i’m telling you i love you, and you’re just… ignoring me?”

you glanced over at him, giving a half-shrug, still not giving in. “mm-hmm. just not today.”

alex rubbed the back of his neck, clearly baffled. “babe, i love you, seriously. and you’re just not gonna say it back?”

you remained unphased, offering only a brief, flat “okay.”

now, alex’s confusion was turning into full-on amusement. he let out a dramatic sigh. “what is this? i love you, and you’re not even gonna acknowledge it?”

you shrugged one more time, as casually as possible. “i’m good, thanks.”

he laughed incredulously, leaning in slightly, eyes dancing with playful frustration. “you’re really not gonna say it back?”

“nope,” you said again, crossing your arms like you were completely unaffected.

now, alex was definitely struggling not to laugh. “you’re killing me here, seriously. i love you, and you’re just… leaving me hanging like this?”

you finally lowered your phone just enough to meet his eyes, trying to hold back a smile. “i mean, maybe you shouldn’t say it so much if you’re not ready for the consequences.”

alex chuckled, shaking his head as he let out a dramatic sigh. “you’re such a tease. come on, say it back. please?”

you held firm, trying not to grin. “nah. not gonna happen.”

he let out a small laugh, stepping closer to you. “i can’t take this. just say it back, please?”

you stared at him for a second, before finally breaking. “fine. i love you.”

“ahh, there it is!” alex grinned, scooping you into a tight hug and kissing your cheek. “i knew you couldn’t resist.”

you laughed, playfully pushing him away. “yeah, yeah. you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“love you too,” he teased with a smirk, shaking his head.

you rolled your eyes, but smiled anyway. “yeah, yeah, drama king.”

lewis hamilton

it was one of those lazy afternoons, and you and lewis were doing absolutely nothing, except for driving around with no particular destination. the weather was perfect, the sun was shining, and you were cruising along with the windows down, the wind making your hair a mess. lewis had the radio on, but it wasn’t playing anything interesting, so you were both just vibing in the car, enjoying the quiet.

that’s when the idea hit. lewis had this habit of randomly dropping “i love you” throughout the day, like he couldn’t help himself. and while you normally gave him the sweetest response, today, you decided to have a little fun.

“hey, i love you,” lewis said, with that signature soft smile of his as he glanced over at you.

you didn’t even look up from your phone, swiping through it like you had the most important thing to do in the world. “okay.”

lewis blinked, turning his head slowly to make sure he’d heard you right. “wait, what? i said i love you.”

still glued to your phone, you shrugged, unbothered. “yep.”

he chuckled, like he thought you were joking. “uh… babe? i love you. and you’re just gonna… leave me hanging?”

you kept scrolling. “uh-huh.”

lewis stared at you like you had just spoken in a different language. “are you serious right now? i love you, and you’re not gonna say it back?”

you looked up for a second, giving him a blank stare, before dramatically turning back to your phone. “nope.”

“nope?!” he laughed, shaking his head, clearly not sure if you were pranking him or if he had somehow gone insane. “but i love you. how are you not saying it back?”

you slowly raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, “i heard you.”

lewis’s face was a mix of confusion and pure amusement now. “you heard me? okay, well, i love you,” he said, dragging the words out, looking at you like he might just burst into laughter at any moment.

you didn’t even flinch. “yep.”

he squinted at you, like he was studying some complicated puzzle. “you’re really not gonna say it back, huh?”

you raised your shoulders nonchalantly. “nope.”

he let out a big sigh, slumping in his seat in mock despair. “you’re killing me here! i love you, and you’re just going to leave me hanging, like i’m some kind of idiot?!”

“yep,” you said with a little smile creeping at the corner of your lips.

“this is too much,” lewis said dramatically, but he couldn’t help but grin. “babe, please. i love you, just say it back, please?”

you finally looked up, giving him a serious nod. “fine. i love you.”

“YES!” he yelled, throwing his hands in the air, clearly relieved. “i knew you couldn’t resist.”

you smirked, leaning over to give him a side-eye. “yeah, yeah. you’re lucky you’re cute.”

he shook his head, laughing as he gave you a playful nudge. “I am the one who’s lucky, because clearly, I’m dealing with a drama queen.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “love you too, you goof.”

charles leclerc

it was a lazy sunday afternoon, and you and charles were hanging out at home, doing nothing of importance but enjoying each other’s company. the apartment was quiet, except for the sound of charles fumbling around in the kitchen, attempting (and failing) to cook something fancy for lunch. you were sprawled out on the couch, half-watching a random tv show while scrolling through your phone, clearly not that invested in what was on.

charles had been humming to himself while chopping vegetables, trying to act all professional, when he suddenly turned around with that charming smile of his.

“hey, i love you,” charles said, his voice casual, like he was just stating a fact.

you didn’t even look up from your phone. “okay.”

he froze mid-motion, the knife hovering awkwardly over the cucumber he was cutting. “pardon? tu m’as entendu? i said i love you!”

you glanced up at him with a deadpan expression. “uh-huh.”

charles’s jaw dropped, and he started walking toward you with a confused look on his face. “seriously? i tell you i love you, and you’re just… ignoring me?”

you nonchalantly shrugged and continued scrolling. “yep.”

charles blinked a few times, as if he was trying to process what was happening. “babe, i love you,” he said, this time dragging out the words for dramatic effect, giving you a look like he was expecting a reply.

still no response.

“you’re really not going to say it back?” charles asked, standing right in front of you now, looking down at you with a playful smirk.

you kept your eyes on your phone, swiping with a poker face. “nope.”

he stared at you, then let out a dramatic sigh like you had just ruined his entire day. “quoi?! seriously? i love you, and you’re just going to leave me hanging?”

you raised an eyebrow and shrugged as if you were the least bit concerned. “yep.”

charles let out an exaggerated groan, flopping onto the couch next to you and pretending to be devastated. “i love you, and this is how you repay me? you’re breaking my heart, mon amour.”

you finally glanced at him, barely holding back a grin. “well, maybe you shouldn’t say it so much if you’re not ready for the consequences.”

he gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “oh mon dieu, i didn’t realize i was dealing with a heartlesswoman!” he said, his French accent coming out a little thicker as he leaned in close to you.

you held up your hands, pretending to be serious. “just don’t say it again if you can’t handle it.”

charles let out a defeated sigh and leaned back dramatically. “fine, i’ll try to hold it in. but i will never be the same.”

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “that’s what you get for overusing it.”

he shook his head in mock disbelief. “you’re impossible, tu sais ça? i love you, but you’re making this so difficult!”

“mm-hmm,” you said, pretending to think about it, “you really need to work on your timing.”

charles narrowed his eyes and leaned in, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “okay, this is it. one last time. i love you. say it back. s’il te plaît?”

you paused for a second, staring at him like he was asking for the most ridiculous thing. “fine. i love you.”

“YES! finally!” he exclaimed, jumping up off the couch, pretending to do a victory dance around the living room. “merci, merci, i knew you’d come around!”

you rolled your eyes, chuckling. “you’re such a drama king.”

charles turned to you with an exaggerated grin. “you love it. admit it. and by the way, je t’aime.”

you smirked. “yeah, yeah, i love you too, mon drama king.”

lando norris 

it was one of those cozy days where you and lando had nothing to do except lounge around and enjoy each other’s company. the rain was gently tapping on the window, and you were both wrapped up in blankets on the couch. lando’s head was resting in your lap while you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his messy hair. the tv was on in the background, but neither of you were paying much attention.

you were scrolling through your phone, when lando let out a small sigh, clearly feeling the need to say something. “hey babe,” he mumbled, glancing up at you with his usual soft smile. “i love you.”

you didn’t even look up from your phone. “okay,” you said, in the most casual tone ever.

lando blinked, slowly pulling his head up from your lap. “wait, what? i said i love you, and you’re not going to say it back?”

you shrugged, completely unfazed. “nah.”

he tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “wait, really? you’re not going to say it back?”

you kept scrolling, pretending like you were totally invested in your phone. “nope.”

lando’s face went from confused to dramatically sad in an instant. he flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling with exaggerated sorrow. “this is it. i’m heartbroken. i love you, and you’re just… leaving me hanging?”

you couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but you kept up your act. “you’ll live.”

he rolled over, now resting his head on your chest, looking up at you with big puppy-dog eyes. “but babe, i love you so much. don’t you love me too?” he whined, as if you were the most confusing person in the world. “i really need to hear it.”

you chuckled softly, finally giving in to his adorable pout. “fine, i love you.”

lando immediately brightened, his face lighting up with a grin. “i knew it! i knew you couldn’t resist,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. “you’re just too in love with me, i can tell.”

you laughed, wrapping your arms around him as he snuggled into your neck, giving you soft kisses. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” you murmured, still trying to hold back a smile.

“i know,” he replied smugly, still nuzzling into your neck. “i love you too, you goof.”

you closed your eyes, feeling completely content in his arms. “love you too, you big softie.”

oscar piastri 

it was a lazy morning, and oscar was running around the apartment, trying to get ready for a McLaren meeting. he was darting between rooms, checking his phone and throwing on his jacket while muttering to himself.

you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, enjoying the calm while he rushed around. seeing him all flustered gave you the perfect opportunity for a little prank.

oscar walked past you again, and this time, he paused, giving you that soft smile he always had when he looked at you. “hey, i love you,” he said casually.

you barely glanced up from your phone, giving him the most uninterested response you could muster. “mhm.”

he stopped mid-step, blinking a few times in confusion. “uh… what? you’re not going to say it back?”

you shrugged, still focused on your screen. “mhm.”

oscar tilted his head, a little amused but mostly confused. “seriously? i love you, and you’re just… mhm-ing me?”

you just nodded, still not looking up from your phone. “yep.”

he chuckled softly, taking a step closer and leaning against the couch. “okay, i see how it is,” he said with a smile, shaking his head. “you’re not going to say it back, huh?”

you shrugged again, pretending not to notice how cute he looked when he was slightly confused. “yep.”

oscar let out a small sigh, but he didn’t seem too bothered. “well, that’s just rude,” he teased, rolling his eyes. “i tell you i love you, and you’re just like, ‘mhm’?” he reached out to poke your side gently. “i’m gonna have to rethink this whole relationship now.”

you finally looked up from your phone, offering him a teasing smile. “fine, fine. i love you.”

oscar’s smile widened, and he leaned down to give you a quick kiss. “thank you,” he said with a grin, pulling back slightly. “took you long enough.”

“i love you too,” you said, finally giving him the satisfaction.

he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. “there we go,” he said, giving you a playful squeeze. “now i can actually leave without wondering if i broke your heart.”

you smiled up at him. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

george russell

it was the kind of lazy afternoon where george was lounging on the couch in his sweats, scrolling through his phone. you were getting ready to head out with friends, picking up your bag and throwing on your shoes.

“where are you going?” george asked, still half-focused on whatever was on his phone.

“just going out with the girls,” you replied, grabbing your jacket. “shouldn’t be long.”

george sat up, giving you that sweet, dopey smile of his. “oh, okay. have fun.”

you smiled back and waved, but as you were about to head out, you heard him call after you in his usual casual voice: “hey, i love you.”

you didn’t look back. you didn’t even flinch. you just nodded like it was no big deal. “mhm.”

george blinked. “wait, what? did you just—?”

you kept walking to the door, pretending you didn’t hear him. “mhm,” you repeated, fiddling with your keys like you didn’t just break his heart.

he was now standing up, looking genuinely confused. “you’re really not gonna say it back?”

you shrugged without a care, still not facing him. “mhm.”

he stared at you, mouth slightly open. “you’re just gonna leave me hanging, huh? no ‘i love you too’?”

“mhm,” you said again, opening the door and pretending to be in your own little world.

george slowly walked over to you, still trying to figure out what was happening. he was now in full-on playful mode, his voice rising in mock despair. “you can’t do this to me. i love you, and you just… mhm? this is torture.”

“mhm,” you said again, with an exaggerated, totally uninterested tone.

he finally threw his hands up in the air, turning around in mock frustration. “okay, fine. i guess i’m just desperate for affection. guess i’m not even worthy of a ‘i love you.’”

you couldn’t hold it in any longer and let out a small laugh.

“ah-ha!” george said, spinning around to face you, pointing at you like he’d just cracked the case. “you’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

you bit your lip, still trying to keep a straight face. “maybe.”

he crossed his arms, tapping his foot. “i love you,” he said, his voice way too serious for how silly he looked, clearly trying to draw this out. “and i’m not leaving this room until i get it back.”

you finally cracked a grin. “fine. i love you.”

“yes!” he shouted dramatically, pumping his fist. “i knew it! i knew you loved me!”

you shook your head, laughing at how ridiculously proud he was of himself. “you’re such a drama queen.”

he walked over to you and wrapped you up in a hug. “you love me too,” he said with a smug grin. “don’t deny it.”

“yeah, yeah,” you teased, “but only because you’re cute when you’re being all whiny.”

“whiny?” george gasped, acting offended. “i’m not whiny! i’m just a man in love!”

“uh-huh,” you said, smirking as you headed out the door. “have fun with that, drama king.”

“love you!” george called after you, a grin still plastered on his face. “don’t forget that part!”

max verstappen  

the paddock was buzzing with the usual pre-race energy. mechanics were running around, engineers were deep in conversation, and the excitement was palpable. max, already suited up in his race gear, was talking to his engineer when he spotted you walking toward him.

you smiled, ready to wish him luck before he headed to the track. “you’ve got this today. just don’t crash, okay?”

max smirked, shaking his head. “no promises.”

he leaned against his car for a moment, then casually said, “i love you.”

you flashed him a quick grin but, instead of responding like you usually would, you just shrugged. “mhm.”

max froze, blinking as he processed what just happened. “wat? no ‘i love you too’?”

you didn’t even look up from your phone. “mhm.”

his eyes widened in mock disbelief. “wait a second… i say i love you, and you’re just going to… ‘mhm’ me?”

you shrugged, acting like you weren’t phased at all. “mhm.”

max took a step closer, his playful side coming out as he crossed his arms. “kom op, je kan niet serieus zijn nu. you’re just gonna leave me hanging?”

you smirked, still not breaking character. “mhm.”

he stood in front of you, blocking your way now. “liefje, this is ridiculous. i’m standing here, about to race, and you won’t even say it back?”

you didn’t budge. “mhm.”

max let out an exaggerated sigh, rubbing his forehead in mock frustration. “i tell you i love you, and this is what i get? jeetje.” he paused for a second before looking at you, clearly not going anywhere. “i’m not moving until i get it.”

you raised an eyebrow at him, pretending to consider it. “get what?”

he stepped closer, eyes narrowing in playful seriousness. “schatje, i love you. just say it back. please.”

you raised an eyebrow and gave him a teasing smile. “mhm.”

max’s patience was wearing thin, and he let out a dramatic sigh. “dit is belachelijk,” he muttered under his breath, clearly having fun with the whole situation now. “i’m about to race, and you won’t even give me a mijn liefde back? come on.”

you bit your lip to keep from laughing, still playing it cool. “mhm.”

“schatje, i’m literally going to miss my race if you don’t say it back,” he said, stepping even closer, trying to be serious now but his grin betraying him.

you looked at him, almost on the verge of breaking. “mhm.”

max threw his hands in the air in mock frustration. “i love you, mijn alles! for real, you can’t leave me hanging like this.”

you pretended to think about it for a moment before finally relenting with a dramatic sigh. “fine. i love you,” you said, smirking.

max’s eyes lit up in mock victory, and he pulled you into a tight hug. “yes! finally! mijn schat, i knew you couldn’t resist.”

“jeetje, you’re such a drama king,” you giggled, holding onto him.

“liefje, i love you too,” max said with a grin, kissing your forehead. “but you’re lucky i’m still going to race, even after all this drama.”

“yeah, yeah,” you laughed, pulling away and heading toward the pit lane. “good luck out there. try not to crash.”

“veel geluk, mijn liefde, i love you,” max called after you with a grin, still watching you walk away.

“love you too!” you called back, shaking your head with a smile. “drama king.”

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