#this is a plea and a rant rolled into one

[afriendofmara]

Not to be a hater....... but I hate it when im trying to talk HTTYD books and some bozo comes in talking HTTYD movies. ........This space is not for you. It actually made me mad to consider the movies in this moment. And I love those movies, so stfu. I'm talking TINY ACTUALLY TOOTHLESS TOOTHLESS im talking CAMICAZI OF THE BOG-BURGLARS im talking WINDWALKER LIL BABY im talking HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK THE THIRD AND HIS MENTAL CONNECTION WITH TOOTHLESS THAT LED HIM TO SNATCH THE TINY HATCHLING IN THE DARK WITH NO INDICATION THERE WAS A DRAGON THERE. IM TALKING HICCUP WHO IS MARKED AS A SLAVE AND BEATEN AND BURNED AND TIRED OF DEALING WITH ALVIN THE TREACHEROUS (THE ACTUAL VILLIAN). THESE ARE DIFFERENT MEDIAS. GET OUT OF MY BOOK DISCUSSION WITH YOUR MOVIES. THEY ARE NOT COMPATABLE.

ok im done. Genuinely do love the httyd movies, but so Genuinely tired of them speaking over book httyd talk. This is a plea to everyone who only knows the movies: stop interjecting on discussions on the books. You don't know shit. You don't know shit about them (said while white knuckling the table)

[kamitv]

Secretly down bad!Naoya who walks around acting like he's a part of the whole "I hate my gf" trend when in reality, you drive him crazy in ways he couldn't possibly begin to explain or understand.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gets hard whenever you yell at him. Something about that aggravation in your tone, the way you glare at him, and the overall frustration that takes over your body makes his cock twitch without second thought.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who can't handle arguments with you for that exact reason. Most of his past "lovers", if you can even call them that, would've left him after the first argument. But you? Oh, your tongues ten times sharper than his could ever be. He's tried insulting you in every way possible but somehow you always make him eat his words.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who's unintentionally become a gentleman around you. Following things like the "side-walk rule", referring to you as "ma'am", and doing things like holding the door open for you. All very simple things but all actions he's never done for anyone else. Ever.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who learned so much about himself ever since he got with you. You've suggested some wild things in the bedroom and although his initial response is usually no, he somehow ends up doing exactly as you've requested.

Secretly down bad!Naoya one time scowled at the mere idea of bondage, especially when you said he'd be the one restricted. And yet, there he was on that fated night with his hands tied behind his back as he watched you play with yourself right in front of him. He was so frustrated that night that he ended up cumming without you even touching him.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who still has a smart mouth, as expected, but he now only gets smart with you to provoke a reaction out of you. Sometimes you'll land a playful smack on his arm and all he can do is smile and ask you to do that again.

Which is roughly what opened his eyes to the fact that he quite enjoys a bit of pain from you. Choking him while you ride him to the point of throated grunts 'n groans catching at his throat? Telling him about himself in more ways than one and how he's such a shitty person?? Well, shit, he can't quite get enough.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who felt a shiver run down his spine when you once blocked him for something rather trivial. What really topped it all off was when you told him that the only thing that'd make you unblock him was if he sent an apology video, with tears.

And not just any kinda apology video either, no, of course not. The woman he's found himself with is far more demanding than that. Instead, you told him to send you a pathetic video of him getting off to you, still with tears, and a genuine apology.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who rolled his eyes at that rediculous request of yours. Never in a million years would he send some woman (the love of his life, btw--I know, surprising) a video of him not only jerking off, but also apologizing over something stupid he did? No way. Over his dead body-

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gives in after a total of three hours and sends you a lengthy video of his shaky hands wrapped around his cock as he pants out your name, whispering how sorry he is in a tone so unbelievably embarrassed that you can hardly believe it's him at first.

And if that wasn't enough, it's even more surprising to you how Secretly down bad!Naoya also has a pair of your panties pressed up to his nose and is ranting about how agonizing it's been not being able to text or call you for the past few hours.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who, at the end of the video, utters a bratty complaint about how much you get on his nerves. Which is so hilarious considering the mess he's made of himself, on video, all for you. And on top of this complaint of his? Seconds after, he's whining a plea for you to unblock him so he can get your attention again, even if said attention consists of you cursing him out again.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gets unblocked about thirty minutes after he sent those videos of his and starts smiling to himself like an idiot. Somehow in that insane mind of his, he's managed to convince himself that he won whatever conflict was just between the two of you.

Even though he had to send you multiple videos of him jerking off and making an overall fool of himself...

Secretly down bad!Naoya who's not even 'secretly down bad', you're actually well aware of how pathetic your boyfriend is for you. He can't explain it too well but, you've always had him wrapped around your pretty lil' finger like no other.

[nicholasluvbot]

ㅤ୨ৎ ｡｡ CASUAL INTIMACY ────── 보이넥스트도어

𝑓emale 𝑟eader ⟡ 3765 words / fluff , est. rel ✶ skinship , kissing ! ( click for more ) — @kstrucknet & @k-films & @sgz-net

alternatively ───── cherished moments with them that make your heart flutter.

myung jaehyun.

01. You’re sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, completely unaware of the mischievous grin spreading across Jaehyun’s face as he inches closer to you. “Hey,” he calls out softly, pulling your attention away from the screen. When you look up, he’s leaning in, his face mere inches from yours, as if he’s about to kiss you. Your heart skips a beat at the sudden proximity, and you tilt your head slightly in anticipation, only for him to gently tap the tip of your nose with his finger. “Boop,” he says with a wide grin, his dimples deepening as he pulls back just enough to catch your surprised expression. You blink, momentarily caught off guard, before bursting into laughter. “You’re such a dork,” you say fondly, with a faux roll of your eyes. Jaehyun chuckles, pinching your cheek adoringly before cupping your face in both hands. His thumbs brush lightly against your skin as he tilts your head closer to his, his lips hovering just shy of yours. But just as one hand sneaks back toward your nose for another playful tap, you grab a fistful of his shirt and tug him forward, crashing his lips into yours.

02. You’re getting ready for a friend’s birthday, standing in front of the mirror as you rant about your day to Jaehyun. He’s sprawled out on your bed, lazily watching you doll up for the event with an amused smile. Just as you finish with your makeup, you step back from the mirror to check your outfit, still talking about the minor frustrations of your day. Before you can take another step, Jaehyun gets up and gently pulls you back against him, his arms sliding around your waist. You let out a surprised yelp as his fingers brush against your collarbones, adjusting the clasp of your necklace and twisting it so it sits properly at the back. His touch lingers for a moment, feather-light against your skin. “There you go,” he says with a small smile, his dimples making another devastatingly cute appearance. You don’t realize you’re blushing until he tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, bringing a finger up to gently poke your cheek. “Who’s the blush for, pretty?” he teases, his voice light and playful. Quickly shaking your head in denial, you mumble something incoherent, but Jaehyun just chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. He cups your jaw, leaning in to press a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, taking your hand in his as he leads you out of the house.

03. The crowd around you is overwhelming—voices blending into a loud hum, bodies pressing too close for comfort. You glance over at Jaehyun, who’s walking beside you, looking just as anxious as you feel. When your eyes meet, your hands instinctively reach for each other. Jaehyun’s hand is warm, his grip firm but reassuring. “Don’t let go,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand as he guides you through the sea of people. Even after you’re in the clear, standing in the open with space to breathe, he doesn’t let go. His thumb gently brushes over the back of your hand, sending tiny sparks through your skin. It’s as if holding on to you feels more natural to him than letting go, and honestly, you’re in no rush to pull away either.

park sungho.

01. You complain about your aching feet after a long walk—or worse, a painful shoe bite—and before you can finish, Sungho crouches down in front of you, rolling his eyes dramatically. "What did I tell you about wearing the wrong shoes?" he scolds, though there’s no real bite to his words. He pats his back, glancing at you over his shoulder with a grin. "Hop on." When you hesitate, he shifts impatiently, his voice turning into a whiny plea. "Come on, don’t make me beg." Your giggles fill the air as you finally climb onto his back, his hands steady and warm as they grip your thighs to hold you in place. He adjusts his hold before giving a satisfied hum. "See? Told you I’ve got you." You rest your chin on his shoulder, your laughter softening into a content smile as he carries you the rest of the way, his steps steady and comforting, just like him.

02. After a long, exhausting day, the two of you sit together on the bus ride home. You let out a quiet sigh, and that’s all Sungho needs to notice how tired you are. Without saying a word, he gently nudges your arm and gestures to his shoulder with a soft smile. You rest your head against him, the broadness of his shoulders providing an unexpected comfort despite the firmness of his muscles. He shifts slightly, leaning his cheek against the crown of your head. Just as you’re about to drift off, you feel the soft press of his lips against your hair, his kiss lingering for a moment, warm and tender.

03. Even when you insist you’re full, Sungho always saves the last bite for you—without fail. He picks it up and holds it out in front of your mouth, grinning cheekily. "Say aah," he teases, opening his own mouth wide in demonstration. You try to suppress a laugh at your boyfriend’s antics but give in, letting him feed you. The satisfaction in his eyes as you take the bite is almost comical, and you’re just about to tease him when he leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. Your words die in your throat as heat rises to your face, leaving you flustered and Sungho grinning wider.

lee riwoo.

01. You’re both busy with your own things—he’s watching a show on TV while you’re curled up next to him with a book, your legs resting comfortably over his. Every so often, Riwoo glances at you, quietly admiring the way your brows furrow in concentration, the way you absentmindedly fidget with your lower lip. When a strand of hair falls into your face, you don’t even notice. Riwoo does, though. Gently, he tucks the strand behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your skin for the briefest moment. “There,” he murmurs softly, turning his attention back to the TV, though the shy smile creeping onto his face betrays him.

02. Riwoo isn’t the type to initiate big, dramatic displays of affection, but sometimes, when the moment feels just right, he can’t help himself. Like now, as you stand in the kitchen, focused on something entirely mundane—washing dishes, chopping vegetables, or scrolling through a recipe on your phone. Quietly, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, moving your hair aside to rest his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You flinch slightly at the sudden contact, letting out a small gasp. “You startled me,” you murmur, though your voice softens as you relax in his hold. “’M sorry,” he whispers, his voice muffled against your skin, his arms tightening just a bit more as his hands come together, anchoring you in place.

03. You’re running late, practically hopping around as you slip your shoes on, fingers raking through your hair in a futile attempt to tame it. Riwoo watches from the doorway, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as you huff in frustration. He steps forward, gently tugging your arm to stop you. “Here, let me fix it,” he says softly, his voice low and soothing. Before you can protest, his hands are in your hair, his fingers working delicately through the tangles. He smooths down the flyaways, combing through the strands with practiced ease, his touch gentle but sure. When he’s done, he steps back, tilting his head slightly as he admires his work—and you. “What?” you ask, catching the faint smile tugging at his lips. “So pretty,” he says simply. Before you can recover, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Bye, love,” he whispers, stepping back as you leave the house. Your knees feel wobbly, your heart racing as you glance back at him one last time before heading out, a giddy smile tugging at your own lips.

han taesan.

01. It’s late, and you’re both supposed to be asleep unless you want to risk being late for work the next morning. But none of that seems to matter. You stand on your tiptoes to pull the ice cream from the freezer, feeling Taesan’s presence lingering behind you. You place the tub on the counter when you feel him tug at the sleeve of your hoodie. Turning around, you’re met with the sight of Taesan’s face bathed in the soft glow of the refrigerator light, his eyes holding a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. He steps closer, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you toward him. His forehead rests gently against yours, and the quiet intimacy of the moment steals your breath. Instinctively, your hand lifts to brush against his cheek, but he winces at the chill of your fingers against his warm skin. “Sorry,” you giggle softly, pulling your hand back quickly. Taesan’s lips twitch into a small, lopsided smile as he takes your hands in his, enveloping them in his warmth. He rubs them gently, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles until the coldness fades. But even when your hands are warm, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he lifts one of your hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before leaning forward to place another on your forehead. He rests his cheek against your temple, his arms wrapping around you fully now as he sways the two of you back and forth in the quiet stillness of 3 a.m. The faint hum of the fridge fills the silence, but all you can focus on is the sound of his steady breathing and the feel of his heartbeat against yours.

02. You’re scrolling through your phone, sitting comfortably on the couch with your legs tucked under you, when Taesan plops down beside you. He sits in silence for a while, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater as he debates whether or not to get your attention. Eventually, he scoots closer, gently unfolding your legs, and rests his head in your lap, instantly relaxing as the exhaustion of the day melts away. You glance down at him, confusion crossing your face, but Taesan simply grins up at you with half-lidded eyes. Without saying a word, he reaches for your hand, guiding it to his hair. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you bite back a smile, amused by his clingy behavior. Slowly, you start to run your fingers through his hair, the rhythm soothing both him and you. Taesan hums contentedly, his body shifting as he gets more comfortable on your thighs. You look back at your phone, but your fingers never stop moving through his hair. Your attention is fully on the pretty boy with his head resting on your lap, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

03.

You’re out shopping with Taesan, almost ready to leave after grabbing everything that caught your eye, but you’re too tired to shop any longer. Taesan is holding all your shopping bags, despite your insistence on carrying at least one. He refused to let you. You’re standing in front of the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor. The strap of your purse keeps slipping off your shoulder, and you unknowingly let out an irritated huff as you pull it up for the fourth time in the past two minutes.

“Give it to me,” Taesan says, taking the little bag from you before you can protest. You don’t even know how he’s managed to hold all these bags.

“Taesan, I can hold my purse myself,” you say firmly, but he just clicks his tongue.

“Well, you clearly can’t if you keep dropping it.”

You frown. “I didn’t drop it—”

Before you can finish, his lips press against yours—firm but soft—before pulling away almost immediately.

“Hush, I’m fine with holding your bags, baby.”

You can’t say anything to that, too flustered to even look at him. Your eyes fall on a little girl standing behind you, who bursts into a fit of giggles at the sight of the kiss your boyfriend just gave you. You scrunch your nose at her before resting your cheek against Taesan’s shoulder, biting your lip to stop yourself from giggling like the girl behind you.

kim leehan.

01.

You’re sitting in the corner of a quiet cafe, focused on an assignment that’s due in a few days. Leehan, however, is not as focused. He had plenty of work to do, but after ten minutes, his attention was already drifting. He kept turning his phone on and off, scanning the cafe, and gossiping in your ear whenever someone did something questionable. He fidgeted with your pens, did everything but study.

Finally, he grabbed a pen and gently took your hand, guiding it toward him. You didn’t resist; anything to let this boy distract himself so you could focus. The cool pen glided over the back of your hand as he started doodling.

A few minutes later, you felt him looking up at you with a gleam in his eyes. You glanced down at the back of your hand and saw two fish drawn with a green pen, sloppily yet endearingly, with a heart between them. One fish had wide eyes and a ridiculously joyful expression, while the other had smaller eyes and furrowed eyebrows. A fish with eyebrows? But you didn’t question it.

"Let me guess," you said, your lips curling into a smile, "I’m the grumpy one?"

Leehan nodded enthusiastically. "Cute, right?" he beamed. "They’re in love," he added dreamily.

You smiled at the doodle, finding it impossibly cute. You’d never wash it off if you could.

"Hold on," he said. "I’ll draw our kids too."

"Leehan!"

02. You groan softly as sunlight pours through the window, squinting and turning to face the other way. Leehan is already awake, watching you with a sleepy, gentle smile. "Morning," he says, his voice still thick with sleep. It never fails to surprise you how cheerful he can be, even when sunlight is harshly poking at your eyes on a Sunday morning at 8 a.m.

You grumble in response, your words unintelligible as you move closer to Leehan, nuzzling against his side and pulling the blankets tighter around you. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap you in his warm embrace, his hand gently running through your hair, massaging your scalp with his fingers. You grab a fistful of his shirt, holding him even tighter as you snuggle into his chest.

"Wake up, baby," you hear him murmur, his voice soft and full of affection. You mumble, "Five more minutes, please," and feel Leehan nod in understanding. Five minutes pass, and he still holds you close, continuing to run his fingers through your hair, allowing you to cling to him for as long as you need, because he enjoys it just as much as you do.

His gentle touch and soothing presence make it so easy to forget about the world outside, leaving you feeling safe and content in his arms. You can’t imagine a better way to start your day.

03. You were talking a mile a minute, hands gesturing wildly as you went on and on about some random thing that had happened during the day. Leehan, on the other hand, was quietly listening, his eyes soft and amused as they watched you talk.

“You know,” you continued, oblivious to the way his lips curled into a smile, “I think it’s just—” Before you could go on any longer, Leehan suddenly leaned forward, cutting you off mid-sentence. His hand found its way to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. And before you could even react, his lips pressed against yours, silencing your rambling in the sweetest way possible. The kiss was soft, a little teasing, and it made your heart race all at once.

When he pulled away just enough to look at you, his face was flushed, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You were talking a lot,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

You blinked at him, cheeks turning a soft pink. “Leehan...” you whispered, still a little breathless. He gave you a playful grin and pecked your lips again, this time lingering just a bit longer, his hand softly cupping your cheek.

“Couldn’t resist,” he murmured, his voice warm and fond. “Every time you talk, I just wanna kiss you.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned into him, feeling his arms wrap around you as he pulled you closer. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep talking, then.”

kim woonhak.

01. It wasn’t unusual for Woonhak to absentmindedly play with your hair. Sometimes it started with a little twirl or a soft tug to smooth a flyaway, but soon his fingers would weave through your hair in the gentlest way, like he couldn’t help himself.

One afternoon, as you sat on the floor reading, your head resting against his knee as he lounged behind you on the couch, his hand found your hair again. He started with soft motions—tucking strands behind your ear, brushing his fingers through lightly. The repetitive movement was so soothing you closed your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips.

After a while, his movements changed. You felt him section off a small part of your hair and begin braiding it, the motions careful and deliberate. He worked with so much focus, as though he didn’t want to accidentally tug too hard or mess up your peaceful moment. A small smile played on your lips as you let him continue, enjoying the way he was putting so much care into something as simple as your hair.

“Umm, YN… I think I messed up.”

Curious, you touched the braid—and gasped. It wasn’t a braid; it was a bird’s nest more than anything. “Woonhak!”

His eyes widened, and he clasped his hands together, leaning in dramatically. “I’m so sorry, baby! I swear I didn’t mean to destroy your hair.” Then, without giving you a chance to respond, he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “Forgive me?” he asked softly, his lips brushing your temple before planting another kiss just above your ear.

You sighed, trying to stay annoyed, but he made it impossible. “Not fair,” you muttered, tilting your head toward him as his lips trailed to your cheek.

“Is that a yes?” he murmured, grinning against your skin.

“Only if you help me fix this mess.”

You laughed as he gently guided you to sit between his knees, his hands carefully working through the tangle of knots. His fingers, though slightly clumsy, moved delicately as he untangled strand by strand. Occasionally, he’d pause to place a soft kiss on the top of your head or your shoulder, murmuring little apologies that made your heart flutter.

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” you mumbled, leaning back slightly against him.

02. Woonhak had an adorable habit of always saving you a seat, no matter where you went. It was second nature to him—at the library, the cafeteria, or even during group hangouts. He’d drape his jacket over a chair or place his bag on it, giving you a small grin when you arrived, as if to say, This is for you. He never made a big deal out of it, either. It was just something he did, quietly and without fuss, as natural as breathing.

Today, your friends had decided on a casual lunch after school. The restaurant was buzzing with chatter, and by the time you arrived, it seemed every seat at the table was already taken—except for one, right next to Woonhak. He looked up as you walked in, his face lighting up instantly. “Over here,” he called softly, patting the empty chair beside him. You made your way over, a little flustered by the attention but grateful nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you murmured as you slid in, your shoulder brushing his. His arm instinctively came to rest on the back of your seat, fingers lightly grazing your shoulder. The conversation flowed easily among your friends, but your little bubble with Woonhak remained. Under the table, his knee pressed gently against yours. You shifted slightly, and he pressed back, as if to say, Stay close.

At one point, he casually reached for your hand, his pinky hooking around yours before giving a soft squeeze. You glanced at him, catching the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he pretended to focus on his food. But the pink hue dusting his cheeks gave him away completely.

And just like that, with your knees touching and his hand brushing yours, everything else was background noise—leaving only the two of you, perfectly at ease in each other’s presence.

03. It was one of those perfect winter evenings—the air crisp, your breath puffing out in soft clouds as you walked down the street. You were a step ahead of Woonhak, chatting animatedly about something that had happened earlier in the day, your hands flying in every direction to emphasize your points. Woonhak wasn’t saying much today. He liked listening to you like this—watching the way your eyes lit up when you were excited, the way your scarf bobbed with every enthusiastic gesture. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he trailed behind, letting you lead the way.

The crosswalk came into view, and the light had just turned yellow, but you were too caught up in your story to notice. You stepped forward without thinking, and Woonhak’s hand darted out instinctively, wrapping gently around your arm. “Wait,” he said softly, pulling you back just as a car sped past. You blinked, startled, and turned to look at him. “Just… be careful,” he mumbled, trying to play it cool, but the redness creeping up his ears betrayed him.

Before you could say anything, he slid his hand down from your arm and intertwined his fingers with yours, slipping both of your hands into the pocket of his coat. The warmth of his palm against yours immediately chased away the chill in the air. You glanced down at your joined hands, a shy smile tugging at your lips at your boyfriend’s sweet gesture to make sure you were safe.

‎ ‎     • feedback 🗯 reblogs ───── highly appreciated ˆᗜˆ

[rafayelxsylusho]

Horny thoughts #4🔥🔥🔥🔥

🎀����Ribbons🎀🎀

TW: Smut

Sylus smiled as you continued your rant about work. Your eyes sparkled as you spoke, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. You were oblivious to the effect you had on him, still picking at your toast with distracted motions.

He let you chatter on, nodding at the right moments, until you paused to take a sip of your coffee. That's when he struck, trailing his fingertip along the stiff peak of your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. The sudden contact sent electricity through you, cutting off your words with a sharp gasp.

"Go on," he encouraged as he circled your nipple with his thumb "Tell me more about this dreadful coworker of yours. Don't stop talking on my account"

You lost focus as his fingers moved. Swiftly, he stood and came to hover behind you and his hands began to move, rubbing and teasing, his thumbs circling your nipples with maddening slowness.

You stammered, losing your train of thought as his thumbs teased your nipples into stiff peaks.

"Um, I... he..." You began, but the words died in your throat as Sylus pinched your nipples lightly, rolling them between his fingers. Another gasp escaped your lips, back arching slightly as you pressed your breasts fully into his hands.

"Please, Sy", your voice trembled, barely a whisper as he grabbed the hem of your shirt. Please, please, please. The plea echoed in your mind, a desperate mantra as he began to pull the shirt up and over your head. Your arms lifted automatically, leaving you bare from the waist up.

Then his hand was at the back of your head, fingers untying the pink ribbon that held your hair in a braid.

His hands moved with purpose, binding your wrists together behind the chair with the pink ribbon he'd removed from your hair. The silk fabric slid against your skin, the knot tied, secure yet not too tight, was a delicious blend of comfort and restraint, mirroring the way he handled you, always caring, but never shy about taking control when he wanted.

"Much better," he murmured,"You look good like this, kitten. So pretty and tied up, all for me." His fingertips trailed along the inside of your elbow, tracing the delicate blue veins on your skin.

As he knelt before you, fitting perfectly between your spread thighs, he leaned in and without warning he captured one of your nipples between his lips. His tongue swirled around the stiff bud, teasing it with every flick and curl until you were squirming in your seat.

"Mmmm, so sweet," he murmured, pulling back slightly to admire how your nipple glistened with his saliva. "I want to keep this pretty ribbon as well. I'll tie it with the other one, a matching pair to remember this moment."

"Did you take my red ribbon the other day?"

"Well...they always smell divine, like vanilla and sin, just like you," Sylus continued "I love it when you use them, knowing I could take them from you later and use them to bind you to my will. Just like this"

His eyes darkened, grin spreading across his face. "So yes, kitten, I took your red ribbon. As a matter of fact, it's currently wrapped around something very special right now, the base of my cock to be exact"

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. "I want to see you in nothing but those pretty ribbons someday. Want to admire the way they contrast with your skin as I take my pleasure from your body. Would you like that, sweetie?"

You whined as his fingers traced along your ribcage drifting lower and lower until they dipped beneath the waistband of your pajamas and panties.

You gasped, back arching when his middle finger slid into you without hesitation, your walls clenching greedily around it. A low moan spilled from your lips as he began to pump his finger in and out, stroking along your fluttering walls.

"You're absolutely drenched," Sylus purred "Is all this all for me?

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice breaking on a cry as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. "Yes, Sy, it's all for you. All of me is yours."

He eased his finger out of you only to add a second one, stretching you wider. A choked whimper spilled from your lips at the emptiness, only to turn into a drawn out moan as he pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt.

His other hand fisted in your hair, gripping the strands as he turned your head towards him. Your lips met his in a kiss, his mouth hot and hungry against yours. He kissed you deeply, his tongue delving past your parted lips to claim every inch of your mouth.

Your hips shifted restlessly, trying to grind down against his hand, to take his fingers deeper. But every time you found a rhythm, chasing that delicious friction, he would pull away, denying you that final push.

"Please," you keened, breaking the kiss to gaze up at him with desperate, pleading eyes. "Please, Sylus, I need...I need..." Your words dissolved into a high, thin wail as his fingers drifted, too softly, over your clit. The gentle touch had you seeing stars, your body trembling on the knife's edge of release.

He complied with your needy plea, his fingers slipping back through your folds and beginning a slow, steady pace that had your hips rocking against his hand, chasing the friction you craved.

"Faster," you huffed, your voice high and breathy with desire. "Please, Sylus, faster!"

Sylus's hand cupped the soft weight of your breast, his thumb and forefinger finding your nipple and pinching down. The sharp pain had you arching into his touch once again, moans spilling from your lips.

"Clit," you keened, your voice breaking on a desperate cry. "Please, Sy, touch my clit!"

He slipped his fingers out of you to rub your swollen clit in firm, tight circles. Your hips bucked into his hand, your body trembling on the cusp of something incredible.

"Not enough Sy," you gasped, your hands fisting in the ribbon that bound your wrists, tugging at the silk fabric. "Harder! I need more!"

Sylus growled against your neck, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh, marking you. His fingers pressed down on your clit, rubbing it with ruthless precision.

Just as you felt the first flutter of your release, his fingers slipped back inside you, slamming into you with deep, powerful thrusts, the heel of his palm connecting with your clit on every entrance.

Your thighs clenched, toes curling into the carpet as you felt your body start to tense and coil, your core pulsing around Sylus's fingers.

He captured your scream with his mouth, biting down hard on your lower lip. The sharp sting of pain only heightening the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your body was shaking, back arching as your orgasm crashed over you. Pleasure exploded behind your eyelids, your skin tingling and tight, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

Strong arms lifted you, your bound wrists pressed against your back as he effortlessly carried you from the chair. Your legs dangled, feet brushing the carpet and then he was bending you over the table, knocking glasses and plates to the floor.

Before your mind could rejoin your body, Sylus was pushing your pajama pants down, exposing your dripping pussy to the cool air. And then he was there, fingers dug into your hips, gripping the flesh hard as he lined himself up. Then with one powerful thrust, he was pushing inside you, your walls parting easily for his thick cock.

You screamed, rising up on your toes, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth wood of the table. He kept one hand on your tied wrists, one on your hip as he pounded into you. You were still catching your breath as he started losing his.

"So tight, so fucking perfect every damn time...feel fucking perfect...your cunt is... fuuuuuuuuck"

His fingers dug harder into your hip, pulling you back onto his thrusts, meeting him halfway. The table creaked beneath you, the legs scraping against the floor as he took you harder and faster.

You felt him fall over the edge, spurting inside of you and locking his hips to yours as he bowed over, groaning against your shoulder. He held your body there for a few moments as you caught your breath, his come dripping, but he refused to ease his cock out of you.

When he finally pulled his face from your neck he said "We just ruined that pretty red ribbon sweetie, guess I'm gonna have to keep the pink one after all"

[prettygiri222]

Stress Relief

summary: Armin gives the best head

Armin x Black Reader SMUT

you were beyond frustrated at this point, work pissed you off today. it was originally your day off and you were gonna spend it with your boyfriend Armin, but your boss called you in last minute because someone couldn’t make their shift. then they spent the whole day up your ass complaining about the littlest things and even getting you for being late? you almost put your two weeks in when your coworker spilt your much-needed iced coffee, she didn’t even offer to buy you a new one! you got home with tears in your eyes when your lovely boyfriend offered to help you relieve some stress.

“Arminnn” you whined out. you were at the point of tears. you and Armin have been at it for almost an hour and you haven’t had the mind-blowing orgasm you craved. you were bouncy so desperately on Armin’s dick, like a rabbit in heat. 

you should’ve been embarrassed at the state you were in: your edges were long sweated off after a long day at work, your makeup was running from your sweat and tears, your blowout was starting to frizz up, you didn’t even have time fully take off your clothes so your jeans were caught on one leg, your panty was pulled to the size and your tits were suffering from the constraints of your bra.

“c-calm down babe” Armin placed his hands on your hips to slow you down. Armin was struggling underneath you, what was once pleasure was becoming torture. unlike you, Armin had already came 2 times and was nearing his third. he was overstimulated and he was trying to hold out to help you but he was nearing his limits.

your eyes were squeezed trying to focus on building the growing feel inside your stomach missing out on the pornographic image in front of you. Armin was flushed a deep shade of pink, his lips a deep shade of red as he bit down on them trying to slow the growing feeling of his climax. his pants were around his ankles and his shirt was pulled up past his chest in your haste to get him inside you as soon as possible. 

“fuck Armin, right there!” you moaned out as you finally got him to reach the deepest part you so desperately craved. the sight of you so bouncy so desperately on his cock brought Armin to his climax faster than he wanted.

“wait babe, p-please… i can’t, i can’t” Armin whined out as you grinded into him. you finally opened your eyes to see the mess underneath you. Armin hips were jerking into you deeply despite his pleas and you knew he was close, his voice always rose an octave higher during his orgasms.

“not yet,” you were so close you could almost taste it. Armin however, couldn’t take it anymore. he was growing weak underneath you, becoming a mess of babbles and whines.

“c-cumming!” Armin went cross-eyed at how intense his orgasm took over his body, spasming on the couch. beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he looked up at the ceiling. you however, were still going at it, chasing your climax. you looked so beautiful above him but it was starting to hurt. Armin could barely feel his dick anymore.

“I’m close ‘rin, s-so close, fuck-” you orgasmed was denied when a strong grip picked you off of your boyfriend's flushed cock. “Armin!” you cried out frustrated. that was the closest you got to an orgasm during the whole day and your boyfriend just denied you.

“you’re so fuck-” “relax, I’ll take care of you angel,” Armin said as he put a finger to your lips stopping your rant. Armin sat you back on the couch and took his place on the floor in front of you. after taking off his own shirt he finally took off your jeans and underwear before taking off your top and releasing your tits.

he took you in a slow deep kiss while he played with your nipples, twisting and pulling at them. “Armin,” you moaned out.

“i know, i know, i’ll make it better. i promise,” Armin said as he kissed down your neck leaving hickeys in his path. he slowly made his way down to your clit drawing out whines that were like music to his ears. you were already squirming underneath him and he barely did anything. “my poor baby needs this badly?” he mockingly questioned, already knowing the answer.

you could only nod afraid your voice would give out. you held on to Armin’s hair for dear life, “oh god! please don’t stop Armin, please!”

“mhm,” Armin groaned from in between your legs. one of his hands was used to hold up your leg and the other was playing with your tits. “yough tath ahmahzin” Armin didn’t bother to remove his mouth from your clit to speak. his lips latched onto your clit licking and sucking on it before he started to get messy.

you would think Armin received the most pleasure when he ate you ate the way he was moaning into you. he was spitting and slobbering into your soaking wet heat. he removed his hands from your tit and inserted them into your cunt when you lost it.

“min! f-fuck minnie, ‘m close” you could barely form a sentence Armin was fingering the sense out of you. you held his head in between your legs as you started to grind into him hard. you whined when you felt the growing feeling begin to disappear as you tensed up.

“relax.” Armin gave your thigh a quick slap before holding it up. the sight beneath you would’ve been enough to make you cum any other day. Armin looked up at you with glazed-over eyes, his bangs were stuck to his forehead and his fingers going in and out of you as he ate you out with haste.

“give it to my baby,” Armin’s other hand rubbed your thigh trying to coax your orgasm out of you. you started to squeeze around his fingers, biting your lips to stop yourself from bucking into his mouth. Armin knew you were close so he kept up his ministrations.

“min, ‘min, ‘min!” you chanted out in a trance. your vision turned white as your climax finally hit. no noise left your mouth as it was stuck in an O shape. your body was trembling now and the only thing you could feel was Armin's wet tongue going in and out of you. 

“min?” you moaned out as you came back to your senses. you tried closing your legs but his hands had a firm grip on them to stop them from closing. he kept nipping at your overstimulated clit holding you in place as you tried pulling away.

“my pretty girl, i think you can give me a couple more.”

Safe to say you totally forgot about your day at work🤭

[coyote-with-a-keyboard]

Babytrapping

a/n: back on my COD rants because my countries sooo cooked. Not proof read as always but enjoy

MINORS DNI

ever since Phillip has started ‘dating’ you, or more so seeing you at the night in barracks or wherever he could find you- he wanted more. Sure he knew it was wrong, you were a famous military commander- he was just your pmc company hire to get your dirty work done.. well he used to be- but age had worn out his use, hips feeling sore and arms wrapped in scars of past missions that made his men worry of his capabilities.. but he still wanted you. Wanted you to be his, wanted to be able to get spoiled by you, get adored by you, to get shown off at fancy military events he wouldn’t usually be even invited to anymore… to still be worthy and wanted. The fear of being replaced haunted him when he looked in the mirror or found a white hair amongst the blonde dusty hair he had all his life.

It took him a bit to plan something, but it festered in his brain, brewed like fine alcohol until his plans were set and ready. He had wanted a kid since he was 7 anyhow- so it wasn’t all too far off from the grand plan. His plan was smooth in exact execution; beg and whine and give you puppy eyes until you’ve said the famous last words of ‘one time without a condom won’t hurt if you’re sure.’ And then he knew his trap was set and ready

he let you bend him over your barracks warm bed, feeling your calloused hands ghost over his sore body and making him shiver in slight. His legs shook as he tried to spread them impossibly farther to give a show, feeling hot, bothered, and needy

he gasped and groaned when he felt your tongue against his clit, soft licks and suckles making his blunt nails dig into the textured fabric of said sheets. He was impatient, wanting for you to fill him to the brim already, to make his legs shake properly. But this felt much too good to stop- his head buried in a pillow as to not whine too loud though it did very little to help

he finally felt you pull away after how many orgasms he couldn’t count, his body feeling boneless and shaken already. He simply couldn’t think of a word to say other than pathetically crackling pleas of something he couldn’t quite name. To slow down? To speed up? To fuck him till his brains felt like mush? He wasn’t quite sure.

he shuttered a little at the quite usual feeling of the head of your cock sliding into his now well lubed walls, his body clenching around you like a vice and his mind swirling with the relief of the fact he could not be replaced. As long as the idea of getting pregnant worked, which it most hopefully would.

he let out gasped out moans as you finally bottomed out, one of your hands sliding up to cradle his throat before sticking two of your fingers in his mouth to silence him- no need to wake up your soldiers over a PMC commanders moaning. He whined at the obscenity, sucking on the digits as you bucked into him rougher than usual, using him like a living fleshlight. He could swear he felt it in his throat by now- his hips uselessly rolling into your thrusts even though you already had a pace set much faster then he could keep up with

His gummy walls fluttered around you with each deep grounding thrust, his back arched in a way sure to hurt later as you fucked into him senseless until you came inside him, feeling him bite down on your fingers to lot let out a groan as he squirted all over the fucking sheets- overstimulation washing over him like static as he pulled himself off you and lazily put the sheet into the hamper before tugging you down onto the bed and cuddling into your side- aftercare could wake, for the moment he had to silently celebrate being a permanent resident in your life.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Champion and King Pt1

(Since yall seemed to want this...)

Danny didn't know why he was doing this, didn't know why he agreed to try this for Clockwork...

He cursed the day he defeated Pariah Dark, that great petty bastard cursed him with something much worse than a missing limb or death.

Motherfucking paperwork

And centuries of it, sure there was some meager efforts done by the Ancients over the years but at some point they just stopped.

And now he was stuck behind a desk reading mind-numbing legal jargon trying to figure out what exactly the Observants wanted him to do, the most he was able to comprehend was they wanted support for an increase of dead from leprosy...from 800 BC.

He slapped it with his decline seal and moved onto the next, another plea for more funding by Walker, accepted and pushed to another bin.

Read, Stamp, put in Bin.

That was his life now.

He had become the lamest office worker whenever he wasn't at school or sleeping, he hadn't seen Sam or Tucker in what felt like years...

His eyes skipped over lines of text, sighing as he let the paper drop, his ink stained fingers rubbed at his eyes, yawning as he did.

Stretching back in his chair, Danny stared up at the ceiling of his office, feeling some calm come over his tired mind, his ceiling was covered with stars on pitch black, his eyes could pick out constellations known and unknown, one (and maybe only benefit) of being the Ghost King was that he had full access to all of the ghosts in the Realms, others who looked up to the stars and felt hope.

Watching the stars twinkle for another minute, Danny groaned before looking back to the piles and piles of paperwork, only pausing as there was a bright pink postit note stuck on the paper that he had recently tried to read.

It was both a welcome distraction and a troublesome thing, picking it up, Danny's eyes narrowed as he read.

'Dear King Daniel, I hope this note finds you well, a pressing matter has come to fruition that need your attention. Come to my tower, I wish to speak to you.'

Grumbling, the teen stood, wincing at the creak of his bones as he stretched, he is barely over 14! Why does he have a worse back then his father!

---

Floating through the purple door of the clock tower, Danny looked around for his supposed mentor.

Letting out a grunt as he was tackled from behind, the teen glared at the pint sized Clockwork grinning evilly up at him, "Sup Unc, took you long enough, were you in Ohio? That's totally not skibidi rizz my guy, never Ohio max Danny, it would destroy the time stream."

How is this the same person thst sent that flowery worded message from before? Simple, it was an older Clock Work, as his body cycles through ages, so does his words and how they are used...sadly.

Rolling the young Clock Work off himself, Danny glared for a moment before sighing, "if you brought me here just to sprout brain rot I am calling Technus and making him ban your accounts..."

The small Clock Work glared at Danny for a moment before shifting to a more mature form, "Truely if my excited form is too much for you I fear for the other citizens of the realm." Not letting Danny defend himself the now man steam rolled on, "But that matters not as of now, for I must instruct you on another Kingly duty that you have yet to do."

Danny sucked in a breath and tried to stop the growl that wanted to come out, he would save it for his office and his mountains of paperwork, "Another? I am already drowning in paperwork! I am this close to helping Vlad get my mom just so he teaches me the duplication trick he does!" Pacing the teen dragged his hands down his face, "I am barely in the 800s BC! Undergrowth doesn't need to help save a certain flower that can only be found on one island because it fucking sunk and became Atlantis! Did you know that's how I found out it was real? Fucking Atlantis is real and I found out through paperwork!"

As he ranted Danny gripped at his hair, tugging at it as he continued "I can't even process that because I have Walker up my ass, every second paper is him asking for more funding! Why does he need more ecto? He only has 5 inmates at a time?"

Clockwork o lyrics crossed his arms, watching as Danny raved onward, after he hit the five minute mark, Clock Work grabbed the teen by his shoulders and shook him lightly, "Daniel this will not be anything like the paper work, will you kindly cease speaking and let me tell you what it is?"

---

Billy yawned and decided that today would be a good day, it wasn't really anything that was about this morning that was unnormally good or nice, but Billy couldn't shake the feeling it was going to be great!

Stretching, as he shucked off his sleeping bag, the teen rolled off his sleeping pad and fumbled for his phone, a small rinky dink flip phone he had gotten with prepaid minutes.

Yawning again as he checked on the time, he nodded, he would be able to stop by the shelter in an hour to get breakfast, he could thr pop behind the general store to see if Mister Mathew had anything he needed help with/ was throwing out.

Shuffling around his makeshift area, Billy packed up his things, slotting them into an old military backpack he had been able to snag out of a dumpster, it only had a few holes! Practically brand new for a homeless kid.

Checking over his League communicator, he made sure that the world didn't end while he was sleeping, and set off for the day, humming a tune as he walked through the abandoned subways under his city.

Coming out to one of the less abandoned places, he waved at some of the kinder homeless population, he had been on the streets longer than most, but for some reason a lot of them still treated him like he was fresh out of a foster home.

Taking a deep breath as he came up into the light of day, Billy hummed, a smile on his face as he set to do his morning rounds.

---

Okay so it seemed like the day was purposely trying to make Billy get in a bad mood, the shelter denied him entry since they were full up, which is fine, he has protein bars in his backpack.

Then it seemed like Mister Mathew forgot to tell his new hire about their little deal so he got cussed out and chased off, which is again, is fine, he will try again later when he knows for sure that Mister Mathew is actually there.

No, what was the serious thing that was trying to make him have a bad day was the twenty story tall tentacles that were whipping around trying to destroy the better part of down town Fawcett city.

"Oh shiz...am heh." Shaking his head from his own little pun, the teen ran into a near by alley, did a once over to make sure there wasn't any unexpected viewers, and then called out the old wizards name, "Shizam!"

Lighting tore through the sky and slammed into his chest, in a flash of light Billy Batson, homeless 14 year old was gone, and where he stood was Captain Marvel, Champion of Magic.

---

He didn't do it on purpose, Danny swears mentally as he flew out of reach of the dark whip like tentacle, he still wasn't used to traveling by the Ring of Rage and well...his portaling wasn't as good as it probably should be...

Sending a blast of ecto at what he could only assume to be a being outside of his comprehension, Danny sneered at it "Oy grippy face! Leave the people alone! I brought you here dammit! Fight me you sad sack of calamari!"

Grinning as his taunts got him a feral grumbling and black ichor bubbling at what he could only assume a mouth was? He didn't really care as he focused on freezing the tentacle that missed him, stopping it before it could slam into a near by building.

But before Danny could attack the beast, he froze, his dead heart suddenly pounding in his ears.

After the portal accident, Danny instinctively had a sense about electricity, he could practically taste it when there was a high voltage.

And right now? His mouth was like an ozone ocean, his arm burned once again along the lines of his Lichtenberg scar, and with a boom that rattled Danny's core and left stars flying around his vision, a bolt of white lightning shot from a figure flying not to far away towards the great tentacle beast, making it squeal in pain.

But Danny was still frozen, eyes wide and hands shaking, as another bolt of brilliant white shot out from the being, a man in a scarlet suit, a snow white cape fluttering behind him, and a golden lightning built across his chest.

Danny was not going to have fun this fight isn't he?

[pbnbucks]

Paige x fem x nika

So let’s say that fem gets a boyfriend and both of them get jealous and the boyfriend cheats on fem and Paige and Nika comfort her and it ends up in smut of them being possessive and trying to prove to fem that she should be with them and not him

word count : 734

warnings : sorta angsty, cheating barely, cussing, filthy smut

summary : nikas tired of your boyfriend and she thinks you guys need a break

“oh sweet girl im so sorry” the blonde says rubbing your back as the 2 girls try and comfort you “i mean i dont know why he would do that” nika rolls her eyes as she seen tears roll down your face for the past 2 hours

“and i dont know why you would stay with him and forgive him” paige gives nika a ‘stop it’ look as your face completely goes emotionless at her comment as she leaves no sympathy for you.

“nika i don’t even want to here it right now” your comment makes her angry at how naive you are about the situation. “no i dont want to hear you crying about him when you now theres so much better out there” she says as she was ignoring everything you where ranting about to paige

“he said he was sorry…” she sits down right in front of you with a stern look on her face “he’s not sorry i can promise you that, let me and paige show you what sorry really is.”

she says as you both move your head to look over at paige “how?” paige smirks at your confused innocent look “like this baby” paige softly pushes you onto the bed as her finger slips under you waist band looking up at you asking for consent with her eyes and you nod your head as nika works with removing your shirt massaging your breast.

you whine at the the feeling as the to girls are concerned on how to please you, you feel the cold air hit your slick making paige coo

“look how wet you are and we haven’t even touched you yet” paige teases. “such a sweet girl for us” nika chimes in with a strap now on her body as she aligns herself with you entrance slowly pushing in, while paige finds her way to your breast massaging one and sucking on the other one.

the work of the two girls make the most pornographic moans leave your mouth as paige hums in response feeling pride from her work.

"Quiet. We don't wanna get caught now, do we?" nika coos as her hand covers your mouth muffling your moans adding a response “even though i wish i could listen to your pretty noises all night long baby” her other hand begins to circle your clit while paige uses her talented mouth to form hickeys all over your chest making your stomach turn forming a knot.

“such a good girl” paige praises at your skill to remain quiet. “fuck- im gonna cum” you plea as the croatian speeds up trying to rush you into release.

“thats it baby, cum all over my cock” she begs once your release comes crashing down as your liquids spill all over her strap and the bed, as paige now covers your mouth once the moans begin to leave your mouth hushing you.

nika helps you ride out your high as she slowly removes the strap from your now sensitive body, paige makes her way to your pussy instantly sucking on your clit while adding two fingers into your wet hole as she wastes no time letting go you adjust to her.

“fucking love this pussy” she speaks sending vibrations through your core as your hands grip the bed sheets.

nika makes her way to your jawline placing sloppy kisses massaging your left nipple. her tongue flicks over your sensitive bud as she bring her arm over your waist pressing you down into the bed.

“you want a taste nika?” paige pops her head up waiting for nikas response as nika goes onto her knees as they both pick up the pace both making their assault on your puffy clit as paige’s lanky fingers slip in and out of you making filthy noises leave your hole.

“fuck fuck fuck im so fucking close” your legs begin to shake and squirm as nika holds your waist down. the knot forms getting tighter and tighter as the girls praise your body movements into release.

“holy shit” the girls both say in unison is you were now squirting on their tongues every bit of release you had left making your body shutter at the contact. the get every last bit of cum you had left as nika comes up to your ear as she whispers sweat nothings in your ear “such a pretty girl”

[alwritey-aphrodite]

hii ! can i request this prompt « my ex doesn't understand it's over, so I tell them I've already got someone new » with sirius or remus ? tysmmm

I went with Sirius, I hope you enjoy!!

Sirius is sitting at the table, peeling an orange and methodically removing any of the “stringy bits”, as you call them, so you won’t have to go back and do it yourself and ruin your freshly painted nails, courtesy of days and days of bugging on Sirius’ end. You’re washing dishes, and clearing your throat over and over like you have something to say.

“Just spit it out already,” Sirius gripes, still cleaning off the orange, after you clear your throat only to stay silent for what feels like the millionth time.

“I have a favor to ask,” you say, somewhat uncomfortably, drying your hands on the dish towel before turning to face him, leaning your hip against the counter as if you need the support.

“Shoot,” he replies, not bothering to look up at you for more than a glance, determined to get the orange spotless.

“It’s kinda a lot,” you cross your arms around your middle, and from your tone Sirius knows you’re practically crawling in your skin, so he finally puts down the orange and gives you his full attention.

“I’d do anything for you, you know that.” He tells you, voice dripping in sincerity, and his heart practically glows when you smile at him in response, a soft, shy thing as if he hasn’t seen you dancing on tables and stumbling home and lounging around in your rattiest, comfiest pajamas for a junk food and movie marathon. Sirius is your best friend, and even though you know you can come to him with anything, the fact that he’s your best friend makes your favor slightly more than a little awkward.

“Can you take me out on a fake date on Friday?” You ask, jumping in without providing any sort of context so you don’t chicken out.

“Darling, I’d love to, but what the fuck does that mean?”

Pushing off the counter, you sigh, all big and dramatic as you make your way over to where Sirius is sitting at your kitchen table and throw yourself into the chair next to him.

“So, you know Henry, right?” Sirius’s nod is accompanied by a rather exaggerated eye roll, but you plow ahead anyway, “Well, I saw him when I went out for a walk yesterday, and it seemed like he didn’t really understand the fact that we’re broken up for real.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius asks, suddenly more alert than he was moments before.

“Nothing, really,” you attempt to quell his fears, knowing exactly where his mind went the second the words left your mouth, “just that he kept asking me to go out and do things together that seemed pretty couple-y, and he’s nice enough, but I broke up with him for a reason.”

Pausing in your story to take a breath, you see Sirius nodding along, but can tell he’s not really sure where the whole fake date situation comes into play. The fact that he’s even listening, even entertaining this bizarre idea of yours, makes your heart seize up, just a little, with affection and all sorts of things better left unmentioned and unnamed. 

“I just really wanted to let him down easily, so I said I couldn’t because I have a boyfriend, and he asked who and I could have made up a name but I was just thinking about you, because I had just bought the stuff for that salad you told me about, so I said you.” 

Unsure of what to say, Sirius just tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, and you plow on ahead.

“And I said we had plans on Friday and he asked where so I said that Italian place you like and apparently he works there.”

‘Well, I could have told you that,” Sirius says, his first contribution to the conversation since you started your little rant.

“I’ll buy you dinner and it doesn’t have to be anything too weird, we’ll just walk in holding hands and maybe a kiss on the cheek and we’ll just look like we’re in love if he happens to walk past us,” you’re practically pleading now, taking Sirius’ unusual silence for proof that this is one favor that’s too much, too awkward. 

“Please, I’m not that awful,” he slides the plate with the orange, now split in half, over to you, “I’ll pick you up at six and pay for your meal because I’m a gentleman.”

“Thank you, really, I owe you one,” you say, picking up your half of the orange as Sirius does the same.

“Hell yeah you do,” he responds, as if going out to dinner, out on a date, with you is some big chore he has to do, and not something he’s been thinking about for months now.

[studioeisa]

hello im here for ur jealousy drabble game 😗

"maybe i have a crush on you. so what?" with 🥁🥁🥁.... Mingyu! (surprise surprise haahah)

ⵌ royalty!mingyu x royalty!reader. ⵌ word count: 998 ⵌ notes: alternate universe: royalty, mention of alcohol, teensyyy princess diaries mention. laughed at "... mingyu! (surprise surprise)". ilysb, maple. and since this was our last conversation, i offer you some royally down bad gyu! 🙂‍↔️

When you're the crowned prince, you tend to get everything that you want.

Mingyu doesn't even have to ask. Anything his heart might desire has been served to him on a silver platter insofar. That horse for his eighth birthday? That Mercedes-Benz CLK-GTR for when he started driving? You name it; Mingyu has it.

He tries not to let it get to his head. Really, he does. He has a reputation to uphold, after all. He refuses to be the future monarch that's seen as spoiled, that's viewed as a brat.

It's getting increasingly hard, though, as he watches you from across the ballroom.

Mingyu's fingers are tight around the stem of his champagne flute, almost to the point that the delicate glass might just break. There's somebody trying to talk to him— some sultan from Brunei— but Mingyu is only half listening to him. He knows he ought to pay more attention. It would certainly be the polite thing to do.

Instead, he's trying to catch your eye as you dance with Lee Seokmin of all people.

The thought of the smiley prince from some small country almost makes Mingyu scoff. Seokmin isn't even the heir to the throne! He's a goddamn second born!

… And yet, you're looking up at Seokmin like he hung up all the stars in the sky. Mingyu doesn't like it. Not one bit.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says to the sultan, who had started ranting about oil reserves. "I fear that duty calls."

Duty calls is one way to put it, Mingyu thinks, as he strides off to where you're waltzing with Seokmin.

Mingyu clears his throat the moment that he reaches the two of you. Without missing a beat, Seokmin folds into a curtsy. You follow, albeit with a barely concealed roll of your eyes. If he was less on edge, Mingyu might have teased you for it.

"I was hoping I could get a dance," he says coolly.

"Of course, Your Highness," Seokmin answers.

Delicately, he passes your gloved hand over to Mingyu's grasp. Mingyu doesn't miss the flash of disappointment on your expression, and oh, does that make him want to scream.

He doesn't, of course. Not in this party of dozens of some of the most important world leaders and their children. Not when all eyes are on him, are on the two of you, as you stiffly place your arms around Mingyu's shoulders and he rests his palms over your waist.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. You simply fall into the practiced choreography of this familiar dance, this tried-and-tested charade. Back, forth. Back, forth.

Mingyu breaks the silence with, "So, how was hanging out with Prince Charming?"

He sounds a touch more scornful than intended. You pick up on it as you often do. "Prince Seokmin is fine," you answer cordially, carefully. "He's a delight to be around."

I noticed, Mingyu wants to say. You laugh so freely when you're with him. You never laugh like that when you're around me.

In the end, he only says, "I'm sure he is."

The song you're dancing to winds to a close. Your arms twitch around Mingyu like you might pull away, but— despite his better judgment— Mingyu's fingers tighten at your hips. "Indulge me for one more song," he says.

There's a ghost of a smile on your face. "Is that a command, Your Majesty?"

"Never." His answer is quick, thoughtless. "I— I would never command you to do anything."

You seem appeased at that. At the knowledge that Mingyu's question was more of a plea than anything. You relax in his hold, and some of the tension eases out of him as well. Another song strikes up. Your waltz continues.

Mingyu thinks it's going pretty well, that things are falling into place, until you decide to poke the bear.

"You seemed rather cross with Prince Seokmin back there," you muse. "Has he wronged you somehow?"

It's a good thing that Mingyu has spent much of his life in dance lessons. Otherwise, he might have stumbled over his feet. As it is, he manages to maneuver you past a dancing couple without breaking a sweat— even though a muscle in his jaw does jump at your brazenness.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he answers. "I was perfectly civil with the prince of middle-of-nowhere Genovia."

A decisively un-princess-like snort of laughter escapes you. Mingyu's heart— the bloody traitor!— skips a beat or two in his chest. He's dazed at the thought of making you laugh, even if it is at his own expense. The back-and-forth that ensues is dizzying, matching the quickening pace of your dance.

"You weren't civil, you were cold."

"Well, I don't owe the prince anything."

"I think you're jealous."

"Am not."

"I think you want me all for yourself."

"And what if I do?"

The words are out of Mingyu before he can reel them in. He doubles down as he spins you around, his words spoken in a rush. "Maybe I have a crush on you," he says. "So what?"

When you turn back to face Mingyu, your palm lands on his chest. His arm snakes around your waist, holding you in place, as the two of you try to catch your breaths after the whirlwind of a dance. You're staring up at him and he's terrified that you can feel the hammering underneath your palm.

There's only a hint of surprise on your features, but it's as gone as quick as it came. When you answer Mingyu's hasty confession, it's with the ice cold composure that you're infamous for.

"Well, I would hope so," you say. "We're getting married in a few months, aren't we?"

The reminder of the arrangement is like a bucket of water over Mingyu's head. He swallows around the lump in his throat before giving you a jerky nod.

"That's right." A beat. "So don't go dancing with any other princes aside from me, then."

୨ৎ * GAME, SET, PLAY ! ( JEALOUSY ) DRABBLE GAME.

[kumkaniudaku]

Fall Break

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 4.9k

MASTERLIST

Chicago wasn't half bad. Asia had to concede that fact as Kelvin filmed the journey into the city from the airport on his cellphone. 

Despite the disorienting mind-fuck that was O'Hare, the mishmash of old comforts and new charm glistening under a fresh downpour drew her in more than she cared to admit. She saw the appeal. It didn't make losing her man to the Midwest feel any better than the days before, though. They could visit anytime. She didn't want him to stay. 

She put on a brave face and an appeasing smile during dinner at a so-so downtown Chinese and Thai spot, listening to Kelvin rant and rave about his new team while pieces of her heart withered and died inside.

Asia held on to him a little tighter as they walked through the streets like tourists in search of cheap drinks to celebrate nothing in particular. One shot turned into three and a cocktail. Then, two more shots a piece and a secret third shot Asia snuck with Kelvin dipped off to relieve himself in the restroom. Just something to take the edge off. She promised herself she wouldn't get too drunk and start crying. But, as reality set in and Chicago became less of a fun pre-Valentine's vacation and more of a concrete reality, she couldn't help the tears welling up in her eyes once they'd called it a night and snuggled into bed together. 

Unable to cry, scream, or otherwise, Asia took the next best outlet: fucking. She knew it was wrong to hide her pain behind the ruse of wanting intimacy from a man more than willing to give it to her. She wanted to change her mind and almost had an out when she called Kelvin's name and startled him awake. He took Asia's apology in stride and pressed for answers until he was buried deep in her heat from behind, spooning like both their lives depended on it. 

Good, but not enough. Not until Asia was numb and so drunk on physical intimacy that she couldn't think straight. Perched on his face, she bucked her hips erratically to get the last drops of frustration out of her body by way of Kelvin's tongue. 

He held on tight with long fingers gripping soft flesh on both ass cheeks for dear life while he watched Asia fondle her own nipples, searching for her third orgasm. A woman possessed. He loved it. He'd drink her in until the sun came up just to see the face she made when the pressure in her belly was too much to contain.

Groaning, Asia slumped forward to look down at Kelvin, lapping at her with a face covered in his reward. "I love it when you eat me like that, baby," she demanded, her voice raspy and thick with sleep. "Look at you. So fuckin' nasty for me. You gone make me cum?" 

"Mhmm." More a moan than a response. And, even as he grew more excited from the mere sniff of the gold mine between her legs, Kelvin wasn't sure if he could go too much longer without a break. 

Reaching between her legs, he slid two fingers into her pussy, never slacking on his tongue's rhythm. A desperate mewl from deep within Asia's throat cut through the pitch-black room. Her thoughts became static as she felt the familiar tightening of release wind in her abdomen. 

"Oh…fuck," Asia squealed when euphoria quivered her inner thighs. "Don't stop, baby! Don't stop!" 

A plea for the moment and the future wrapped in one. Tears begging to see the world all say fell freely from Asia's eyes in pain and pleasure. Kelvin watched her in elation, feeling pride from a job well done swell in his chest. 

She came hard, the force from a hard-earned eruption still directing her hips to turn Kelvin's face into a saddle until all thoughts of tomorrow floated into the void to bother Asia another day. Kelvin was there to greet her when strength returned to her body and sent her rolling off his face onto the mattress. Her chest heaved to bring in as much oxygen as possible while he peppered affection across her shoulder and onto her jaw.

"I've never seen you like this before," Kelvin mumbled between kisses to the corner of Asia's mouth. "Maybe we should do that more often?"

She smiled, turning on her side to face him. "I'm down for right now if you wanna go again." 

Again? Kelvin tried to maintain his smile, hoping she'd crack the impenetrable neutrality preventing him from getting a read on her true emotions. Was she joking? She had to be joking. But jokes came with laughs and a punchline. So far, neither were in the room. 

"Oh, you're serious," Kelvin noted, a mix of confusion and amazement in his voice. He shifted to flip the switch on Asia's headboard lamp for a better look at her face in the wee hours of the morning. "I mean, if you give me a minute, I can maybe get things going again. You know I –" 

"Kel, it's fine. Don't stress yourself if you need to rest. I'll live!" 

Goading was manipulation, no matter how well she faked a cheery inflection to hide her true intentions. And though she wasn't proud of using nefarious methods to get what she wanted, Asia wouldn't allow her entire weekend to be taken by devastating blow after devastating blow to her emotions without getting something in return. 

Kelvin's attempt to kiss Asia's lips was thwarted as she rolled off the bed on the way to the bathroom, leaving him just enough cheek to grease the gears in his mind. "Woah, woah. I need five minutes and I'm back in. Can I have five minutes?" 

"Only five. You sure? I'm serious. We can wait until the morning." 

"Nah," Kelvin rushed out. Asia watched as he dipped his fingers beneath the plush duvet to take things into his own hands. "I got it. Five minutes." 

She'd give him eight. Two to find a distant memory to get the blood flowing, three to get his lone soldier to stand at attention, and three more for her to stop bullshitting and come clean. 

The dark, ugly cloud of hidden feelings was starting to drench Asia's mental in inescapable, blurring rain, preventing her from thinking straight as the deadline loomed closer. With Kelvin, she sported a sweet smile and acquiesced to every endless scroll through Crate & Barrel or CB2 run, hoping that picking vases and matching color schemes would help her overcome the truth. 

Long distance wasn't an option. Asia had tried to outrun and tiptoe across the fact like it was fresh lava on the ground, only to fall face first before in-flight snacks rolled down the aisle. Coming to terms with reality meant telling Kelvin. Telling Kelvin meant interrupting his third Bad Boys rewatch and the medium-difficulty sudoku puzzle keeping most of his attention. It meant possibly starting an argument with hundreds of strangers in earshot. It meant possibly ending her first relationship thousands of feet in the air with no way home until Monday morning. Worst of all, it meant disappointing Kelvin.

Waiting wouldn't change anything. The longer she kicked the can down the road, the more exhausted she'd wind up once the jig was up. Do it. Rip the band-aid. Asia tried to imagine Sabrina egging her on, pushing her to dive head first into radical honesty but came up short under dim lights showcasing incoming tears shining in her eyes. A harsh wipe with the back of her hand smeared them out of existence before she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Ripping band-aids off physical wounds always hurt, and the pain never went away as fast as people try to pretend. Emotional wounds couldn't be much different. 

"Hey, Kel. Can we talk?" Asia's voice ricocheted in the silence as she exited the bathroom. No response prompted her to call for her lover again. "Babe?"

Eight minutes was too long for tired limbs and eyes to settle atop soft sheets, especially for a man known to value the sanctity of napping. Asia watched Kelvin's chest rise and fall, his mouth hanging open with his hand still beneath the covers. A small smile tugged at her lips as she climbed into bed beside him. Kelvin wasn't a wound, and her revelation wasn't a band-aid. It was a life-altering change that required a delicate approach Asia hadn't quite pieced together. Not here. Not now. 

Two soft kisses on his cheek stirred Kelvin awake long enough for him to hug Asia's waist tighter and yawn. "I wasn't asleep. Just resting my eyes. You ready for me?" 

"It's okay, babe. Go to bed. See you in the morning," Asia answered. She snuggled closer to his body to savor what could be the last bits of his warmth she'd ever feel. Kelvin half-kissed her forehead, bringing back tears she thought she'd neutralized.

"Mhmm. Morning."

Deep breaths in and out helped Asia match her heartbeat to Kelvin's until sleep welcomed her into a temporary retreat from inner turmoil. She promised herself another round of next times. Next times that came and went without so much as a peep until they slowly took a backseat to the utter chaos of apartment hunting the following morning. 

Kelvin's carefully curated list of five perfect apartments had slowly dwindled to two and a shaky possible by noon. Too expensive, too small, too outdated, too stuffy, not enough natural light – the list of big and small flaws ran the gamut of available gripes. Asia resisted taking the opportunity to plant seeds of doubt in Kelvin's mind to play the role of dutiful girlfriend, smothering little frustration fires and offering support in the face of adversity. It was her idea to continue the search past lunch when all Kelvin wanted to do was stalk back to the hotel and bury his head beneath a pillow. 

She tugged him down a sidewalk drenched in fresh rain toward their fifth and final option. "Come onnnn. We're already here! This could be the one!" A fifth dud couldn't hurt that bad. Or maybe it'd hurt just enough to help him change course. 

All hope of helping Kelvin see the light atomized into a figment of Asia's twisted imagination when a few taps at an empty two-bedroom unit's digital keypad granted them access to the most beautiful piece of real estate either of them had ever seen. 

A wall of windows overlooked a bustling cityscape complete with enough commuters and tourists hustling past each other on the sidewalk to people-watch for hours. Expansive, pristine granite countertops complimented warm-toned wooden cabinets, housing more space than both their kitchens combined. Light wood floors added an upscale feel as Kelvin and Asia walked hand in hand through the hallways and gawked at each room. Two bathrooms, a walk-in closet in the guest bedroom, a huge faux-marble standing shower, a soaking tub, enough space for a king bed and nightstands – a slice of heaven well within a reasonable price. 

Asia wanted to hate it. She wanted to point out imperceptible flaws in the drywall and the specks of dust on the baseboards. One of the handles on the doorknob stuck a bit when she pressed down on it. Surely, that was enough to change his mind. Unfortunately, the hassle of finding a problem couldn't outshine the pocket of joy she found in watching Kelvin record videos to send to his sister for her approval. He saw a future in empty bedrooms and blank white walls waiting for his creative touch when she couldn't stomach walking into such a prison ever again.

"You were right." Kelvin did a full 360 in the primary bedroom, mentally planning where some of his prints could create a gallery wall. "This is the one. I think I found our spot, babe." 

Asia fought to maintain the smile she'd plastered on her face despite happiness being miles away. "I…I think you did, too. This is beautiful. I love it for you." She'd inadvertently found Kelvin a hidden gem. Another perfectly fated wrench was thrown into her plan. "You need me to get the leasing agent?" 

"Not right now. Come see the vision for a second." Kelvin's outstretched hand beckoned for Asia to join his side in the center of the room. She answered the call with slow steps before allowing him to pull her body into a soft hug. He pressed silly kisses onto her cheek, making a show of his affection until he'd had his feel. "I'm gonna put the bed right here," he informed, gesturing to a spot against the back wall. "Those two nightstands I've been lookin' at will fit perfectly. Eventually, I'm gonna throw the wallpaper you showed me up behind the bedframe, and that dope ass rug can warm up the room a little too, right?" 

Asia placated him with a nod. "Yeah, probably. Either here or in the office." 

"Oh, shit, the office. I can say that now. I have an office. We have an office," he laughed, giddy from the realization he could finally separate work, lounge, and sleep into three separate spaces. "Shit is crazy. You know, you basically have two places now. How does it feel to be rich?"

"It's feels good." It felt…something. Terrible? Painful like a thousand bikini waxes back to back? But, good? That wasn't it. "I'm proud of you, Kel. Really." 

Kelvin beamed from Asia's approval before puckering his lips for a kiss. "Thank you, baby. You want the left sink or the right sink?" 

"I actually want the entire guest bathroom. How much is that per month?" 

"I'm actually running a special," Kelvin answered as he pretended to tabulate numbers in his head. "If you come up here to do what we did last night every other month, I'll let it go for breakfast in bed." 

Asia considered his offer. "What if you made me dinner every other month and I just ate it with my top off?" 

"Sold." 

Laughter echoed throughout the empty space, drawing attention from the leasing agent trying not to eavesdrop in the living room. She tiptoed around the corner and stopped to smile at the young couple so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice her presence. She cleared her throat, making them jump from the intrusion. 

She waved her hands in front of her body, eyes wide from embarrassment. "No, no! Don't stop on account of me. I was only checking in with you two. Like what you see?" 

"It's beautiful," Asia answered, still in awe of their luck. "Right, babe? This is the one?" 

"I think so. I'm only here for the weekend, so it'd be great to start the process today if we can." 

The possibility of a commission before the end of the day had the agent jittering in excitement. If they were quick, she'd have her weekend kicked off with a little sweetener on top. She rushed to whip out her iPad and dance her fingers across the screen. 

"Oh, of course," she answered, her eyes focused on the device in her hand. "Are we doing one or both of you on the lease?" 

"I'm sorry, I'm not –" 

Kelvin interjected on top of Asia. "Just me for now. Is there an opportunity to add a second person later, though? You know…in case something changes?" 

Asia waited for the punchline or Ashton Kutcher to roll out of the closet with a camera crew in tow to announce she'd been punked. Maybe then she could laugh all this off and understand why Kelvin had gone out of his way to plant the seed that there was a remote possibility she might abandon the life she'd created to follow him hundreds of miles to the Midwest. 

"We love a man who plans," the leasing agent complimented, impressed by Kelvin's desire to include his lady. He stood taller and pulled Asia closer despite her legs refusing to budge. "To answer your question, yes. But we can cross that bridge when we get there. In the meantime, take another look, get some more pictures, and then meet me in the lobby to talk about the paperwork. Sound good?" 

"Sounds good!" Kelvin couldn't contain the cheery inflection in his voice as he talked through additional instructions with the leasing agent at the front door or the slight hop in his step when he snuck up behind Asia to gaze out of the bedroom's windows over her shoulder. 

Pure, unadulterated happiness coursed through his veins with her body wrapped in his arms and tomorrow's possibilities flipping rapidly through his mind. Home. An abode meant for a singular inhabitant at present, but circumstances changed every day. There was a time when Asia was but a coworker and then a close friend. With sunshine peaking through thick grey clouds to bathe their tangled bodies in warm light, he had more than enough proof of how quickly dreams became reality. 

Asia sighed as Kelvin nudged her head to the side, searching for space to attach his lips to her neck. "This really is the perfect view." She tried to imagine how each of the unrecognizable buildings across the way would glitter and gleam at night. From the sky, they looked like Christmas lights in a town permanently frozen in the most wonderful time of the year. If she could push past the nagging discomfort in her heart and stick out the increasingly tough times, they could welcome her in with open arms every other month, slowly disarming her guard until she craved more. Another deep breath passed through her nose. "This is gonna work."

Kelvin examined Asia in silence for a moment, wondering if she meant for her statement to sound so unsure. She chewed her bottom lip while staring blankly at the landscape in front of them as if she were searching for the answer in the distance. She seemed to open her mouth to speak but closed it when no words came forth.

"Hey." His soft voice cut through Asia's contemplative silence, snapping her out of her daze. He pecked her cheek before speaking again. "We're gonna be fine. Trust me. Trust yourself." 

Turning in his arms, Asia let her gaze softly commit each of Kelvin's perfect imperfections to memory. He looked back at her with a disarming smile, hoping his reassurance would combat whatever uncertainty brewed inside her. 

Asia leaned closer, stopping just short to keep their lips tantalizingly close. Kelvin licked his pair, drawing her attention before she made her request. "Kiss me. Please." 

Next time, she'd talk things out – lay all her concerns on the table to get the necessary courage to keep moving along a path to true happiness. She'd voice her grievances, express her hesitation, and come out on the other side as a woman facing all her fears. 

After their kiss in golden hour light was washed away and their trip was history, she'd put on her big girl panties and do the thing. Next time.

A weekend in Chicago came and went with scary thoughts successfully turned into background fodder to focus on being somebody's Valentine for the first time. 

Standing in the dressing room's full-length mirror with an audience of one smacking on scavenged dill pickle chips, Asia examined the curvature of her behind in the fourth sultry red dress picked for an early afternoon try-on haul. The bow at the small of her back perfectly accentuated the toned muscles on display without fabric shielding them from the world. Her long legs benefited from a short hemline meant to turn heads as she strutted through the world on Kelvin's arm. 

Sabrina paused her chip chomping to compliment her friend. "You look good! I like it. And if I like it, your man is gonna love it." 

"Shit, he better. If I eat more than a piece of gum, I'll risk looking four months pregnant." Asia continued to stare at her reflection, trying to decide if being hot for a night was worth passing out from hunger at a concert. "Fuck it. Unzip me. I'm getting it. Food can wait. I'm only this young and hot once in my life." 

"I know that's right! Speaking of Lover Boy, how was Chicago? Y'all see something worth going half on?" 

Asia chewed her lip as Sabrina pulled the dress's zipper down the short track. "Uh…he found something he likes, yeah." 

"Did you like it? I mean, I know it's not your place, but you'll be there half the year, damn near. You should at least wanna be there!" 

"Well. That's the thing." Curious eyes awaited Asia when she turned around to face an expectant Sabrina. "I…may not be visiting…at all." 

Curiosity quickly morphed into all-out confusion. "Are you breaking up with him?" 

"No! No, I'm not breaking up with him. He might wanna break up with me when I tell him I can't do long distance, but that's a different story."

The final piece of Asia's confession came out as a mumble muffled behind the dress, shielding for the sure tongue lashing on the other side of her honesty, but nothing came. Silence hung between them for several seconds, letting the untz untz of department store electronic music pulse through their small dressing room. 

Finally, Sabrina cleared her throat. "Okay," she spoke more to herself than to Asia. "Alright. Let's talk this out. You can't do long distance. Why?" 

Asia thought about telling her best friend how much she craved nearby affection and thought being long-distance left too much room for mistakes. She could throw sugar over her true feelings and go on a diatribe to explain all the ways a relationship separated by almost 800 miles wasn't fair to her after years of being alone. She felt punished by some unseen force, beaten down for some sort of sick amusement. 

Instead, she shared the plain and simple heart of the matter as she slid her jeans over her legs. "I had rules and boundaries when we started our thing, and I let him break every one of them. I didn't want to kiss, but he did. So, we kissed. I said no staying the night, and a month later, I'm leaving toiletries at his place, Sabrina. We haven't used protection in over a week, and I'm just…letting it happen! What am I doing?" 

Losing herself. While Kelvin made strides to grow and improve, Asia allowed the first taste of genuine partnership to turn her into a woman more concerned with pleasing her partner than advocating for her own needs. She'd bent and contorted herself to fit Kelvin's vision on more than one occasion, and though he never asked her to, he never told her to stop. She never felt compelled to stop. That scared her the most. If she couldn't stop there, how far would she allow herself to go in pursuit of someone else's happiness? 

"I love Kelvin. I love him so much it makes me sick and gives me life all at the same time. I don't want to hurt him." Of everything she'd said, Asia fessing up to the l-word shook Sabrina. "But I can't keep loving him without loving myself. It's not fair to him or me."

She hugged Asia, not caring about her state of undress. "Oh, friend. Welcome to the sick, sad, beautiful world of being in love. Ain't it fun!" Her joke helped Asia release the breath she didn't know she was holding through a strained laugh. Sabrina rocked them from side to side as she spoke. "Trust your gut, girl. I've never known you to make a decision you didn't think through. Do what you have to do. If this is what you think it is, he'll understand." 

"You think so?" Asia sniffled into Sabrina's shoulder.

"He better!" Sabrina quipped. "And if he don't, so what? There are other men in the world and some of them are just as cute, just as successful, and just as willing to give you the world. You gon' be alright regardless, okay?"

I'll be okay regardless. Asia repeated the mantra to herself in an endless loop to calm her nerves from the couch because her next times had run out. By the end of the night, her chariot would turn into a pumpkin and end her perfect fairytale. Say goodbye to your glass slipper and fancy ball gown. Back to scrubbing the floors, you go.

Kelvin poured two glasses of champagne in the kitchen, whistling a made-up tune as he plopped fresh raspberries into crystal-clear flutes and covered them in fizzing liquid. He called for a cheers when she walked through the door dressed like a long-legged super moedel. A little pizzazz to kick off what he hoped would be their first holiday of many. 

Dress sock covered feet helped him glide across polished concrete, expertly balancing glassware en route to Asia across the room. "Alright! One for my beautiful baby," he announced before stealing a kiss. "And one for me." 

"What are we toasting to?" Asia asked, her glass raised and ready. 

Kelvin smiled and put his hand on her thigh. "To us, girl! Fuck everybody else," he exclaimed. "Cheers to us for taking a chance on each other. Hopefully, we'll take some more this year. I know the transition may start off rough, but I hope we'll work through it. I really care about you, Asia. I want to see how far we can take this." 

No response didn't stop Kelvin from clinking his glass against Asia's and taking a long sip of cold, pale liquid. She didn't join him. She couldn't join him. Taking a sip was too close to accepting her fate. Carefully, she put the glass on the coffee table then focused all her attention on her shoes. 

"Kelvin, I can't do the distance. I can't do Chicago." Barely above a whisper, the truth shocked only one of them as Asia looked him in the eyes and continued. "The more I sit and think about our relationship, the more I realize that who I am ran head first into living for you somewhere in the middle. Your needs have become my needs. I don't want to resent you down the line. Neither of us deserve that." 

Grief and sadness eluded Kelvin while he slid closer to Asia. He'd had his time to reckon with reality the night they returned to the hotel and caught her crying in the bathroom. Temporary arrangements had timelines, no matter how hard he tried to outrun them. 

Hearing her voice crack produced tears in the corners of his eyes as he laced his fingers in hers and kissed her knuckles. "I already knew. You're not that hard to read. But thank you for finally telling me." His index knuckle beneath her chin forced Asia to look up at him through cloudy vision. He kissed her forehead and nose before collecting stray tears on her cheeks. "I understand. It fucking sucks, but I understand. I never want to get in the way of your self-exploration, even if it doesn't include me. That's why we started all this, right?" 

"Yeah," she whispered. "Right." 

"Don't worry about me or hurting my feelings. We were friends before, and we can be friends again. That's okay," Kelvin assured. I still want to experience you while we have time, at least for tonight. This dinner reservation was hell to make, and I need you to validate that the tiramisu is fire. Like I can't be the only one of us to have it." 

Neither of them allowed misty eyes and hurt feelings to put a lid on their laughter. They were friends before, and though it'd take a moment to shake off a romance with so much potential, they could be friends again. 

Asia took a long, deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Tiramisu it is. Can I have a moment to touch up my makeup? I'm sure I look like Beetlejuice right now." 

"I wasn't gonna say anything. You look cute in a Pepe Le Pew sort of way," Kelvin joked, earning an eye roll and a grin for his antics. Anything to make her smile. "Go on. I'll be out here waiting." 

A parting kiss to her forehead gave Asia enough energy to click four-inch heels across the floor into the bathroom. Kelvin sat back against the couch to finally allow his heavy mind time to process all he'd heard. In four weeks, his greatest joy would see him off to Chicago without a date set for their reunion. He'd kiss her goodbye, hug her close, and see those beautiful eyes for the last time. The thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees.

Eventually, he'd come to terms with his loss. He had no choice. He'd pack up all his big feelings in the box with his prized possessions and board a flight to a land of new opportunity. 

But tomorrow's problems belonged to tomorrow. He had a month to face those. Watching Asia strut out of the bathroom in a red dress that hit her in all the right places was far more important. 

If this was all the time they had left, he had a few more lessons to teach.

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[jaikoyucky]

Hidden Desires

Oneshot

Summary: You come home late after hanging out with Lonnie and she's jealous.

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: angst? Idk, not proofread and unresolved feelings. Doesn't follow the descendants plot, let's all pretend they all still share dorms okay pookies?

A/N: made this in 3am when I randomly got a brain fart, 10 yr old me would be so proud of embracing my gayness for Evie, also so glad the fandom is alive again.

The cool night air nipped at your skin as you tiptoed towards yours, Evie's and Mal's dorm—though, considering Mal mostly slept at her boyfriend Ben's dorm, it might as well have been yours and Evie's. But Tonight, you prayed for her presence, a silent plea to the universe to spare you Evie's wrath for your tardiness. Holding your breath, you gently turned the door handle, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine. You nearly sighed in relief when you found it unlocked, but your efforts to sneak in quietly went to waste as the door suddenly swung open, blowing stray hairs out of your face. Your heart pounded as it revealed, Evie. Her striking blue hair seemed to amplify the icy coldness of her expression

"Where have you been?" The dark blue-haired woman spoke in a flat voice, her expression stony. You knew what this meant.

Or did you?

Your body went slack under her intense gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

There was a strange contrast between her imposing figure and the ethereal glow cast upon her by the moonlight filtering through the window. She looked... Hot breathtakingly beautiful- You're doing it again! A wave of heat flushed your face as you shook your head to clear your thoughts and quickly averted your gaze to look over her shoulder, spotting one lit lamp and no sign of the purple-haired girl. You cursed under your breath and looked back at Evie. Your breath hitched as she tilted her head, eyes half-lidded, expecting an answer.

You sighed and finally gave in. "Me and Lonnie were hanging out at her dorm... and I didn't realize how late it got."

"Of course, you were at her place again." Evie rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"You were supposed to help me tonight. You promised." she reminded you, and you missed the slight quiver in her voice.

"I'm so, so sorry, Vie! I got really caught up in—" your mind raced, trying to find a plausible excuse. 'You got really caught up in ranting your growing feelings for Evie to Lonnie,' your inner voice taunted.

Crossing your arms against the chill of the hallway, you wondered if it was the cold seeping into your bones or Evie's icy glare that made you shiver, or maybe both.

As if sensing your discomfort, she grabbed your arm and dragged you into the room, slamming the door behind you. Your body gradually warmed, but Evie's cold stare remained fixed on you.

She turned away with a sigh, heading towards her bed. There, she grabbed a stylish blue jacket accented with black before returning to hand it to you. Hesitantly, you slipped it on, finding solace in its warmth and the lingering scent of her.

"I can still help," you offered, your gaze wandering over her surprisingly tidy desk. It was odd. Usually, it was a chaotic mess of patterned papers, colorful threads, and half-finished projects. She always cleaned up the next day.

Weird.

"It's fine. You should rest. You look exhausted from whatever you and Lonnie were up to," she said, her voice dripping with barely concealed disdain. You didn't notice it though, of course you didn't.

Had their fencing match really been that intense? You attempted to fix your hair, though you doubted it made a difference. A vivid memory surfaced of your earlier debacle with Lonnie, where you’d spent the entire session hitting her with the blade while rambling about Evie, all on the misguided advice that it would help.

Clearly, it hadn't.

"Vie, are you okay?" You ventured deeper into the room, her eyes holding an unreadable emotion.

"Yes,"

"Are you sure? You don't look it. If it's about not being able to help you like I promised, I'm really sorry, Vie. I'll make it up to you, I swear! I'll even make Lonnie—"

"Yes! I'm sure!" she interrupted, plopping down on her bed. "Sleep."

"Alright...if you say so," you muttered, letting the matter drop. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you flopped onto the bed beside hers. You rolled onto your back, facing Evie's turned form.

Five minutes later, sleep remained elusive. You tossed and turned, counting imaginary sheep to no avail. Frustration gnawed at you. Opening your eyes again, you found Evie still restless, her body shifting as she searched for a comfortable position. With a creak of the bed, you gave up and stood up.

You hesitated, biting your lip as you leaned towards her seemingly sleeping form. A gentle tap on her shoulder was your next move. This couldn't be weird, right? You two had done this countless times as kids. You're doing this platonically, Right?

"Can I-" Your words were cut short as a strong hand yanked you onto the bed beside her. She rolled over, facing away from you, a muffled "yes you may" escaping her lips. Relief washed over you as you slid under the covers. Her warmth was comforting, a familiar sensation that brought back memories of countless childhood nights spent huddled together against the cold. This was how it was supposed to be, you realized. You'd do anything to preserve this moment, even if it meant burying your growing feelings deep down. For now, this was enough.

Evie turned to face you, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watched you sleep. Your mouth was slightly open, and you were snoring lightly. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, a dangerous impulse to kiss you. But it was quickly dismissed as she reached out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. a gentle gesture that belied the turmoil within her.

Her mind raced back to earlier. Why were you so insistent on spending time with Lonnie? What could she possibly have that Evie didn't? She was prettier, smarter—well, at least in her own mind. And yet, you'd broken your promise to help her with her shop, a lie she'd made just to keep you close. It was a desperate plea, a transparent attempt to cling to your presence. Was she jealous? The thought was absurd. She didn't like you...or did she? No, it was just protectiveness, pure and simple. If only you knew how she truly felt.

Her gaze drifted to your lips, and she found herself tracing their outline with her thumb. A wave of fear washed over her. What if you left her once you discovered her feelings? The thought of losing your friendship was unbearable. She would do anything to maintain this fragile balance, even if it meant burying her emotions deep within.

I might or might not make a part two idk

[transvampireboyfriend]

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

"I'm just saying, if the heat bothers you so much, you could cut your hair" Nancy points out, after declining Eddie's pleas for her spare scrunchie.

Robin sits on Nancy's lap, clutching the back of Steve's seat and she looks at Steve through the side mirror like she's afraid that he's about to go on a mission to defend Eddie's honor or something but Steve rolls his eyes at her. He's not that gone.

Or at least he knows how to hide it well.

Eddie's lost several of Nancy's favorite hair accessories and two weeks ago she bowed to never lend him any ever again.

Which, does not stop Eddie from asking her anyway at least once a day.

But the point is, even if Steve wanted to, Eddie's honor cannot be defended in this situation.

Nancy's leaning behind Argyle's back now to glare at the metalhead. Steve can see them in the rearview mirror.

Eddie gasps "I would never" he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

Steve secretly breathes a sigh of relief.

Johnathan chuckles at the wheel. "But you could" he comments, eyes on the road.

Steve can see Argyle subtly laughing and shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

Today is a rare occasion, Jonathan is driving them in Steve's car.

The goal of Steve's rant earlier about having to drive them everywhere was to get Eddie to drive them, so Steve could sit shotgun and watch Eddie drive.

Instead, Jonathan had offered first and then Steve couldn't go in the backseat because he's in charge of their map.

But whatever, this is fine too. He trusts Jonathan and it is nice to get a break and to be able to fully turn around when he's talking to someone in the backseat.

"Jon, I would lose all my sex appeal, you don't get it" Eddie answers, getting a box of Twinkies from one of the many bags they packed and placed on the floor of Steve's car.

"I get it" Argyle chimes in, watching Eddie pull out a Twinkie and shaking his head no when Eddie offers him one.

"You'd still be sexy with short hair" Robin comments from her seat on Nancy's lap.

Everyone turns to look at her.

"What?" she shrugs "I can say that"

Nancy chuckles into her shoulder.

Steve opens their map again to stop thinking about Eddie's 'sex appeal', even as the guy is excitedly munching on a Twinkie in the backseat of Steve's car.

He's got cream in the corner of his mouth and he clearly put more in his mouth than he can comfortably chew. He's leaning one elbow on Argyle's shoulder, his hand holding half a Twinkie, his other hand holds his mop of hair up in a high bun, causing his cut off tank to sit barely covering his nipples, his tattoos on display and his armpit hair fully visible.

Steve's fairly certain nobody else in this car would get it, but to him the sight is mouth watering. The guy is practically irresistible.

"I don't think i would've gone on even half the dates I've gone on if i didn't have my hair" Steve muses, for something to say and to add to Eddie's point, even though he agrees with Robin.

Almost everyone answers with agreeable noises, except Eddie and Robin.

Robin snorts and says "You are relentless"

While Eddie says "You don't get dates for your hair" at the same time. In a tone that suggests he thinks this is an obvious thing.

"I mean- it doesn't hurt" provides Nancy, she sends Steve an apologetic look but Steve waves her off. It's a compliment as far as he's concerned, he loves his hair.

Eddie finishes his treat and opens a new one while everyone else gives their opinions.

"For a lot of people, hair is a big part of attraction" Jonathan is saying, trying to seem like he's not speaking from experience.

"Especially hair as luscious as Steve's" Argyle agrees, leaning forward to lightly comb the side of Steve's hair, making him laugh.

"Thanks, man" Steve says overlapping Eddie's response.

"And I agree!" he exclaims "I'm saying he doesn't get dates because of his hair." Eddie goes on, waving his new Twinkie around for emphasis. "People throw themselves at Steve, and always will, but it's not because of his hair" he repeats.

Steve feels his cheeks heat up but still asks "Then why?"

"Well, because you're very pretty!" Eddie answers easily, like everyone should already know this.

Steve keeps his eyes carefully trained on the map, like he needs to study it meticulously, right this moment, while they're in the middle of a highway.

His cheeks are burning up and he can feel it spreading to his ears.

"And that's if they don't know you!" Eddie continues "If they do know you they know you're kind and brave and strong ...and generous and funny. Who wouldn't want all that in a date?" Eddie finshes.

Oh I don't know, you? Maybe? Do you? Steve thinks.

"Even bald, people would still go crazy for you" Eddie adds, his words slightly muffled towards the end as he shoves almost all of the new Twinkie in his mouth but apparently thinks better of it, biting all but a small piece.

"Here. You want the rest of this?" Eddie offers Steve, talking through his mouthful, and presenting the small piece with his ringed fingers, right in front of Steve's face.

Without thinking, Steve leans forward and takes it with his mouth, his lips burning where they touched Eddie's fingers.

As Eddie retrieves his hand Steve realizes what he just did and how quiet the car got.

He sends Robin a panicked look through the side mirror as Jonathan awkwardly clears his throat.

"Argyle's got nice hair" Robin tries.

The car immediately fills up with enthusiastic agreement and Steve slowly breathes out.

He can't bring himself to look at Eddie as he chews on his bite. He practically licked Eddie's fingers. Unprompted! The guy probably meant for Steve to grab the treat and then eat it. If he even accepted it at all!

Steve feels like an idiot and he frowns at the map again, willing himself to ignore the goosebumps in his arms and the tickling on his lips.

He doesn't see Eddie worriedly staring at him for the remaining of their conversation, until Nancy takes pity on him and offers up her spare scrunchie to distract him.

part 2

[catharticmoonshine]

abby x fem!reader, smut, soft!abby, vaginal fingering (r!receiving), lots of kisses, mention of strap usage, brief mention of aftercare

whenever you come home stressed or upset, Abby notices instantly. The small furrow in your brows, how you clench your jaw subconsciously, and that tired look in your eyes that drowns out their usual shine. She makes you a cup of your favorite tea — or coffee, whichever you prefer — with just the right amount of sugar and lemon or creamer, she has it memorized by now.

After convincing you to let her do the rest of the chores for today, she sits down with you on the couch and lets you rant about your annoying coworkers, about how that one idiot spilled his drink over your desk again, or about your boss who just doesn't stop throwing more work your way, every project suddenly being highest priority possible.

After many frustrated sighs and about half an hour later your eyes seem a little less dull and a small smile curls at the corners of your lips again.

But you're still tense where you sit on the couch, hands wrapped around the now empty mug in your lap. Abby couldn't possibly not help her sweetheart unwind properly, could she? She's a good girlfriend after all.

She takes the mug from your hands and places it down on the coffee table, guiding you to lay back against the soft cushions and pillows. Her lips make their way over your collarbone, only pulling away to look at you for permission as her fingers brush against the waistband of your jeans.

Your nod is all she needs for her fingers to hook around the fabric of the waistband, a soft "lift your hips a little, baby" falling from her lips as she begins to free you from the stiff material and another "thank you" when you do as she says.

She quickly discards of your pants, shoving them off the couch to be dealt with later. Right now, you're all she cares about.

Abby smiles as your arms wrap around her neck loosely, your fingers toying with the fabric of her shirt lazily. Her lips find yours in an instant, tongue licking into your mouth gently. Her thumbs run over the soft cotton if your underwear, toying with the waistband lazily.

She doesn't rush when she slips her fingers beneath the soft fabric of your underwear, instead just letting her hand rest against the soft skin of your hip as her lips dance with yours. Abby smiles into the kiss when she feels you slowly but surely melting into the couch behind you, and a familiar feeling of pride begins to bubble up in her chest.

After a while of just kissing you, tasting the faint aroma of the tea she had made you still lingering on you lips, her mouth moves on to press against your jaw, littering kisses down the skin of your neck. And just when you're about to pout and whine for her to stop teasing you, she finally slips your panties off all the way.

You can feel her grin against the sensitive skin of your throat when the pads of her fingers venture down to slide between your folds.

"So wet, baby"

She presses two digits to your entrance, just shy of slipping in, and then brings them up again to smear your own arousal over your clit. she laughs when your breath hitches and your hips press up into her hand, demanding more.

"Not so fast," she tuts, kissing up the column of your throat until her lips hover by your ear, "relax for me, yeah?"

Abby places a soft kiss to your jaw, one of her fingers slowly pushing into your fluttering hole. Your head rolls back against the couch cushions behind you, eyes closing with a soft moan. Your hips move to meet the slow pump of her finger, and your clit pulses, desperate for attention.

A soft plea for more leaves your lips, barely more than a breath of air, but your girlfriend listens, a second digit nudging at your entrance. It slides in with barely any resistance, your sobbing pussy swallowing Abby's fingers greedily. With each curl of her fingers against your spongy walls, soft moans tumble from your lips.

Abby is convinced this is what heaven must be like. The sounds you make, combined with the tight grip your cunt has on her fingers and how pretty you look with your face all flushed with the pleasure she's giving you, have her head feeling like it's spinning, all her attention focused on you alone. And when your hands tangle in her hair, using her braid to guide her lips to yours for a messy kiss, she thinks she might actually want to die like this; all lost in you and making you feel good.

Her thumb finds your slippery clit, using the pad of it to circle your sensitive nub in sync with the steady pump of her fingers. Your back arches at the new bolts of pleasure that shoot up your spine, and her lips swallow all of your moans like they're the sweetest candy she could possibly get her hands on.

Abby can feel your juices pool in the palm of her hand and run down her wrist in thick globs. She pulls back just enough to admire the sight of your squelching pussy.

"God, fuck, such a pretty cunt, baby," she rubs her thumb over your clit again, just to see how your walls clench down on the two digits that are buried knuckle-deep within your walls. Her pupils are blown wide, mesmeriezed by the sight that is your glistening pussy.

she leans back in to press a line of kisses over your cheekbone before kissing the shell of your ear and muttering a breathy "think you can take another one, hm?". abby doesnt need to wait for your answer, she knows you can take more, much more considering the sizes of some of the straps she owns, the ones she bought just to see you all stretched out on her cock. Its one of her favorite things to admire, honestly.

her other hand rests on the plush of your hip, thumb slowly stroking over the stretch marks adorning your skin as she takes her time pushing a thrird finger into you. your back arches at the familiar stretch, eagerly bucking your hips into her palm.

Abby huffs a soft breath of laughter at the way your hips twitch when her thumb finds your clit again to rub at the swollen bud in rhythm with the pumping and curling of her fingers against that sweet spot deep within your gummy walls. She knows you're eager to cum now, and she's all too aware of how your moans are louder now, higher in pitch and oh so sweet with the way your face is scrunched up in pleasure.

Abby presses a quick kiss to your lips before she leans back again, blue eyes zeroing in on your cunt again. she want to watch you fall apart properly. And God, you're a vision; messy hair and flushed cheeks and the way your eyes have gone a little misty in your eagerness to cum. She's teased you for long enough, she concludes as she applies more pressure to your clit, speeding up the circles of her thumb on your swollen clit.

"you're so pretty, baby, so gorgeous when you're about to cum for me," her eyes find yours, and she swears she can see how you tip over the edge just by the look in your eyes. How they roll back slightly before squeezing shut, your lips falling open in exchange as the sweetest of moans rips from your throat.

Her fingers dont slow their movements as your pussy clenches around them. Instead, she presses the pad of her thumb down on your twitching clit, letting you ride out the waves of your orgasm with the soft pumps of her fingers against your sweet spot.

Only when your moans turn into whines and soft whimpers as overstimulation licks up your spine does she pull her fingers from your clenching hole with wet squelch. her other hand gently pats the fat of your hip, a proud grin curling at her lips as she holds her glistening fingers up to let the light catch on your slick coating her digits. "look at that mess, baby," she hums before bringing said mess up to her mouth and licking her fingers clean with a satisfied groan.

When she's finished with her treat, she leans down to press a kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself. She maneuvers the both of you so you're curled up in her lap on the couch, your face tucked into the crook of her neck and her face buried in your hair. She holds you close to her, hand rubbing your back softly as she breathes in the faint smell of your shampoo.

"Feeling better now? Relaxed, or do you need me to make you cum again?"

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Tell me how you hate me now (Miguel O’Hara x fem! Scientist! Reader) Drabble

Hiiii, so I know I said I’d focus on my main series and I am! But I just had to whip this up after my comment thread from my last post. In my head I imagine this being with Miguel from the game Edge of Time but it can be any Miguel variant. Not proofread, enjoy!

Cursing, workplace enemies to lovers, the girls are arguing 🤭, make out session, slight NSFW (just some ass squeezing) but no smut.

Word count: 750

Masterlist

—

“O’Hara! Hey O’Hara!” You called out to the figure that sat alone in the lab room. Your irrational only building when you didn’t get a response, not even a glance in your direction. Your pace quicken, white lab coat flaring out behind you as you close the gap between you and the other scientist. Angrily dropping a Manila folder onto his desk, the force of which made a few of his own papers fly a few inches off his desk. Finally making him look up at you with huff and a scowl.

You two have been working together for the last twelve years at Alchemax, and never had you two gotten alone. Always fighting about projects, butting heads about deadlines, everything about and between you both always ended with fighting and arguing.

“Do you know what this is?” The question was rhetorical, a manicured finger pointing at the file that had the name of your last project proposal printed on top. Your angry gaze on his face never wavering as you watch his tired eyes lazily drop to the folder, before looking up at you once more rather boredly.

“Your last project proposal?” He deadpanned.

“Yes, my last project proposal.” You scoffed, “The one that got rejected because you decided to bad mouth it to Stone.” You glared at him, feeling your blood pressure rising higher than it already was as you stood up straight and crossed your arms over your chest. Your eyes immediately connected with his brown ones as he turned his swivel chair to face you properly, arms coping your mannerisms as you both had a miniature stare down before he finally spoke.

“You're acting like this thing-“ he abruptly stood up, making you instinctively take a step back. Grabbing the proposal and using the back of his other hand to lightly hit the folder before dropping it back onto his desk. The pages spilling out from the hazardous manner, making your blood boil. “wasn't already garbage-“

“Garbage?!”

“Garbage.”

You had to close your eyes and take in a deep breath to stop yourself from lunging at the large man, wanting to tear him a new one. Once you were able to calm yourself down enough you looked back up at him. Despite his towering size over you, you didn’t find him all that intimidating.

“You’re just saying that because you wanted him to pick your project over mine-and don’t say I’m making shit up because you always do it, that’s how you got your project chosen last time!”

“Oh please, god forbid I don’t want to work under you for the next six months. It’s too chaotic! Just thinking about it gives me a migraine…” As if for dramatic effect, a hand goes up and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Oh yeah, because you’re so pleasant to be working for.” You rolled your eyes, sarcasm dripping from your mouth like venom from a snake’s. “If an intern so much as breathes the wrong way, you lose it.” You're too busy ranting to notice he was making his way towards you. “And don’t even get me started on how you micromanage everything-“

You were cut off by the sudden warmth of lips on yours, eyes wide as you blinked yourself back into the current moment. You had to be dreaming right? Why else would Miguel be kissing you. You didn’t even get to fully process the action before you felt his large hand slip to the small of your back, gently guiding you to make sure you didn’t trip over your own feet as he pushed you up against the wall.

Yeah you weren’t dreaming.

He licks your bottom lip in a silent plea to let him in, you couldn’t help but to melt into the kiss. Once the initial shock finally wore off, your body began to feel hot all over. Eyes flickering shut as your hands landed on his chest, running up to lock around his neck, no doubt leaving wrinkles in their wake. His hand came down to give your ass a firm squeeze, making you involuntarily moan at the movement.

You felt like you could drown in him, he pulled away for air before you got the chance too.

“Been wanting to kiss that pretty mouth shut for a long time.” He admitted between heavy breaths, “tell me how you hate me now with my tongue down your throat.” He taunted playfully, before closing the gap between your lips once more.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho

[lyn31]

Heeeyyy! Would you write one of where Zayne gets jealous over reader? They are married ofc and let’s say another handsome man flirts with reader who is oblivious to it cuz ofc she only has her heart on Zayne. Zayne gets protective and jealous like in that card with Dr. Carter who gave mc flowers. Zayne takes reader to a quieter spot or home. Reader ask if he’s ok and he denies he was jealous. It makes reader sappy and blushing cuz zayne loves her a lot she teases him and he kisses her passionately to shut her up and says he was worried. OFC reader reassures him she only loves her snowman. You can write the location and event however you want. Thanks.

I took quite a different angle for this one, hopefully it still hit the vibes you're looking for! I play it off more, so it come off more playful the rest is a bit more subtle 👀 too subtle perhaps? 😭 Let me know what you think! 💕

Actually yk what, I'll make another one later per asks order! But let's say this is a treat also from the req before! 🥳 (But still let me know what you think ahaha)

I already rant about Dr. Carter before so I won't do it again here ahahahaha and yes this is the merge prompt with In Sickness and In Health!

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Jealousy, Revisited

Summary

A teasing spiral of jealousy, hormones, and chaos leads to one very pregnant woman and her maddeningly patient husband bantering their way back to soft, steady love.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Mutual jealous, flashbacks, silly, banter, flirty, married couple!

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By the time Rose and Caleb leave your home, it’s already late—well past the kids’ bedtime. Serena's been asleep in her room for hours now, worn out from playing with Willow and Jace until her little legs could barely carry her.

The dishes are done, toys picked up, and you're finally curled up on the couch, legs tucked awkwardly under you the best they can with your belly in the way. The twins have been making their presence known all evening, kicking and shifting, and you’re sure at least one of them is practicing acrobatics.

Your hand rests absently on the curve of your stomach, and your hair still smells faintly of garlic from the stir-fry you made earlier, and the scent clings to your sweater like the memory of a full house.

Zayne joins you a moment later, easing down beside you with his usual quiet grace. He drapes a blanket over you, then slides an arm behind your back, hand settling low at your waist and gently curving to support the slight swell of your belly—something he does without thinking, as if his touch belongs there.

“That was quite a gathering, huh?” you murmur, leaning into him.

“Four adults with three kids,” he says. “Felt like a ten-person gathering.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “Speaking of kids, I still can’t believe what Rose told us.”

“I definitely can,” he replies, voice still neutral.

You shoot him a look and pinch at his side, but he only catches your hand in his, thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “It’s an expression, darling.” Your roll your 'r' a bit more, smiling but still glaring at him. He hums at you, a quiet nudge to keep going.

“Well, I was gonna bring up how Caleb got all jealous when someone complimented Rose’s scarf, but now that we’re talking about this... it reminded me of a certain someone at a certain photo shoot.”

He blinks at you slowly, composed as ever. “That was a normal reaction.”

“Normal, huh?” You raise an eyebrow, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gives him away.

And yeah—you can feel the memory blooming between you again, ridiculous and fond. Back when you’d just started dating—Tara’s dramatic plea, that chaotic photo shoot, the poor student photographer caught in the silent wrath of a very composed, very territorial Zayne Li—

You’re barely halfway through reheating leftovers at Zayne’s apartment—still standing in front of the stove with one socked foot tapping the floor—when your phone lights up with Tara’s name.

You answer with a suspicious, “What did you do?”

“Emergency!” she bursts out.

You blink, already pulling the phone slightly away from your ear. “Didn’t you just get home like... twenty minutes ago?”

“Yeah, but I need you. Come to this studio downtown—my friend’s doing a shoot and one of his models bailed last minute.”

“…Why me?”

“Because you’re symmetrical and mildly photogenic,” she says with the smug confidence of someone who knows you can’t say no. “And also because there’s no way Rose or Lara would agree to this. Come on, I’ll owe you forever. Pleaseeeeee?”

You sigh with all the drama you can muster. “Fine. But you’re buying my coffee tomorrow. And I’m talking fancy coffee. Foam art and ethically sourced beans.”

“Deal!”

You hang up, shutting off the stove with a grumble, then wander down the hall to Zayne’s office. He’s sitting at his desk, posture relaxed, typing something you know is probably more important than it looks.

He glances up the second you knock at the open door.

“Hey, so... change of plan. I’ll be back in an hour. Tara needs help with something.”

He tilts his head, curious. “And that is?”

“I’ve been conscripted into a photography crisis.”

He raises one brow. “Do you need backup?”

You give a small laugh. “Well, if you’re up for it.”

“I am.” He powers off his computer without hesitation, standing smoothly. “Let’s go.”

When you both arrive at the studio, it is a cozy mess, full of soft lighting rigs and mismatched props piled in corners. Fabric-draped chairs, vintage suitcases, fake plants that look real until you touch them. Tara waves you in like she owns the place, already halfway through a neon-pink drink and wielding a clipboard like a sword.

You breeze through the solo shots first—casual poses, exaggerated laughter, dramatic hair flips Tara keeps coaching you through with, “More joy! Less corporate headshot!” She takes a few turns in front of the lens herself, striking mock-model poses with a loud “Yasss” every time the shutter clicks.

It’s not half bad. Honestly? It’s kind of fun.

Until the photographer—a lanky guy with a lemon wedge tattoo on his wrist and a camera lens that looks older than the building—decides the set needs couple shots to balance out the gallery.

He gestures to a standby model. Someone tall, cologne-heavy, and definitely overconfident. He steps forward like he’s auditioning for a cologne commercial, eyes flicking to you, then down to your waist. His hand starts to hover in that awkward, polite way—unsure if he’s supposed to touch.

Then, from behind the lights, Zayne’s voice cuts in.

“Actually, she’s not free.”

The room freezes. The photographer pauses. The cologne guy blinks.

Zayne steps into frame with that quiet, composed stride, like this is just a meeting he’s joining. “I mean—I’m free. She’s dating me. So… using both of us would be better.”

You try to keep the smile off your face. No use. It spreads before you can stop it. “You’re volunteering for photos?”

Zayne meets your eyes without missing a beat. “They’ll look more authentic this way.”

Tara lets out a muffled snrrk from behind her clipboard, clearly thrilled.

The photographer looks between the two of you, then nods. “Right. Yeah, sure. Chemistry’s important, right?”

Zayne’s hand finds your waist with ease, fingers come to rest at your waist like they’ve always belonged there. The first shot is stiff. The second, a little more natural. But the third—when he leans in and brushes his lips against your temple—you feel your whole expression soften without even trying.

Because he’s not acting. Not for a second.

The shutter clicks.

And clicks again.

By the time you’re back in the car, the night folding quiet around you, you can’t help poking at him.

“So… I’m not free, huh?”

He glances at you, one hand resting lazily on the wheel. “You’re still going on about that?”

“You practically growled at that poor guy,” you tease. “I think Tara’s friend was seconds away from reaching for a fire extinguisher.”

“I was being practical.”

“Oh, sure,” you say, leaning your head back against the seat with a grin. “Territorial and practical. Must be a doctor thing.”

He huffs softly, but you catch the way his mouth lifts at the corner. “You’re exaggerating.”

You’re really not—but you let him have that one.

Because that look he gave you when he stepped into the frame? You’ll be thinking about that for days.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wiggle your eyebrows at him, feeling the slow, aimless motion of his fingers brushing along the curve of your stomach—familiar and gentle, like he’s memorizing it again for the hundredth time. “So practical of you, dear.”

He snorts softly, voice close against your temple. “It was practical. I was already present.”

“Mmhmm. Definitely not territorial at all,” you murmur, letting your tone drip with sarcasm.

Zayne leans in just enough for his breath to cool your ear. “If you’re talking about what we did after we got home… then yes. That was territorial.”

You laugh and squish his cheeks with both hands, tilting his face toward you before giving him a deliberately exaggerated, wet kiss that leaves him blinking. “Mmm. You’ve come a long way, husband.”

He chuckles, the sound deep in his chest. “Come a long way,” he echoes, then tilts his head, thoughtful. “That reminds me—the lab assistant.”

You raise a brow instantly, suspicious. “Yeah? What about her? Are you finally admitting that you explained things slower because she’s special?”

Zayne’s arm shifts behind you, and he leans into your side with effort, trying to wrap himself around you as much as the baby bump between you will allow. It takes some maneuvering, but eventually, his hand curves gently beneath yours over the swell of your belly.

“Look who’s being territorial now,” he murmurs, far too pleased.

“Mine is justified!” you protest, jabbing a finger lightly into his chest. “Don’t even pretend you didn’t notice how close she was leaning. I’ve seen microbe samples that maintained more personal space.”

He hums like he’s genuinely considering your words, eyes flicking up toward the ceiling in mock thought. “Why do you think I was leaning away from my computer?”

And just like that, the memory sparks back into clarity—sharp, ridiculous, and so vivid that both of you can’t help snorting aloud—

You stop by the hospital one late afternoon—your day off, the weather too nice to waste holed up in your apartment, Rose of course visiting Caleb at Skyhaven—so you think, why not drop by to see Zayne?

You’re still in your casual clothes, hair a little wind-tossed, lunch bag in hand—though let’s be real, it’s mostly dessert. You round the familiar hallway corner, smiling without thinking.

And then you see it.

There’s someone new standing beside Zayne’s desk, angled just enough to invade what should be neutral ground. You’ve never seen her before—probably an intern, maybe new staff—but what gets you isn’t her badge or the tablet in her hand. It’s the way she’s leaning in just a bit too close, blinking up at the screen like she’s never seen a rib cage in her life.

Zayne’s voice is even, professional, explaining some patient form or scan, pointing something out with his pen. But your eyes narrow immediately the moment her shoulder brushes against his.

From the way she’s deferring to him, she’s likely assigned to assist Greyson. Which raises the real question: where the hell is Greyson?

You don’t say anything. Not yet.

Instead, you stroll in like you belong—which you do—and round the desk casually, then lean in from the other side. Your arm wraps lazily around Zayne’s shoulders, lightly nudging the woman’s shoulder—which is barely there to begin with, your chin nearly brushing his temple.

“Do you always explain things this slowly,” you say, voice all sugar and silk, “or is she special?”

Zayne pauses—not startled, not flustered. He simply glances toward you, reading the humor beneath your tone. Then he exhales the faintest breath of a laugh.

“She was asking about patient chart formatting,” he says mildly. “I assumed she wanted the complete explanation.”

You raise a brow at him, just a touch dramatic. “You assumed wrong.”

The assistant stiffens. “Oh—I didn’t know you had a—”

“Girlfriend,” Zayne finishes, calm as anything—like it’s just another line in a report. “She brings me lunch.”

You can feel the ripple of awkwardness roll through the intern, and your smile only grows as you set the bag on his desk. “That’s right,” you say brightly. “I also pick him up sometimes. So he doesn’t get hit on by interns with no sense of personal space.”

The poor girl looks utterly mortified. “I—I just thought… um. He should eat first! I can ask Dr. Greyson later—sorry—”

And then she’s gone, heels clicking as she practically speed-walks toward the hallway.

You glance back at Zayne, who watches her leave with a perfectly neutral expression, then reaches for your hand.

“She was new,” he says after a beat. “I think this was her third day.”

“Mmm-hmm,” you murmur, leaning in to press an exaggerated kiss to his cheek, leaving a faint imprint of your gloss. “Be honest. You liked me jealous.”

His hand turns in yours, lacing your fingers together. “I like that you showed up.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Damn Greyson! Why is he eating lunch at that time?” you grumble, gesturing vaguely like your words could summon the man to defend himself.

Beside you, Zayne lets out a quiet chuckle, the kind that makes your chest warm. He doesn’t argue—though from the look on his face, he probably knows Greyson wasn’t even on break yet at the time. But because Serena adores Greyson and you’re currently on a blame-streak, Zayne lets it go. Probably even enjoying it.

His thumb grazing gently along your side. You glance over at him, narrowing your eyes. “You did like me jealous.”

He doesn’t deny it.

Instead, his lips press softly to the crown of your head, a quiet affection in the gesture. “You’re more expressive than I am,” he murmurs. “It was… reassuring.”

You snort. “You mean hot.”

“Also that.” His fingers trace a lazy circle against the curve of your stomach—

When both of you feel it. A sudden, firm kick.

You both still.

Zayne’s eyes go wide for half a second, a startled laugh escaping him before he glances at you, equal parts amazed and amused.

“They're definitely on your side,” you mutter, hand instinctively covering his like you’re both trying to catch the moment again.

He smiles, quieter now, thumb brushing just beneath your navel. “They got your timing.”

There’s a beat. A shared breath. Then he shifts, his voice going warm with that teasing clarity that always finds the softest spots.

“Well, what I was gonna say before… you get this look when you’re jealous. Composed, but pointed. Like you’re sharpening your words before you even speak.”

Your head lifts slowly, just enough to give him a look. “You find that hot?”

He meets your eyes, deadpan, not even a flicker of hesitation. “Decidedly.”

You groan, flopping your very pregnant self down onto the couch in what you intend to be a dramatic collapse, except… it’s more like a slow-motion descent. Your body is doing its best. “Ugh. I enable you.”

“You encourage me,” Zayne says smoothly.

“Same thing,” you mutter, slumped sideways now, rubbing a palm along your belly like you’re checking whose side the twins are still on.

He hums again, hands adjusting the cushion behind you. And then, like it just came to him. “Like that time with the nurse.”

You gasp. “Oh my god. The one with the laugh?”

Zayne shakes his head, mouth flattening. “She laughed at everything. Even when I told her someone coded last shift.”

You sit up again—well, technically you haven’t fully hit the cushions yet, so it’s not as hard as it could’ve been. But you do it with a triumphant kind of energy, grinning like it’s still fresh. “Okay, that one was definitely your fault. You were not leaving.”

“I was trying,” he says, completely sincere, “and being polite.”

“She touched your arm.”

He gives you a look, calm as ever. “I pulled back right away.”

You raise a brow, mimicking his deadpan tone. “You pulled back politely.”

His fingers slide up to brush under your chin, tilting your face toward his with ridiculous delicacy. “Would you have preferred impolite?”

And your brain suddenly time-warps. The smell of antiseptic. The low drone of machines. The memory hits fast—

You arrive at the hospital to pick Zayne up—technically early, but that is half the fun. His shift has an hour left, and sure, he hasn’t texted yet, but he won’t mind

You like talking to Yvonne while you wait anyway. She runs the front desk for the cardiology wing like it is her personal kingdom—knows every patient by name and every doctor’s bad habit. She spots you walking in and greets you with a wink. “He’s not out yet, but I bet you’ll lure him off the floor like usual.”

That’s the plan. Until you hear it.

Laughter. Not Yvonne’s signature cackle, and obviously you just passed her—not Greyson’s chaotic snort. No, this one is… breathy. Too polished. Too practiced.

You slow your pace, following the sound down the corridor, heels echoing soft clicks on the linoleum. The nurse’s laugh rings again, light and almost sing-song, followed by Zayne’s voice. Calm. Polite. Controlled, like always. He’s probably responding to whatever she said with a quiet nod or an actual answer, depending on how much patience he has left today.

You find them near the nurse’s station, bent over the same file. She stands too close—one manicured hand on the back of his chair, the other drumming polished nails against the counter like she couldn’t wait for an excuse to lean in again.

Your jaw twitches. But you smile.

Two more steps and you are there. No words, just a hand on Zayne’s shoulder, a slow kiss to his cheek—sweet, theatrical, and clearly. This seat’s taken.

“Can’t believe I have to share you with this whole building,” you murmur, voice dipped in velvet steel.

Your gaze slid to her. Brief. Pointed. Like a scalpel left out on the tray.

Zayne doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ll be off shift in an hour.”

You smile at him like he hangs the moon. “Make it thirty minutes.”

The nurse falters. “Oh—I… I should check the supply cart.”

Of course you should, you think.

She vanishes faster than she showed up, file in hand and laugh tucked away like it is never there.

You don’t even get the chance to figure out what is supposedly so hilarious in the paperwork.

Zayne glances up at you, expression unreadable as ever, but his hand finds yours under the desk. “I wasn’t laughing.”

“I noticed,” you say, your tone softer now as you squeeze his fingers. “But she was practically hanging off your stethoscope.”

He tilts his head like he’s about to argue, but just then, Yvonne calls from the receptionist's desk. “You chasing off nurses again, sweetheart?”

You turn toward her, unapologetic. “Just the persistent ones.”

She grins. “Might want to give Greyson a warning. One of the surgical interns has been asking if he’s single.”

Behind you, Zayne exhales a quiet sigh, and you feel him tug your hand a little closer.

“Make it twenty minutes,” you murmur—because honestly, you’re already more than halfway to dragging him out yourself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your voice is smug. “You liked that one too, didn’t you?”

Zayne exhales through a quiet laugh, his hand still tracing easy, lazy circles against your side. “I liked knowing you wanted me visibly.”

You bump his knee gently, playful. “You act so calm, but you eat it up.”

He tilts his head just slightly, eyes glinting. “It’s mutual, isn’t it?”

“…Maybe.” You say it like it’s not obvious—like you’re not halfway ready to start a fight over a giggle. Then you pause. Something clicks.

Your body shifts in his arms, careful but suddenly full of energy, and you sit up straighter, barely suppressing your grin. “Wait—wait. Oh my god, that reminds me.”

Zayne hums, patient, amused. “There’s too much, if we list them all tonight.”

“Not mine!” You jab a finger lightly at his chest. “Your moment. Like—okay. Remember when we were dating and you were always too polite to admit you were jealous? All that, ‘she’s allowed to have friends’ nonsense?”

“It wasn’t nonsense,” he says, dry as ever.

You wave that away like it's air. “But then the moment we got married? Subtlety? Gone. Evaporated. Poof. Like with that barista.”

Zayne goes still. And you know he remembers.

You do too.

The memory hits in color and taste. Warm light, the smell of croissants, and the hiss of milk steaming behind the counter—

It’s a lazy mid-morning on your day off—the kind that feels rare lately, with both of you back in rotation, juggling reports, late calls, and the unpredictability of your jobs.

But today clicks into place. No emergencies, no shift swaps. Just you, Zayne, and your favorite little café tucked between buildings like a secret.

The place is quiet at this hour, filled with the soft hiss of espresso machines and low conversation. The usual barista isn’t there, though. Instead, a new guy stands behind the counter, fresh-faced and clearly too eager. He straightens up the moment you step forward.

“Good morning,” he said, grinning wide. “What can I get for you?”

You give your usual order, tone polite but relaxed. Before you can even pull out your card, he’s already waving it off.

“On the house,” he says smoothly, eyes flicking to the name you’ve given. “For someone with such a lovely name.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, um… thanks?”

He leaned slightly over the counter. “Do you come here often?”

And that’s when you feel it—the familiar presence at your side, quiet but solid. Zayne steps up beside you, the move casual but practiced, like his body knows exactly where to be. One arm slid around your waist, anchoring you against him in a way that didn’t look aggressive but definitely sent a message.

“We’re married,” he said, voice even. “And we’d like to eat before the lunchtime passes.. Please get our order ready.”

No inflection. No visible emotion. But somehow, it had the same weight as a slammed door.

The barista blinked, his confidence faltering. “R-right. Uh, coming right up.”

Zayne didn’t look away until the guy turned to prep your drinks. Only then does he guide you toward your favorite spot by the window, his hand still resting on your back.

You sit down, trying to suppress the laugh that’s already building. The second the croissant touches your lips, it slips out anyway.

“Someone’s jealous,” you teased, nudging his knee under the table.

Zayne doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re my wife. It’s my right.”

You nearly choke. You stare at him, stunned, then snort-laugh with half a croissant still in your mouth. “Oh my god—Zayne.”

He lifts his cup, sipping without so much as a flicker of amusement. “I was polite.”

You are grinning despite yourself. “You were terrifying.”

He arches an eyebrow, finally meeting your gaze. “He was about to pay for you.”

“Which I didn’t even ask for.”

Zayne doesn’t respond, but the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth betrays him. Just a little.

You reach across the table, brushing your fingers over his. “You know you don’t have to get territorial, right?” And wiggling your finger that clearly has your wedding ring on.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I want to.”

That made you pause.

There was something almost reverent in his tone—not possessive in the shallow sense, but protective in a way that made your chest ache a little. Like he was always just waiting for the chance to stake his quiet claim.

You squeezed his hand. “You’re lucky I like it.”

He gives you a look that says that’s another reason why he did it. He laces his fingers through yours, as if he never planned on letting go.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re laughing into his shoulder again, your voice muffled and warm against the fabric of his shirt. “You really said that. Zero hesitation.”

Zayne doesn’t even pretend to deny it. He just shrugs, utterly composed. “We are married.”

You pull back enough to look at him, amusement still bubbling under your breath. “Oh, so now it’s legalized jealousy?”

“I call it efficient communication.”

You snort, threading your fingers through his, letting your thumb trace absent circles over his knuckles. His hand is cool, like always, but familiar. Grounding. “You used to pretend you didn’t care.”

He shifts, just enough to tilt his head your way, lips curving ever so faintly. “I still don’t,” he says smoothly. “Unless I do.”

You give him a flat look, stifling a snort. “That’s not a real sentence.”

“It is if you understand me.”

And the worst part is—you do.

You sigh, letting your head fall lightly against his shoulder again. “You’re so smug with your logic.”

“I’m consistent.”

“That’s the same thing,” you grumble.

His fingers tighten gently around yours, silent in his agreement.

You nudge his leg, casual and easy, but your grin is sly now. “Well, since we’re already deep in the jealousy chronicles, might as well air everything, right?”

Zayne lifts a brow, just slightly. “Yours or mine?”

You tap your chin with mock thoughtfulness. “Yours, of course.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his grip on your hand shifts just slightly—like he already knows which story you’re about to bring up.

And he’s bracing for it—

It’s some formal alumni gathering—an evening reception at a rented hall near your old high school, complete with dim lighting, hors d'oeuvres, and a lot of people pretending not to be comparing paychecks and hairlines.

Rose and Caleb guilt-trip you into going, insisting it’ll be fun, a reunion, just a quick drop-in before dinner. Of course, they disappear into the crowd the second you arrive, catching up with old teammates and classmates like they’d never left.

You wouldn't be here at all if Zayne weren’t with you right now. He doesn’t know anyone here except the three of you, but he shows up in a tailored black suit and lets you lead the way in, no complaints. Just quiet presence, fingers brushing the small of your back as you moved through the crowd.

You’re not even halfway through the evening when you run into him.

That classmate—the one who used to flirt with you in that annoying way that always bordered on too much. He hadn’t changed. Same cocky smile, same over-familiar tone, like the years since high school were just a brief intermission. He spots you across the room and makes a beeline over, arms already open before you can brace for it.

His hug lasted a second too long. The kind that wasn’t exactly inappropriate, but lingered. Like he thought he still had some unspoken claim.

And when he pulled back, his eyes did a slow sweep down your dress with a grin that said he liked what he saw—and he didn’t care how obvious he was being about it.

“Wow,” he said, all teeth. “You look amazing. Didn’t think I’d get lucky running into you tonight.”

Zayne is at your side the whole time, calm and unreadable. You introduce them, a little stiffly. The classmate offered his hand, and Zayne took it without hesitation, his grip polite, firm. Nothing dramatic. No cold stare. Just the picture of poised indifference.

But partway through the guy’s rambling attempt at flirtation disguised as nostalgia, Zayne’s hand finds yours. Effortless. Natural. His fingers laced through yours, warm and steady, like he’d been planning it all evening.

And then, without breaking eye contact with the guy, his thumb started brushing slowly across the surface of your wedding ring—over and over, like he was rediscovering the shine, polishing it just so.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to.

The guy keeps talking a little longer, but there is a shift. His smile dims a shade, that false confidence faltering. And eventually—finally—he made some excuse about needing another drink and walked off with a tighter jaw than before.

Zayne’s expression doesn’t change. He just stands there for a moment, looking in the direction the guy disappeared.

Then, quiet as ever, he murmured, “Interesting choice of cologne.”

You glanced up at him, trying not to smile.

“Pity about the attitude,” he added, like it was an afterthought. Like he was reviewing wine.

You snorted. “Zayne.”

“He was being presumptuous.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t need to.”

You kissed him later that night. Half-laughing, half-pressed-up-against-the-door, telling him how annoyingly hot he was when he got like that. The way he didn’t need to raise his voice to make a point. The way his thumb moved over your ring like he could remind the world it existed without ever having to say the words.

He only said, “I know,” before kissing you again—slow, deep, deliberate.

And the thing was, he did know.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sigh with dramatic satisfaction as you sink deeper into his chest. “What a night.”

Zayne raises an eyebrow without turning his head. “The reunion?”

You tug gently at his cheek, just enough to make him glance down at you. “You know I’m talking about after the reunion. The reunion itself was… fine. Would’ve been better if we hadn’t run into that guy, but hey—the ending? Flawless.”

You wink at him. His mouth doesn’t curve, but his arm shifts around your waist, pulling you just a little closer—like a quiet confirmation that, yes, he remembers exactly how the night ended too.

“Marriage definitely has its advantages,” he says, voice low, almost amused. He lifts your hand with ease and presses a kiss to your knuckles, then to the band on your ring finger. Slow. Purposeful. Like he’s sealing something.

Heat flickers up your neck—ridiculous, really, considering how long you’ve been together. But when he acts like this, all calm devotion wrapped in subtle possessiveness? Yeah, it still does things to you.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumble, which only earns you a second kiss against your palm to your fingers, as if to say he knows.

Which reminds you—another story, another memory you’re still not over. “And ohhh, remember that nurse?”

Zayne’s brows pinch slightly, thoughtful. “Which one?”

“There’s too many nurses,” you snort, already laughing. You’re about to tease him for being smug when another memory slips in—uninvited, but impossible to forget.

You remember white coats, antiseptic lighting, and a nurse with a clipboard and too much charm—

You tell yourself you’re just dropping by the hospital. Totally normal thing to do. Casual, innocent. Maybe you even threw in a “since I’m already in the area” excuse just to make yourself feel more justified. Not that anyone was buying it—including yourself. But hey, you missed him. Sue you. He’s your husband. You’re allowed to.

Zayne texts that he’s finishing up a case and will meet you in a few minutes, so you linger near the nurses’ station, catching up with Yvonne until she’s paged away.

Left to your own devices, you lean against the counter, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. A few familiar faces pass by, waving or stopping to say hi. At this point, you’re basically a regular—if not by role, then by reputation. Everyone in the cardiology wing knows exactly who you are.

Which is probably why it catches you a little off guard when a nurse you don’t recognize sidles up beside you, clipboard tucked to her chest and a mischievous spark in her eye.

She gives you a once-over—not unfriendly, just… curious. Measuring. “You must be Mrs. Doctor Li,” she says, with the kind of grin that suggests she’s been waiting to use that line.

You blink, smiling politely. “That’s me.”

She sighs dramatically. “Well, now I’m jealous. Visiting your husband again? You sure you don’t wanna switch places for the day?” Her tone is playful, but there’s a tilt to her voice, a nudge to the clipboard, that gives it a little edge. Half-joking, half… not.

You open your mouth to offer some equally light reply, maybe something about how he didn’t do the dishes this morning, so really she’s dodging a bullet—but you don’t get the chance.

Zayne’s presence slides into the scene without warning. He appears at your side with the kind of quiet precision that makes you wonder just how long he’s been standing there. No irritation on his face. No tension in his posture. Just calm, composed Zayne, standing like he’d always been there.

“There’s only one Mrs. Li,” he says, voice smooth and steady. Not sharp. Not cold. Just final.

Then, after a deliberate pause, he added, “No substitutions accepted.”

The nurse’s laugh comes a second too late. “Right, right. Just teasing,” she says as she politely excuses herself.

Zayne didn’t acknowledge that part. His gaze had already shifted fully to you, and though his expression barely changed, there was a slight lift at the corner of his mouth—barely noticeable to anyone else, but you caught it immediately.

You bit back your grin, elbowing him lightly. “Smooth.”

He tilted his head slightly, brushing his knuckles against your back like it was just another ordinary motion. “I’m married,” he said again, quieter this time.

Like it explained everything.

And the thing was—it did. Your stomach did a ridiculous little flip. God, he was good at this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why are you so popular?” you complain, settling into the couch with a dramatic flop that your current state of pregnancy doesn’t fully allow. This time, Zayne actually helps you lay down slowly, so you successfully lay down.

After that, he’s right back again, still leaning toward you, currently rubbing slow circles into your lower back, glancing down at you with a patient look.

“Actually, don’t answer that,” you add before he can say anything, waving a hand in the air. “Of course my husband’s popular. But.” You let out a long, theatrical sigh. “It’s hard work out here. I’m trying, okay? Being subtle.”

Zayne shifts a little, adjusting the throw blanket over your lap. “You,” he says evenly, “and subtle is not really…”

He tilts his head slightly, searching for the right word, then settles on a diplomatic. “Correct.”

You gasp, swatting weakly at his chest. “Hey! I can be subtle. I’ve done subtle.”

The way he looks at you makes it clear he’s flipping through his internal memory log and finding no evidence to support your claim.

You squint at him. “I have! I think having Serena definitely helped increasing my subtlety.”

Zayne’s hand stills against your back. He gives you a very specific look. A knowing look. One that makes you narrow your eyes right back.

“What?” you say, suspicious.

“The hospital event,” he says, voice smooth. “Not long after Serena was born.”

You blink. “Ah…” you murmur, sinking further into the cushions as the memory catches up—

It’s supposed to be one of those harmless little holiday things—string lights hung too high for anyone to fix properly, half-hearted holiday music looping from a speaker no one could find, and tables covered in everything from fruitcake to suspiciously undercooked mini quiches. The pediatric wing outdoes itself in decorations, and someone even sticks paper antlers on the automatic doors.

You arrive with Serena balanced comfortably on your hip, her winter hat already sliding sideways. Zayne’s fingers lace with yours, his free hand tugging the tiny hat back into place with the same quiet precision he uses for stitching incisions. You’re not technically invited, but no one ever questions you showing up anymore—not when most of the cardiology staff knows Serena by name and you by association.

It’s cozy. Festive. Fine.

Until it isn’t.

She’s young. Polished. One of the newer nurses you haven’t seen before. The kind who probably brings her own hand-poured coffee in every morning and keeps pens organized by color. She drifts over just as Zayne finishes recounting how Serena discovers snow for the first time—specifically by licking a half-buried garden light.

“Oh my God,” she laughs, lightly tapping his arm like she’s known him forever. “You’re such a natural. I mean—look at her.”

You stiffen, just slightly. Zayne, as always, remains composed. Serena stares back at the nurse with the unimpressed expression of a child who’s recently tried to eat a pinecone and been stopped.

The nurse crouches, eyes on Serena, her voice taking on that high-pitched baby-talk edge. “You’re such a daddy’s girl, aren’t you?”

Your smile is immediate. Controlled. Just a little too sharp around the edges. “She is,” you say, your tone smooth as silk.

Then, sweetly—just a beat too slow—

“Just like I am.”

The pause hits like a dropped ornament.

Zayne doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. His fingers tighten around yours—not harsh, not even particularly firm. Just a subtle squeeze. A silent, not here. Not in front of the inflatable Santa.

The nurse blinks. Straightens. Her smile doesn’t falter, but the light behind it dims a notch. “Right,” she says with a laugh, already half-stepping away. “Well—happy Holidays!”

Zayne offers a polite nod.

You watch her walk off with a sip of your lukewarm cocoa, pretending you didn’t just drop a bomb in front of the holiday trees.

Zayne leans in, brushing a kiss to Serena’s temple. Then, quietly, near your ear. “You’re subtle like a sledgehammer.”

You hum. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That is subtle.”

He gives a small chuckle, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Subtle or not, you do have a way of clearing a room.”

You tilt your head slightly, just enough to catch his eyes. “And yet you’re always the one standing next to me when the dust settles.”

There’s a flicker in his expression—barely a breath of a smile, but unmistakably fond. His hand finds your back again, calm and warm.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I mean—that was subtle!” you insist, gesturing dramatically like you’re presenting undeniable evidence.

Zayne’s gaze drifts to you with that same unreadable calm, one brow ticking upward—just enough to make his opinion known without a word. The exact same look he gets when you insist that cookies count as a balanced breakfast.

You narrow your eyes at him, already seeing through his silence. “Don’t give me that face.”

His lips press together in that polite, I’m not saying anything expression, which only makes you groan.

“She deserved it!” you declare, throwing your hands up.

“I didn’t say she didn’t,” he replies smoothly, not missing a beat.

“Exactly!” You jab a finger at him, triumphant. “Just like that preschool teacher!”

That earns you a faint flicker of amusement in his eyes—subtle, but you catch it. "Now that you mention it, the one before is definitely subtle."

Just like you both remember it—

It happens the first week of Serena’s new preschool.

Zayne has been picking up Serena for the whole week. He’s been getting night shifts, and he says he likes being the one she sees first when class lets out, as long as he can for now.

You haven’t argued—why would you? Seeing your husband so excited is very cute. So today, you tagged along, half for the company, half to see for yourself where your daughter’s been spending her days.

The building itself is warm and cheerful, the kind of place with sunlight filtering through paper cutout leaves and tiny rain boots lined up like soldiers beneath name-tagged cubbies. You find Serena’s cubby easily—her name spelled in glitter glue above what looks like a drawing of a rabbit. Or a potato. Possibly both.

Then the teacher approaches.

Young. Bright-eyed. The kind of person who always sounds like she’s narrating a children’s book. Which is probably good for preschool, but you’ve been in a mood lately, so you try to rein it in. Try.

“Oh! You must be Serena’s parents,” she chirps, clasping her hands in front of her chest like she’s been waiting all day to greet you. “She’s an absolute sweetheart—so independent! And Dr. Li, we just love when you stop by. It’s so refreshing to see a dad who’s so involved.”

Your smile curls automatically. “He’s very involved.”

She giggles, like that’s the best news she’s heard all week. “You’d be surprised how rare that is. He even helped her get her shoes on last time! I thought that was just the cutest—”

You tilt your head, letting your smile widen by a millimeter. Just enough to shift the air between you.

“Yes,” you say, syrup-thick. “He’s the best. Hands-on dad, great cook, folds laundry without being asked. Fantastic memory. Always remembers everything.”

The teacher blinks, her expression still sunny—but maybe a little confused by the turn of the conversation.

“And,” you add, voice still as warm as a cup of freshly brewed tea, “he’s mine.”

You let that hang a beat before tacking on, casually.

“Want me to say it slower?”

The smile on her face doesn’t quite reach her eyes anymore. You can see her trying to figure out whether you’re joking—and more importantly, whether it’s safe to laugh.

Zayne clears his throat beside you. “I’ll just… get Serena’s bag.”

And off he goes, calm as ever, not even pretending to hurry.

You watch him go with the slow, deliberate blink of a woman who knows exactly what she just did—and would do it again without hesitation.

The teacher stands there, fingers twisting slightly in the hem of her cardigan. “He’s, um. Very lucky.”

You nod, voice breezy. “He is.”

She moves on—quickly.

And that’s the end of that.

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“I know when someone’s being nice and when they’re being flirty, alright!”

“Yes, darling.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you making fun of me right now?”

Zayne raises both hands in a show of innocence, his voice all polite calm as usual. “Me? Making fun my pregnant wife? That’s just harsh.”

You shove him lightly with a scoff, which really only makes him lean into it more. When you push yourself up from the couch, it’s slow going—your hand pressing to the small of your back, a little grunt escaping before you can stop it.

Zayne’s hand is already there to steady you. Of course it is.

You swat him off with a fussy flick of your wrist. “I’m fine.”

“I never said you weren’t.”

“I want to sleep,” you grumble, shuffling toward the hallway. “You can leave your pregnant wife alone.”

Behind you, you hear the slight panic in his voice. “Love—”

You turn around, walking backward now with one hand cradling your belly. “Don’t ‘love’ me. You’re popular. Go flirt with someone else.”

His lips twitches—just slightly. “You started this.”

“Oh, please. You got weirdly quiet about that nurse.”

“I was being polite,” he says smoothly. “And strategic. Unlike some people, I don’t threaten strangers in front of the holiday trees.”

You stop your walk and narrow your eyes at him.

Slowly he says, “I mean… I should’ve told them first.”

You huff, “Don’t patronize me!”

Zayne’s mouth opens and closes, like he’s trying to think of a way to reply to his very pregnant, very hormonal wife. You just cross your arms waiting for his reply.

Then finally he settles with. “I’m not patronizing. I’m… negotiating.”

“With who?” Raising your eyebrow at him.

He gestures vaguely between you. “The situation.”

You snort. “Oh, so now I’m a situation?”

“You’re always a situation.”

“You take that back.” You gape at him, half-offended, half-delighted.

He leans in a little. “Make me.”

Your mouth opens again—primed for another dramatic comeback—but instead you let out a laugh that bubbles up before you can stop it. You hate that he’s funny when you’re trying to be serious. You love that he’s funny when you’re trying to be serious.

“Ugh,” you mutter, defeated, and turn to waddle away again. “I should make you go sleep with that inflatable Santa.”

Zayne catches your wrist gently before you can get too far, and this time he doesn’t say anything right away. Just pulls you in with that quiet, careful steadiness of his until your foreheads bump softly together.

His voice is low when it comes. “You know it’s only ever you, right?”

You try—really try—not to melt at that. You fail.

You stare at him, unblinking. “That’s cheating. You can’t just go soft and sweet after arguing your case.”

Zayne’s mouth curves—barely. “I thought you liked it when I went soft and sweet.”

You squint. “Not when it makes me lose.”

He hums, the sound low and amused as he brushes his thumb lightly along your wrist. “You never lose.”

You open your mouth. Pause. Then close it again with a huff because… yeah, okay. That was good. And unfair.

Closing your eyes for a second. Just a second. you finally murmur, “And yeah,” softer now. “I know, it’s the same for me—you’re the only one, too. Then and now.”

He leans in, brushing a kiss just under your brow, the barest hint of a smile in his voice when he says, “Even when you’re being ridiculous.”

You sigh dramatically. “That’s your favorite version of me.”

“It’s the only one I get.”

You try not to smile. Fail again. With a long-suffering sigh that doesn't quite hide your fondness, you mutter, “You’re lucky I’m too much in a need of cuddles to make you sleep on the couch.”

“My wife does say I give best cuddles,” he murmurs, presses a kiss to your temple again—soft and steady, like the kind of promise that doesn't need to be spoken out loud.

You lean into it without meaning to. Maybe you’re a little tired. Maybe you're just too in love to keep pretending you're mad.

“…Fine,” you mutter. “You can come to bed.”

“Thank you for your mercy.”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

He doesn’t. He just smiles—barely there, but warm—and shifts his hand to your back again, that familiar pressure you’ve come to depend on more than you’d ever admit out loud.

And so you let him guide you, quiet and close, down the hallway and into the hush of your shared space. Feet aching. Belly heavy. Heart annoyingly full.

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Notes

My stubborn ass make me finish this today even though I should be sleeping, so if there's any typo excuses me and please point it out 😵💕 Also this is way shorter I suppose, I mean in term of snippet it feel shorter, or that might just be me ;-; Anyway! Hope y'all enjoy! Let me know actually, this is also a new angle...