#* ⁄ my body is my temple : my body is my fortress : my body is just a shell –––– headcanon .

[buckysfaveplum]

leave me alone, bitch i wanna have fun

summary: when Clark needs to get his cousin out of trouble he meets you, Kara’s friend who may be just as crazy as her

pairing: clark kent x metahuman!female reader

word count: 6k

warnings: smut MDNI 18++, fem!reader, fingering, sexy times in a cockpit?, hair pulling, dry humping, clark finishes in the suit, desperate and flustered clark, canon level violence, if Clark is a lil underpowered here its cus they're all on a red sun planet *images are for vibes, they in no way reflect the reader's physical appearance*

a/n: okie so this was the second voted in the poll, I know yall want that sex pollen pic but I need to warm up to that. here's my first time writing smut so enjoy this?? also I'm obsessed with reader calling clark 'starboy' so that's here to stay

now playing: Leave Me Alone by Renee Rapp

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He was going to kill his cousin.

He managed to track her coordinates to a dingy nightclub on a red sun planet not far from Earth, well, if you consider another solar system “not far”. 

The club was buried deep into the seedier parts of the city, full of raging music and various activities Clark had never even considered dabbling in. His body stayed pressed along the darker half of the back alley, his moves stealth and sleek as he tried to consider his options. The place wasn’t exactly Smallville, Kansas. Sure, he could barge in no problem, make a scene, and pull Kara out. But he still didn’t know what her message meant, or the possible abilities of the inhabitants of the planet; if this was serious, he had to consider the best course of action.

He stalled for a moment by the back door. The neon lights of the streets faded, leaving him in a cool black that dulled the vibrant colors of his suit. He had always wondered what drove Kara to this kind of lifestyle; perhaps he didn’t know his cousin as well as he thought. As long as he could remember, she’d been bouncing from planet to planet, getting wasted and wreaking havoc wherever she went. The only consistent thing he could count on with Kara was that Krypto would always somehow end up in his care, and that she’d always bring some new chaos into his life.

snd help, 2 drunk

The message had flashed across Clark’s screen for a good 30 minutes before he was able to track her down. He wasn’t sure if he was more confused by its meaning or the fact that Kara was able to figure out how to send texts to his fortress while drunk.

He shook the thoughts from his head, ready to bust into the building when he felt the angry tug on the back of his cape. He stumbled back, not from strength or fear, but confusion and surprise. When he regained his balance, he turned to see you.

“No fucking way.”

You stood at the edge of the building, a fistful of his cape hanging in your hand as the colorful lights from the street spilled out and down the alley, illuminating your figure. 

“She did not call her cousin,” you said. Clark’s brows furrowed, confused as he took you in. 

Your face was stern and somewhat abrasive, yet there was a soft spunk he couldn’t help but fall into. The black makeup on your lashes blurred slightly, reminding him of Kara’s many drunken appearances. Your eyes glowed a soft white, helping them break up the opaque darkness of the alley. It was unusual but alluring.

“I’m sorry, miss, do you need help?” he asked, gently taking his cape from your hands. You raised your brows at the name, leaning against the wall with a smirk.

“Oh wow, you’re just as polite as she says,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s cute.”

He couldn’t hide the blush that spread across his cheekbones and up his temples. His hands fidgeted at his side, glancing down to give himself a chance to reel his nerves in. He couldn’t decide if you were a threat or not, but your mention of Kara led him to believe you were safe.

“So… you’re Ka-el?” you asked, your eyes roaming over his frame. 

“No, no…” he debated giving you his name, but given your relation to his cousin, there was a high likelihood she’d already told you all his secrets in a drunken state. “I’m—”

“I know, I know, you’re ‘Clark Kent, ’” you said with a soft roll of the eyes. He ducked his head, averting your gaze. The strong glow of your eyes burned through him, leaving him weak in the knees. Did you have some powers he wasn’t aware of? He’d never felt this way.

“You look ridiculous, what is with your family and these suits?” you asked, stepping forward and poking at his side and the bright yellow belt. He went to stutter, a response dying on his tongue. You couldn’t help but bite your lip. As annoyed as you were with his presence, you couldn’t deny he was gorgeous. “You stick out like crazy. Are you trying to get killed?”

“Well, I—” he started, but you pushed past him.

“Listen, whatever you think you’re here to do, it’s not needed,” you said. Clark watched as your hands moved with passion, the words falling from your lips with a slick layer of sass. “I can handle this just fine, starboy.”

You move past him, your body briefly brushing against his. Perhaps you were feeling flirty, or maybe it really was him, but you definitely swayed your hips into him as you moved. Before you could get too far, his large hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back, probably a bit too eagerly. You spun back, stumbling a bit and catching your fall on his chest. A slew of mumbled and shy apologies slipped from his lips as he let you go. 

“Look, she asked me to come, what’s going on?” he asked, leaning in as his voice lowered. 

Your eyes rolled once again, something Clark couldn’t seem to understand why he found so enthralling. His eyes fell lower, taking in your appearance. Your clothes were little to say the least, maybe that’s what he should have expected when he came to an intergalactic night club. You wore a green dress, shiny and made of a stiff plastic-like material. Most of the sides were cut out, showing your soft skin underneath. He tried to ignore the strong urge to skim his hands over the exposed areas where the fabric left you vulnerable. The skirt was short, met just below the hem with tall boots. He didn’t miss the belt slug on your hips with gadgets he couldn’t begin to understand; the strap over the boots on your thigh held a gun as well. He knew he should stop staring; it wasn’t polite, and his Ma would’ve scolded him if she were there. But something about the way you brushed against him and moved your hips made him wonder if you wanted him to look.

A frustrated sigh fell from your lips, snapping his attention back to you. 

“We were just having fun, you know, drinks are cheap on Mors…I mean, the people are a little crazy but…” You stumbled on your words, your eyes squinting and face scrunching as you tried to recount the events of the night. Something about his commanding yet sweet demeanor left you feeling immature as you told on yourself. His towering stature didn’t exactly help. “...Kara wanted more drink credits, we were out, and she thought it would be easy to hustle some locals.”

Clark threw his head back with an exhausted sigh. Of course, his cousin would pick the planet with not-so-hospitable people and decide to swindle them. 

“They figured out what she was doing… 10 credits in,” you said, sheepishly shrugging as you spoke, fidgeting with the blaster strapped to your thigh. “They roughed her up a bit and took her to the back. She’s too drunk to even know what’s going on…they threw me out.”

His arms rested crossed over his chest, looking down at you as he processed the situation. This wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend the evening. But looking at the face you gave him, he had a feeling you really would appreciate the help— you just weren’t the type to admit it.

“Okay, we can get her out,” he said, stepping closer. “Without making it worse.”

He didn’t miss the smirk on your face at his words.

ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

You picked the lock, slipping in through the small back door. You did your best to wedge the Kryptonian in behind you, helping him duck his 6’4” frame through the narrow walkway. The music in the club blared out through speakers, shaking the walls and Clark’s ears. It was times like these he wished he didn’t have advanced hearing. To say he was out of his element would be an understatement. The tall man weaved through the crowd, trying his best to follow you while not attracting too much attention. If the primary colored suit wasn’t doing it, his bashful demeanor did. 

Through the moving crowd of bodies, he watched as you led. Despite the situation, you continued to sway to the music; your hips dipped and your back arched as you moved to the rhythm. Clark gnawed at the inside of his cheek, doing his best to remain polite and keep his gaze up. 

He tried his best to follow, but he couldn’t exactly keep up. Your constant dancing helped you weave through the crowd; as one person swayed left, you dipped right, gliding through the masses like water. He couldn’t say the same for himself as he slowly nudged his way through with the occasional ‘pardon’ or ‘excuse me’. By the time he finally reached the back of the club, you weren’t there. 

He spotted you at the edge of the bar, trying to grab a shot with some of the locals who hadn’t yet recognized you. As inconspicuously as he could, he strode over to you. His hand wrapped around your arm, leaning over you and taking the shot from your hand, and placing it on the counter.

“Really?” he said, as he gently dragged you to the back.

“Oh, come on, I haven’t had a drink in like 2 hours….it would help loosen me up,” you said, your eyes raking over him in a deliberately noticeable fashion. “You could use one too.”

You looked up at him, your eyes doe-like. Clark could feel his heart pounding against his chest as he watched you. Maybe it was the red sun, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was being taunted around you. Like his body was begging him to acknowledge you.

“Let’s just get Kara and go,” he said.

ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

You led him to the back door that you had watched the group take Kara to. You were unsure of how many there were, maybe three men and two women? It was no situation Kara couldn’t handle on her own, sober that is. When intoxicated, the woman had a habit of finding fun in dangerous situations.

You crouched by the door, the dark area of the back hiding you from any attention. You felt Clark’s large form behind you, squatting but still leering over you. Despite his attempt to make himself smaller, he still engulfed you. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the soft puffs of air from his nose on your hair.

“Oh, wanna get a little closer?” you asked, tilting your head up to him. You smirked, catching that returning blush as you focused back on the door. “What now?”

Clark’s eyes narrowed, that familiar greenish hue washing over his sight as his x-ray vision activated. Through the door, he could see Kara. His cousin sat on the floor in the center of the room with thick sheet metal bent around her, keeping her restrained. Two men stood in her face and shouted while the other man and two women waited along the wall, their hands on blasters similar to mine. Despite everything, Kara still snickered and laughed as the men shouted. Figures.

“There are five of them, but she’s in there,” he said, turning to meet your eyes.

“Are they armed?” you asked. Clark nodded, looking back at the door. Your hand moved for the blaster on your thigh. “Great.”

Before you could pull it, Clark’s calloused hand stopped you, resting overtop of yours. You stared at the sight, his hand dwarfing yours, so much so that his fingers brushed along your exposed thigh. You bit your lip, looking to meet his eyes. 

“No weapons, we won’t need them,” he said. You scoffed, slowly pulling your hand back.

“You really like to take the fun outta this, huh?” you asked.

Clark didn’t respond, instead leaning over you to the lock at the door. You watched as his large hand snapped the locked handle with ease. He was up before you could realize the effect his strength had on you.

Clark didn’t respond, instead leaning over you to the lock at the door. You watched as his large hand snapped the locked handle with ease. He was up before you could realize the effect his strength had on you.

The door slammed open, busting off the seams, and Clark pushed his way through the door. The men stormed him, immediately trying to hold him back. They were on the floor in seconds as Clark barely had to lift a finger to keep them off. If you weren’t so focused on getting your friend out, it would be amusing— maybe even hot. 

You raced past the two women, driving under the chaos to reach Kara. When one grabbed your leg and yanked you to the ground, you pulled your blaster quickly. With brute force, you swung the weapon and smacked the woman on the head, sending her flying off you. You pulled yourself up quickly, dusting off your dress. You could free Clark’s eyes on you; when you looked, he had an exasperated expression that bore into you.

“What?” you asked, strapping the blaster back to your leg. “I didn’t fire it.”

You raced to Kara, trying to get her to focus. You could hear her commentary from the side throughout the fight. She wouldn’t stop her little quips, even as you attempted to pull the metal off of her.

“Dude, they were sooo stupid,” she said, her voice dramatically slurred. You tried to ignore her as you pulled at the sheet metal. 

“Can’t you just break out of this?” you asked in frustration.

“Yeah, but this was fun,” you tried not to snap, biting your cheek to stay cool. 

You could feel Clark looming behind you. Without a word, he gently moved you back, taking hold of the metal and effortlessly unwrapping your friend. Once freed, she looked around to see the group that had attacked her all laid out on the ground. She fell back, kicking her legs and giggling.

“Oh, what a night!” she said.

“Kara, what the hell? You called your cousin?” You asked, standing back up and leaning over her. “I had this handled.”

“Please, you totally didn’t,” she said, dragging out her words. Your anger took over, your fists clenched as you walked away, leaving Clark to handle her. You lingered by the door, watching as he attempted to throw her over his shoulder, despite her poking and kicking.

You led the group out, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Clark stayed close behind as you moved. Your spacecraft was parked just a few minutes' walk away from the club. Once out, you couldn’t wait to get them home and out of your hair for the night.

Halfway through the club, you heard the shouting—the buzz of the club silenced by the threat that hung in the air. Clark’salready moving to shield you by the time you’re surrounded. With the full force of the night club now turned on you, the smell of cheap intergalactic booze and the foreshadowing of bloodshed turn your blood cold. You have got to stop letting Kara plan the night out.

One of the men rushes you, but Clark turns to block you; however, you slip from under his arm before he can stop you. It takes him back just how quickly you disarm and knock the wind from the man. As soon as the fight starts, you finish it before taking on another opponent. 

“Get her to the craft, I got this!” you shout, ducking your head before jamming your elbow into another patron. Clark’sfeet stutter, pushing his way through people, all the while struggling to keep his cousin in place as she cackles at the scene.

“No, I’m not—” he starts.

“I’ll be right behind you, go!”

Against his better judgment, something gnawing away at him tells him to trust you. He’s moving for the exit, pushing and kicking his way through. He can hear your grunts and cursing just behind him, biting his lip to keep from turning to watch. By the time he reaches the door, he gives in, turning to see you aren’t behind him. Something new bubbles inside him, a protectiveness he didn’t expect to feel for this woman he just met by the dumpster of a seedy alien club. 

You’re up on the bar, smashing through masses of arms that attempt to detain you. He’s unsure where you got a metal pipe from, but he’s not opposed as he watches you slash your way out. The music continues to spill out of the speakers, lighting the scene ablaze. 

“This is NOT how I wanted this night to go!” he heard you shout, sending a hard kick into the chest of the bartender. Clark couldn’t help the wince he let out at the sight of the man flying back into the bottles and cups.

Outside the building, he tucks Kara into a dark corner, shielded from the fight. It was times like these that he resented her childishness. He drops her off with a firm ‘stay put, to which she flips him off before settling into her spot. 

He’s back into the fray before you even noticed he was gone. Having cleared a path out, he races to get you.

“Hey! Let’s go!” he shouts, fending off the few patrons that come his way. 

With a smirk, you swing your pipe hard into the man coming up behind you, letting it fall from your grip with him. You turn back to Clark, motioning for him to cover his ears. The smile on your face grows at his confused look. Reluctantly, his hands move to shield his ears.

The room shook, the vibrations of your screaming echoing off the walls and piercing through the music. It was visceral and seared through the clubbers, causing men to drop to their knees in pain. Through the scene, Clark could see you. Your hands gripped the edge of the bar as your face scrunched up in the act. Your eyes were blown wide, the white glow he’d found himself falling into earlier now taking over and radiating with the high-pitched screech you released. The mirrored walls and decor along the room cracked, shards of glass flying from their fixed place and spilling out along the floor. It was captivating watching you, the way you so easily rendered the room powerless.

By the time you were done, the fight was over. Those who had tried to detain you were now on the floor, pawing at their ears to try to get a bearing on their surroundings. Slowly lowering his hands, Clark looked up at you as you rose from your knees. Maybe you didn’t need his help after all.

You raced down the bar, jumping over hands that tried to pull you back. You jump from the high top, landing in the arms of the Kryptonian you’d only briefly become acquainted with. His hands didn’t waver in their grip as they held you, tucking you under his arm as he slipped out the back where he came. He didn’t miss the way you cursed the bar on the way out.

ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

The ride back to Earth was silent for the most part. Once you’d reached your ship, Kara crashed in the back. The night of violence and liquor finally took over, rendering the terror that brought this mess to you silent. The wheel of the craft was tight in your grasp, your hands clenching and unclenching as you steered the group home. 

Clark sat beside you, his large frame barely fitting inside the small passenger seat. Music spilled out from his phone, filling the silence with some hyperpop playlist he didn’t know. As soon as you settled, you pulled Kara’s phone from her bag, playing something to lower the mood and keep you from tweaking out on the group. Soft plush keychains dangled from the wheel, bouncing off each other as you steered.

It wasn’t the first time Kara went too far, making a situation go from reckless fun to straight-up havoc. You didn’t even get to feel a buzz before she started her schemes. It was exhausting and frankly inconsiderate. But what could you say? She was your best friend. You had her back, even if it meant working with her annoyingly polite and insanely hot cousin.

Wait, no, you didn’t say that.

Clark’s eyes lingered on you as you flew the ship. The curve of your lips and bob of your head as you mumbled along to the electronic tunes. His eyes drifted to where one knee was hugged to your chest, your foot resting on the seat. He pushed his thoughts about how unsafe the position seemed in favor of glancing at how your skirt rose along your thigh. The high blush on his cheek reprimanded him, averting his gaze in favor of returning to your face. That was his favorite sight, anyway.

“So, why didn’t you do that earlier?” Clark asked. He didn’t have to say it; you knew he meant your powers.

“I just wanted the night to stay calm…for once,” you said, biting your lip. “I honestly didn’t think it would get that far. That I would have to.”

You turned to glance back at Kara. Her large army jacket wrapped around her, cocooning her body as she slumped horizontally in the seat. Her soft snoring still managed to slip through the shield of her hood.

“She goes too far sometimes,” Clark took note of your face. For the first time that night, there was no sarcasm or laced sass or quip of the brow. Just sincerity and concern from his cousin, someone you may know even better than him.

“I’m glad she has you,” he said, leaning forward in his seat.

You scoff at his words with a quick laugh, the quiet vulnerability of the moment quickly becoming too much for you. Certainly too much for a night you hoped to get blackout and maybe even laid. Instead, you sat in your ship, your best friend knocked out in the back with her cousin sitting in the front, making any effort he could to get to know you, too sober and far too annoyed for a chat.

“Oh, please, her first thought was to call you,” you said, that familiar sass returning. “You, Ka-el, Superman…”

He lowered his gaze as you spoke, a small smile creeping up onto his lips.

“It was a funny sight though, seeing you in there.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the memory, sweet and kind Clark Kent doing his best not to seem out of place in a nightclub on the other side of the galaxy. “You are too innocent for your own good.”

Clark couldn’t hide how his face scrunched, perhaps in confusion or denial, but honestly, there was some truth to your words. 

“I-I… I’m not innocent, okay—” he started, his hands moving in protest.

“Come on, you looked like a fish outta water.” Despite your taunting, Clark’s stomach dropped at the sight of your smile. Earnest and genuine, with a hint of secrecy that made him wonder if it was rare.

It was addictive, 

Pulling him down like kryptonite and making his knees waver.

“Besides, your blush gives you away,” you said.

“I…I don’t blush,” Clark tried to deny it, but even as he spoke, he could feel the heat rising high on his cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears.

“You’re doing it right now!” Your giggle lit him on fire, making him squirm in his seat. “Every time you caught a glance at my skirt, it was like you didn’t know how to act.”

oh. so you did notice.

The ride was uneventful, and soft banter fell between the two of you. Your quips blended with his kind and perky attitude. His presence seemed to calm your spirit, turning what was a disaster into perhaps just a bump in the road. 

Where was Kara hiding him all this time?

ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

Once through the atmosphere, Clark guided you to the fortress. The cold of the air slipped through the ship and bit at your skin. This wasn’t your planet, wasn’t your sun. Clark noticed the glowing white of your eyes dim slightly as you landed the ship on the sheets of ice. 

Awoken by the jostling of the craft, Kara stumbled from her seat. Her groans immediately shifted the mood, reminding you of why you were sitting next to Superman in the first place.

“fuck….” Her voice was hoarse and whiny. “Dude, it’s so bright.”

Kara staggered up behind you, her arms wrapping around you as she rested her chin on your head. Clark didn’t miss the way her eyes darted between the two of you, a smug look on her face.

“You look so stupid when you’re crushing,” she said, her words still slurred from the alcohol.

“Kara, go inside,” he said, his frustration finally bubbling over. His tone didn’t show it, still soft and, if anything, a little embarrassed. You wondered if the man even had it in him to be mean.

With a roll of her eyes, she pressed a kiss to her fingers before slapping your arm and slipping down the stairs, ‘Later bbs!' faintly heard as she headed for the fortress.

You sat in silence, staring at the Kryptonian beside you who refused to meet your eyes. Charming and sweet was never your type; the kinds of people you seemed to attract always had a danger to them that left you feeling reckless. But with the large man next to you, an intoxicating feeling left you desperate to see what he would be like if given the chance.

You rose from your seat, moving to stand before him. Resting back on the console behind you, your eyes traced over his body; the way the blue suit hugged him just right, how his hands wrung softly in his lap. 

“Crush, huh?” you asked, raising your brow.

“Kara, she’s drunk…” he said, his tongue poking at the side of his mouth as he tried to remain composed. His eyes were level with your naval. The dip of your hips as they met the band of your skirt, the curve of your thighs where straps and leather covered them, the sliver of skin between boot and skirt— it took everything in him to remain polite.

“That’s too bad.” his eyes darted up at your words. “You’re hot, in a sweet, naive kinda way.”

You pushed yourself off the dashboard, moving to fill the space between his open thighs. You glanced down at his hands, as if telling him to let go. 

With a thick swallow, Clark gently traced his fingers along your thigh. The pads of his fingertips were coarse, brushing against the soft skin you let him feel. When they reached the hem of your skirt, you leaned into the touch, your hands moving to his forearms. As if searching for permission, you bent your knees and moved forward. His hands came to grip your hips as you slid into his lap.  You straddled his large thighs, your body flush against his in the small seat of the ship. His hands slid along your body, moving up from your hips to your waist in a way that made you wonder if he was teasing you or just so inexperienced that he wanted to savor the feeling. Your grip on his arms moved to gently rest along his neck. This close, you could see the bright blue of his eyes, digging into you and making you flutter between your thighs.

Testing the waters, you lowered yourself, grinding softly along the lower part of his abdomen. His grip tightened on your waist involuntarily, pushing you down further as he bucked his hips. The soft gasp that left his lips made you giddy. The blush burning on his cheeks just made it worse. 

“Sorry…” he said through short breaths. You leaned in, ducking your head to meet his eyes.

“Don’t be, starboy.” You moved your hands to hold his jaw, guiding his gaze back to you.

The soft nod you gave set him off. It was like a damn break, his hands moved with a purpose, slipping up your skirt and pooling it around your hips. He moved in, capturing your lips as you gasped, swallowing your surprise as he worked. It wasn’t what you imagined the man would give you; it was desperate and needy. 

Your hands slid up the nape of his neck, tangling into his curls, and tugged softly. He whimpered against your lips, grinding up into you as you pulled. You bit softly at his plush lower lip, pulling him back to you for more. Your hips ground against him, searching for friction between your legs as he held you tight. His strong hands held you down, pushing you further into him. 

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. You felt his hands move, one resting along the back of your neck and holding you steady against him, the other slipping between your thighs and under your panties. You gasped as his fingers found your clit, delicately rubbing as he warmed up. His smile was too sweet, making the dark spot on your underwear worse as he worked.

His fingers quickened, the soft touches turning rough as his thumb swirled along the bundle of nerves. The coil in your stomach tightened as your breaths became quick and desperate. Leaning forward, you buried your face in the crook of his neck. His hand held you firm, fisting your hair.

His fingers moved, feeling the slick between your legs and teasing your entrance. With a quick nod from you, he slipped a finger in quickly to be followed by another. His hand was fast, pounding into you in a way you never felt before. His fingers curved at just the right angle, tickling that delicate spot you never could reach on your own.

As his hand fucked you, you gasped into his shoulder. His other hand held you still, keeping you against him as he took care of you.

“shh… you had a long night, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice darker than usual. “Lemme help you feel good.”

Clark couldn’t hold back his smile as you clenched at his words. His hips bucked again, and that gave you an idea.

His hand kept moving, but you pushed yourself up, still gasping. He leaned in close, pulling you in for another kiss. His fingers worked faster, causing you to freeze against him, the pleasure overwhelming. Your gasps were broken and stuttered. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he said, kissing along your temple.

With a shaking hand, you moved to palm him through the suit. His fingers stilled for a moment, reeling from the touch. As you worked him over, he picked back up his pace.

His whimpers were everything you needed, moving you closer to the edge. Your other hand tugged at his hair as you rubbed him faster. It was almost like a race to see who could get the other to finish first.

Clark refused to lose.

His hand at the back of your neck moved quickly, pulling your free hand from his hair and pinning it behind your back. You fell forward into his chest, moaning as his fingers became rougher and more determined. His suit muffled your whimpers as he brought you closer to the edge.

“Oh, I know, it’s a lot, isn’t…” his voice was ever sweet, with the slightest hint of mocking as if to get back at your attitude throughout the night. It only made that coil in your stomach tighter.

“C-Clark..” you felt yourself coming undone. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his thumb pressing harder on your clit. Your hand continued to work, despite any attempt to get him to finish first. But it was a battle you were going to lose.

“Come on, pretty girl.” his hand released your arm, moving to cup your face and hold your gaze to his. “I wanna see you, smile for me.”

You couldn’t think as his hand brought you over the edge. Your body seized, eyes crossing as the pleasure washed over you. You tightened on his fingers, whimpering as he refused to slow his movements.

“There you go, you look so beautiful,” he said. His smile only made it worse, the overstimulation on your clit causing you to see stars. He held you still, making you take it. “So, beautiful.”

He eventually let up, pulling his hand back and letting up on your pussy. His hands moved back to your hips, grinding up softly into you. Your hand, now shaky, continued its work, feeling him tremble through the suit. His cock twitched below your hand, his arms tight and grip bruising along your soft skin.

Still reeling from your high, you leaned in and wrapped your arm around his neck, watching as he came undone below you. Your hand tightened, pressing harder as he came. His body twitched beneath you, his head falling back into the seat. Your lips curled, and you pressed kisses underneath his jaw as he finished; his gasps filling the heavy air.

You didn’t need to look down to see the dark spot blooming on the red shorts. His face burned with blush, your favorite. Gently, you let your hands cup his face, guiding his dizzy eyes back to you.

His hands groped lazily along your ass, finally resting under your skirt at your hips. When he finally came out of it and met your gaze, he couldn’t hide the fucked out smile on his face.

You smirked, brushing back that stray loose curl on his forehead, “Maybe tonight wasn’t a total bust.”

—

ah okay, that's it I'm embarrassed. pls lmk if you liked it

[maikorian]

NEEDS SOME SUNSHINE - CLARK KENT

summary: clark had a long day and needs his sunshine to heal.

warning: none, mostly just some mentions of blood and sleepy clark

authors note: thank you guys for all the love and support for these fics! I really do appreciate it ♡ Its motivated me to write even more and that really helps me. love yall!

word count: 1.2k

The sound of something crashing into your living room immediately woke you up from the deepest part of your sleep. It had you jolting upright from the bed. The duvet pooling around your waist. You threw the thick blanket off of you, nearly tripping over your own feet as you rushed towards the source of the noise.

You knew damn well who decided to crash land inside your apartment. It's not the first time this happened.

When you entered the living room, the glass door of your balcony was shattered. Leaving tiny pieces of glass scattered all over the hard wood floor. And then you saw who the cause of it was.

“Oh my god– Clark!” You rushed down next to him. He was covered in cuts and bruises. His form curled up on the glass covered form. Parts of his suit was torn, revealing even more wounds underneath it. “Hey, sunshine. I guess you could say I fell for you?” Despite all that pain, Clark still had that stupid grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes at his weak joke, more focused on the fact that Clark was bleeding out on your floor. “Let's get you up on the couch.” With some effort, you managed to hook Clarks arm over your shoulder and lifted him off the floor. It was a miracle that you even got him on the couch considering his size. You were out of breath by the time you plopped him down on the couch.

He laid back against the couch cushions with a sigh. Head tilted back, legs and arms spread. Exhaustion oozing out of him with every breath he took. If he wasn't so beat up right now, you'd be on him faster that you would say it. Right now your main priority was getting him patched up.

“Stay here. I'll get you patched up.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. Clark simply waved off your concern for him. That dopey smile he had on his face never leaving him. “Don't worry, I don't think I can even move anything right now.” Clark winced when another wave of pain washed over him. Every muscle in his body was aching right now.

His words only made your concern for him grow. It’s rare to see him so beat up like this.

Walking back over to him with your homemade med kit in hand, you sat down on the spot next to Clark. Before you can even say anything, his hand wraps itself around your waist and he lifts you onto his lap. He keeps his arms planted there, holding you close to his chest.

“Clark, you're hurt.” You sighed, trying to move away but he didn't let you move a single inch. “What? I need my sunshine to help fix me up.” Clark simply shot back. He brought you closer to him, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He could faintly smell the body wash you used in the shower. Flowery, but subtle. A familiar smell that let his brain know that he was finally home.

His body basically melted against yours. All 240 lbs leaning on you. Every tense muscle in his body relaxing under your touch.

“You should've gone to the fortress.” You lightly scolded while taking a damp towel to wipe away the dried blood and dirt on his face. “No. 4 and the others could've healed you a lot faster than I can.” You murmured, keeping your touch gentle so you didn't accidently hurt him even more.

“They could, but they don't have the same touch as you. They're not warm like you or sweet like you. And you smell so much better than them. Like home.” Clarks words made you still for a moment. He could probably hear how fast your heart was racing.

You were quick to clear your throat. Snapping your mind out of the haze you were in. Focus on Clark.

“It's a good thing we don't have work tomorrow. Forecast says it'll be cloudy. Hard for you to get some sun unless you go out.” Setting aside the now dirty rag, you cupped Clark's cheeks. Fingers brushing along the small cut he had. It was already starting to heal on its own. That's a good sign.

“Mmh, I have my sunshine right here on my lap. I'll be fine.” Clark placed his hand over yours, slowly grabbing it and pulling your hand towards his lips. He gently kissed the palm of your hand. It was like he thought you were made of glass or something.

You could tell that he was exhausted. Work was hectic and so were the villains he took down today. He deserved a few hours of peace and quiet. He needed a chance to heal. “C'mon, let's get you cleaned up. Don't want you sleeping in that.” You lightly joked while pulling him onto his feet.

Clark merely followed you, his movements were eerily similar to a zombie. Slow and sluggish. He was falling asleep at his feet. He let you pull him into the bathroom and strip him free of his spandex. The suit being tossed into the hamper as you turned on the hot water for him. Taking off the suit was like a breath of fresh air for him. Sometimes it got a little bit too tight around certain areas of his body.

Hot steam filled the air as water ran down Clark's back. You sat on a stool near the edge of the tub. Washing his hair until it was free from all the gell he used to keep it still. You preferred it when he kept his hair loose. The soft bouncy curls. Then again, people might figure out sooner if he left like that whenever he carried out his superman stuff.

Once he was clean, Clark just pulled on some boxers before flopping onto the bed like a fish. His face landing directly onto the plush pillows. The mattress dipping under his weight. “Comfortable?” All you received from his was a small grunt.

You slipped into your side of the bed. His arm automatically wrapping around you. He shifted his body so he was laying in between your legs. His head resting on your lap. You ran your fingers through his messy locks. Nails slowly scratching his scalp. Those soothing touches were enough to unravel the almighty wonder boy.

“I love you, y'know that right?” Clark sleepily mumbled, tilting his head just enough so he could see you. “m'pretty sunshine. Can't get enough of you.” His little Kansas accent was already starting to slip through his words. The idea of sleep already pulling him deeper.

You leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Your hands running up and down his back to make him even more sleepy. “I love you too, hun’. Close your eyes. I'll be here when you wake up.” That simple reassurment was enough for Clark. He took one last deep breath before closing his eyes. The combined exhaustion and the warmth of your touch sending into a deep sleep instantly.

separator credit - @sweetmelodygraphics

[lazysoulwriter]

big spoon supremacy ── pedro pascal .✦

content: fluff, romcom vibes, established relationship, cuddling, playful bickering, soft!Pedro winning (barely)

You’re brushing your teeth when he strikes.

Literally walks up behind you, wraps his arms around your waist like a python in pajamas, and rests his chin on your shoulder. Pedro’s voice is soft with sleep, gravelly with that unfair morning-after sex charm.

"Can I be the big spoon tonight?"

Mouth full of foam, you nearly choke. You spit into the sink, rinse, and meet his reflection in the mirror.

"Tonight? Babe, it’s 3AM."

He blinks. "Okay, technically, this morning."

You turn in his arms and poke a finger into his bare chest. "You were the big spoon last night."

"Not true."

"You were!"

"No, I distinctly remember your leg flopping over me like I was your personal weighted blanket."

"That’s just affection."

"That’s dominance."

You scoff, arms crossing over your chest. "Pedro, you literally curled around me like a croissant."

"And it was delightful." He leans down, kissing your temple with exaggerated sweetness. "But it’s my turn now. Let me be the croissant."

You smirk. "You mean the blanket."

He shrugs. "Semantics."

You walk toward the bed, flopping down on your side dramatically. "I’m just saying, I sleep better holding you."

He follows, lying behind you. "Yeah? I sleep better when I’m the fortress."

"The fortress?"

"Protective. Warm. Architecturally sound." He’s grinning against your neck now, arms sliding around you, already tucking your back into his chest.

You roll your eyes. "This doesn’t feel like a fair decision process."

"Baby, this is a full-body hug." His legs hook around yours. "You’re trapped. Surrender."

You twist slightly to look back at him. "Fine. But only because your arms are warm and you smell good."

He kisses the spot right behind your ear, smug as ever. "That’s what I thought."

A beat of silence.

Then, softly:

"Tomorrow night, I’m the big spoon again."

He chuckles. "Sure, sweetheart. We’ll negotiate."

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

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[getouyuri]

one mimir, two mimir

pairing: oyabun!gojo x secretary!reader (fem!reader)

author’s note: got a little carried away with this cos wdym I wrote a 2.2k (unedited) drabble about satoru acting like you killed his grandma because you started napping without him 😭 here’s a little background info on my yakuza jjk au but it’s not necessary to read. masterlist. happy reading mwaaah 🫶🏽🩵

writing © getouyuri. dividers © thecutestgrotto. fanart © satsu1640.

Satoru loves taking naps.

The yakuza boss always looks forward to curling up close to his wife for a quick nap in the middle of the day, stretched out like the most comfortable of cats until he’s forced to pop right back up later and go straight back to work. Bi-weekly snooze sessions are the only thing that keep him powering through each week without collapsing like a house made of popsicle sticks.

(Aside from your very creative ways of motivating him, of course. You, on top of him from dawn to dusk, no breaks, raw, disgustingly sweaty, toes curling, bones cracking, bodies contorting in the most impossible angles that challenge what you both know about physics.)

Especially when he’s as tired as he is right now— he nearly ran into a wall while stumbling his way through the Gojo estate, delirious in his excitement to climb into bed and snuggle you to death.

So when he walks into your shared room and finds you already conked out, curtains drawn and room submerged in shadow, exaggerated betrayal flickers across his face. His left eye twitches like a machine gun. You were napping. Without him.

The deep-set fatigue that dogs him is impossible to miss; it’s in the way his eyelids droop just a fraction too long between blinks, the faint shadows beneath his usually bright ocean-blue eyes, the slight sluggishness to his movements. His temples throb, like a not-so-subtle reminder that his energy is a ticking time bomb.

In truth, Satoru hasn’t slept properly in days, between dealing with the Tora-gumi’s constant petty attacks and the Gojo clan’s elders that have been particularly relentless recently, questioning his leadership decisions, nagging about eventual succession (as if Yuuta’s presence in his life and role as his designated successor didn’t already shut those concerns down), and generally being a pain in his ass.

Nothing he couldn’t handle, of course, but dealing with them always left him drained in a way that no amount of violence or business negotiations ever did. But he refuses to admit it outright— pride and stubbornness are two of his most defining traits, after all.

Satoru crosses his arms, still squinting and pouting at you. This was unacceptable. Inexcusable. Not telling him that you were retiring for a quick nap might as well be considered treason.

Where was his nap invitation? Where were his snuggle rights and little coupon card paired with it? Who gave you permission to get all cozy enough to doze off without him plastered right next to you, drooling all over your shoulder and hogging the blankets?

Satoru’s entire being vibrates with the need to rectify this egregious injustice immediately.

“Oh, you’re in so much trouble, baby,” he breathes, tutting. Instead of deigning him with a proper response— you should be falling to your knees and sobbing your apologies, begging for his forgiveness, even though you’d never in your life do that— you give a soft, muffled smack of your lips that escapes the mountain of blankets on the bed. Clearly, someone’s having a good ass nap.

Your hair pokes out from the top of the covers in an adorable tuft. He’d recognize that messy mop anywhere, even if the rest of his wife was currently snuggled deep beneath a fortress of blankets and pillows, entirely hidden from view.

Satoru’s adorable pout instantly morphs into a shit-eating grin. His heart squeezes in his chest, his earlier excitement bubbling over again as he pads closer, fingers itching to mess with you. Crouching down beside the bed, he rests his chin on the edge of the mattress, palms sinking into the plush duvet to keep himself steady. His blue eyes gleam with a sleepy mischief as he studies the rhythmic rise and fall of the blanket pile— proof that you were very much alive, very much cozy, and (more importantly) very much about to have your nap ruined by your clingy-ass husband.

His long, ring-clad fingers curl into the blanket’s edge and peel it back just enough to reveal your face. For a second, Satoru just stares, mesmerized. His wife is gorgeous. Like, criminally, absolute-obliteration-of-self-and-other type of beautiful. Your hair is a softly frizzy mess, lips puffy with sleep and slightly parted as you breath slow.

"My angel is so pretty," he murmurs, utterly besotted as he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. You look so peaceful.

Normally, he’d feel a little bad waking you up— but no, not today. Today, he’s been deprived of you for three whole hours (the horror), he’s so tired that he’s seeing the hat man in the corners of his vision, and he’s not about to let you sleep without him.

Grinning, he bounces up from his spot crouched on the floor like a frog to instead lean over you, white hair flopping lazily over his forehead. Satoru guides that open jaw of yours shut with his fingertips, then squeezes your nostrils closed— just to be annoying.

"Pssst. Angel." He whispers, grinning when you snort in your sleep as your body starts to register that your airways are sealed off. "Baaaaabycakes. Wakey wakey, I missed you."

Only when you start to stir does he release your nose (he mimes pocketing it in his slacks). Then, for good measure, he blows a playful, obnoxiously loud raspberry right against your neck— because what better way to wake someone up than by being the absolute worst?

“Pooooo—“

“You will die in seven days.” You suddenly grumble in a sleepy rasp, not even opening your eyes. “In three, you’ll begin to cough. In five, you’ll begin to break out into hives.”

“—kie… oh, okay. That’s mean, princess," he huffs with faux hurt— but he’s still grinning like the lovestruck idiot he is. "But not as mean as you napping without me. I was hoping to get some shut-eye with my wife after a whole ass threeee hours of being away like the booked and busy man that I am, only to find that you had the audacity to go ahead and sleep without even considering me. Tch. Real cold, sweets.”

He’s being a petulant menace. Needy. Pathetic. He doesn’t care that he’s not at all the ruthless crime lord that he typically is right now. Satoru’s as heartbroken as the day he found out that that one place in Shinjuku stopped selling their chocolate and caramel stuffed mochi. It was his favorite. He weeped a little outside of the store as you gently tugged him away, fond exasperation glittering in your eyes.

How can he call himself the oyabun that has it all when he can’t even get his favorite fucking sweet treats? And now, apparently, can’t even get sleepy time with his wife?

You shuffle in place with a grumpy furrow between your brows, silently simmering at being shaken out of dreamland, and he snatches at the edge of the blanket again right as you try to tug it right back up over your head. “I didn’t realize I had to fill out a time card recording when I’ll nap or not.”

“Baby,” Satoru gasps. He leans in closer, forehead nearly bumping yours, blue eyes wide and watery with crocodile tears. You crack your own eyes open at that, blinking tiredly at him. Your lashes clump together, sticky with sleep. “Are you kidding me? You should’ve already been marking time cards. Naptime isn’t just sacred— it’s special. And I thought we had something special!”

A staged sob rattles his chest. He presses his free hand against it, clutching at the fabric of his dress shirt as if trying to keep his heart from leaping out and splatting at your feet. “This is why they say the prettiest ones can’t be trusted. I should file for divorce over this heinous act of betrayal, wifey. I don’t know if I can ever recover from this.” His tone drips with the emotional maturity of a golden retriever with separation anxiety.

You thump your head back against the pillow, praying that someone ends your suffering early. “You’re dramatic.”

“No, I’m not. I’m real. I’m authentic. I’m hurt. My feelings are sooo valid, baby, and you’re dismissing them like I’m one of your side hoes!” Satoru wails.

His face scrunches up in exaggerated offense, his pout making a grand reappearance even as he, devastating gentle, wipes a dried line of spit from beneath your lip with his thumb. Quietly, Satoru preens a little at being able to see you at your most unguarded, your most ungraceful.

“Toru?” You call out in a little croak instead of bothering to play into his bullshit.

Oh, he’s already dead. He’s cooked.

Satoru’s big blue eyes round out impossibly further as if he’s been struck by Cupid’s arrow— which, admittedly, he kinda has been every single day for the past few years since he started seeing you.

You sound so fucking adorable when you’re half-asleep. That groggy little mumble of his nickname that you only pull out when you need to tug at his strings, the way you lift a hand to cup his that lingers beneath your mouth and you nuzzle your cheek into his calloused palm... it makes his head spin with an overwhelming wave of affection. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were cartoonish birdies twirling around him. He could just eat you up.

You’re clearly utilizing his weakness for that nickname and your adorable sleepiness to your advantage to sway this in your favor (and he falls for it).

And people say that he’s the conniving menace…

You purse your lips in a little pout, a rare sight outside of your most private moments that you share with him (even though this pout’s awfully calculated), and Satoru’s heart damn near explodes. “Just come cuddle with me, baby. ‘M so tired… and so cold without you,” you complain.

His aloof, sarcastic, prideful wife? Whining for cuddles like a lovesick kitten? You’ve got him hook, line, and sinker. Of course you want him close; who wouldn’t want to bask in his heavenly presence? “Aw, look at you, all clingy and sweet!” Satoru coos, gently stroking your cheek and peering down at you with sparkling eyes. He just barely resists pinching your soft skin, knowing that you’d probably bite his finger off for that. “I could never say no to you, even if you’re trying to pull the wool over my eyes.”

You sleepily smile up at him, smug.

The oyabun of the Gojo-gumi wastes absolutely no time in shoving his pants down his long legs, toeing off his socks with zero grace, and kicking them aside on the floor (he’ll pick them up later… probably). He’s left in just his black button-up and boxers, but even the button-up is quickly unbuttoned and discarded too, because he’s been in business attire for too long today and he wants to be comfortable. It joins the pile on the floor.

Right now, the only thing that matters is snuggling. His. Wife.

With zero hesitation nor warning, Satoru takes a few steps back, rolling his neck and bouncing a little on his heels. “Satoru,” you immediately warn, more lucidity coloring your eyes as you start to tense in on yourself. You quickly grasp at the blankets, starting to bunch them up around you again and burying your head right back beneath them— as if they’ll even do anything to shield you. “Don’t. If you fucking land on me, I’ll—“

You cut yourself off with a disgruntled groan as Satoru takes a running jump and vaults over you to land on the free space next to you, making the mattress bounce and nearly launching you through the high roof. He doesn’t give you time to complain, practically diving into the lump of blankets that house his precious wife with the smoothness of a damn seal sliding into water.

He worms through the blankets until he finds your warm, soft body, his bright blue eyes squinting playfully in the dim warmth of your little hideaway. You meet his gaze with an unimpressed tilt to your lips, jutting your chin out, and immediately, he flips you around, pulling your back flush against his chest until you’re tucked together like two spoons in a drawer. Satoru’s long limbs drape over you in a possessively needy tangle.

“Mmm… this is what I’ve been missing,” Satoru sighs gratefully, finally content. His aching body sinks into the memory foam beneath him, the blankets cushioning you both in their cloud-like embrace and chasing out the air chugging through the Gojo estate’s vents. “It’s nice and cozy in here with my wifey.”

He buries his face into your nape, inhaling your scent deeply. There’s your natural scent paired with something warm and sweet, comfortingly so; cocoa butter and freshly baked shortcake. Satoru makes a mental note to ask if you actually made one or if you’re trying a new body wash after you two wake up in a few hours. He presses a slow, wet kiss right under your ear, smiling into your skin when you shiver a little.

“Are you happy now that you’ve ruined my peace?” You mumble dryly, yet you sink into him all the same. Your tone is sarcastic (as per usual) and tinted with a drowsy sort of warmth that makes him want to kick his feet like a schoolgirl. It’s his fuel. You wiggle back against him to slot yourself against him more comfortably, the backs of your knees pressed against the tops of his and your ass sitting in the cradle of his pelvis.

(Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard, he silently coaches himself. If Satoru kept you awake any longer by whining and begging you to deal with a throbbing boner, you’d mercilessly toss him in a dog cage. And he very much likes sleeping in this expensive ass bed with you, a splurge he justified as necessary, because god forbid his wife doesn’t get to rest in pure luxury.)

“Yup. But it’s okay, princess, I’ll send you right back off to dreamland. It’s my job as your devoted guard dog, your vice president, and your humble servant. And are you ashamed now that you see how much your hubby needed this?” Satoru murmurs, but there’s no real bite to it. If anything, he’s pitched softer now, the playful facade slipping out with the exhale he expels through his nose.

The tiredness in his voice makes you pause. With that, you start to shift in his arms, and thinking you’re trying to escape (when really, you’re just trying to properly assess him despite the fact that you’re already half-asleep again), he latches on tighter. “I thought you wanted me here? C’monnn, gimme all those cuddles you owe me,” he complains, trying to kiss your neck until you give up, which you laugh softly at.

“Satoru. Let go, I’m trying to turn around,” you yawn, and he complies even though he’s content in this position. The second you shift to face him on your side, he’s already adjusting, tucking an arm beneath your head as a makeshift pillow and draping the other over your body to pull you in close. Satoru takes a moment to admire your camisole and satin sleep shorts, but your eyes draw him right back in.

Your half-lidded eyes flit over him with a sharpness befitting of you. You’ve always been too perceptive, always seeing right through him. It’s one of the many things he adores about you, even when it’s inconvenient. Like now, when you take in the way his shoulders sag ever so slightly under the weight of exhaustion he’s been hiding, usual boundless energy dampened, and how the circles under his eyes (usually hidden behind his sunglasses) are strikingly visible this up close.

The Gojo-gumi doesn’t slow down just because Satoru’s tired. Ryomen doesn’t stop plotting against him just because he wants a damn nap. But for this moment, with his wife’s leg hiking up around his waist to keep him trapped (thank god) and your breaths fanning over his neck when you tuck your face there, both of you hidden away beneath the blankets like children at a sleepover, he can pretend the world stops for you both.

“Let’s go to sleep. I still have an alarm running that’ll wake us up,” you yawn again, long and near-silent; cat-like. Satoru hums, a soft rumble that radiates through your squished-together chests, already half-lost to drowsiness. He settles his chin on top of your hair, a few unruly strands of which tickle gently at his lips, and his breathing begins evening out.

“‘Kay… Mmm, you’re so warm. Comfy as hell, too. Love you," he mumbles. His words are slurred with exhaustion, but the devotion behind them is undeniable. He’s already melting into you, body lax against yours that’s already soft with sleep from your interrupted nap, eager to get some z’s.

When you don’t respond, he figures you’re gone with the wind already. Satoru works his jaw a little bit until something clicks and loosens, then closes his eyes. He could stay like this forever, honestly. He presses his fingers just a little heavier against the exposed skin of your lower back, just a subconscious need to touch, to remind himself you’re really here, and passes out just like that.

perma tags: @libr4sonsa @spirit-kat @kaitospo @m1nrrva @enchantinghonymoon @shokogasm @dairyfaerie @pvmpkingod @skz8stay @floriophrastus @originalsaucy @loyalguma @wormplant @amane1271 @oporotheca @teachmehowtodokiaye @dogwhiskey @sunnydayqq

[natalianovnas]

༄ `. 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒

summary : you take care of your rarely sick girlfriend.

warnings : none just pure fluff w sick nat :(

words count : 0.7k || masterlist

If anyone told you Natasha Romanoff could get sick, you wouldn’t have believed them. The infamous Black Widow? Caught off guard by a common cold?

Ridiculous.

And yet, here she was—curled on the couch in your oversized hoodie, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, and her nose the color of her namesake hair.

“Don’t say it,” She rasped as you walked in with a tray of tea and medicine.

You placed it on the coffee table carefully, lips twitching slightly. “Say what?”

“That I look like shit.”

You smiled and dropped onto the couch beside her, tucking your legs underneath you. “You don’t look like shit.”

Natasha gave you a suspicious look.

“You look like a raccoon that lost a fight with a pillow and then rolled through a Kleenex graveyard.”

She opened her mouth to argue but ended up sneezing instead—violently.

You handed her a tissue and rubbed her back gently as she blew her nose for what had to be the tenth time that hour.

“I hate this,” She muttered. “I should be in the gym right now, not... leaking.”

You bit back a laugh. “You’re human, babe. Even spies catch colds.”

“I don’t catch colds. They catch me.” Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence, which only made her sound more miserable.

You stood and moved behind her, grabbing the blanket from the armrest and wrapping it around her shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah, well, this cold must be feeling pretty smug right now.”

She slumped back against you with a huff. “My whole body hurts.”

“I know.” You wrapped your arms around her from behind, your chin resting on her shoulder. “But lucky for you, I’ve prepared the ultimate healing experience.”

She snorted, “Which includes?”

“Hot tea, two kinds of soup, every rom-com you’ve ever rolled your eyes at, and a 24-hour nurse who’s hopelessly in love with you.”

She leaned into your embrace, her voice quieter now. “That last one sounds like the best part.”

You smiled against her skin. “Thought so.”

🍵 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 🍵

The rest of the day was spent in the cocoon of warmth and love.

You made her drink water and take medicine even when she groaned about it. You rubbed her back when her coughs got too rough, brushed her hair off her damp forehead, and massaged her temples when the headaches set in.

At one point, she tried to insist she was “totally fine” and attempted to stand up and help you in the kitchen. That lasted two minutes before she almost passed out from dizziness, and you gently pushed her back onto the couch with a pointed look and a, “Don’t make me get the thermometer.”

After that, she didn’t argue.

Instead, she stayed under her blanket fortress, eyes half-lidded as she watched Notting Hill with more emotion than she’d ever admit to.

You brought her soup in a mug, let her eat on the couch, and wiped her chin when she spilled a little—earning you a muttered “You’re lucky I love you” through a mouthful of broth.

Later, when the movie ended and the light outside began to dim, Natasha tugged at your hand sleepily.

“Stay with me?” She murmured.

“Of course.” You slid under the blanket beside her, gently pulling her into your arms. She tucked her face into your neck, her feverish skin hot against your own, but you didn’t care.

Her voice was muffled. “You’re gonna get sick.”

You smiled, stroking her hair slowly. “Worth it.”

“You’re dumb.”

“You’re sick.”

“Still the deadliest woman alive,” She whispered, already drifting.

You pressed your lips to her temple. “Right now, you’re just my girl. And I’m gonna take care of you.”

She didn’t respond, but the soft, sleepy smile on her lips said enough.

๋

💌 actually turned out cute lmao ♥ ๋࣭ ⭑

[skyguytoast]

DARK SIDE, SOFT HEART: SUITLESS!VADER X YOU

SYNOPSIS: where suitless!Vader is the right arm of the emperor with anger issues and you are his soft-spoken girlfriend who knows exactly how to bring him to his knees—with nothing more than a look.

WORDS: 600+

WARNING: nothing just fluffy, just a tiny bit of angst

A/N: hiii, dear lovers, I wrote this while waiting for my class to start. It’s a bit small, like probably one of the smallest as I wrote. 😉😘 anyway, comments, reblogs are appreciated. kisses and good reading 🥰🤩 Dividers by @cafekitsune

Vader was possessed — not by the Force, not by vengeance, but by the failure of a mission that should have been flawless.

Everything had gone wrong.

He had led a squad of Inquisitors in pursuit of one of the last remaining Jedi, a mission that was supposed to be swift, surgical, and final. It wasn’t even a full Jedi — just a Padawan. And yet… somehow, they had failed. Miserably. Two Inquisitors dead, another maimed. The others had fled — fled — like frightened children, disgracing everything he had trained into them.

Vader had expected power, precision, dominance. What he had seen instead was weakness.

And weakness had no place in his world.

The survivors suffered for their cowardice — his wrath descended like a star collapsing. He punished them without hesitation, a lesson carved into their flesh and bone. There would be no tolerance for failure. Not again.

By the time he returned to Mustafar, the fire inside him had grown unchecked. Fury rolled off of him like heat waves. His crimson saber roared to life, cleaving through anything and anyone foolish enough to be in his path — droids, furniture, command consoles, even the occasional stormtrooper caught in the wake of his rampage. Walls cracked. Steel melted. The fortress trembled under his wrath.

And then, suddenly, he was in your doorway.

The doors slammed behind him like a final verdict. You flinched, eyes wide, caught mid-page in your book, silk nightgown flowing like soft petals around your legs as you sat on the bed. The light from the hallway was devoured by his presence, all shadow and fury. His shoulders heaved with ragged breath, and those burning yellow eyes — normally hidden beneath the cold, black mask — flickered with a murderous storm.

You didn’t speak. Not at first.

You simply set your book aside, your fingers steady even as your heart raced. There was blood on his hands. His jaw was clenched tight, his entire body wound like a drawn wire. He was still ready to strike — to kill.

“Anakin,” you said softly, and it struck him like lightning.

That name. The name buried beneath layers of darkness and armor. Only you called him that, only you dared. And right now, it felt like an anchor thrown into the storm raging inside him.

He turned his head, jaw twitching. “Don’t,” he growled, voice raw, trembling. “Don’t say that name right now.”

But you were already rising from the bed, bare feet touching the cold obsidian floor. You approached without fear. Your hands reached for him — not to pull him close, but to ground him.

“I know what happened,” you whispered. “You lost control. They failed you. But you are still here. Still standing. You don’t have to carry this rage into our space.”

His fists were clenched, saber still in hand, his breathing ragged. His eyes flicked to your face — so calm, so tender — and for a moment, he was still. Then, with a trembling exhale, his weapon fell to the floor with a heavy clang.

And then… he dropped to his knees.

Not in defeat.

In surrender.

To you.

His forehead pressed against your stomach, his hands clutching your thighs as if they were the last solid thing in his galaxy. You slid your fingers into his sandy hair, gently tugging him closer, cradling him like a wounded beast.

“I’m here,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his temple. “You don’t have to be a god or a monster with me. Just breathe.”

His breath hitched. His hands trembled.

You were the only force in the galaxy that could bring Darth Vader to his knees — not with power, but with gentle. With love.

And as the chaos of the galaxy raged on outside, you held him together piece by piece, reminding the broken soul within the armor that he was still human, still Anakin — and still yours.

TAG LIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld

[soulofapatrick]

The Fourth Wing Boys and their Reactions to you being Pregnant

Summary: Just what I think the boys' reactions would be

Words: 7.5K words

Warnings: some angst but mostly fluffy and cuteeee

Xaden Riorson, the man who has made a career of maintaining control in a world that crumbles around him, has never looked more vulnerable than in this moment. His eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes that see everything and give nothing away—widen as the words I just spoke settle between us. The smirk that usually dances on his lips, the one that makes him seem untouchable, vanishes as if it’s never been there at all. His expression, typically guarded and enigmatic, is now a map of raw emotion, impossible to ignore.

I watch him, unsure of whether I’ve just shattered the air between us or opened a door we aren’t ready to walk through. His hands, always confident and steady, grip my waist with a force that seems born of instinct, as if the weight of what I just told him threatens to pull him down. He inhales sharply, and in the way his breath catches in his throat, I can feel it—a tremor, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. The sound of it—soft, like a whisper of disbelief—breathes life into the moment, making it real, making it unavoidable.

His eyes dart to my stomach, that small curve, barely noticeable but unmistakably there. Then, without warning, they flick back to mine, as if trying to find some confirmation that this isn’t a cruel joke, some twisted play to see him unravel. His jaw tightens, his muscles go taut, and for the briefest of seconds, I think he might not believe me. But then he whispers, his voice low and edged with something I’m not ready to identify. “You’re sure?”

I nod, unable to contain the mix of fear, anticipation, and joy that floods through me, and that’s when everything shifts. The tension in his body cracks, splintering apart like ice breaking under the weight of an ocean. His breath, shallow and uneven, spills out in a rush, and his gaze—normally so calculating, so indifferent to everything around him—softens, transforming into something I’ve only seen glimpses of: vulnerability. There, in that look, I see the faintest flicker of hope, a light that barely dares to exist in the shadows of his usual guarded composure.

The silence that follows feels like an eternity, a moment stretched so thin it could shatter at any second. But instead, he moves. His hands, which had been trembling ever so slightly, find their place around me, pulling me close as if I’m the only thing holding him together. His lips brush against the side of my face, pressing against my temple in a gesture that feels oddly fragile for someone like him—someone who has built walls taller than any fortress, whose every breath is calculated, every action precise.

His voice, when it finally comes, is raw—thick with emotion I didn’t know he was capable of showing. “You have no idea how much I love you,” he murmurs, his words a promise. His hands slide down slowly, reverently, until one rests on my stomach. His thumb begins to trace circles, soft at first, like he’s afraid to touch too firmly, as if afraid he might shatter something precious. And maybe he’s right—because in this moment, something shifts inside him, and I’m not sure he’s ready to face it yet.

The man who once seemed so untouchable, so impenetrable, is unraveling in front of me, but not in a way that makes me want to run. Instead, I find myself holding him just as tightly, afraid that if I let go, he might slip away. He isn’t just holding me—he’s holding onto something else. Something bigger than both of us.

We stay like that for a long while, the world fading into the background. His hands, still tracing slow circles over my stomach, seem to speak volumes without words. Each pass of his thumb is a vow—a promise to protect, to fight for, to love the life growing inside me with the same fierce, unrelenting devotion he’s always given to me. Only now, there’s something new in his gaze—something deeper. The promise isn’t just to me anymore. It’s to the little one we’ve yet to meet, the one who has already captured his heart in a way I never could have expected.

We’re lying in bed, the early morning sunlight spilling through the window, painting Garrick’s bare shoulders in a soft, golden glow. The light dances across his skin, highlighting the muscles in his back as he sleeps, his breathing slow and steady, the rise and fall of his chest like a calming rhythm. His arm is draped lazily over my waist, holding me close but not tight, as if he’s still half-anchored to the world of dreams. The warmth of him presses against me, a comfort I never want to lose, but something stirs inside me—something I can’t ignore, something that needs to be said.

I shift slightly, the flutter of nerves in my chest making my heart race just a little faster than it should. His eyes crack open, barely more than a sliver, and he blinks up at me through the haze of sleep. His lips twitch into the softest of smiles, and I can’t help but feel a warmth spread through me, even as my own pulse quickens.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep, a teasing note in the words.

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment, the gravity of the words I’m about to say. “I have something to tell you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, thick with nerves. I watch his expression shift as he processes my tone—sleep fading from his eyes as they focus on me, sharpening with concern, alertness creeping in. His brows furrow slightly, his grip on me tightening just enough that I can feel the change, the instinctive need to protect, to hold me steady.

The air between us thickens, and I take a steadying breath before finally letting the words escape. “I’m pregnant.”

For a long moment, there’s nothing—no sound, no movement. Just the steady beat of my own heart, pounding in my ears. His blue eyes lock onto mine, and I see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to make sense of what I’ve just said. It’s as if he’s searching for any sign that he’s misunderstood, trying to find some hint that this isn’t real. And then, slowly, so slowly that it feels like time itself holds its breath, a grin begins to spread across his face. It starts small, like disbelief, and then grows—grows until it’s nothing short of radiant, the kind of grin that could light up the world. It’s like the sun breaking through storm clouds, a warmth that fills the space between us, and I feel myself melt under it.

A quiet, breathless laugh escapes him, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, what he’s feeling. He sits up then, pulling me with him, his movements fluid, confident, like he’s always known he’d be here. His hands come up to cradle my face, and his thumbs gently trace over my cheekbones, each touch reverent, as though I am the most precious thing he’s ever held. His touch is tender, full of wonder. His gaze never leaves mine.

“We’re having a baby?” he whispers, voice hushed, awed, like the very idea of it is too beautiful to fully comprehend. His eyes search mine for any hint of doubt, any sign that this might not be true, but all I can do is nod. And when I do, he kisses me—deep, lingering, filled with everything he feels, overflowing with love and joy in a way that takes my breath away.

The kiss is everything—the kind of kiss that promises a future, the kind that says we’re in this together, no matter what. When he finally pulls away, his hands slide down to rest over my stomach, his touch slow and careful, like he’s handling something fragile, something sacred. His voice is thick with emotion as he murmurs, “I’m going to love them so much.”

I can feel the sincerity in his words, hear the depth of his commitment in every syllable. He presses his forehead to mine, the grin never fading, and I can feel his joy radiating off of him, filling me up. There’s no hesitation, no doubt in him, just a certainty that this moment, this new chapter of our lives, is exactly where we’re meant to be. He holds me close, his hands still resting gently on my stomach, as if he’s already thinking of all the ways he’ll love the little life growing inside me.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he murmurs, and the wonder in his voice makes my heart swell. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

And for the first time in a long time, I’m certain too. In his arms, with his heart beating against mine, I know that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. And I know, deep down, that we’ll be the best parents we can be. Because this moment—this shared joy—is only the beginning.

Liam is in the middle of fixing his dagger, the rhythmic glide of the whetstone over the blade a comforting sound, familiar and steady. His brow is furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted as he works, his fingers steady and sure. There’s a certain ease to his posture, though—a quiet confidence in the way he holds the dagger, in the way he moves. I watch him for a moment, the soft light from the window casting shadows over his strong features, and something stirs deep in my chest.

I know what I’m about to say will change everything. It will shift the balance of us, of this quiet, simple life we’ve built. It will disrupt the calm. And yet, in this moment, with his presence so solid and steady beside me, I’m not sure if I’m ready for the words to leave my lips.

“Liam,” I say softly, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me. My heart is racing, a thudding pulse in my ears, but I push through it. He hums in acknowledgment, his eyes still focused on the blade in front of him. But when I don’t continue, when the silence stretches between us too long, he finally stills. His sharp green eyes flick to mine, reading me in an instant. And in that moment, I feel like he’s already seen it all—the hesitation, the fear, the joy that fights its way to the surface.

The dagger is forgotten, carefully set down on the table beside him, and he stands in one smooth motion, crossing the distance between us in two quick strides. The energy between us shifts, and his hands frame my face, warm and steady, his breath unsteady as he studies me. I can see the question in his eyes, and I know he’s waiting for me to speak again.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice low, steady. But I can hear the uncertainty beneath it—the flicker of confusion, of concern, because he knows something is coming, something big.

I exhale slowly, trying to steady myself, gripping the edge of the table as though it’s the only thing keeping me grounded in this moment. I whisper the words, barely above a breath, but I feel them settle between us like a charge in the air. “I’m pregnant.”

The words hang there, heavy, charged, electric. I watch as his body locks up, the shock rippling through him, a brief stillness in the air before everything changes. He blinks once, then twice, his lips parting slightly, as if he’s trying to find the right response but no words come. The seconds stretch out, thick and heavy, as though we’re suspended in time, before he inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with an effort that betrays his calm.

Without another word, he steps closer, closing the gap between us. His hands are on me in an instant, cupping my face with a tenderness that makes my heart catch. He’s searching my eyes, his expression intense, as though he’s trying to read me, to make sure this is real. “Say it again,” he murmurs, his voice thick, as if the words themselves are something he needs to hear once more to believe.

I don’t hesitate this time. I say it again, the words rolling off my tongue with a clarity I didn’t know I had in me. “I’m pregnant.”

His chest rises again, this time in a sharp inhale, and his fingers tighten around me as if to pull me even closer, as if he never wants to let go. The moment feels suspended, timeless, and then suddenly—he laughs. It’s a quiet, disbelieving sound, almost as though he can’t quite wrap his mind around it, and the laugh shifts into something softer, something deeper. Something filled with wonder.

He presses his forehead to mine, the weight of his hands on my face grounding me, and then slowly, reverently, his hands slip down to rest over my stomach. His touch is warm, careful, as though he’s holding something delicate, something precious. The moment stretches between us, full of a new, tender energy, and I know without a doubt that everything has changed.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, raw and genuine, like he’s trying to find the words to hold all of it—this moment, this future, this life we’re about to create together.

And then, without another word, he kisses me. It’s slow, deep, and everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s a kiss that speaks of promises, of futures and dreams, of everything we’ve built and everything we will. I can feel the weight of it, the depth of it, and as he pulls me close, as his hands rest gently on the life growing inside me, I know that this moment is the beginning of everything. Everything has changed. And somehow, it feels like it always was meant to.

Bodhi is pacing, his boots scuffing against the cold stone floor with every angry step. The rhythm of his movement is frantic, almost like he's trying to outrun the frustration boiling inside him. His hands are thrown up in exasperation, his voice sharp with bitterness. “Of course, Xaden gets the good shit. Again. Powers? Sure. Now Violet... First in line for the throne? Why the hell not?” His voice cracks with sarcasm, the words biting through the air like daggers. “They both get the good fucking shit.”

I watch him, my heart beating wildly in my chest. It’s not the anger that rattles me; I’ve seen him like this before. But the weight of it all—the frustration that pours out of him—makes my stomach twist with something deeper. It’s all too familiar, this endless cycle of feeling overlooked, dismissed. His voice is thick with old grievances, with wounds that never quite heal, and I know well enough to recognize when he’s spiraling.

He’s about to explode, and I can’t let him. Not this time. If I don’t stop him, I know he’s going to hurt himself in more ways than one. So I step forward, my footsteps silent but determined, and before he can throw his next bitter word into the air, I grab his wrist, holding it firmly but gently.

“Bodhi.”

My voice cuts through his storm of frustration like a calm in the eye of the hurricane, sharp and steady. He freezes mid-step, his body tensing as my name slides past my lips. His hazel eyes, blazing with unresolved anger, snap to mine, and for a moment, everything else falls away.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself, feeling the weight of the words that have been resting on the edge of my tongue for what feels like an eternity. "I’m pregnant."

The shift is immediate, like the world tilts on its axis. His body locks up, rigid and uncertain, and his expression flickers through anger, confusion, and something else—something raw, vulnerable, and unguarded. His lips part, but no sound escapes. For a long moment, he just stands there, staring at me like I’ve just ripped the ground out from under him, like he’s trying to process what I’ve just dropped into the space between us.

The air in the room feels thick, charged, like time itself is holding its breath. Then, as if he’s been holding onto something for too long, the tension in his shoulders suddenly drains away, replaced by something softer, almost fragile. His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s unsure of what to do, like he wants to reach for me but is afraid of the weight of what this means.

“You’re—” He stops himself, blinking hard as if he’s trying to shake off the fog of disbelief. “You’re serious?”

I nod, and when I do, his whole body seems to collapse inward. His breath comes out in a sharp exhale, ragged and uneven, and a shaky laugh bursts from him. It’s low, almost disbelieving, like he can’t quite catch up to the reality of it all. His hands tremble as he reaches for me, pulling me close like I’m the only thing holding him together in this moment. His fingers land on my waist, steady and desperate, as if he needs to feel me beneath his hands, solid and real.

“Holy fucking shit,” he breathes, shaking his head with a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Xaden can keep his damn throne." And then, without warning, he’s kissing me. It’s not soft or gentle—it’s desperate, a kiss that’s full of raw emotion, of relief, of something far too big to name. His hands tighten around me, anchoring himself to the moment, to the realisation, to us.

When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t let go, his hand sliding down to rest over my stomach, warm and steady. His touch is a promise, a grounding force. He’s breathing heavily, still trying to catch up to the reality of everything, but there’s a clarity in his eyes now. A certainty that wasn’t there before.

“This?” He murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “This is ours.”

And for the first time in a long while, I see it—the shift in him, the release of all that frustration, all that anger, replaced with something I can’t quite name. But I know this is the moment everything changes. This is the beginning of something far greater than the chaos we’ve both been drowning in.

Violet slides a glass toward me, the faintest glint of challenge in her eyes as she smirks. “Come on, you’re not seriously turning down a drink, are you?” Her voice has a playful edge, teasing me, but something’s different in the way she looks at me, like she senses that something is off. I hesitate, the words swirling in my mind, threatening to spill, and that’s when I push the glass away.

Her smirk falters. “Wait. What?”

Before she can press further, I feel it—the weight of Ridoc’s gaze on me. I turn, and there he is, standing a few feet away, brow furrowed and head tilted just enough to show he’s putting pieces together. I’ve been trying to hide it, but I can’t. His sharp eyes meet mine, and I know he’s already suspicious. He sees the way my fingers twitch, the way my breath hitches just a little too sharply when Violet teases me. He knows something’s coming.

I swallow hard, grip his wrist, and tug him away from the table. The murmurs of the others fade as I pull him further from the group, needing space to breathe. My pulse is racing now, my heart pounding louder with each step. I know damn well I can’t hold this in any longer, but the moment I say it, things will never be the same.

We stop just outside the circle of laughter and conversation, where no one can overhear us. Ridoc stands there, arms folded, eyes narrowed with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Alright,” he says, drawing out the word. “You’re acting weird, you turned down alcohol, and you’re pulling me aside like you’ve got some massive secret. Should I be worried?”

The weight of it all presses against me, suffocating, but I manage to look him in the eye. This isn’t something I planned to tell him so soon, but I can’t carry this any longer. I take a deep breath, the words burning on my tongue, and whisper, “I’m pregnant.”

The world seems to stop.

Ridoc blinks once, then twice, as if he didn’t hear me right. His mouth opens, and then shuts, his brain visibly scrambling to process what I just said. His eyes dart to mine, searching for any hint of a joke, but there’s nothing. His hands, once folded tightly across his chest, now hang at his sides, fingers twitching like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

For a moment, he’s completely still, like the world around us has fallen silent and we’re the only ones who matter.

And then, his face shifts. The shock gives way to confusion, and that’s when I see it—the joy. The raw, unfiltered joy that bursts through his expression. His lips part, the corners twitching upward in disbelief. He can’t quite believe it. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

In the next breath, before I can say another word, he spins around, his body moving with a force that’s both desperate and excited. And then, as if he’s claiming the moment for himself, he calls out across the room, loud enough for the entire squad to hear.

“I’M GONNA BE A DAD!”

The room goes completely still. Every single person freezes. A glass hits the floor with a dull thud. Violet chokes on her drink. Rhiannon’s jaw nearly hits the floor. Xaden, of course, looks like he already knew, his gaze unamused but somehow fond. Ridoc, meanwhile, is still grinning like the world is his to conquer. He doesn’t even care that we’re the center of attention.

The chaos erupts. Cheers, whoops, congratulations from every corner of the room. The sound of people scrambling to get to us, laughing, offering their well-wishes. But I can’t help but bury my face in my hands, overwhelmed with embarrassment.

Ridoc’s laughter, though, it’s pure, unrestrained. He pulls me into his arms, lifting me off the ground in a tight, dizzying hug. His grip is firm but gentle, as if I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“You really thought I’d keep that to myself?” he says, his voice muffled in my hair as he chuckles, his breath warm against my skin. “Oh, love, you should know me better by now.”

I can barely breathe, laughing in spite of myself. The entire world feels like it’s shifting around us, and yet in this moment, I don’t care. I’m lost in him, in the joy he’s radiating, in the life we’ve just begun to build together. For the first time, I feel like nothing can touch us.

And when he finally pulls back, his hand slides over my stomach, slow and reverent, as if trying to memorise the change that’s already started to take place.

“This?” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “This is going to be the best thing thats ever happened to us.”

The soft sound of footsteps echoes through the quiet hallway, but it's the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open that pulls me from my thoughts. I'm sitting at the edge of the bed, a thousand things running through my mind, but when I hear it, I freeze.

The door clicks shut behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I can already hear Sawyer’s quiet, steady steps, the way he moves with that lazy confidence, like nothing in the world could make him rush. He's always been like that—unfazed, comfortable in his skin, but also the first one to notice when something’s off.

He leans against the doorframe, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and one brow arches slightly, like he's in on some joke I haven't figured out yet. He watches me for a long moment, his gaze knowing, waiting for me to speak. But I can’t. Words are stuck in my throat, heavy and thick.

I open my mouth, then close it again, trying to find the courage. My fingers brush against the edge of the bed, and it feels like the room is shrinking, the weight of what’s coming making my chest tighten.

Sawyer, ever perceptive, notices the shift in my demeanor instantly. Without hesitation, he pushes off the doorframe, his movements slow but purposeful. His voice is low, calm, but laced with concern. "What’s wrong?"

I glance at him, my heart hammering, and for a second, I almost wish I could keep this to myself just a little longer. But I know I can’t. Not with him. Not now.

I take a deep breath, avoiding his gaze as I stand up from the bed. My stomach churns again, a nauseating wave rising in my gut, but this time, it's different. I press a hand to my stomach, fighting against the bile that threatens to rise.

And that’s when I feel it—the low, guttural sound of me retching. I stumble toward the bathroom door before the first wave of nausea hits, pushing the door open just enough to avoid the inevitable disaster. I’m barely able to make it to the toilet before I’m on my knees, my body doubling over as I empty my stomach. The burn in my throat makes everything spin, and I try to steady myself, but it’s no use.

Then I hear it—the sound of Sawyer’s footsteps behind me, closer now, much closer. The door to the bathroom creaks open, and I don't need to look up to know he’s standing there. I can feel his presence, solid and unwavering. His hands press against the doorframe as he leans in, his gaze searching for me in the dim light.

“Hey… hey, you okay?” His voice is soft but urgent, his concern bleeding through the calm tone. He steps closer, his hand resting gently on the back of my neck, his touch warm and steady, like he’s trying to pull me back to earth.

I try to swallow, my breath still shallow, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” I say, but it comes out raspy and weak, not even close to convincing. The words fall flat, like they’re already on their way to breaking.

Sawyer doesn’t buy it. He crouches down beside me, his fingers brushing through my hair as he presses a damp cloth to the back of my neck. It’s soothing, but it’s also him, grounding me in a way that only he can.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs, voice low and calm.

And that’s when it happens—the dam breaks. I feel the weight of it, everything I’ve been holding back, and it spills out before I can stop it. “Sawyer, I’m pregnant.”

The words hang between us for a moment, and I can see it in his eyes—surprise, confusion, maybe even a little disbelief. His expression shifts like he's trying to process it, his brows furrowing for a fraction of a second before they smooth out, replaced by a gentle, almost stunned smile.

"You’re what?" he asks softly, his voice thick with the disbelief of the moment. But there’s something else there now, something warmer, a flicker of excitement, and maybe even hope.

I nod, my heart thudding in my chest as I try to steady myself, the nausea still lingering. His hands, once gently cradling me, tighten around me now, pulling me closer as if he’s trying to keep me anchored in the moment.

He blinks, then laughs softly, the sound almost disbelieving. “Holy shit,” he breathes, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m gonna be a dad?”

I nod again, the words tumbling out like they’re finally free, but I can feel the tension lift from my shoulders, replaced by something new, something lighter.

Sawyer’s expression shifts from disbelief to joy. It’s like the moment the words left my mouth, everything clicked for him. His arms tighten around me, pulling me into a warm embrace as he presses a kiss to my temple, the action soft, tender. "I’m gonna be a dad," he repeats, voice thick with emotion.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his hand coming up to gently cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. “You just made me the happiest guy alive, you know that?”

I lean into his touch, feeling the sincerity in every word, every action. The chaos of the moment, the whirlwind of emotions, all start to settle in a way I didn’t expect. I’ve been carrying this secret, but now, in this moment, it feels like everything is going to be okay. Together.

Sawyer grins, his eyes sparkling with a joy that’s impossible to miss. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but we’ll figure it out. Together.” And just like that, the weight of everything shifts. It’s no longer a burden. It’s a promise.

Dain is already watching me when I step into the room, his eyes flicking over me with that overly cautious, ever-concerned expression that only he can pull off. It's like he has a sixth sense for when something is off. I can feel the weight of his gaze, like he's reading me before I even open my mouth. But this time, I can tell—he has no idea what's coming.

I shift on my feet, trying to steady my racing heart, and exhale sharply. The words feel stuck in my throat, but I can’t keep them in any longer. I have to say it, no matter how much it makes my palms sweat or my stomach churn.

“I’m pregnant,” I say, my voice a little shakier than I want it to be.

For a full five seconds, Dain doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. It’s like time has stopped, and I’m caught in this endless moment, waiting for him to process what I’ve just said. His face is completely blank, like his brain just short-circuited, like I’ve just dropped an impossible bomb on him and his system is still rebooting.

Then, panic. Pure, unfiltered panic. “You’re what?!” His voice jumps an octave, his eyes going wide as his hands fly up in the air, like he’s physically trying to keep reality from sinking in. “How—? I mean, I know how, but—this isn’t—what are we going to—?”

I can almost see the wheels turning in his head, like he’s trying to work out a hundred different scenarios all at once, his mind moving faster than he can process. He starts pacing, running a hand through his hair, muttering to himself like he’s already mentally drawing up battle plans for a war he didn’t see coming. “We need a plan. I need to—fuck, what if—what about Xaden? Does he know? And the squad? And—”

Before he can fully spiral, a sharp smack echoes through the room. Dain jerks forward slightly, his eyes snapping up in shock, and I can’t help but let out a breath of relief at the interruption.

Behind him stands Sloane, one hand on her hip, the other still raised from the smack she just delivered upside his head. She’s unimpressed, as always, her expression a mixture of disbelief and mild annoyance.

“Pull yourself together, Aetos,” she deadpans, like she’s heard enough. “She just told you she’s pregnant, not that the kingdom is burning down.”

Dain blinks rapidly, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head, his brow furrowing as he tries to process what just happened. “Did you just—?”

Sloane doesn’t even flinch. She just raises an eyebrow and gives him an almost bored look. “You were being dramatic.”

I can’t help the small chuckle that escapes my lips at the exchange. I’m still reeling from the words I just said, but Sloane’s dry humor is like a lifeline, and Dain’s still-freaked-out expression helps ground me.

Something shifts in Dain’s face then. The panic is still there, lingering, but it begins to break apart, bit by bit. He exhales sharply, like he's realizing just how deep into this he’s about to dive. His gaze flicks back to me, and this time, he really sees me—really sees me. The fear is still there, but it's quieter now, and there’s something else in his eyes. Something steadier. Something that tells me he’s starting to process it, even if he’s still not sure what the next step is.

Dain steps forward slowly, almost cautiously, like he’s afraid I might slip away from him if he moves too quickly. His hands reach for mine, his grip warm, a little shaky. For a moment, the world feels like it narrows to just him and me, the chaos of his thoughts receding into the background as he pulls me into his orbit.

“You’re pregnant,” he repeats softly, his voice a little raw. The words still feel strange in the air, like he's still getting used to them, but there’s something comforting in the way he says them. Like he's finally letting the weight of it sink in.

Then, to my complete surprise, a small, almost reverent smile tugs at his lips. The kind of smile I’ve never seen from him before. It’s not the typical confident, strategic grin he wears when he’s solving a problem or taking charge. No, this smile is softer, more awed, like he’s realizing something bigger than both of us.

“We’re going to be okay,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but it’s filled with something more. A promise. A reassurance.

Just as I feel myself starting to breathe again, Sloane claps Dain on the shoulder with enough force to almost send him stumbling forward. She doesn’t even look back at us as she starts to walk away, her voice cutting through the moment with a sarcastic edge.

“About time,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head.

Dain huffs out a quiet laugh, clearly unbothered by her comment. He squeezes my hands tighter, his grip grounding me as his other arm slides around my back, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“I’ll be better at this,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, his breath warm against my ear. “I promise.”

I rest my head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against mine, and for the first time in a long while, I believe him. Together, we’ll figure this out. One step at a time.

The meeting room is tense, filled with whispers and the clink of metal as people adjust in their seats. Violet is leaning forward, her usual soft smile replacing any hint of concern, while the others are deep in debate about who will go on the next mission. The stakes are high, and it’s clear that everyone wants to make sure they’re well-prepared. My heart is pounding in my chest, a tight knot forming as I feel the weight of what’s coming. The group is discussing the flying assignments, who’s going to be paired with Violet on her dangerous mission, and I can’t help but feel like something’s off. There’s a restlessness in me, a hesitation that I can’t shake.

Then, as expected, the moment comes. They call my name.

I stand, my legs feeling heavier than usual as I move toward the front of the room, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. I haven't even had the chance to tell Aaric yet. Haven’t had the chance to figure out what to say, how to handle it, how to let him in on something that already feels like it might be too much for us to process together.

But then, just as the silence begins to settle in the room, his voice cuts through, clear and commanding.

“No.” Aaric’s tone is sharp, his presence suddenly filling the room with an authority that demands attention. All eyes snap toward him as he stands from his seat, his jaw tight, a flash of something determined in his eyes. “She’s not going.”

Everyone blinks in confusion, unsure of where this sudden interruption is coming from. I glance over at Violet, who raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. She’s known Aaric for years, but she’s never seen him this... intense, this protective.

“What do you mean, she’s not going?” Xaden’s voice is incredulous, his hands on her hips as he challenges him. “We need her there. She’s more than capable—”

Aaric cuts her off, his gaze never leaving me. “I’m not letting her go. Not when—” He pauses, his expression tightening, like he’s struggling to hold back the words. But then his gaze flickers over to me, and the moment shifts. He knows. His eyes soften, just for a second, and I realize that somehow, without me even saying a word, he’s already figured it out. He’s seen it.

Before anyone can react, Aaric strides toward me, his hand lightly resting on my shoulder, like he’s grounding himself as much as he’s grounding me. “You’re pregnant,” he announces, his voice thick with the weight of his knowledge. The room falls into stunned silence.

I freeze, every muscle in my body locking up as his words hit me like a physical blow. I hadn’t planned to tell anyone yet. I hadn’t even figured out how to tell him. And now, here he is, pulling me into the center of attention, revealing something so personal that I feel like my entire world is shifting beneath me.

There’s a brief moment of chaos, with murmurs spreading through the room, eyes flicking between us. Some of the squad members look concerned, others confused, and a few seem like they’ve been expecting this. But I can’t focus on them. I can’t focus on anything except the look in Aaric’s eyes.

“I…” I try to speak, but the words stick in my throat. I’m not angry at him, not exactly. But I feel exposed, raw. How did he know?

Aaric’s gaze softens as he watches me, but his tone is firm. “I saw it.” His voice drops, quieter now, only for me to hear. “My signet... It showed me. I can’t... I can’t let you put yourself in danger. Not now.”

The sincerity in his eyes is almost enough to break me. His instinct—his foresight—has always been a double-edged sword. It’s saved us more times than I can count, but now, it’s exposing a vulnerability neither of us were ready for. He’s not just thinking about the mission or the war. He’s thinking about me. About us.

Violet is staring at us, disbelief on her face, but Aaric isn’t looking at her. His attention is fully on me, and the way he holds my gaze makes me feel like I’m the only person in the room.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his hand slipping from my shoulder to gently take my hand. “I know this isn’t easy. But I’m not letting you go out there. Not like this. Not with...” His voice falters for a moment, the weight of his own emotions pressing down on him. “We’re going to be a family.”

His words hit harder than I expected. He hasn’t even had time to process the gravity of what he’s saying, yet somehow, he’s already stepping up in ways I hadn’t anticipated. There’s no panic in his voice, no second-guessing. Just a quiet certainty that, in this moment, makes me feel like maybe everything will be okay.

I open my mouth to argue, to tell him that I’m capable, that I’ve handled worse, but something in his eyes stops me. The truth is, I’m scared. Scared of what this means, what it changes between us. But at the same time, there’s something about Aaric’s confidence, his protectiveness, that makes me feel like maybe—just maybe—he’s right.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

He squeezes my hand, his smile a little softer now, though still full of that unshakeable confidence. “You didn’t have to tell me. I knew.”

And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m carrying this burden alone.

The war room is quiet, save for the occasional crackle of candlelight and the rustling of parchment as Brennan pores over the map before him. His shoulders are taut, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. He hasn’t come to bed yet. Again.

I watch him from the doorway for a long moment, arms crossed, my heartbeat an insistent drum against my ribs. He’s been lost in his own mind for hours, drowning in battle plans and strategy, and if I don’t pull him out of it, I know he’ll stay here all night.

So, I move.

The air is thick with the scent of parchment and ink, the remnants of a half-finished cup of tea gone cold at his elbow. He doesn’t look up as I approach, not even when I step behind him and press my hands against his tense shoulders, kneading gently.

“Brennan.” My voice is soft, coaxing.

A quiet hum is the only response I get. He leans into my touch, just barely, but his eyes stay fixed on the map.

Stubborn man.

I exhale sharply before shifting, slipping into his lap with ease. That gets his attention. His hands move instinctively to my hips, steadying me, but his gaze flickers only briefly to my face before returning to the table, as if I’m just another part of the world he’s trying to control.

I huff in frustration, threading my fingers through his auburn hair, tugging gently. “You’re ignoring me.”

“I’m working,” he murmurs, voice distant, distracted.

“Brennan.” This time, there’s warning in my tone. When he still doesn’t look at me, I grab his face between my hands, forcing him to meet my gaze.

He startles, his breath catching, and for the first time tonight, I have his undivided attention.

“Look at me,” I whisper.

His lips part slightly, confusion flickering in the depths of his amber eyes, but he doesn’t pull away. My thumbs brush over the sharp lines of his jaw, tracing the tension there, the weight he carries like armour.

I exhale, slow and measured, before I finally speak the words that have been pressing against my ribs all night.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

A long, breathless pause where the world seems to still, time stretching between us like something fragile. Brennan doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. His expression is utterly unreadable, carved from stone.

Then—his hands tighten at my waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt like he’s grounding himself, like he’s afraid to let go.

“What?” The word is barely a whisper, hoarse with something I can’t quite name.

I swallow, my throat suddenly tight. “I’m pregnant.”

His chest rises and falls sharply, the only sign that he’s actually processing what I just said. For a long, terrifying moment, he just stares at me—like I’m something impossible, something too precious to be real.

And then, the breath he’s been holding rushes out of him all at once. His hands move without thought, sliding up my sides, over my stomach, reverent and almost hesitant, as if he’s afraid he might break me.

“You’re serious?” His voice is raw, stripped of all its usual certainty.

I nod.

Something in him shatters.

He exhales a quiet, disbelieving laugh, but his eyes are bright, almost feverish with emotion. And then he’s kissing me—fierce, desperate, like he’s trying to press this moment into my skin so he’ll never forget it. His hands tangle in my hair, pull me closer, his breath warm and unsteady against my lips.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests against mine, his eyes searching mine for something unspoken. His fingers skim over my stomach again, slower this time, lingering.

“We’re going to have a child,” he murmurs, like he’s only just allowing himself to believe it.

I nod again, my own breath shaky.

Brennan closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling against my skin. And when he looks at me again, it’s different. The storm inside him has quieted, replaced by something deeper, something unshakable.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice rough with promise. “And I swear to you—I swear on everything—I will protect you both.”

Tears burn at the edges of my vision, but I blink them away, letting my fingers trace the strong lines of his face. “I know.”

And for the first time in hours, Brennan forgets about war.

For the first time in weeks, he lets himself hold something other than duty.

Me. Us. Our future.

And for now, that’s enough.

[koenigami]

not sure if you allow it, but how does wriothesly react when the reader uses their safe word during an intense session?

tags : fem!reader, smut, crying, use of safeword, aftercare, comfort, +18

It's hot in the room, the constant gurgling of the pipes reminding you that WRIOTHESLEY must have turned up the heating higher than usual. Then why is your body shivering, with goosebumps all over your skin? You can't see him, can't hear him because he has barely talked to you ever since he's returned from his office. Yet you feel his large, intimidating form loom over your body from behind. You can't speak, can barely breathe with his constricting hand around your throat that somehow seems to get tighter by every passing second.

He's immune to your whimpers, to the tears rolling down your cheeks. With each forceful thrust of his, you hear the bed creak and feel your knees get weaker, your body loosing strength until you're nothing but a limp toy for him. You want to get up, push him away, but the grip his other hand has on your wrists while holding them behind your back- He's just too strong.

That's when even the last ounce of pleasure leaves your body and you're left with nothing but dread and panic. "Red, p-please." you barely recognise your own voice, hoarse and frightened. "No more, please, red."

The pressure on your windpipes is gone instantly. You realise it, not by the oxygen that is easier entering your airways, no, because you still feel like you're suffocating. You realise it because his warmth is as well gone in an instant. W-Where did he go?

Rough hands are all over your body, yet they treat you with so much care, helping you turn and lie on your back, soothing down your thighs. One of them at last settles on your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing it and wiping the tears away. "Y/n? Sweetheart, you with me?"

You sniffle and press the heels of your palms against your eyes, your chest shaking with more sobs that won't stop racking your body. "I'm sorry, 'm so sorry. I-I don't even know-"

"No, no, don't apologise. There's nothing to be sorry for." Your brain still feels foggy as you finally look over at Wriothesley who's crouching beside the bed, giving you enough space to breathe yet still having his hands all over you, not wanting to let you go. Nonetheless, you're able to notice the tension in his posture, in his facial expressions. "Just try to relax, alright? You're okay now." his hand shifts to your hair, fingers combing through the messy strands until they settle on your scalp, soothingly massaging you there. "You did good. It was too much, wasn't it?"

"Couldn't breathe." you whisper and realise that you feel so small in his presence, but not in an inferior way. Wriothesley may look all brutish and intimidating with a strength that could crush any allegedly impenetrable door in the fortress, but you're well aware that he would never use that strength against people that he cares about. "And, uhm-"

Piercing blue eyes watch as you nervously fiddle with the blanket that he has covered you with. But the little peck he gives you on your shoulder tells you that he wants to let you have a breather and take as much time as you need to sort your thoughts. "You seemed a-angry. You were so quiet and, I don't know. It was..."

"Scary?" he finishes for you, a gentle and reassuring smile plastered on his face that alleviates the pressure on your chest.

"Yeah."

Silence invades the bedroom for a short moment, making you forget that you're miles beneath the water surface, that the room which you share with him belongs to a prison, that a few moments prior your body has been in a fight-or-flight mode. The silence reminds you that you're safe and that all of this, all of him, is home. "Will you come back to bed? And hold me?"

Wriothesley's eyes soften at your request and the timid sound of your voice. "Of course, my love." His knees pop when he eventually gets up, pressing a fleeting kiss on your temple before he picks his pants up from the floor and puts them on. Despite the previous events, you can't help but feel a light heat creep up your neck when you get a sight of his naked buttocks.

"Careful with those wandering eyes. I might think you want to continue where we left off." Wriothesley chuckles when you pull the blanket over your head, a futile attempt to hide your embarrassed expression.

"Come here." the mattress dips beside you and you let him tug the blanket off your head. The warmth and smell of his make you sigh in contentment once he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. "I'm the one who should apologise. I was not aware of how much I was hurting you."

The teasing smirk and brief leisurely attitude are gone, replaced by a seriousness that you usually only get to see when he's handling work related matters. He kisses your face again and again, further silent apologies that he hopes will lessen the pain inside your chest. And his. "I was a little irritated, yes, but that had nothing to do with you. Some inmates got their hands on a few bottles of wine." he explains. "Those drunkards started spewing lots of nonsense when I confronted them about it."

What did they say?" you inquire quietly, your eyes slowly but surely feeling heavier. With a palm against his naked chest, you notice the rapid heartbeat but decide to not give it any mind, since Wriothesley's tender strokes along your back are truly not making it easy for you to stay awake and think straight.

He stops his movements for a short moment, clenching and unclenching his fist as his eyes trail over the red, irritated skin of his knuckles.

"Your grace has turned quite soft." "Your little mouse must be doing a great job in bed, huh?" "Why don't you lend her to us? I'm sure we could teach her a thing or two?"

"Nothing you should worry your head about." his voice is merely a whisper as his lips move against your forehead before he buries his nose in your hair and resumes to trace more soothing shapes on your lower back.

a/n : thank you for your patience, dear anon! hope you'll see this since your request has been sitting for a while in my inbox-

[pinkpurplesunrises]

3:37 AM (And None of My Organs Are Where They Should Be) - the short story - Alexia Putellas x Pregnant!Reader - because you all loved the other one so much, I couldn't help to write one more...

It’s 3:37 AM.

You know this because you've been staring at the glowing red numbers on the bedside clock like it personally wronged you.

You shift to your left.

Nope. Immediate regret. Baby-on-bladder combo says: "Nice try, fool."

You turn to your right.

Okay. Slightly better. Except now there's a stabbing pain in your back that feels like a 900-year-old goblin is poking you with a stick and whispering "you’re ancient now."

You flip onto your back.

Ha. HAHAHA. Who are you kidding? That was banned three months ago by your OB, Alexia, and your own lungs.

You groan. Loudly.

There’s a shuffle beside you. The rustle of sheets. A sleepy, concerned voice:

“Amor?”

Alexia. Half-asleep. Full-worried. Sounding like someone just told her you went into labor in the middle of a Champions League final.

“I can’t get comfortable,” you whine. Not just whine. Whaaaaiiine. Like a distressed dolphin.

Alexia props herself up on one elbow. “Didn’t we build you a pillow fortress before bed?”

You look down.

Yes. Yes, you did. There are five pillows under various parts of your body: one between your knees, one under the belly, one behind your back, one hugging your chest, and one... who knows. Possibly sentient and planning a coup.

“Your fortress is failing,” you grumble. “I think I’ve merged with it. I’m either a person or a beanbag now. Unclear.”

Alexia blinks blearily at you, then sits up, gently rubbing your shoulder. “Want me to get you more pillows?”

“I don’t need more pillows, I need a new spine. Or a better gravity. Just turn gravity off. You’re Alexia Putellas, can’t you do that now?”

She laughs, soft and scratchy with sleep. “If I could turn off gravity, I’d float us to a spa in the Maldives.”

“God. Yes. Let’s go. Right now. I’m not even joking. I’d pay one million fake euros.”

“You don’t have one million fake euros.”

“I don’t even have clean socks, Alexia. Don’t make this about economics.”

She’s smiling now. Fully awake. Reaching behind her to grab the lavender pillow spray that neither of you believe in but always use anyway because it smells like you’re about to be hypnotized into sleep. She gives your pillow a few spritzes.

You lie back down. She gently helps rearrange the pillow-under-belly with a kind of practiced choreography. You’d both gotten absurdly good at the pregnant pillow shuffle. Which honestly deserves an Olympic event.

Then Alexia does the one thing that still makes your entire soul melt. she starts tracing little shapes on your arm with her fingers.

“You know,” she says quietly, “you’ve handled this pregnancy like a champion.”

You grunt. “I’ve cried over a dropped sandwich, yelled at a pigeo and almost fought a toddler for the last mango popsicle at Mercadona.”

“That toddler shoved you,” she replies, very seriously. “I saw it.”

You turn to her, eyes wide. “Thank you. I knew I wasn’t imagining it.”

Silence settles for a second. Then you add:

“Also, I think my rib is broken from the baby doing ninja flips.”

Alexia leans down and kisses your forehead. “Maybe they’ll be a gymnast. Or a defender with sharp elbows.”

“I want them to be a librarian who sits down a lot.”

She laughs again. Wrapping her arm around you gently. Careful not to disturb your elaborate pillow nest. “We’ll tell them they were born under a full moon and several orthopedic nightmares.”

“And that their mom scored a header the day after I threw up on her cleats.”

“You always bring that up.”

“I threw up on your cleats, babe. That’s love.”

She kisses your temple. “You’re the love of my life.”

You close your eyes, finally. Finally. Finding a position that isn’t 100% suffering.

And as you drift toward sleep... still a little uncomfortable. Still very pregnant. Still wondering if your ankles will ever reappear. You feel Alexia’s fingers gently moving across your arm. Tracing out letters.

You smile.

Because you know she’s writing "T-E-Q-U-I-E-R-O", over and over again. Just like she did back when you first started dating. Long before babies and pillow forts and 3:37 AM existential crises.

Love. In the quietest, weirdest, realest way.

[good-advice-ganondorf]

Majora's Mask and what it means to be grown up

(aka my collected analysis of the Legend of Zelda Majora's Mask)

I will say that generally I don't think Termina is purgatory, or a dream, or anything like that. To me, Termina is kind of like a Silent Hill type parallel world, where you face your deepest traumas.

First, the parallels between Majora's Mask, and the child section of Ocarina of Time.

The first dungeon for both games is in a vast wooded area, there are woodland races inhabiting both areas, the Kokiri for Ocarina of Time, and the Deku for Majora's mask. The second dungeon is in a great mountain, inhabited by the Gorons. The third dungeon is in a vast body of water, inhabited by the Zora.

Then, things split. After Jabu Jabu, Link becomes an adult. After Great Bay, there's Ikana Canyon. A land of nothing but Death.

Who caused the death of Ikana? Who else but the king, Igo Du Ikana. Ikana was plunged into disrepair, after Igos started a war with a clan of Ninjas, to receive a powerful artifact, in a great and mysterious temple. Sound familiar? It should, this is exactly what Ganondorf did, after Link was sealed away for seven years. But Ganondorf was successful.

But Ikana isn't completely occupied by the dead, no. Pamela remains, with her father, turned into an undead monster. Much like Sheik, the last Sheikah, who is revealed to be Zelda. And her father? He's never seen, but I'd imagine it would be easy enough for Ganondorf to become king, if the other one was no longer around. From a man, to a corpse.

So, if Ganondorf is a parallel to Igos, and Zelda is a parallel to Pamela, what about Link? He's a little different. I believe that, along with Kafei and Tingle, all three of the transformation masks are a representation of Link, and his feelings towards being forced to grow up.

Tingle is, as we know, a 35 year old man who thinks he's a fairy boy. Similar to how link was a 10 year old boy, who thought he was a fairy boy. I believe Tingle is a reflection of what Link could have been if he never left Kokiri Forest. An adult hylian man, thinking he's a Kokiri.

On the contrary, Kafei is distraught at the idea of becoming a child again. He's weaker, he can't marry his fiancee, and everyone treats him like well, a child, despite his maturity. I believe this is how Link feels after becoming a child again. He used to be a strong adult, and even if he's not as mature as Kafei, he still went through a lot, and knows a lot more about life now. Kafei even reuses Link's model and animations.

There's a reoccurring theme in Ocarina of Time where Link just doesn't belong anywhere he goes. He's an outsider to the other races, because he's a hylian, but he's also an outsider to the hylians, because he was raised as a Kokiri. I think the transformation masks reflect that.

The Deku Butler's Son is what he could have been as a Kokiri. He could have been a happy little boy, living with his father, and his community. But Link and the Deku butler's son both left home to explore, and as far as both the Kokiri and the Deku are concerned, neither came back.

Darmani is what he could have been as a Goron. A powerful hero to the Gorons, celebrated by them for clearing Dodongo's Cavern. A close link between the goron elder, Darunia, and their sons. Both him and Link remain after death, lamenting on their histories as heros.

Mikau is what he could have been as a Zora. Maybe not a cool as hell guitarist, but a husband to Ruto, and Prince of the Zora Who would stop at nothing to keep her happy and safe, like infiltrating a fortress, or climbing inside of a whale.

Even the Fierce Deity is just Link, but back as an adult. As if so much changed so rapidly, he felt like he transformed into something less like himself, and more like a powerful god. He could have continued being strong, and powerful, the defeater of Ganon, but he had to become a child again. He has to stay as a small, and unknown child.

The ages of the masks even match the human life cycle. According to the debug menu (and if you subscribe to the theory that Link and DBS's ages were swapped), DBS is 5, Link is 12, Darmani is 30, Mikau is 78, and, Fierce Deity is 17, likely due to his model being recycled from adult Link's. Link starts the game in the body of a 5 year old, then a 12 year old, then a 30 year old, then a 72 year old, and finally, a God.

We don't exactly know how Link feels. But I can't imagine it would be easy to go from a child, with no concept of death, to be thrust into a position where he's forced to fight and kill an adult man so much stronger than he is. And then everything was just reversed. Like that. As if it never happened. And only Link remembers the impending doom he faced. All he can do is remember Ganondorf's reign. Almost like he's reliving the same few days, again, and again, and again.

[gffa]

I have been drifting back to STAR WARS fandom lately and I have been greatly rewarded for it, especially in the gen fic veins, because there have been some banger fics authors have been putting out! And the thing that really gets me in the fannish heart is that there's more and more fics about the Jedi, both for exploring the characters and the culture. I have been able to find multiple fics that have been kind to Mace Windu! I have been able to find multiple fics that explain what attachment actually is to the Jedi and to Star Wars! I have been able to find multiple fics that lift my spirit up or punch me in the feelings in exactly the right way, both for the usual disaster lineage faves, but also for the Jedi as a whole. I'm serious, that means the world to me in this fandom, and I desperately want to share that with you all. LET ME SHOVE FIC AT YOU THAT LOVES THESE CHARACTERS AND THIS WORLD AS MUCH AS I DO!!

FICS THAT PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE WITH HOW GOOD THEY WERE: ✦ wayfinding by night by wrennette, obi-wan & luke & cast, time travel, 10.2k     Before him stood a fellow Jedi, worn and weary with loss. Obi-Wan finds himself on Ahch-To and helps Luke find a path through his grief. ✦ may you inherit his light by notbecauseofvictories, leia & bail & anakin & cast, 2.5k     When your father dies, say the Coruscanti, you are left clutching a star map for a different galaxy. In this, as in many things, Leia is her fathers' daughter. ✦ No Freedom From the Storm (But Peace In Its Midst) by Be_Right_Back, mace & cast, ~1k     Mace is freefalling. On his way down, he meets Hatred, and reaches for Serenity. ✦ "...if you remain his student" by Peppermint_Shamrock, anakin & ahsoka & cast, 3.9k     Ahsoka doesn't leave the Jedi Order. This does not save Anakin. This was never going to save Anakin. Nor stop him. ✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal, time travel, 47.4k wip     Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be. (Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the clone troopers have no idea what to make of Kenobi's weird new padawan. At least the kid fits in, though.) ✦ No Death, Only the Force by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & depa & shmi, 2.8k     Anakin Skywalker is just about to to free his mother from the Tuskens when the Force rudely yanks him to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant – and into Mace Windu's body. Mace, on the other hand, gets tossed into Anakin's body on Tatooine. ✦ Well Met by avocadomoon, obi-wan/padme (unconsumated) & corde & anakin, 19k     "Here and then gone again," Padmé said. "It must be lonely." "Sometimes," Obi-Wan said. "But a Jedi is never truly alone."

THIS FANDOM HAS A HAMMER AND A WHOLE BUNCH OF NAILS AND A REALLY GOOD STAPLE GUN, WE'RE FIXING WHAT CANON BROKE AND NOBODY CAN STOP US NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Begin again by mauvera, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 78.9k     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. ✦ Repetition by Peppermint_Shamrock, cody & obi-wan, time loop, 3k     Cody wakes up from a nightmare on the way to Utapau, again and again.

CANON-COMPLIANT (MOSTLY, UP TO A CERTAIN POINT, WHATEVER) DISASTER LINEAGE: ✦ it's like i can feel time moving by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 5.4k     “Hi,” Anakin says. It's after midnight. “Is everything alright?” “Can’t a man stop by his old master’s room?” Obi-Wan stares at him blankly. “Are you out of food?” ✦ yes, I will take you / I will love you, again by foreverstudent, obi-wan & anakin & cast, time travel, 2.5k     "So you have tried, Padawan." Qui-Gon takes a moment, and his expression is steely but not unkind--the one Obi-Wan remembers from particularly grueling training sessions. "Would you try again, if you had the chance?" OWK!Obi-Wan gets another chance, with a child he once left behind. ✦ No Good Deed Goes Unpunished by kittona, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.1k     Anakin gets a bit overprotective when his loved ones are sick. Luckily, he has the best home remedy for a cold. ✦ nothing a cup of tea can't fix by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.5k     when Anakin shows up to Obi-Wan's quarters in the middle of the night, the Jedi Master knows something has gone awry. answering Anakin's desperate cry for help, Obi-Wan is reminded of how very, very prone to dramatics his former padawan and grand padawan are. or Ahsoka gets sick and Anakin flips his shit. ✦ Stick Figures by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 2k     war is hard. war is draining. to make it more bearable, little mementos* are routinely given. *mementos: encouraging notes, funny little drawings, little gifts, fun snacks, and poems which might get Anakin in trouble. ✦ When the Ground Breaks by stolen_pen_name23, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 4.7k     An earthquake causes devastation on the planet of Berchest. Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka work together to help save civilians until disaster pulls them apart. ✦ never fear, young one by marverse, obi-wan & ahsoka & cast, 6.2k     Ever since her first day of being a padawan, Ahsoka Tano remembers the words that Master Skywalker had once told her. And every time, she wonders, wonders, and wonders. ✦ the street's a little kinder when you're home by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin, 5.2k     "So catch me up," Anakin says. "What did I miss?” Nothing. Nothing happens when you’re gone. “Oh, the usual.” [or: anakin goes missing. obi-wan doesn't handle it well.] ✦ holding anchor by foreverstudent, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 3.2k     At the landing of Point Rain, an injured Obi-Wan allows himself to be sentimental over his former padawan, and Anakin patches up his old master. ✦ Nothing to Say by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & satine, 3.2k     (or: Anakin and Satine don’t know how to talk to each other. Until they remember the very important thing they have in common.) ✦ Aggressive Negotiations by SkyBlue1309, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 2.2k     People forget that Anakin was raised by the Negotiator. He was bound to pick up on a thing or two. ✦ At The Window by Peppermint_Shamrock, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k     In the early days of Anakin's apprenticeship, Obi-Wan searches for him in the Temple. ✦ The Words by Ibelin, obi-wan & anakin, 3.9k     Obi-Wan Kenobi has never said I love you in his life. He can say a lot of other things, though.

JEDI CULTURE AND WORLDBUILDING AND CELEBRATION: ✦ Refractions of Light by Independence1776, ezra & kanan, 1.3k     Kanan celebrates a Jedi holiday with Ezra. ✦ The grand outing by Ingata, dooku & sifo-dyas & obi-wan & bant & garen & reeft & yoda & cast, 4.5k     Eight younglings and two Jedi masters on a field trip. What could possibly go wrong? ✦ into the statue that breathes by spoonks, obi-wan & feemor & cast, 8.5k     The night watch in the garden was supposed to be the calmest of them all. No mischievous Padawans “sneaking” in or out, or ne’er-do-well civilians conducting “business” around the lower-level entrances that they didn’t know existed. No the gardens was still, and it was like time was frozen in ice that slowly melted away with the rising of the sun. A slow drip, drip— Drip. Immediately Feemor turned towards the central waterfall. Someone was standing there. Whoever they were, they were small and moved through katas with their hands open like a greeting. ✦ The Temple vs. Order 66 by LauraBWrites, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cody & jedi & jedi temple, 3.9k     The Temple cannot defy the Will of the Force. But it can, it will prepare for the possible outcomes. It can damn well fight back. ✦ We Three Runaways. by Aethir, obi-wan & depa & komari, 2.7k     In which Depa and Obi-Wan bond, and a new sister is found. ✦ A Short Break by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & yoda, ~1k     Luke complains about his training, and asks about Jedi training of old. ✦ we are made of our longest days by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 4.4k     Two years after the events of The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan and his new apprentice are called to a remote moon to fetch a baby who’s showing signs of a rare, unique power. On their journey home, Obi-Wan reflects on the last child he brought to the Temple and catches a faint glimpse of three possibly entwining futures.

I AM A PREQUELS ERA BITCH AND I'M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE'S PROBLEM: ✦ the salle at dawn by maragny, anakin & mace, 1.5k wip     Master Windu is the best duellist in the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker is seventeen, he duels Mace for the first time, and it ruins both of them for anyone else. ✦ Saving People Counts as Revenge, Right? by ImperialKatwala, obi-wan & anakin & dooku, time travel, 4.3k wip     Count Dooku of Serenno is an intelligent man. His methods may be a bit severe, and he may not be allowed true freedom to plan campaigns in the war he helped create, but he has always had an eye for strategy. Moving the pieces around the board and plotting out where they will need to be next. So, when he opens his eyes after Anakin Skywalker cut his head off, he knows to take a moment to assess what’s going on. ✦ if I could find solid ground again by maragny, anakin & depa, 1.5k     “You never told me what we’re doing today,” Anakin says, a little hesitant. “I…I don’t know much about Jedi things yet.” "Good thing we’re not doing Jedi things, then,” Depa replies. “We’re cooking!” Or, Anakin and Depa, finding their places in their family. ✦ Birds Fly in Different Directions by Triscribe, jedi & clones, time travel, 14.6k     In the corridor beyond her quarters, other Jedi were emerging from their own doors, most of them wide-eyed with shock. A few merely looked blearily concerned, and Aayla heard snatches of questions as she darted past, queries as to whether everyone experienced the same distressing vision. But those who clutched at their chests or throats, their weak points- those Jedi bore a muted horror in their eyes, and Aayla didn’t doubt they’d just suffered their own betrayals from trusted men.

✦ The Master, The Padawan, and The Force by Pandora151, padme & ahsoka, 1.9k     Padmé Naberrie was never one to procrastinate. More than that, she maintained a steady, consistent schedule — something that she’d managed to keep ever since she was a Padawan. She was always on top of everything, from her responsibilities with the war to training her own Padawan, Ahsoka. She was well-known throughout the Order for being steady, reliable. And most notably, no matter what, she didn’t just forget things. Which made her current situation all the more…ridiculous. ✦ Off-by-one Error by Jessepinwheel, obi-wan & cast, 12.2k     A stranger appears in the Jedi Temple. Nobody knows who he is or where he came from. Nobody knows what has happened to him except that it must have been something truly terrible. The stranger's name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. ✦ splinters of light by wrennette, dooku & jocasta & sifo-dyas & yoda & jaster & jango & cast, time travel, 22.5k     When Dooku's dying consciousness was sent back into his younger body, at first he remembered only that something important would happen on Korda VI, and soon. His investigations brought both clarity and confusion, and a conviction that he must atone for evils not yet enacted. ✦ The Road that Reaches by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & yoda & depa & shmi, 11.5k     As the Council sits down on Naboo to consider the newly-knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi's request to take young Anakin Skywalker as his padawan, they're informed of what transpired on Tatooine – and that Anakin used to be a slave. Mace Windu goes to interview the young child to confirm this, and gets rather more than he signed up for. ✦ the salle at dawn by maragny, anakin &/ mace, 5.1k     Master Windu is the best duellist in the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker is seventeen, he duels Mace for the first time, and it ruins both of them for anyone else. ✦ through the dark (like two flames) by treescape, kanan/cal & quinlan, 5.3k     A Jedi found him on Bracca. Or, in the weeks after Order 66, Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume are reunited on Jabiim. Five years late, on the run from Inquisitors, they have a decision to make. ✦ Resilience by TemporaryUniverse, obi-wan & mace, 3.3k     Twelve years after his defeat at the Battle of Naboo, Obi-Wan's greatest enemy has returned from the dead. Obi-Wan has faced Maul and lost. Now it is time to face himself. ✦ The Buried Truth is Your Favorite Lie by Peppermint_Shamrock, dooku & yoda, ~1k     Dooku tries and fails to leave the past behind. ✦ Hanging On by the Last Threads of Our Hope by IllyanaA, ahsoka & rex, 5.2k     Ahsoka and Rex have endured too much. After the Fall, they stay together until they can't, but the Force has a way of bringing them back together. It's a fact for which both of them are immeasurably grateful.

MULTIGENERATIONAL STAR WARS IS THE BEST STAR WARS: ✦ Future Tense by CeruleanTactician, obi-wan & anakin & luke, time travel, 1.4k     Obi-Wan and Anakin find themselves twenty years in the future, where they meet a young man by the name of Luke Skywalker. ✦ Keepsakes by Coalmine301, obi-wan & leia, 2k     “You were the one who gave me my bantha, weren’t you?” “Yes,” Obi-wan nodded with a small smile. “Your father told me they were your favorite animal. At least then it was.” ✦ Why the Sith Don't Have Class Reunions by Peppermint_Shamrock, anakin & palpatine & maul & dooku & ventress, time travel, 1.9k     Sith apprentices rarely agree with one another (there’s a reason for the Rule of Two, after all), but Darth Sidious is starting to think that it’s worse when they do. ✦ My Dear Padawan by Tulak_Hord, luke & yoda & palpatine, time travel, 3.2k     In which a time-travelling Luke Skywalker successfully saves the Galaxy in perhaps the most horrifying manner imaginable. ✦ The Return by Pandora151, obi-wan & leia & haja, 1.4k     Haja wonders about the others. He wonders about the people he’s sent to the Path from Daiyu — not just Kenobi and the Princess, but that Force-sensitive boy and his mother, the Nautolan teenager from a few weeks ago, the young Kel Dor child and his even younger siblings. Did they all make it home? Are they safe? Was all of this worth it? ✦ Message From Guiding Light by Batsutousai, obi-wan & leia & mace, time travel, 2.2k     Ben and Leia never make it to Mapuzo on the borrowed supply shuttle, instead finding themselves in the middle of the Clone Wars.

FRIENDSHIP WITH CANON ENDED, THIS COOL AU IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND NOW: ✦ Not A Moment Too Soon by Triscribe, depa & kanan & cast, 2k     The first time she stumbled, her padawan said nothing, simply offering his shoulder for her to lean on. ✦ Parallel Lines by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin, time travel, time loop, 10.7k     Darth Vader leans back in his chair, allowing a small smile to form on his lips, hidden by his helmet. “There is no escape from this, Obi-Wan,” he utters. He looks down at the neat line of text, and the Force echoes his words. “No escape from the past.” ✦ through the dark (like two flames) by treescape, ca/kanan & quinlan, 5.3k     A Jedi found him on Bracca. Or, in the weeks after Order 66, Cal Kestis and Caleb Dume are reunited on Jabiim. Five years late, on the run from Inquisitors, they have a decision to make. ✦ Loth-Cats and Loth-Rats by TessaDoesThings, mace & depa & kanan & ezra, 19k     All Mace Windu wanted out of the Post-Clone Wars world was a simple trip with his lineage to the long-forgotten Jedi Temples of the Outer Rim. However, on Lothal, the three might have bitten off more than they expected. The Republic may have triumphed, but the roots of what could have become the empire are gripped in the corners of the galaxy, and it might be time for some aggressive space weeding. Or a coup d'etat. That would work too. ✦ a princess, a farmer, a teacher by jesuisdeux, obi-wan & luke & leia & bail, 1.4k     Early in the morning, a girl and few men knock on a door. They don't wear anything resembling a soldier, but Obi-Wan has been a soldier long enough to notice the tense shoulders and wary looks beneath civilian clothing. She doesn't wear anything resembling a princess, but Obi-Wan knows these fierce eyes and grace coming from a righteous cause. or A New Hope AU where Vader doesn't attack Leia's ship and Leia herself delivers the news to Obi-Wan and consequently Obi-Wan doesn't die. ✦ What I Wouldn't Give To See Your Ghost by Triscribe , depa & kanan & cast, time travel, 1.2k     “Who are you?” Depa demanded, externally calm but internally frantic. “What is this place? And where is my padawan?” ✦ when that day comes by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & maul, modern au/reincarnation au, 44.8k     [or: the alternate universe where anakin skywalker has the chance at some new life…but only if he saves the life of a reincarnated obi-wan kenobi. the catch: neither of them know who the other was in the galaxy far, far away…but that might very well change.]

[mingi-s-dimples]

Give me attention, please... - Seonghwa

KINKTOBER DAY 18, REQ. BY 🤧 anon

~"So like reader is a college student and its like its exam season and she's busy studying day and night not giving her bf aka (Seonghwa) attention and because he wants attention from reader one night while reader was studying her ass off he went under her desk and YKYKYKKK 🤧🤧😾😾"

pairing; seonghwa x fem!reader

genre: 18+, student au, filthish

summary: Your boyfriend just couldn’t hold back anymore, the small amount of attention you've given him in the past few days, not even close enough for his hunger.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: established relationship, college au, helping from under tne desk ifykwim, oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstim, some praising here and there, Seonghwa is *needy*, completely consensual, unedited, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: My only note: Oh, and how good it would be to be eaten out by Hwa, relieving your stress, from under the table.. I'm so sorry, Seonghwa brainrot is going strong 😞😞😞 sigh. Enjoy, ml!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

As the clock struck midnight, you found yourself in a familiar spot — hunched over the wooden desk in your dimly lit room, surrounded by a fortress of textbooks, notes, and half-empty mugs of tea that had gone cold hours ago. The warm yellow glow of your desk lamp created a little bubble of light in an otherwise dark room, making it feel like you were in a tiny world of your own, where nothing existed except for the relentless blur of terms, diagrams, and equations that filled the pages in front of you.

Medical school midterms were around the corner, and every student in your program was in the same exhausted, caffeine-fueled state. But somehow, it felt like you were on the verge of crumbling beneath the weight of it all. You knew that if you wanted to stay on top of everything, you couldn’t afford to miss even a minute of study time. The stakes were just too high, and you’d poured far too much of yourself into this journey to let it slip now.

Your head ached slightly, a dull throb that reminded you of the hours you’d been locked in this position, eyes glued to textbook pages and screen displays, scribbling notes on anything you could reach. Despite your body begging you for a break, you pushed through. There was a strange kind of exhilaration in the exhaustion; each passing moment without sleep felt like one step closer to mastering this next set of exams. But still, you couldn’t deny how much you missed a certain distraction — a distraction you’d been purposefully ignoring for the sake of staying focused.

A faint sigh escaped your lips as you let your pen drop and rubbed your temples, closing your eyes for a brief moment to ground yourself. You thought of Seonghwa. He’d been nothing but patient, supportive even, as you told him — time and again — that you couldn’t spare a moment, not even for him. You hadn’t even kissed him properly in days, brushing past him with a murmured apology every time he tried to steal a moment. It tugged at you, but the weight of these exams always seemed heavier.

However, as though summoned by the thought, you heard a soft knock at the door. Without even looking up, you knew it was him. He had a way of announcing himself that was so gentle, it was unmistakable.

“Come in,” you mumbled, distractedly flipping through another page of your notes, hoping he’d understand your subtle plea not to break your focus.

He opened the door quietly, slipping inside with the same easy grace he always had. There was a comforting warmth to his presence that filled the room the moment he stepped in. You didn’t look up, but you felt his gaze on you, lingering in that thoughtful way of his that always made you feel seen, even when you were trying to disappear into your work.

“Hey,” he murmured, the softness of his voice cutting through the silence like a balm. You could hear the affection there, the way he always sounded when he looked at you.

You gave him a small, tired smile, eyes barely lifting from your books. “Hey,” you echoed, already bracing yourself to tell him you needed more time. But instead of moving closer or responding right away, he just stood there, watching you in silence, a knowing look flickering across his face.

“Still studying, huh?” he asked after a beat, his voice a gentle tease.

“Mm-hmm,” you replied, focusing on the dense paragraph in front of you, pretending that his presence didn’t send a slight thrill through you. “You know these exams are coming up. I really can’t afford to take a break.”

Seonghwa made a quiet hum of understanding, though there was something playful lurking in the sound. You could feel his eyes studying you as intensely as you were studying your textbooks. It was the way he looked at you when he was up to something, and a part of you wished you could give in to whatever he was scheming, just for a moment. But you had work to do, and you’d convinced yourself that any distraction — even one as tempting as him — would only cost you precious time you couldn’t afford.

And yet, he didn’t leave. In fact, he took a few slow steps forward until he was standing directly beside you, so close that you could smell the faint hint of his cologne, warm and familiar. Your pen stilled in your hand as his fingers gently brushed against your shoulder, a light touch that made your skin tingle.

“Are you sure you don’t need a break?” he murmured, his voice a little lower, a little softer, the way it got when he was coaxing you into letting go. His fingers trailed up to your neck, massaging the tense muscles he found there with a tenderness that made you want to melt.

You shook your head, though your resolve was starting to waver under his touch. “I can’t, Seonghwa. I really have to finish this chapter…”

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he moved his hand lower, resting it lightly on your back, his touch grounding you even as it sent shivers down your spine. “You’ve been at this for hours,” he said, his tone persuasive. “Don’t you think you deserve a little time to relax?”

Your heart skipped a beat as his hand slid lower, his fingers pressing against your lower back, just enough to make you lean into him. A part of you was screaming to pull away, to get back to your work before he made you forget about it entirely. But another part — a much louder, much more exhausted part — wanted nothing more than to surrender to his warmth, to let him pull you away from this endless cycle of stress and studying, even if just for a moment.

“Seonghwa…” you started, but the words faltered as he leaned down, pressing his lips to your temple in a feather-light kiss. It was such a small, tender gesture, but it made your heart race, the pent-up tension in your body threatening to unravel under his touch.

“You know you need this,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “And I think I need it, too.”

Before you could respond, he shifted his position, moving down so that he was level with you, his hands sliding to your knees as he looked up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes that made your stomach twist. You barely had a moment to process what he was doing before he ducked under your desk, settling between your legs in a way that made your face burn with a mix of surprise and anticipation.

“Seonghwa, what are you…” You trailed off, words escaping you as he looked up at you with that infuriatingly charming grin, his hands settling on your thighs.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said, his tone playful, though there was a note of something deeper in his gaze — something that told you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time. “So I thought I’d remind you of what you’ve been missing.”

"W-what are you doing, I have to-" he interrupted you.

"No no, don't mind me. Go on with your studying, sweetie.." Seonghwa said , his voice a mix of teasing and something undeniably alluring. His fingertips began to trace slow, deliberate patterns along your thighs, his touch sending little shocks of sensation through your body. You tried desperately to refocus, to keep your mind on the open textbook in front of you, but it felt nearly impossible with Seonghwa right there, looking up at you with eyes that sparkled with mischief.

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up your pen, trying to continue where you’d left off. The words on the page swam and blurred together, your concentration shattered by the way Seonghwa’s hands inched higher, brushing against sensitive skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"Seonghwa," you managed, your voice coming out in a strangled whisper. You didn't even recognize the sound of your own voice, and you cursed the way it quivered. But he only tilted his head, the grin on his lips widening as he seemed to revel in your helplessness.

"What's wrong?" he teased, his voice a sultry whisper, one of his hands coming to rest just above your knee, the other gently tracing the line of your inner thigh. "Is something distracting you?"

You shot him a glare that lacked any real heat, and he laughed softly, the sound warm and smooth. He leaned forward just a fraction, his hair falling into his eyes. You could see the way he was savoring every moment, his gaze locked on your face, watching your reactions.

"I'm just... trying to help," he said innocently, though the look he gave you was anything but. "You seemed so tense, so stressed. I thought a little... relaxation might do you some good."

Your pulse raced, and you knew he could feel it, knew he was aware of just how much he was getting to you. "I can't... I need to finish this," you murmured, though even as you said it, your willpower was crumbling, your body aching for more of his touch.

Seonghwa leaned in a bit closer, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. "I'll be quiet," he promised, a wicked sparkle in his eyes. "I won’t make a sound. So you can focus... if you think you can."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, and you felt your breath hitch, your hands clenching into fists on your lap. He was pushing you to the brink, testing just how much you could take before you gave in to him entirely.

Your fingers tightened around your pen, the ink smudging across the page, and you let out a shaky sigh. Seonghwa's laughter was a low rumble, and the look he gave you was both playful and dark, filled with a hunger that made your heart skip a beat.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, his voice so soft and sincere that it sent a surge of warmth straight to your chest, making it even harder to remember why you were resisting in the first place.

Seonghwa’s playful energy softened again as he sensed your hesitance, his gaze warming with affection. His fingertips, still resting on your thighs, stilled for a moment, grounding you in the present. Slowly, he let his hands move to your waist, his touch gentle as he sought silent permission.

“Trust me?” he asked softly, his voice a delicate blend of sincerity and care.

You nodded, a mixture of anticipation and comfort settling in your chest. There was no rush, no demand in his movements. Instead, he treated the moment with reverence, his eyes never leaving yours, constantly checking in to make sure you were okay. With a small smile that melted your remaining reservations, Seonghwa’s hands moved to the waistband of your sweatpants.

He hooked his fingers under the fabric, his touch light and unobtrusive. “Just relax,” he whispered, the words wrapping around you like a gentle embrace. As he slowly slid the material down, his hands brushed against your hips, the warmth of his touch soothing any nervousness that lingered.

The sweatpants slipped down your legs in a smooth motion, pooling around your ankles. Seonghwa helped guide your feet free from them, his movements patient and unhurried, making sure you felt cared for with every gesture. As he knelt back, he let his fingers skim along your calves, offering a soft touch that sent a wave of calm through you.

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with adoration, and the smile he gave you was one of pure affection. "Better?" he asked, his voice tender, as if his only goal was to make you feel lighter, more at ease. There was no pressure in his expression, only the quiet reassurance that he was there for you, however you needed him.

You exhaled, feeling the tension start to melt from your body, and for the first time in what felt like hours, you let yourself lean into his presence, grateful for the way he held you in both the playful and the peaceful moments.

You were still, well, trying to understand something from the textbook laying in front of you, but to no avail. You practically gave up, but didn't really want to give him the satisfaction. So that you pretended to study, anticipation building in your chest as your breath got heavier.

“May I?” Seonghwa asks, refering to your panties.

“Y-yes..” you softly whined out, looking down at him.

He took them off and tossed them away, looking contently at your wet folds. He chuckled, finding the situation really funny, as you were also really eager for whatever he had in plan. He lowered your seat and slightly raised your legs, them now resting on his shoulders. He pulled you closer to his face, on the edge of the chair.

He started kissing your inner thigh, hands holding tightly onto the flesh. The sloppy kisses trailed off as close as possible to your cunt, dangerously close to it. He couldn’t keep himself back and went in, his tongue finding it's way inside your annoyingly wet hole. He buried himself in, eating you out hungrily. His nose flicked helplessly against your clit, sending shivers lf pleasure through your body. He held onto your thighs so forcefully, as if you'd run away, a reason to keep you in place, restrained. His lips flattened against your folds, finding their way to your clit, of which he started sucking and flicking with the tip of his tongue. Your head fell back in pleasure, anticipation building in your core.

“Seonghwa, I-” you couldn't pretend anymore, that you were studying. Not when your man had his tongue all up in you, hitting all your sweet spots. Your hands for his head, fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, receiving a muffled whimper from him.

He looked up at you, eyes shot with lust and desire, smiling against your folds, “you love it, am I right?” he said, going in for more.

“D-don't look at me like that.. oh f-” you moaned out as he inserted two of his fingers in, accompanied by his mouth.

“Oh- g-god-!” you whined out, legs closing on his head. His hands held you back, spreading you out as much possible. “No, no, baby, let me enjoy every moment of it.”

As soon as his nose hit your swollen nub a couple of times you came undone, feeling his tongue slurping yoir juiced greedily. But.. he didn't stop. He had other plans.

“Let's see… sweetheart. Would you give me another one? I love the way you taste so damn much..” he said, completely out of it.

Your high started building up rapidly again, followed by a new sensation thru your body. He senses you were close again and fastened his fingers and tongue, rushing the orgasm out of you. His fingers dug in your flesh as you came again, leaning even closer, eating everything.

As he finger fucked and ate you through your orgasm, you felt yourself almost instantly being washed over by another one, overstimulation taking over you. But when Seonghwa's fingers came down to a stop and he backed off for a moment, you looked at him in horror, legs trembling on his shoulders.

“Why d-does your face look so.. messy?” you said but soon realised by yourself, “oh, my g-god..” you whispered, embarrassed, burying your face in your hands. You just squirted all over him.

“No, no, look at me.” he said as he licked off the remaining juices he had on his lips and got up. He stood nearby, taking a tissue out of a box. He cleaned his face up and came back to you, smiling contently.

“Sweetie, are you feeling better? At least a little bit relaxed, hm?” he asked you, his hand caressing your cheek.

“Y-yes.. baby. Thank you..” you said, cheeks flushed red of embarrassment.

“I gotta admit tho.. that was fucking.. hot.” he smirked.

“STOP IT! I'M EMBARRASSED!” you playfully shouted at him, looking away.

“Look at me. Did I ate you that good that you squirted all over me, honey? Was I that good to you?” his voice low, teasing.

“Y-yes.. it felt so fucking good..”

“Well then, let me finish my meal, shall I?” he said and didn't let you finish your words as he lifted you from your seat and dropped you on the bed.

“I'm still damn hungry, baby. Hungry, even starving, for you..” Seonghwa crawled onto you, kisses trailing off to your collarbones.

The night was just about to get started.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @peachy-bell26 @memorabxlia

[hoshigray]

OMG I LOVE YOU TOJI AND SUKANA BOOKS CAN YOU MAKE A FLUFF ONE LIKE THEM GOING TO THE BEACH OR CUDDLING

⊹ ࣪ ˖ CUDDLE ME BY THE BEACH .ᐟ

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: how about them cuddling BY the beach??! :33

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji + true form! Sukuna x afab/fem! reader - fluff - cuddles! - swimming - pet names (baby, little dove, princess, woman, sweetie) - a beach weekend w/ tojikuna, aww :D - kuna being a teeny bit protective - humor.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

“Ya wanna go back?”

“Hmm?” 

He points to the ocean with his chin. “Fr’ another swim?”

The summer heat was getting worse and worse to avoid, unbearable for the workers within your vicinity as they complained and fanned themselves behind you and your spouses’ backs. You are also a victim, constantly cooping inside your room and removing layers of clothing to let your sweaty body breathe under the increasingly scorching heat.

That’s where you had the brilliant plan to have a bit of a getaway with you and your partners! When they’re not by your side, Sukuna and Toji are busy with matters of their own inside or outside the palace walls. So, you brought up the idea of going outside and enjoying the sun a bit, knowing there is a beach near the fortress. On that note, you begged the men one night that you three spend a weekend dedicated to the beach. And your heart sprung with joy when they nonchalantly agreed.

That’s where you are now, lying on a towel underneath the shade of a tent. You sit with Toji, lying on his side with his chest to your back, rubbing his hand on your waist. The sea breeze feels good to your skin exposed from your swimsuit, and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore is so therapeutic to the ear that you could drift to sleep as your head is rested comfortably on the towel.

You hum. “I’d like to, but the water’s so cold.”

The raven-headed man gently pinches the flesh of your hips. “It’ll be warmer when y’re in the water.”

“And Sukuna said I shouldn’t be in while he’s gone; the waves are getting bigger with the tide.”

“Mmm.” He hums to the point of his mentioned partner. “True, they are getting a lil’ intense.” Toji brings his lips to kiss your temple, an action you smile subconsciously at. “But they’ll get worse in the next hour or so.”

You nod aimlessly despite your following words. “Sukuna warned us.”

“He did,” he comes to your ear. “But ya think I’m one to listen?” His chuckles-so gruff and baritone-chain reacts to a giggle of your own, shaking your head. “Besides, ya got me here, not gonna let the sea take my baby ‘way from me.” 

“You say that even though you threw me into the ocean after chasing me down once we got here. Didn’t mind the sea having me then, huh.” 

“…Debatable.” Chortles from the man transition to guttural laughs when you nudge him with your elbow, and more loving kneads to your hip is caused. You shift your face to peek at him over your shoulder. “Serious, though,” a kiss to your nose. “Just a few minutes, then we’ll head back and meet up with ‘Kuna, ‘kay?”

You blink slowly, eyes locked with the patient emerald orbs that effortlessly draw you in. A sigh leaves your nostrils, yet it’s not heavy, and you give Toji a gentle peck; the soft noise of your lips departing is heard despite the crashing waves. You bat your eyes, “Don’t blame me when you-know-who comes out of nowhere to drag us out.“

“Damn, that’s exactly what I planned to do,” you roll your eyes while he smirks and straightens up. “C’mon, sweetie, while the sun is still up.”

You take his outstretched hand and pull yourself up from the settled towel, walking with your husband to exit the shade and embrace the sun’s rays basking upon you. You smile as you swing the intertwined hands, the sand under your feet nice and cool to the soles. 

It then becomes cold and rigid as you two appear close to the waves meeting the earthy surface, the white foam of the calm water meeting your toes before they’re drawn back. You and Toji keep going, shivering from the contact of the water meeting your ankles, calves, and knees. And Toji’s hand doesn’t let go throughout the descent. 

The waves are much more prominent than earlier, their height a tad taller and coming in an eager frequency. So you brace yourself and wait for Toji to throw you under them at the perfect moment.

And once he nods, the two of you inch closer and prepare for the upcoming wave for you to submerge within.

You give yourself a count. One…two… The wave is mere seconds away from hitting you. Thre—

Until your view that was once full of the pretty blue sky and the towering water was now…a shoji frame of an oceanview from afar? 

The sea that was close and touching you seconds ago is now a mile away, seen down below as if where you are is atop a hill or cliff. Not to mention, your feet were not touching the sand anymore. If anything, they were…dangling in the air? And from what it looks like, aren’t you in someone’s room?

“Ahem.”

It all didn’t click until you heard him — a voice of the same recognizable caliber as Toji. There was only one way you could’ve been transported from the beach to a room within literal milliseconds, a way that only your husbands could easily do: speed faster than the human eye can keep up with. Eyes sail away from the picture of the ocean and find yourself in what appears to be your shared room of the fortress. And what you see next is none other than the other husband you share this room with. 

Sukuna holds you in bridal style, your back and shoulders situated comfortably by his upper left arm as the upper right holds your wet legs afloat. The humongous, cursed man has you to his bare chest, which peaks through a casual yukata. His warmth heated your cold side, wet from the water.

You blink with surprise. “Sukuna!”

“Woman.” Of course, he’d call you that; you gulped under his crimson eyes. “You heard me the first time,” you nod cautiously. “And you still dare to disobey after my warning.”

“My apologies, my King,” you hoped using his nickname would help lessen the tension—it didn’t, the salmon-headed giant narrowing his gaze. “We thought you were napping—”

“So what, you think just because I’m not physically seen, you’re allowed not to heed my caution?” Jesus, you felt like you were shrinking on his grasp as he went on. “I tell you not to do something for your sake, and I watch you do the exact opposite.” Your lips flatten with every word, quivering under the shadow of being scolded like a child!

But then, “Relax, ‘Kuna,” you and Sukuna look down to the right side of him, seeing there was Toji, held by the lower right arm like a sack of potatoes. “It was my idea to take them fr’ a few more minutes, so let ’em slide.”

“And just why would you do that?” Sukuna’s brows trench even lower. “Have you both gone deaf?”

“Ahh shut up; we’re on a lil’ vacation, and vacation means lighten up on the strict shit.” Toji lectures back to his partner. “We’re relaxing this weekend because of the princess y’re scoldin’, tryin’ to enjoy this heat with the water right there. So cut them some slack, will ya.”

“The only slack I should be cutting is you; did you forget I was with you two earlier when you threw this one into the waves?”

“No, but if my memory is right, I can recall y’r big ass throwin’ them further than I did once they swam back to shore.”You titter faintly at the recollection; however, the smile is wiped clean off your face when Sukuna’s lower left eye snaps back to you. “As I said, it was only gonna be fr’ a few minutes, and then we’d head back; waves don’t get too bad until the next hour. Plus, it was all my idea, so don’t go yellin’ at my baby fr’ nothin’.”

Sukuna looks at Toji for a few seconds in silence before he turns to trap you in his stare once more. You can only chew your lip before giving the behemoth a tiny smile, nothing too bold, as he’s still uptight. The only sound to pass the time was the wind chime by the open shoji door, the wind pushing the item to sing in a pleasing tune.

Seconds feel like minutes until you see the cursed being roll his eyes with a heavy groan—yes, all four maroon orbs—before he drops Toji to the tatami flooring. He was, again, treated as a sack of potatoes, unlike when Sukuna descends you down to depart gently like a feather. Weighty footsteps go to one side of the room to slide the closet door, and he throws two folded towels and yukatas robes at his spouses. “Change,” it wasn’t a request. “Or catch a cold, whichever conveniences you.” 

You and Toji follow his commands and switch from your swimmer to after drying your bodies, changing into the yukatas and hanging your wet clothes to dry. 

Sukuna follows you to the veranda strip of the shared bedroom, where you sit under the shade, and the view of the stunning sea is visible. You yelp at the pull of him, his powerful lower left hand sliding your sitting figure closer to him. “Rest here,” another command as he stretches his arm. “Since you want to disrupt my sleep.”You don’t complain, complying as you rest your head on his arm while the right arms pull you in for his chest to meet your back. 

“‘Scuse me, comin’ through,” Toji enters the veranda, walking to where you two are and taking a seat. Sukuna notices the onyx-haired man and uses his lap as a pillow to rest his colossal head. Toji scoffs at his gigantic partner, placing his hand in the pink hair to pet around; the cursed man purring to the touch, and the vibration soothes your frame. “Guess you do know how to relax, huh?”

Sukuna opens one eye. “Disobey me again, and we’ll see how far I can chuck you two to the seafloor.”

“Tough love,” Toji sneers as he pours sake to drink. “Can you believe him, princess?”

You chuckle as you’re pulled intimately into Sukuna’s warmth. “Rest, little dove,” he whispers to your ear, like a spell that has you sighing with the wind caressing your skin, waves gently crashing out, and the song of the wind chime submits your eyelids to a close. 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[tuiccim]

Lost in the Dark (Final)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Dark content! Kidnapping, Non/DubCon, and other dark elements. This fic contains dark themes and may include potentially triggering topics. You are solely responsible for your media consumption.

Summary: Bucky comes home after a mission and can’t wait to be with you.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby

Lost in the Dark Masterlist

Six weeks later, you were still playing your part. Bucky was “letting you off the leash” more, allowing you to roam the house freely more often than not. He still rarely left your side when he’s home and when he’s not, you remain tethered to his bed. The house was a fortress you had found. It was basically one giant panic room. Getting in or out was impossible without codes and keys. There were cameras everywhere. You had taken stock casually as you had been allowed to move about. 

It was a bright Saturday morning, but you wake up depressed. The monotony of your days is wearing on your psyche. You get up, go to the bathroom, and wash your face. When you return, you find a smiling Bucky sitting on the bed with a present beside him. 

“What’s this?” you ask casually. 

“It’s for you. I’d like you to wear it today,” Bucky grins as he holds it out to you. You open it with a smile and pull out a beautiful sundress.

“Try it on,” Bucky says. 

You pull the dress on and do a twirl for him. 

“Perfect! Here, these too,” he pulls a pair of strappy sandals from behind his back. 

“Wh-What are these for?” You ask, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. This was all new. He’d never done anything like this before and changes frightened you. It made you wonder at times if this was the day he got rid of you. You had reconciled that only death or you managing your own escape would be your release from this prison. No one was coming to rescue you. 

“I thought you could wear it today. I wanted to take you to the farmer’s market. Would you like that?” Bucky asks

Slowly, a smile spread across your face. “Really?”

“Yes, I thought you might want to get some fresh vegetables and enjoy the day. It’s supposed to be warm.”

“I would…I would absolutely love that. Thank you, Bucky. I know you’re trusting me with this. I promise I’ll be good,” you reassure him.

“Of course, you will, doll,” he puts an arm around you and kisses your temple. “Let’s get out of here.” The meaningful look he gives as the words leave his mouth serve as both an encouragement and a warning. 

Obediently, you follow him, holding his hand as he leads. When you step outside for the first time in months, you tip your face up to the sun and take a deep breath of fresh air. There was a sense of freedom in being only a few steps from the door. It took everything in you not to start running. Not even running from him, but just running outside in the sunshine. When you open your eyes, you find Bucky looking at you with a sad smile. 

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to do this. I’m just so scared of losing you,” he says quietly.

Quelling your inner anger, you smile sweetly at him and cup his cheek, “I know, and it took me a long time to accept that. So, it’s my fault, too. But let’s not think on that now. How about we just enjoy today as it comes?”

“I love you so much,” Bucky kisses you. 

“If you keep kissing me like that we won’t make it to the farmer’s market,” you tease to avoid having to say the words back to him. 

He chuckles and grabs your hand again. He held it the entire time you were in his car and each step through the market. He finally let go when he had to pay a vendor for some of the vegetables and honey you chose. He was momentarily distracted as the woman made change and explained what would be coming in season soon. You measured the opportunity, studied his body language, and realized that despite his smile he was on high alert. Even if you managed to slip away in such a moment, it would take him a mere second to clock you, especially in the bright dress he had chosen for you. He left nothing to chance. 

He took you again the following week to a different market in another part of town. A new, bright sundress adorned your frame and he was never more than a step away. Again the following week, then a trip to the grocery store in the middle of the week, another farmer’s market, a dimly lit restaurant for dinner one night, and over the following weeks he took you out of the house a half dozen times. Never to the same place twice and always to an area you are unfamiliar with. Each time, he “rewarded” you with compliments on your goodness and understanding as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you. He called you a good girl over and over again while praising your obedience. He wanted your reassurance, to know that you had accepted this life and you gave it to him. You told him everything he wanted to hear. You love him, you understand why this is necessary, you are happy to just be with him, etc. You repeated it until you nearly believed it yourself. The darkness creeps in, wanting to curl its tendrils around you. 

An overcast Saturday didn’t deter Bucky from pulling a dress out and trussing you for the usual outing. You hadn’t felt well for a few days. Your immune system must be compromised after being stuck inside for so long and then being around so many people. Wild horses couldn’t keep you from getting out of the house, so you suck it up, put on a happy face, and get ready. 

This time Bucky took a long drive down some winding roads. It was over an hour before the destined farmer’s market was reached and you felt queasy by the time you step out of the car. You didn’t usually get car sick but no longer being used to long car rides along with not feeling well, must have turned your stomach. 

Luckily, Bucky didn’t notice and bounded around the car to help you out. You smile as you take his hand and look around the unfamiliar surroundings. He pulls the basket he had purchased for you from the backseat. There was something about you in a sundress with a basket full of fresh produce that enraptured him. 

You like to walk through the entire market before deciding which vendors to patronize. You noted what each one had and eyed a table covered in soaps and bath products. Bucky generally allowed you to make the choice with an occasional request. He would encourage you to indulge if something caught your eye. Today, you were nearly back to the beginning of the market when he pulled you towards a stand putting out some fresh flowers. The overwhelming scent of gardenias hit you like a brick wall and your stomach heaved. You attempt to pull your hand away from Bucky to make it to the trash can nearby but he immediately tensed. Grabbing your arm, he swings you around to face him and the momentum causes you to vomit all over him. You stare in horror as the mess covers his shirt, jeans, and boots. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears falling from your eyes. 

He pulls a cloth from his pocket but instead of attempting to clean himself off, he wipes your tears and face. “It’s okay, doll. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you weren’t feeling well.”

“I was just a little queasy. The smell of the flowers…” you trailed off as his face betrayed some strange expression. He seems almost excited.

“No worries, doll. Let’s get you home,” Bucky guides you to the car. 

“But your clothes,” you glance down his front.

“I have some in the trunk,” he assures you as he presses the key fob to open it. He shucks his shirt and, after glancing around, kicks his boots and jeans off. You snatch a towel up and hold it to give him some cover. “Worried about someone ogling me?” He smirks. 

“Just thought you might like a little cover,” you smile sadly. 

“Hey, doll, it’s okay,” he attempts to catch your downcast eyes. 

“Let’s talk about it in the car,” you say, folding the towel and replacing it. You had seen an opportunity in the incident and planned to play it out. 

“Uh, okay,” Bucky’s brow furrows as he follows you around the car to open your door. 

You wait until you have been on the road for a few minutes. Studying your fingers, you ask just above a whisper, “Why won’t you trust me?”

“What? I do, doll! Of course, I do,” Bucky balks. 

“No, you don’t. If you trusted me, you would have let go of my hand when I tried to pull away,” you insist softly. 

“You surprised me is all. What was I supposed to think?” He says defensively but gently. 

“That something was wrong. That I wouldn’t pull away from you like that if there wasn’t a reason. I was embarrassed that I had to throw up but doing it on you made it ten times worse.”

“I’m sorry, doll. I am but what if it had been someone trying to snatch you away from me? I couldn’t just let you go. This is why you have to tell me when you don’t feel well.”

“So, if someone had grabbed me, what? You’d play tug of war until my joints are dislocated?” You push back. 

“I don’t…No. I don’t know, doll. I just know I can’t lose you,” Bucky glances over to you. 

“I know,” you turn away to look out the window for a moment. “I’m gonna lean my seat back for a while. I still feel kind of puny.”

“Try to take a nap. I’ll wake you when we’re home, sweetheart.”

“Okay, Bucky,” you whisper as you close your eyes. The conversation hadn’t gone exactly the way you had hoped. He really was scared that someone would try to take you. Was it actually people who are against him, or is he afraid of the authorities taking you away after he kidnapped you? He didn’t seem the type to fear police. It was probably both. God, your head was so fucked. Was he paranoid or are there really people out there that might come after you just because of him? Would it stop them from coming for you if you escaped and went back to your life? Would they still know of Bucky’s obsession? Would it matter if he went to prison? Fuck, it’s all too much for you to think about. At least your stomach was settling and, eventually, you managed to slow your thoughts and doze. You felt so tired…

“We’re home, doll,” Bucky whispers as he gently takes your hand. 

You fell more deeply asleep than you expected and startled when he touched you, “Oh! That was fast.”

Bucky chuckles as he caresses your face, “You slept through most of it.”

“I guess, I did,” you get out of the car and Bucky puts an arm around you to guide you to the house. 

Once you were inside, you quietly tell him, “I think I’m gonna lay down for a bit.”

“Of course, doll. Just let me check you out,” Bucky nods.

“I’m fine. Probably caught a little bug,” you reassure him as you climb the stairs.

“I think it might be something better,” he pulls you to the bathroom and brandishes a pregnancy test out of the back of a cabinet.

“Don’t be silly, Buck. You know I have an IUD in,” you smile nervously. 

“Oh, doll, I took that thing out months ago,” he says with a casual shrug as he kisses your temple.

You freeze as another wave of nausea hits you. Your mind is racing with the implications of what he just said. You didn’t think he could violate you in another way but he had. “What?” You whisper in disbelief.

“Right before you started your period a while back. That way any bleeding would just be with your period,” he explains as he rips open the box.

“Why would you do that?” You stare at him in horror. 

“So we can start our family, doll. I can’t wait to see you full of my child. You know, I never asked how many you want. I was thinking 2 or 3. Maybe 4. What do you think?”

“I don’t, I, I… I don’t know. What?” You stammer, unable to grasp what was happening.

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out,” Bucky leads you to the toilet and stands over you expectantly until you assume the position. He hands you the stick excitedly and you hesitate as you stare at it. “Do you need help, doll?”

That spurs you into action, “No, I-” You take the test and hand it off to him. 

He sets a timer and chatters excitedly as you wash your hands. Your eyes bore into the little piece of plastic that holds your future. You jump when the timer beeps and watch, sickened, as Bucky excitedly checks the results. 

You were in shock. Your whole body was cold and clammy despite the warm body on top of you in the bed. The results of the pregnancy test made you nearly catatonic. His celebration is your undoing. With each pump of his hips, the darkness spreads inside of you. Its tendrils firmly wrapped themselves around your mind. He'll never let you go and there is no escaping him now. He'll always be a part of you. He owns you now and you just give in. The darkness consumes you and you're lost to it. Lost in it. Lost in the dark.

---The abandoned really dark ending...---

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction  and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[beckyninja]

Magnificent

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: Violence; Tyranid gore; some rather spicy thoughts from the Lady toward the end

Description: The battle rages. The Lady finds herself pinned down, Tarchus helps Frenzy through her first Tyranid encounter, and a god made flesh rushes to the rescue!

The reunion is imminent... or is it?

Find the previous parts of this series on my Masterlist. Comment and ask to be added to/removed from the Taglist. And don't forget my Asks and DM's are always open!

You shouldn’t be here.

Another burst of energy-bolts just outside. Another inhuman scream. The incessant pounding of heavy guns. You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to listen to the rapid-fire instructions of the medic in front of you.

“Tissue-sealant!”

“Bio-gauze!”

“Sterile wipe!”

You handed over each tool without comment, desperately hoping the man’s biomechanical eyes wouldn’t notice the tremor in your hands. 

You shouldn’t be here.

The old voice was back. The one that said you weren’t enough. An imposter. A pretender. A nuisance. You thought you’d banished it. 

You’d been wrong.

On the surgical table, a young, dark-skinned woman stared up at you with the glazed eyes and slack jaw of the heavily sedated. You tried not to look at the gaping wound in her abdomen, a wound made by jagged claws. Around you, more medics and surgeons filled the 1st Ranger Batallion’s Mobile Medical Vehicle, haggard faces bent over writhing, screaming bodies. 

A shout came from the driver’s cockpit. “Incoming! Brace, brace, bra-”

BANG.

When your vision cleared, you stared straight into the dull bio-mech implants of the medic you’d volunteered to assist. Blood dripped onto your face from the shattered ruins of his. Stifling a sob, you struggled out from beneath his limp body.

“Oh, Light…!”

Medics and patients alike lay tossed about like broken, bloody toys. Shattered medical machinery shrieked in discordant tones. Daylight streamed in through a smoldering gash in the giant vehicle’s side. 

“A direct hit.”

You jumped at the voice, turning to find a ranger slowly struggling to his feet behind you. 

“Sargent Thomas!” Trying not to look at what you stepped on, you rushed to him. “Are you all right?”

Your assigned bodyguard grimaced and placed a hand to his torso. “Broken ribs. Got slammed against the wall pretty hard.” His gray eyes focused on you. “What about you, ma’am? You’re bleeding.”

Raising your hand to your temple you winced at the sudden flash of pain. “It isn’t bad.”

The Ranger lifted his weapon from a pile of shattered medical equipment and inspected it. “Really wish you’d taken the Patron up on his offer, ma’am.”

You shouldn’t be here. 

I should be on my way to the Macragge’s Honor, with Roboute. He sounded so hurt when I refused.

The thought made your heart ache. 

“I just… I wanted to….”

You are the Matron Uncrowned. Act like it!

Breathing deeply, you fought not to choke on the acrid tang of spilled chemicals. “It’s my duty to be here, Sargent. Now, please, help me look for other surviv-”

SCREEEEEEE!

The otherworldly shriek sent you cowering back against an overturned surgical table. The Sargent cursed and raised his rifle, stepping in front of you.

“Get down and stay down, ma’am!”

You obeyed. Outside the gaping rent in the vehicles side, you saw movement. Jerking. Skittering. Unbalanced. Something with too many jagged edges, too many eyes. You flashed back to your desperate escape from Victor’s Fortress. The things that chased you in the dark. The sounds they made. 

SCREEEE!

“They’ve broken through the lines.” The Sargent rasped, pressed against the jagged edge of the rent. “Fuck! I knew we didn’t have enough-”

He glanced at you and went silent. But you understood. You remembered Captain Antoine’s explanation.

“We need to hook up with the TerraNovan… and Imperial… forces as quickly as possible. Take the attack right to the Traitor Prince and his monsters.”

Listener had frowned. “You mean to empty the Base. Throw all our remaining assets at them in one final assault.”

Antoine had nodded, again tugging on his mustache. “Everyone with combat training. The techs, the support staff, even maintenance. We’ll keep the M.M.V.’s in the rear.”

“Alone?” Your first contribution to the conversation had been met with grim stares.

“We don’t have enough people to maintain a reserve, my Lady.” He’d hesitated, glancing away. “With the assault, the enemy will be occupied. You’ll be safe. Though, I wish you would reconsider-”

“She has a duty to her people, Jerome.” Listener’s voice had been serene, confident.

You’d smiled at her. “I want- I need to help.” 

Help.

You looked at the carnage surrounding you.

What help have I been? I shouldn’t be-

“No!” The growl in your voice surprised you. “Sargent!”

He glanced over his shoulder, jaw clenched. Sweat dripped down his forehead as the jungle heat flooded into the vehicle.

“Ma’am?”

You raised your chin. “I need a weapon.”

***

“LET’S FUCKIN’ GOOO! HAHAHAH!”

The Thunderhawk still hovered 6.62 meters above the patch of cleared jungle. Tarchus watched Frenzy leap her mech from the open hatch, howling with unrestrained glee all the way down. She landed directly in the center of a Hormaguant pack. 

Even the Ultramarine had to admit the resounding crunch was strangely… satisfying.

“C’MON YOU FUCKING BUGS! C’MON!”

Not waiting for the transport to land, Tarchus leapt as well, bolter booming. 

The designated Landing Zone swarmed with foul xenos. They poured in waves from the treeline, shrieking and chittering. And yet something was… wrong.

Many seemed half-paralyzed, dragging themselves along by their talons. Others sprouted vestigial limbs. Legs from foreheads. Tails from torsos. Mouths and eyes and growths where they had no right to be. 

What might have once been a Hormaguant, a dead-eyed second head sprouting from its shoulder, threw itself at him. It did not emit its all-too-familiar animalistic shriek as it did so. No, even before Tarchus’s round shattered its skull, its gibbering sounded of… pain.

A fierce joy bloomed in the Ultramarine’s hearts.

The beasts suffer. Good.

He would ponder the reason later. Now-

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, BIG GUY?”

Frenzy stood a few meters ahead, metal foot buried in the skull of a wingless Gargoyle. Her mech’s speaker system distorted her voice into a metallic thunder. Blood all but obscured her viewport, but he could just make out the familiar grin within.

She didn’t see the beast lumbering down upon her.

“Lieutenant! Behind-”

The abomination slammed into her mech with a sickening shriek of chitin on metal. Its swollen bulk forced her machine to its knees, gnarled claws scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface.

Tarchus moved before thinking. His bolter roared, sending round after round into the thing. Black fluid splattered in all directions. The thing howled, or tried to. It choked and gurgled and when it turned to face the charging Ultramarine, Tarchus saw why.

A Carnifex. But horribly mutated. A horn protruded from one of its eye sockets. Its jaw gaped far too wide, forced open by a bulbous tongue dripping bile. The bloated organ had broken its lower jaw, which swung almost to its chest. Madness gleamed from its one eye.

All this Tarchus took in in a fraction of a second. Mag-locking his bolter to his belt, he drew his chainsword and plunged it into the abomination. It squealed, a sound unlike any he’d ever heard its kind make before, and lurched off of Frenzy’s mech. 

She rose, multi-barreled heavy gun spitting flame. The thing lurched, gurgled, but still came on, lumbering on limbs as swollen as its tongue. Tarchus saw the spring-coiled tension in those appendages.

“To the side, Frenzy!” He bellowed.

For once, silent, she obeyed. Both of them lunged in opposite directions, barely avoiding the creature’s charge. Tarchus heard the mech’s heavy gun roar again, even as his chainsword shredded the beast’s flesh. It let out another gurgling howl, then collapsed on its side as he severed one of its legs. 

“Now, Frenzy!”

He heard the whine of metal joints, then, CRUNCH. The creature lurched, writhing, as explosive rounds and chainsword did their bloody work. Finally, it lay still.

“HOLY FUCK!”

Tarchus looked up to see the TerraNovan mech standing atop the creature’s back, buried to its knee joints in chitinous flesh. Frenzy’s wide eyes stared down at him through her viewport. 

Beneath his helmet, he smiled. “Well done, Lieutenant!”

“UH…THANKS?” The mech’s legs flexed, servos whining, but remained firmly fixed in the beast’s carcass. “HEY, CARVE ME OUT OF THIS THING!”

An hour later the pair stood sentinel before a dug-in line of TerraNovan and Imperial soldiers. Vox operators still reported heavy fighting in other areas of the Landing Zone. But his and the Lieutenant’s orders were clear: establish a beachhead on the southern end and hold it.

Thunderhawks and TerraNovan transports roared continuously behind the hastily fortified line, unloading soldiers and supplies. Officers shouted. Creatures still skittered and shrieked in the treeline ahead, but it seemed they’d learned to avoid the metal and ceramite-clad giants.

A sniper’s rifle cracked, and a multi-headed thing flopped, twitching, into the clearing.

Frenzy had opened her mech’s hatch, and Tarcus heard a long, low whistle from inside her machine. “Do they always look like that?”

“No. These xenos have been… mutated somehow.”

Some unknown weapon of the TerraNovans? A toxin? An engineered virus?

In the long pause that followed, he heard her gulping from a canteen. “Ugly fuckers.”

“Indeed.”

“My Lord!” A vox-operator rushed to Tarchus’s side and knelt. “Word from the northern battle zone.”

Tarchus angled his helmet downward. “Proceed, soldier.”

“The Primarch has landed!”

The Ultramarine tightened his grasp on his weapon. “His orders?”

“We are to form up and join with his forces at,” the vox operator rattled off a series of coordinates. 

“Very well. Inform the TerraNovan Colonel. We move in five minutes.”

“Yes, my Lord!”

As the soldier ran off, Tarchus heard Frenzy seal her mech’s hatch. “BACK TO IT, THEN?”

“Yes.” Tarchus hesitated. “Frenzy.”

“YEAH, BIG GUY?”

“Your performance in this engagement up to this point has been… satisfactory.”

A long silence. Then-

“HEH… HA… HAHAHAHA!”

He stiffened. “I do not understand your levity-”

A metal hand clanked down on his pauldron. “YOU’VE BEEN DOING PRETTY FUCKIN’ GOOD YOURSELF, BIG GUY.”

Tarchus glanced at the appendage, and found he didn’t mind it as much as he should have. 

“My Lord! Situation update!” 

The vox operator returned at a run, sweat streaming down his red face. “Reports say the Primarch is making his way west at great speed!”

Frenzy withdrew her mech’s hand and Tarchus loomed over the gasping man. “Explain.”

“I… I can’t, my Lord! The report said Lord Guilliman spoke with the TerraNovan Ranger Captain… and then began to run. That’s all I know!”

Theoreticals and Practicals raced through Tarchus’s mind, all coming back to a single factor. A single reason Primarch Roboute Guilliman might abandon a carefully-orchestrated strategy and act with near-recklessness.

You.

Double-hearts pounding in his chest, he boomed. “Tell the Colonel to lead his soldiers to the original coordinates. I will join the Primarch.”

“IT’S HER, ISN’T IT?” 

“Lieutenant, you will accompany the Colonel-”

“YOU THINK I’M LETTING YOU RESCUE THE PRINCESS BY YOURSELF?! FUCK THAT!”

The urge to laugh was almost overpowering. “I am… unsurprised.” He paused, then gingerly reached out and settled his gauntlet against the mech’s shoulder-joint. “We will regain our honor together.”

“FUCK YEAH!”

***

The energy rifle bucked in your hands. Not on its own accord. You swore under your breath as the bolt went wide, merely clipping the skittering thing outside. 

It’s not a slug-thrower. I don’t need to brace so hard.

“Nice shot, ma’am!”

On the other side of the rent in the M.M.V’s armor, Sargent Thomas grinned at you from a face blackened by smoke. You felt your face heat.

“It wasn’t, really. It’s been a long time since I’ve-”

The crack of the Sargent’s rifle interrupted you. Something outside squealed. You heard the retreat of many legs. Far too many legs. 

“Void take them.” He snarled. “They’re getting bolder. Hand me another-”

You pressed the Molotov cocktail into his hands. He chuckled as he lit the chemical-soaked rag.

“Who knew so many bio-meds were flammable?”

With a grunt, he hurled the flaming bottle through the smoke. You heard the shatter of glass, a whoom, and a howl.

A human howl.

“Sargent!”

“Skinwalkers.” He growled. “At least a dozen.”

An icy hand gripped your stomach. “Surely someone heard the automated distress beacon!”

“I’m sure they did. Whether or not they have the manpower to send-” He stopped. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m sure help is coming.”

You smiled sadly. “I’m well aware of the reality, Sargent.”

He didn’t reply as an energy bolt sizzled into the side of the M.M.V.. You ducked down behind the twisted metal, rifle clenched in whitening fingers.

Fool. Fool. Fool! So close to the end, so close to Him, and now this?

Popping up, you fired directly into the face of a grinning, wrong-eyed woman starting to climb through the rent. She didn’t even have time to scream. Strange. The first time you’d killed, you wanted to vomit. Now? 

You felt nothing.

They aren’t human. They aren’t human. They aren’t-

“Light protect us.” You heard the Sargent mutter. “Looks like they’re massing for a wave attack, ma’am.”

Roboute, forgive me.

“Sargent?”

He glanced your way.

You stared deep into his bloodshot gray eyes. “Don’t let them take me alive. Please.”

I won’t become one of them. I’d rather die.

“I….”

A human, and yet not human, chanting rose outside the crippled M.M.V. You both braced against the sides of the rent. The smoke stung your eyes, blurring your vision. When you heard the pounding of heavy feet, you wondered what new horrors the monsters had sent against you.

Then you heard the roar, so deep it vibrated every bone in your body. 

“Oh, Light!”

You knew that voice. You’d heard that roar, when he’d come charging through the hangar doors back on the Predator, just seconds too late.

Ignoring the Sargent’s shout to stay down, you stood and leaned out of the side of the vehicle. 

He’s…magnificent.

Ultramarine blue and gold reflected the blazing noon sun, turning Roboute Guilliman into a monolith of light. It hurt your eyes. And yet you couldn’t look away. He waded into the mob of monsters and not-humans, not running, striding. Every thunderous step crushed abominations beneath his booted feet. 

Then his sword ignited and you really did have to look away.

But the image burned into your consciousness was one of a god amongst insects. His bare face set in a scowl of solid marble. His lips just slightly curled to reveal a flash of gritted teeth. And his eyes….

Ice and fire, co-mingled. A man, and more than a man. Beautifully inhuman.

A Primarch unmasked.

Beside you, the veteran Sargent fell to his knees, hands covering his face. You remained standing, barely, Roboute’s overwhelming Aura cradling rather than dominating. You felt… safe.

And… oh, Light… were you…? You couldn’t be…. You shouldn’t be…. You were.

Now is not the time for that!

But still the tight, wet, heat intensified. Something primal within you wanted to submit like a she-beast in heat. As you watched him tear through the enemy with contemptuous ease, you couldn’t help but imagine.

His arms around you.

His tongue in your mouth.

His hands on your breasts.

His… in your….

“Roboute.” 

Tears ran down your face.

You never saw the figure uncloak behind you.

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[dinoandguitar]

wait ik u are in the middle of the new parents series but i was wondering if you could do them taking care of you when you are pregnant? maybe starting w seungkwan? :’)

Listening, comforting, loving.

Husband!BooSeungkwan x Afab!Reader

Genre: Pure Fluff! (Hint of angst)

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, childbirth, pregnancy related symptoms such as nausea. Mentions of food, body insecurities and various aches and pains (that come with pregnancy).

A/N : Thank you so much for the request! Honestly love this idea. Its sooo cute 🥹❤️‍🩹 I'll for sure work on making a series with this as well. Thank you again and hope you like it 🫶🏾

Please feel free to send in any requests :D

Masterlist

After finding out you were pregnant, Seungkwan’s entire world shifted. He treated you like the most precious thing on earth, well I mean he already did, but he made sure you felt even more precious than that. From the moment the second line appeared on that little test, you didn’t lift a finger without him hovering nearby.

The first few weeks, when the morning sickness hit hard, Seungkwan was your unwavering rock. He would wake up before you every morning just to prepare a tray with dry crackers, a warm cup of tea, and tissues, knowing you might get sick before even making it to the bathroom. If you couldn’t keep anything down, he’d sit beside you on the floor, rubbing soothing circles on your back, murmuring soft encouragements like, "It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so well. Our little peanut's just growing strong."

Some nights you couldn't even look at food- the nausea was too much. So Seungkwan would quietly cook some broth or cut up some fresh fruits and sit with you, spoon-feeding you tiny bites just to make sure you stayed nourished. And on the days you managed to eat properly, he celebrated it like you’d just won an Olympic medal, beaming and kissing your temple proudly.

When you began showing, Seungkwan’s protectiveness grew even more (As if it wasn’t already too much 😭). He refused to let you carry anything heavier than your phone. Grocery bags? He was already at the door the second you looked at them. Laundry basket? Nah, forget it. He was scooping it up before you even noticed. If you so much as reached for something on a higher shelf, he would appear out of nowhere, wagging his finger playfully, "Uh-uh, Jagi. That’s my job now."

He signed you both up for prenatal yoga (You didn’t know that was a legit thing until you showed up for your first session tbh) and even though he was the only husband in the entire class , He made sure he attended every single session, diligently copying the poses, sometimes clumsily, but with pure devotion, just to make sure you felt supported.

After classes, he would gently massage your feet and legs, using scented oils he researched himself of, "It has to be pregnancy-safe, Jagi, I triple-checked!") (It was just Lavender oil btw. Bro just triple checked Lavender oil 🥲)

At home, he would set up pillows everywhere.

On the couch? Pillows.

In bed? Pillows surrounding you like a fluffy fortress.

Even when you napped in random places… the armchair, the dining table… Seungkwan would sneak over and slip a pillow under your neck or feet making sure to not wake you up.

Whenever you felt self-conscious about your body changing, your swollen ankles, your stretch marks, or your changing weight, Seungkwan would cup your face, look at you with the softest expression, and say, "You’re carrying our daughter. Every part of you is so so beautiful. You’re even more gorgeous now, if that’s possible."

He spoke and sang to your belly daily.

He sang soft lullabies at bedtime, his voice being one of the few things that would actually help you sleep when your whole body ached or you were overwhelmed.

He also had full-on conversations as well. He would crouch down in front of you, resting his cheek against your stomach, and whisper, "Hey Baby girl. Appa here. I hope you're being nice to your Eomma today. She’s the best, you know? The prettiest, kindest, bravest woman in the whole world. You’re so lucky. We both are."

When your mood swings kicked in (and sometimes it kicked hard),Seungkwan handled it like a pro. If you cried over a commercial, he’d cry with you, dramatically sniffling until you were giggling. If you got frustrated and snapped at him, he’d quietly give you space.. then appear minutes later with your favourite blanket, a warm drink, and open arms, ready to cuddle without saying a word.

He made it a rule to never let you feel lonely . Whether it was late-night foot rubs, midnight drives just because you wanted fries and ice cream (Mixed together btw), singing to you softly until you fell asleep, or letting you vent about every ache and fear, Seungkwan was there. Listening, comforting, loving.

And when he looked at you- even if your hair was a mess, your feet swollen, and you were waddling around the house like a penguin (according to him tgat was the cutest thing ever 🥹)- his gaze held nothing but pure adoration, like you were his whole universe wrapped up in one person.

You often caught him staring at you when he thought you weren't looking, his eyes glassy with awe, murmuring under his breath, "How did I get so lucky?"

And whenever you got scared, scared of labor, of being a mom, of everything changing, Seungkwan would pull you close, press his forehead to yours, and promise, "We’re in this together. You, me, and our baby girl. Always.”

A/N : Hope you liked it! Your support is much appreciated 🫶🏾