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satzumosupremacy · 2 days ago

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Elite Bodyguard Series: Pt.13

Gift In Disguise

Male reader X Kwon Eunbi

Tags: Smut, not a mommy Eunbi 9.2k Words

A/N: Does mention a little blood and violence but you should be fine :)

Every movement is calm, controlled, and efficient. But you carry a kind of danger. It can serve good or evil, but make no mistake—you are dangerous, more than what people realize. It’s not something you like to show, unless you want to make a clear statement.

Someone always has to learn the hard way. Just like today, you’ll give back what they bring. Psychological mind games, manipulation, subtle pressure, controlled silence and chaos—you’ll escalate it calmly, with precision, only if it’s necessary. This is your playing field.

“Boss?” Shadow—a colleague of yours say, pausing as he looks back at you.

Eunbi glances over too with curiosity in her eyes, wondering why you stopped short just before turning around the corner toward the elevators. She tries to follow your gaze but quickly finds nothing. Shadow, on the other hand, catches the signal instantly. No words needed.

This is just one of the many things that set you apart as a bodyguard—counter-surveillance isn’t easy, and it’s not a skill anyone can easily learn. It’s more than watching your surroundings; it’s about reading people, anticipating their moves. You see someone once, there’s no need to be alarmed. Twice, maybe it’s a coincidence. But the third time, you know you’re being tailed. Easier said than done.

“I need to use the bathroom. Escort Miss Eunbi to her room, Shadow,” you say, making an excuse as you continue to stare down at the person in the lobby from afar.

“Understood, Boss” the bodyguard says and continues to walk with Eunbi following right behind.

And right after Eunbi turns the corner, you adjust your earpiece to radio your colleagues. “This is Boss. Shadow is escorting Eunbi. Ghost, do you copy?”

“Copy.”

“What did security say about the possible Tango? Over.”

“They think we’re overreacting. We can’t do nothing about it. They seem like unseasoned security guards that haven’t gotten their hands dirty before when the threat is posing as a bodyguard.”

No bodyguard should be sitting down when there’s only four that’s in the building. It’s already a red flag. An experienced security guard would have caught on.

"Should I drag him by the hair to security?" you say, half-sarcastic, but not entirely joking. At this point, the risk of something happening is unknown. Anything can happen in a moment. You're not doing this just to protect Eunbi, but to ensure the safety of everyone in the building. It’s really not your job to, but something like this is already a security risk.

The whole time, your eyes stay locked on him—the threat. Whether he knows you're watching from a distance and is just playing dumb, you don’t care. You want him to realize he’s being stalked. You want him to feel uneasy. You want him to be afraid.

“What’s Tango doing? Confirm a description, Boss. Delta is right beside me. Shadow and Miss Eunbi just got out of the elevator and are walking to the room.”

“He’s sitting pretty with a phone in his face,” you reply, still staring down the threat. “Confirming—black baseball cap, black suit jacket, white flannel, black pants, brown dress shoes.”

“Copy that. No changes. Should I drag each security guard by their hair to you, Boss?” Ghost chuckles.

“It’s a good way to hurt their pride, and I’ll be proud—but let’s not get into legal lawsuits.”

“Right. Would you like me to take your place?”

“Rendezvous at my location. Try stalking and make it super obvious. Or try hitting on him if you get bored.”

“Is that really the extent you want me to go, Boss?” Ghost laughs.

“Up to you. Just let me know so we’re on the same page.”

What you really mean is, you aren’t pressuring Ghost to do honeypotting—a form of espionage where a woman flirts with a man to gather information or lower his guard. But if you can get something useful that way, it’s a win. Minimal risk. Maximum gain.

“Eunbi just entered the room a few seconds ago. I’ll be on my way down,” Ghost says.

Once Ghost takes over your position, you step into the elevator and head up to Eunbi. You glance at everyone who passes by from the corner of your eye—head on a swivel, even as they go about their day.

When you reach the room, you tap Delta on the shoulder and motion for him to patrol the floor. No one says it out loud, but the team feels it from the change in your glare—passivity dissolving into quiet tension. The calm watchfulness sharpens. Everyone’s posture straightens, eyes narrow. Surveillance shifts into staging. You and the team aren’t just watching anymore—you’re waiting for the moment to strike.

“Hey,” Eunbi whispers, opening the door after hearing your voice from outside her room. “Oppa.”

“Yes?”

She waves you into the room, and you follow her command. Eunbi gently closes the door behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the brightly lit room while her manager is still out getting snacks.

“Oppa, is everything okay?” she asks cautiously. “You were in the bathroom for so long. Are you feeling constipated? I have some medicine if you are.”

Seriously, what’s going on in her mind? Is she always like this? You don’t even know.

“No. And stick to ‘sir’ like you did before. We aren’t close like that.”

“Alright, Boss,” she replies, which already feels bizarre to you.

“Not that either.”

“Well, you’re not the actual boss-boss, though,” she says, tilting her head slightly. “Right?”

You keep a silent smile, with just a hint of a smirk.

“Hey, you’re a little annoying. At least answer me, Sir,” Eunbi pouts.

You would say Eunbi is an oddball, because how many names is she going to call you by, and within a simple response? She already called you by your name, “Sir,” “Oppa,” “Mister bodyguard,” and an informal “Hey”, all in rotation. It’s not a big deal to you, but it is getting a little annoying when she can’t stick to one name.

“Do you know what psychological misdirection is, Miss Eunbi?”

“A what?” she says, sitting down on the chair while you stand near the door.

If she doesn’t catch on, you’ll misdirect her to another topic—just to gauge how clueless she really is. “Want to know why I told you not to say my name? Get down.”

She stands up, confused, looking around before slowly squatting in front of you with her legs together. “What’s happening?”

“Stand up,” you say, looking down and meeting Eunbi’s gaze with her cleavage in your view, which was unintentional on your end to look down at her.

She obeys silently, still confused as ever.

“Sit back on the chair, Miss Eunbi.”

“W-what are you doing?” she asks, blindly grabbing the chair and sits down.

“At least you’re obedient, Miss Eunbi. Just listen and do whatever I tell you to do. Don’t question, don’t worry. Trust me, and I’ll trust you.”

She chuckles and rolls her eyes at how easily you controlled her. “Oppa, why do you look so paranoid, though? Nothing’s going to happen,” Eunbi says with a smile.

That’s the last thing you wanted to hear—“nothing will happen.”

Even omens exist in your line of work. It’s like telling a first responder, “It’s been quiet.” Anything can happen after that. And the smile Eunbi’s giving you meant to comfort, just hits a nerve instead.

“I’m not paranoid, Miss Eunbi,” you say calmly, letting out a quiet sigh that barely masks the tension coiling in your chest.

“Um, would you like to sit down? There’s a chair right by you. Just look down, like to the left side," she says with a gentle invitation.

“No thanks, Miss,” you reply, your tone clipped but not harsh. “Not here to babysit an adult.”

She exhales, a mix of frustration and concern. “Why are you being like this? Weren’t you more friendly like thirty minutes ago? Is it because my manager’s not here that you’re acting cold to me? C’mon, it’s only been more than like one or two hours.” Her eyes search yours, trying to find a hint of the person she met earlier.

If she were sharper, she’d notice the subtle shift in your posture—the way your eyes flicker toward the door every few seconds, or how your jaw tightens when you think she’s not looking. The threat you’ve spotted more than once over these past hours isn’t visible to her. And you don’t blame her—it’s not her burden to carry.

Still, your guarded demeanor, the silence between your words, the weight in the room—it should speak volumes.

“It’s not that, Miss Eunbi. Please understand,” you say quietly, voice steady but heavy with meaning.

“Eunbi. Just call me Eunbi. Please, Oppa?”

But you don’t budge. “I get it. We met at the awards show when you got lost and couldn’t find the bathroom and talked a little, but let’s stick to professionalism.”

“I don’t like you, Sir.”

“I don’t care,” you shoot back quickly.

“Are we friends? We sure do bicker a lot.” Her smile grows wider, teasing, eyes locking with yours like she’s trying to crack the armor you wear.

You neither know nor care much about being her friend, so you shrug without saying a word.

“It’s okay to be shy and not admit we’re friends. But you should buy my album. I’ll personally include extra goodies—free of charge. I’ll even sign it. Friends should support each other, right?”

“We’ll see,” you say, not planning to spend a dime on her album. “Depends on how I feel.”

“I like this side of you now. It’s kind of hot. The cold with the soft, gentle side mixed in—very charming.”

She’s definitely hitting on you, but you act like you didn’t hear it. Neither does she really get what you’re trying to say.

“Mhmm, okay. Is that all you want to talk about? May I step outside and give you some privacy, Miss Eunbi?” Your voice is calm but carries an edge, masking the tension simmering beneath.

“No. Can you stay with me a little longer? I get kind of lonely sometimes.” Her voice drops a notch, softer, almost vulnerable, and you catch the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air.

You glance at her, the dim light casting soft shadows across her face. Reluctantly, you nod. “What else do you want to ask, Eunbi?”

Casually dropping the ‘miss’ is intentional. Psychologically, she’ll feel a lot better and let you out quicker. You’re playing it smart by controlling the situation. Not in a bad way, that is.

She shifts slightly on the chair, the subtle rustle of fabric breaking the quiet. “How does a woman become a bodyguard? I swear, I saw one standing by my door. Why is she dressed totally different from you?”

“Her call sign is ‘Ghost.’ She’s dressed as a staff member for obvious reasons.”

“And about the guy who escorted me to the room... why does he walk weird after we left you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question. The faint hum of the air conditioning fills the pause. “What? Why are you so curious about how people walk? That’s kind of weird.”

“I can’t be curious?” she chuckles and adjust her shirt by the collar, to which, you saw a glimpse of her cleavage. “His right arm doesn’t sway much like his left.”

“Cauliflower on his left ear. A stiff right arm. What comes to your mind? He’s the scariest bodyguard here, Eunbi.”

“And you’re not the scariest?” she says, trying to sound sharp, her eyes flickering up and down your figure. “Your nickname should be ‘Little Boss’ then.”

“Unfortunately, no,” you reply. It’s actually an understatement. Some things are better left unsaid.

She shrugs, clearly unimpressed. “You’re kind of boring.”

“Yeah, sorry for getting your hopes up or something. But I have to get going out there. We can talk after everything is done, Eunbi.”

“Fine. Gosh.” Her voice trails off, a mix of disappointment and amusement.

Once you step out of the room, the cool hallway air hits your face. You catch Shadow’s steady gaze as you smooth your sleeve with a quiet sigh. “Anything from Tango?”

“Tango got up and took the staircase. Ghost is following. Should we not make a move? He’s in a secluded space that people won’t see.”

“We move on my command,” you reply firmly. “Tango isn’t an immediate threat until he does something.”

“Anything on your mind, Boss? A plan B?”

“You’re in charge if anything goes sideways. Stay with Eunbi while I’m out. Coordinate with Delta while Ghost and I handle Tango. And do me a favor—don’t tell Eunbi where I am.”

“I—yes, Boss.”

“Did you want to say something?” you ask, your tone softening.

Shadow hesitates, then nods. “I’m not sure Ghost can keep up with your pace.”

“You know her. She’s a tough fighter.” You adjust your earpiece, glancing at Shadow as he acknowledges your words. “Delta, do you Roger? Over.”

“Roger.”

“Go to the lobby and be on standby to escort Miss Eunbi’s manager when they return. Check six and twelve.”

“Roger that, Boss. But what about Tango? I don’t have a good feeling.”

“Ghost and I will handle him. I need you and Shadow to watch Eunbi closely.”

“Boss, I’m against that,” Delta says firmly. “I’ll go in your place.”

Shadow cuts in over the radio, voice sharp and unwavering. “Just listen and do what you’re told, Delta. Don’t make things harder for Boss. He’s not in the mood.”

You lean in beside Shadow and reply quietly, “Shadow…”

And things heat up quickly, out of nowhere.

“Didn’t Boss pull some strings to get you out of prison after seeing you stomping a creep nearly to death? You know damn well you would’ve done time for that. Most people don’t get a second chance after, but somehow, Boss saw something worth saving you from being locked in a cell," Delta snaps back.

“Okay, army brat. Still got that army ego, huh? Always itching for a fight, always ready to kill? Gosh, the military’s the only place you can get away with murder, isn’t it?” Shadow fires back. “Be glad Boss took you in and gave you a second chance. Otherwise, you’d be dead broke, fighting for a country that didn’t give a damn about you afterward.”

“Hey, fucking quit it,” you radio back in a not-so-friendly tone, glaring directly at Shadow with your eyes silently saying, “Don’t make me put you in check.” The radio goes silent for what feels like minutes as you close your eyes, trying to regain some calm after losing a fair bit of your cool.

“Sorry about that, Boss,” Delta finally replies over the radio.

“I’m taking full responsibility for what can happen. Understand that. Acknowledge all.”

“Roger,” delta responds back on the radio.

“Roger,” Shadow responds beside you.

You wait for one more reply—but Ghost doesn’t respond. No verbal answer, not even the faint double-tap on the earpiece that usually signals acknowledgment or silent confirmation.

“Ghost, do you copy?” you radio. “Ghost?”

Your mind races to one conclusion—something’s wrong. You glance at Shadow, who’s staring back at you, his expression darkening with concern. There’s no time to hesitate, no time to gamble on hope. Without another word, you sprint toward the stairwell, pounding down the steps two at a time while Shadow stays behind and watches Eunbi.

“Delta, be advised, Boss is engaging. Standby,” Shadow radios to Delta.

The sudden rush of footsteps draws Eunbi’s attention. She opens the door, startled to see only Shadow standing there. “Where’s… um… your boss?”

“He’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t worry. Your manager should be back any minute now. The radio show isn’t starting for another hour. Get some rest, Miss Eunbi.”

“Did your boss run to the bathroom again?”

Shadow exhales a short, quiet sigh—part amused, part tense. Her question might’ve been funny under normal circumstances, but the situation is far from that. “No, Miss.”

Meanwhile, you’ve already turned the corner, racing down three flights of stairs. As you hit the landing, your eyes lock onto Ghost against the wall, one hand clutching her stomach, her fingers slick with blood.

“Where did he go?” you ask, breath caught somewhere between panic and command.

Ghost winces, jaw clenched, and points toward the nearby stairwell door. “I’m fine. Go get him. He has a knife,” she gasps.

You catch sight of her earpiece on the floor—shattered, useless. She never got the chance to signal. Without hesitation, you pull out your phone, hit the emergency line, and hand it to her with the speaker on. You trust her holding on until help arrives and you quickly leave her to deal with the threat.

“Ghost’s been stabbed. Delta, inform the front desk to shut every door. My orders. Execute, now!” you radio and run full speed quickly after, hoping to catch the threat before anyone gets hurt.

“Lima Charlie, Boss,” Delta responds quickly.

“Going dark,” you declare, slipping your earpiece off and continue to run.

Every scream you hear only pulls you closer, feet pounding against the floor as you run. Your mind is spiraling with frustration and anger burning hot. You should’ve handled the threat earlier. Maybe none of this would’ve happened. But deep down, you know you couldn’t have moved until now.

As you reach the end of the hallway, you spot the threat—knife out, yelling at the broadcast station staffs, demanding something you can’t quite hear over the chaos. But you're past the point of negotiation. One of your own is bleeding out, and you have every right to act in defense.

The staff freeze at the sight of you charging forward. There’s no hesitation in your stride, no warning in your eyes. You’re locked on target, and nothing else matters. In one swift motion, you slam into the threat, driving him hard into the wall. The crack of impact echoes through the hallway as the side of his face smashes against the concrete. You hope the shock will dislodge the knife—but he doesn’t let go. Behind you, the staff break into screams, scattering and sprinting to safety, putting as much distance between themselves and the scene as they can.

And to what you don’t expect, he maintains his balance and grips his knife. But looking down at his knife still in his hands and how he’s holding onto the knife like an amateur, you don’t expect much. The threat takes a good look at you and points the knife right at you.

“Just give up and put it down,” you warn him.

“Scared?” he laughs and charges at you.

Being rushed at took you by surprise. And neither was calming down the situation was an option anymore as you dodge his knife attack easily from how slow he swung. It also took him by surprise. You quickly take this window as an opportunity to charge right at him as an exchange of force.

He tries to fight you off by lowering his arm down, getting the knife sideways with an intent of swinging it out once it connects to your stomach. You know this all too well in an instant as he tries to swing right at you instead after knowing that targeting your stomach was difficult. And neither did that work when you lowered yourself to punch him right in the ribcage. It worked a little too well that he stumbled and lean against the wall for a split second.

From what you just observed and did, you’re not expecting a long fight.

“Are you done?” you say, trying to provoke him, trying to get in his mind while he groans in pain.

He’s not giving up without a fight, or even worse, until you’re seriously hurt by him. Without an answer, he sees you approaching him at the corner of his eyes, and that’s where he strikes you with his knife, slashing your left outer forearm in a clean straight line from a quick defensive maneuver.

You felt every single bit of that slash despite your body fueling you with adrenaline.

But quickly and smartly, you back off and hear the sirens in the distance. To what he doesn’t expect, you stood your ground and crack the bones in your neck, smirking. He doesn’t like anything about how calm you are, even after you lowered your guard to where he got lucky to get a hit on you.

Trying to disarm him was a plan, but with how he’s waving his knife around carelessly for you to not jump back in, it’s not worth a risk. Despite reading his movements, all you can see is how vulnerable his chest was.

One big mistake from you can lead to his death from how the sharp side of the knife can be turned against him with just a strong push. This is something you want to prevent yourself from doing. Neither would it look great.

“Don’t be scared, come at me,” you say, provoking him again as he charges at you blindly, knife aimed dead-center at your stomach like it’s all he’s ever trained for. Very predictable.

You quickly counter him with a sidestep, just enough to let the blade miss, then drive a short, jab to his liver. That would definitely make anyone drop in seconds no matter how tough they are. But he still won’t let go of the knife. He twists with the momentum, swinging back at you—this time the blade grazes your side, then suddenly, you feel it sink in.

Your breath catches as the cold steel bites into your side. The pain blooms fast, hot—but your mind stays clear. You don’t pull away. Instead, you drag him with you, shoving both of you toward the wall, using every ounce of muscle to keep the blade from driving deeper as he suddenly looses all his strength and drops down. You quickly follow, pinning him to the ground before he can recover.

In the back of your mind, time is ticking. The knife isn’t lodged in you. You can already feel the warm trickle soaking onto your shirt, the sharp throb in your side growing louder with each heartbeat. You press your knee harder into his spine, just enough to make him stop squirming.

“Learn how to use a knife properly,” you say, which provokes him. He tries squirming around to get out but you apply pressure to his back, hurting him more and more.

“Ah. Ow. Ow. Ouch. Okay! Damn!” he screams in pain. His breathing is abnormal because of the liver shot delivered from you. “Get the fuck—.”

“Stay down while I’m being nice. And be glad I didn’t hit you hard,” you quietly say with a growl and look around, then back down to him. “Should I demonstrate where it would be better to kill you quickly?”

He doesn’t answer, everything you’re saying is scary when you’re in hands reach of his knife. Waves of dizziness starts to settle, the feeling of nausea kicks in as he groans from the pain, his vision starts to blur.

“It’ll be quick. You’ll feel it for about thirty seconds until your body goes into shock within a minute,”you say quickly, wanting to bring some sort of panic from him on purpose.

All you’re doing is scaring him. And neither was he good enough to put up a fight while armed with a knife. However, you did underestimated the sudden jolt of his willpower that got you hurt in the process. You’ll blame yourself for thinking he would drop the second you punched his liver without too much force.

“You’re just a thug… in a suit,” he slurs. “Another dog… for those soft, rich bastards. Leashed… till they say go.” He grunts, groaning in agony as you slam his face into the cold ground.

You didn’t like what he said one bit.

Within the moments of listening to his words, you wouldn’t say he was wrong—but being called a thug? That was over the line. You don’t want him to think he got in your head—even if he did.

“I don’t need your sympathy. I enjoy preying on people like you. And just to correct you, some hunting dogs can’t ever be controlled by a leash.”

He chokes on his cough, “you’re—fucking insane.”

“Be glad you’re still alive. Your chest looked like an easy target, the way you swung your knife around. You wouldn’t want to see your knife lodged in your heart, wouldn’t you? Especially from your own hands? How about a deep slash to your Achilles tendon? You won’t walk the same after.”

“Fucking psychopath,” he says, spitting his saliva on the ground, wheezing and groaning.

“Say it again,” you murmur and sigh. “You’re no different. You picked the wrong hunting dog and you’ll pay for it by being locked in a cage.”

Yet, despite toning down your aggression and daring him to repeat himself, he stays quiet. At the corner of your eyes, you see police officers running towards you. Slowly, you get off of the threat as he lays down exhausted, and voluntarily.

“Requesting additional medical support,” the police officer says into his radio, his calm, steady voice echoing faintly down the hallway as another officer walks alongside him.

Glancing down at the side of your stomach, you spot the wound. It doesn’t feel deep, but the moment your hand presses against it, pain flares, sharp and pulsing. Blood seeps through your shirt and fingers, faster than you expected, though it’s not the worst you’ve seen. Your grip weakens, but your face stays steady, calm and composed, like this isn’t the first time.

——

It’s the next day, a perfect day to be alone in your quiet house, resting as your injuries slowly heal. Peace settles over everything, undisturbed, until the sharp chime of the front doorbell cuts through the silence at fifteen minutes past noon. The unexpected sound piques your curiosity; you weren’t expecting anyone.

You glance at the front door camera and see Eunbi standing there. It’s completely unexpected. What surprises you even more is that she came alone with her car parked right in your driveway. With a quiet breath, you walk over and unlock the door, ready to greet her.

“Hey, so… um, I heard about yesterday,” Eunbi says, handing you a small bouquet of flowers along with her album and the extra goodies she promised. “I know men don’t usually get flowers, but I thought you might appreciate this.”

“Hi, and… thank you?” you say, a bit confused as you take the gifts from her hands. Flowers from her felt strange, beyond strange, but you appreciate the gesture. “Should I wire you the money? I’m supposed to pay for the album.”

“No, it’s alright. Please take it as a thank-you gift for watching over me yesterday. My manager made sure to send copies to your agency for your colleagues, and I personally signed each one. I promise."

“That’s nice of you, Eunbi,” you say, feeling the smooth weight of the album in your hands. A quiet moment settles between you. The sincerity of her gesture lingers in the air.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, and a quiet silence lingers between you again for a few seconds.

The stillness feels a little heavy, as if neither of you quite knows what to say next. There’s an unspoken distance between the two of you, neither close enough to fill the silence comfortably. You glance away briefly, the awkwardness settling in as the gap lingers just a bit too long.

“How did you get my address?” you ask. It’s a simple question, but the slight hesitation in your voice betrays your curiosity, and maybe a touch of awkwardness.

“My manager contacted your agency.”

You nod slowly, acknowledging it’s reasonable. “Alright. You probably had a good explanation to get them to give out my address so easily.”

“Are you mad at me?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Why would I?”

“You know, I… I didn’t mean to bother or annoy you yesterday or today, or even jinx anything from happening, Oppa."

“Yesterday? Oh, that’s just because I just didn’t want you to know what was happening.”

“Awh, that’s sweet of you. But are you doing anything today? I got in because your gate was opened. Were you going somewhere?”

“No, someone dropped off a med kit since I was running low. And sorry, I think you should head home. Not in a mood to talk.”

She didn’t like your response one bit. She was expecting you to comply. “Please? Aren’t we friends?”

“Are we?” you reply, tilting your head slightly to the right, a hint of skepticism flickering in your eyes.

“Are we not?” she counters back. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Like what?”

“Let me in,” she says, letting out a cautious, suppressed chuckle.

You turn around, rolling your eyes in mild irritation, and walk away from the door. You’re not in the mood, but you can’t bring yourself to force her out when she hasn’t done anything wrong. “Close the door after you get in,” you call over your shoulder.

Eunbi shuts the door behind her and quickly slips off her shoes. As she moves towards you, her eyes scan the space—much bigger, more modern, and sleeker than the small apartment she’s used to. “How much are you paying for this house?”

“That’s private information,” you say, opening the med kit in the living room and pulling out a small bandage to replace the one on your left arm.

“Ah, that’s right, you’re the boss. It’s not just a nickname. I get it now,” Eunbi says, sitting down beside you on the couch, hands resting quietly in her lap. “Bet it’s paid off, right?”

“No comment.”

She’s quietly taking you in—observing how you don’t treat her like a famous celebrity and how you’re letting her make herself at home. You weren’t the first to invite her in when it’s something she’d expect, but what surprised her most was that you didn’t ask for a photo or autograph. It’s eye-opening for her. For the first time, she feels like her fame has been gently stripped away, and it’s a strangely comforting feeling.

As her gaze shifts to your arm, a flicker of sympathy crosses her face. She begins to feel bad for what you endured yesterday. The room falls silent for what feels like minutes as you carefully peel the plastic off the adhesive.

“I’m sorry, Oppa.”

You meet Eunbi’s gaze, catching the genuine regret in her eyes. You shrug lightly, a small, reassuring smile tugging at your lips. “What are you sorry for? It’s my job, Eunbi.”

“But is violence always the answer? Even when you’re not the one causing the problem?”

“It’s better to calm things down with words,” you say, pausing to press the adhesive firmly onto your arm so it won’t come loose. “But who am I to say that when my colleague got stabbed? Would you do the same as me?”

“I would.”

“I assumed so,” you murmur and reach for the med kit to tightly close as it clicks in place.

“Can I ask you something?” Eunbi says hesitantly. You lean back on the couch, catching her uncertain expression before she meets your gaze. “Uh… how does it feel, being in a situation like yesterday? Is it scary?”

“You don’t focus on how it feels. You focus on what needs to be done. Ask a firefighter, they’d say the same.”

“Were you scared, though?” she asks, glancing at you as you look down at your own hands. You take a slow breath, your fingers tightening slightly before you finally meet her gaze.

“Hmm, it feels like a Sunday night when you know you have to get up and work the next day,” you chuckle, teasing a little as you look at her. “You just gotta get used to it and deal with it, ya know?”

“You’re so annoying,” she laughs, looking away to catch your reflection alongside hers in the TV screen. “But you’re kind of hot to be annoying.”

There she goes again—flirting. But this time, Eunbi doesn’t meet your eyes, even as you watch her closely. It makes you wonder: what other creative tactics does she have up her sleeve?

“My manager told me you got stitches,” Eunbi says, glancing back at you with a curious look.

“I did. Why?”

“Can I see it?”

Should you let her see your stitches? Neither are you close to comfortably lift your shirt up for her to see. But you couldn’t stop being curious on what she’s trying to do. You’ll be more than willingly to stir something up as the tension between the two of you grows. Because what’s really the reason why she’s staying this long?

“Sure,” you say, lifting the side of your shirt to reveal the stitches beneath a gauze pad. For whatever reason, time seems to slow as Eunbi reaches toward the wound without asking. Your hand snaps up, catching her wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She feels the firmness of your grip—but also the unexpected warmth in your touch. Her wrist is slender beneath your hand, your fingers overlapping with controlled pressure, restraint held just at the edge of release.

“Do you… like, feel lonely sometimes?” Eunbi murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. She looks a lot shyer now, like she’s bracing for something—your answer, maybe, or the silence that might follow. Her eyes meet your gaze, unsure if crossing the line between the two of you meant being pushed away.

You’re still gripping her wrist. The tension hasn’t broken—if anything, it’s sharpened, suspended in the space between you. Her skin is warm beneath your fingers, her pulse steady but not quite calm. You don’t speak right away, and in that pause, the weight of her question lingers—louder than either of you expected. In the stillness, your eyes lock, and the two of you stare at each other for just a little too long.

If anything can be read through her eyes, it’s not just curiosity—it’s a flicker of vulnerability, a silent plea for a sense of connection. Her gaze holds steady, soft yet unguarded, and though she doesn’t move closer, there’s a tension there—like she’s daring you to close the space between you.

“I remember you saying you get lonely sometimes, Eunbi,” you whisper. “I get it. I do too.”

She slowly leans in, close enough that you catch a faint trace of her scent. “We’re more alike than you think,” she murmurs. “Sometimes alone, sometimes in a crowd. Always on the move—city to city, country to country, barely any rest. Surrounded by people, by fans, but the loneliness creeps in when no one's around."

You see her point—there’s truth in it—but you’re not ready to buy into it. “I like the way you think, Eunbi,” you say quietly, “but no.”

Eunbi lets out a soft laugh, tilting her head. “So you’re saying no but in a really attractive way. Are you always this charming when you reject people?”

You try to stay composed, keeping your thoughts and lust in check. But it’s hard when she’s this close. The way her tits sit leaves a lot to the imagination when the line of her bra is just barely visible from her tight shirt. And that smile—the way she’s looking at you with steady eyes pulls your desire. The silence stretches with unspoken tension. Your gaze drops to her lips, then back up to her eyes. You crave her, no question. But still, you hesitate.

Your quietness lingers too long to where she adds on with a murmur, leaving her pride out, “have me today, will you?”

“Eunbi,” you say, your gaze locked onto hers, surprised as she reaches for your other hand and places it gently on her chest.

“I get a lot of messages from men. I know exactly what they want from me. But how come you’re not asking or trying to seduce me? I know my boobs are big and all, but are you more of an ass guy?”

You gulp, genuinely unsure how to respond. Part of you wants to play it cool, but another part is caught off guard—unsure whether to joke, deflect, or be honest. Honestly, what the hell are you even supposed to say in a moment like this?

“Am I not pretty enough?” she teases, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “How hard do you want to play before I have you wrapped around my finger?” She chuckles softly, leaning in just a little closer. “You’re pretty feisty. Try kissing me. Might just change your mind.”

You lean in even closer, and she closes her eyes, silently waiting for your lips wherever you dare choose to place them. But what you’re really doing is trying to read her pulse through her wrist—it’s racing faster from your playful teasing. Despite that, Eunbi gently slips her hand under your shirt, pressing her small palm against your chest, silently daring you to make the next move.

She opens her eyes with a flicker of embarrassment crossing her face for having to close them. She sighs softly, “can you stop playing hard to get? I need your help taking off my clothes, you know. Just for a while, make me feel vulnerable. Make me feel wanted.”

“What do I get in return?” you ask with a smirk, finally releasing her wrist that your right hand had been holding onto for what felt like forever.

She pushes you back against the couch’s backrest, straddling you as she leans in close. Her lips find your neck in a quick, heated kiss, and she murmurs softly, “anything.”

You slowly pull Eunbi into your embrace, your left hand sliding from her chest to rest gently at her side. Her curious lips explore you with delicate warmth, and in that quiet closeness, you both find something you’ve been needing—raw, unguarded connection. You want more. Those soft, inviting lips deserve to be kissed deeply, and her body craves the touch only you can give.

“Let me take you to my bed after,” you whisper, feeling Eunbi’s soft lips trail along the side of your neck, devouring you completely. A shiver runs down your spine, your breath catching as warmth floods your body, every nerve ignited by her touch.

“I’d love that,” she chuckles, pulling away just enough to grab both your hands. She compares them, hers noticeably smaller than yours. With a playful smile, she laughs softly, “It’s ironic how your hands were clenched into fists yesterday, but today I’m holding them like I might get manhandled.”

“Is that what you want, Eunbi?” you tease, a slow smile spreading as a playful smirk curls at the corner of your mouth.

“Well…,” she pauses, eyes softening as she glances down at your wound with a hint of playful concern. “Oppa, why don’t you just lie back and let me take care of everything?”

You like her idea—there’s something tempting about letting her take control, but you know damn well you’re not in any shape to do much with that injury to the side of your stomach. It’s a bittersweet feeling: wanting to be involved, yet needing to surrender to the moment.

“Sounds good?” she asks, her fingers lightly tracing the side of your jaw. You can’t help but appreciate the tenderness in her touch—so gentle, especially after the seriousness you showed just yesterday.

“I’m sorry that you have to do most of the work today,” you softly say.

She chuckles softly at your sincerity. “Isn’t that what friends are for? Sometimes we go out of our way just to help a little.”

“You said I can have anything from you, right? Let’s meet next time we’re both free, Eunbi. I’ll make it up.”

“Oh, so manly. You’re not going to take back those words, are you?”

You nod, tilting your head side to side. She finds the gesture way cuter than she expected. “Should we move to a more comfortable place? Your bed?”

With a quiet groan, you lift her into your arms. Eunbi can’t help but giggle, surprised by your sudden strength—and the fact she’s being carried. As you step into the bedroom, the door left slightly opened and forgotten, your eyes stay locked on her, drawn to her eyes.

“Lay down,” she urges softly, tapping your back. “I’ll take it from here.”

After Eunbi slides off, you rest your head on the pillow, eyes fixed on her curves. She slowly undresses herself by taking off her shirt to reveal the light pink bra she has on. You can’t help but admire how stunning she looks by feeling a heat rising inside you as your mind drifts to the thought of your face buried between her tits.

Eunbi grips her waistband, her knees locking in place as she bends down to slide her pants off, letting them fall softly to the floor. You lick your lips and swallow hard, eyes locked on her every move. She teases you with a small, playful sway before crawling onto the bed, settling herself gently on top.

“You’re hot. So damn hot,” you compliment her as your hand brushes against the smooth curve of her thighs up to her hips.

She lowers herself, closing her eyes as her lips part slightly before pressing softly against yours. Like the gentle tide meeting the shore, Eunbi’s touch is both tender and inevitable. You feel the warmth of her breath, the soft weight of her body pressing close. A smile tugs at her lips as she parts just enough to murmur, “may I undress you, handsome?”

Your whispered consent barely leaves your lips before her thighs wrap around you, firm yet inviting, locking you in place. As she pulls your pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, your cock springs free, catching her gaze. Eunbi lets out a slow, deep sigh— the kind that speaks of quiet relief, of tension finally easing as desire takes over.

“It’s so hard,” she chuckles, covering her mouth with one hand, a playful glint in her eyes. With her other hand, she hesitantly traces the waistband of her own panties, fingers trembling slightly as she savors the slow burn between you. There’s no rush—just the tension of anticipation, every second stretching out.

“Come back down and let me take your bra off, Eunbi,” you murmur, voice low and steady, eyes locking with hers. “Just slide your panties to the side.”

She crawls closer, leaning down so you can wrap your arms around her waist and unhook her bra with ease. Her breath brushes against your ear as she whispers, “can’t help but crave my body?”

“Whatever you say,” you murmur playfully, pulling her face closer to press a soft kiss to her lips. Your eyes close as your arms tighten around her. Your tongues dance slowly, teasing and exploring, exchanging heated breaths that mingle with the warmth of the room. Every second, you lose yourself more—the feel of her body, the taste of her lips—completely captivated by such a beauty.

But all that tenderness disappears the moment she breaks away from your lips with a heavy breath and sits upright. “I can’t wait any longer, Oppa.”

You clearly see the dark, damp spot spreading on her panties—proof enough that you’ve already stirred something deep inside her. Without even touching, you’ve got her this wet. The anticipation in Eunbi’s eyes is unmistakable as she slowly crawls back, settling on one knee while spreading the other leg wide. You reach out your hand, offering support in case she loses balance on the soft bed.

Eunbi spits on her hand and wraps it around the tip of your cock as it throbs from a touch. Then with a quick glance at you, she slides her panties to the side and slowly brushes the tip of your cock on her pussy in a teasing way before she slips it in. Both of you exchange a moan the moment you feel the tight hug and Eunbi feeling the length of your cock sliding into her slick walls.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, followed by a soft grunt. Your cock hasn’t even fully disappeared inside her, yet, Eunbi is already struggling to take every inch.

“Don’t rush it, Eunbi,” you let out a breath, feeling the warmth of her walls tighten around your cock.

Her breath catches, and a soft whimper barely escapes her lips. “Oh my gosh,” Eunbi moans, voice trembling with a mix of surprise and pleasure as she arches her back.

You gently grasp her wrist, guiding Eunbi down to lie on top of you. She exhales a heavy, shuddering breath as your bodies press close. “You feel so good, Eunbi,” you murmur, your voice thick with desire for every touch of her skin.

“You’re really stretching me out," she murmurs with her breath soft against the pillow, the warmth of her tits pressing onto your chest. Eunbi moves slowly, riding you with a measured rhythm, savoring each sensation of your cock penetrating her tight pussy—just enough to keep the pleasure building without overwhelming herself and you.

Your lips trail along her shoulders, tasting the warmth of her skin as she muffles a soft moan into the pillow. Your breaths grow heavier, syncing with the rhythm of her movements, while your hands roam freely, exploring the curve of her back before reaching down to her ass. You grab and squeeze, claiming them like it’s all yours with a gentle slap right after.

“So—,” she catches her breath, “aggressive.”

“Sounds like you enjoy it,” you reply back to her with a growl.

“I love it. A lot.”

And that was the last conversation for a few minutes. She’s not riding you hard. She takes every inch slowly, savoring the moment while your cock disappears in and out of her. You let Eunbi moan freely while hearing your own breath catch in her ear. It’s a wordless, therapeutic exchange—your bodies speaking for each other in perfect harmony.

“Eunbi,” you gulp and let a breath out, breaking the passionate silence, “hold on.”

“Can’t help it?” Eunbi murmurs, pausing as she feels your cock throbbing deep inside her. She leans close to your ear, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. “I don’t want you to cum just yet.”

Well, if she doesn’t want you to cum yet, you want her to, on your cock, from your very hands. You’ll make this Waterbomb goddess breathless with her toes curling up. “May you sit up, Eunbi? I want to see how pretty you are.”

That’s one way to make Eunbi’s heart skip a beat. She’s not used to hearing this side of you, and it catches her completely off guard.

“A little flirty, aren’t you?” she gets up slowly from the pillow, chuckling with a smile. Her smile is charming—you’ll admit it, but your attention starts shifting to her tits. She tracks your eyes and grabs your hands, guiding you to touch her tits. “I know you love them.”

“Who honestly wouldn’t?” you murmur and squeeze her tits, playing with them as she grinds on your cock. She holds onto both your forearms as grip while continuing to grind on you.

“Such big arms,” she seductively says, letting out a quiet moan and stares at you for a reply. “How lucky would a woman be to have you?”

“Extremely,” you say, teasing her. She quickly rolls her eyes, getting so annoyed of your cheeky response. It’s almost like she expected that. “What’s wrong, Eunbi?” you softly chuckle to play innocent, when you can assume she’s hating.

“Fuck you,” she chuckles along with you and pauses from grinding to guide your hands to her hips.

“But you are though,” you quickly reply, staring at each other in the eyes, which, you aren’t going to look away until she does. “Take a breath, Eunbi. Slow down if you have to. We have time.”

“Why do you stare at me like that, Oppa?” she says, brushing her thumb on your arm.

“Like… what?”

“You have charming eyes. No one told you?”

You shrug, unsure if she’s just bluffing because she’s on top of you with your cock deep inside her.

“It’s a compliment, by the way,” she murmurs and rides you slowly, not breaking eye contact. But you can clearly see how pink her cheeks have gotten. Slowly, you trace one hand down from her tits to her crotch as she lets go from your arms and place it on your chest. You slowly rub her clit as she lets out a whimper with her body quivering. “It’s sensitive, Oppa,” she moans.

Well, that just makes it a whole lot easier.

“I want you to cum, Eunbi.”

She stops riding you once the tip of your fingers rub her clit in circles. Eunbi’s moans get loud, neither are you stopping when your cock is lodged so deep that you can feel every pulsation from her walls. She struggles to even position still on top. You’re enjoying this, a lot. Just hearing the beautiful voice of hers makes you want more.

“Oppa,” she murmurs out with a groan and her body starts quivering uncontrollably, grinding gently on your cock. Eunbi’s breath turns heavier, arching her back, closing her eyes as she faces up towards the ceiling, cumming hard with her hands gripping onto your chest. It’s a sight to see her tits mashing each together with the body spasms as she continues to whimper and moan. Eunbi quickly grabs onto your hand, stopping you from rubbing her clip. She can’t handle more as she lets out a gasp, begging you to take it a little easy on her.

“Come back down, Eunbi,” you murmur, pulling her down as you’re greeted with her tits in your face. So without a single hesitation, you suck on them—both sides in respectful turns. Her breaths are still heavy as she rides out her orgasm. You burry your face between them and catch a breath, all while she smiles from all the sensitive nerves being felt from her chest and your cock.

“I told you my pussy is very sensitive,” Eunbi chuckles in between her breaths.

“Couldn’t help it,” you murmur, not a thought of stopping from feasting on her tits.

She continues to ride your cock slowly. There’s a sense of shyness from Eunbi after you made her cum. Every subtle touch and attention of yours makes her have some closure like she wanted.

You take a breath as she doesn’t stop pushing back down onto your cock. “Keep going. Just like that, Eunbi.”

“Love it that much?” she murmurs and lets out a seductive chuckle.

“Yeah,” you utter, gasping. Your hands reach to her ass for a tight, yet gentle squeeze.

Eunbi can tell you’re reaching your limit from how creamy and slick your cock’s penetrating into her. If Eunbi can make you have a memory of her, she’ll want this next moment to be for you. If she’s all smiling and laughing on your screen, Eunbi wants you to know that there’s still unfinished business the more she waits for a second time together.

“Cum,” she murmurs, kissing your neck, “cum inside this tight, little pussy.” Then she takes a quick breath, “it’s all yours, handsome.”

“Don’t slow down,” you gasp, grunting as Eunbi smiles by the way she picks up the pace. Feeling every throb, every breath onto her tits, and hearing your moans, you cum, making her feel the warmth of you cumming inside her. However deep Eunbi wanted it, you couldn’t stop cumming from how good this felt.

Eunbi pauses with your cock throbbing less and less every second. You feel her lips pressing against your neck, then up to your own. She gives you a kiss on the lips, almost like a passionate thank-you gift—another one.

“I let you cum in me for a reason, Oppa,” she murmurs, quickly pressing her lips back onto yours, intentionally not letting you speak a word. However, you’ll throw that to the side for now when her soft lips are craving more.

——

Eunbi lies beside you, her fingers gently tracing the edges of the bandage on your arm. You run your hand through her hair with slow care, both of you half-dressed, bodies still warm from the closeness. The room is quiet, wrapped in a kind of peaceful intimacy.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asks out of the blue, her voice soft and curious. Her pointer finger begins to trace slow circles over the bandage on your arm where the wound rests beneath. It’s a gentle, soft gesture—part playful, part intimate—as if she’s feeling out your answer not just in words, but through your body.

“The sex?” you reply.

“Yeah,” she chuckles shyly, unable to look at you.

“I did, Eunbi.”

She’s glad you enjoyed it, and with a smile, she giggles, “I needed that after working so hard for these past few months. I feel so… relieved.”

“It just had to be with me, wasn’t it?” you chuckle and tease her as she looks down at the side of your stomach where your stitches were.

“I couldn’t help it, Oppa. You let me in your home despite the fame I have. I’m sure I wasn’t the only woman in this bed.”

“You don’t think any less of me for that… do you, Eunbi?” you ask quietly, your gaze steady but your tone carrying the weight of curiosity.

“I get it. And I don’t think I’m the only one who’d feel this way. You didn’t treat me like some celebrity when I walked in. You weren’t chasing after anything, not my fame, not my body. It didn’t feel like you had some hidden motive. You’re… a good guy. I respect that.”

You look at Eunbi with a genuine smile, meeting each other’s eyes, “thank you.”

It’s a simple compliment, bit enough to make her heart flutter. “If anything, I should be the one saying thank you,” she murmurs with a small smile.

“Then kiss me if you mean it,” you laugh as she playfully hits you on the chest gently.

“You’re annoying,” Eunbi chuckles.

“But I’m too hot to be annoying, right?”

She’ll ignore the question, only because she doesn’t want to admit it again. “Do you want me to stay over tonight? Actually, may I? If you’re not busy?”

“I have a debriefing tomorrow in the early afternoon. Will that work for you?”

“What’s that?”

“Just going over about what happened yesterday. What went wrong, what could have been prevented, you know, those stuff. It’s required.”

“Are you there as the Boss or a colleague?”

You smirk, and teasingly chuckle in her face with no intentions of telling her.

She rolls her eyes at you with a chuckle. “Okay, yeah, I’ll leave tomorrow afternoon too. Give me your phone number before I forget.”

#kpop smut #kwon eunbi #izone eunbi #izone smut

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coffee-mage-sans-caffeine · 3 days ago

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I'd like to do an add-on to this, if I may. If you feel strongly about vaccines and you can afford to do so and have children, please start a vaccine savings account ASAP. If the CDC changes the schedule to have fewer recommended vaccines because of RFK and friends, it will not be evidence-based. We know that. What it will mean, however, is that insurance companies, which are capitalist and designed to make a profit NOT to help people, may stop paying for them. They may decide to gamble that these diseases are in low enough prevalance to simply refuse to cover them as anything other than 'optional' or 'cosmetic.' Anyone who's gone to get a mole or skin tag taken off that turned out not to be cancerous knows--insurance companies love to refuse to pay for things that are 'optional.' It's part of how they make profit for their shareholders. If the CDC changes the schedule due to political pandering, you may have to pay out of pocket for vaccinations that they've decided are 'unnecessary'. Be prepared for this, if you can. If you can't, be aware you may have a fight on your hands to get vaccines covered. If this doesn't happen, then the worst case is that you have a little nestegg if all of this ever ends. CDC recommendations are used to determine insurance coverage every day. That's why RFK is the most dangerous. It doesn't matter what medical organizations say 'no the CDC is wrong.' Insurance companies will cover the bare minimum and use any evidence they can to justify it.

FOR PARENTS OF YOUNG KIDS IN THE US!

Someone over on bluesky posted this and I figured I'd better repost it here. It's the pre-RFK 2025 vaccination schedule for babies and young children, ya know, just in case it mysteriously disappears. Save this and give it to your child's pediatrician; tell them this is the schedule you want your child on.

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allthatjazz416 · 2 days ago

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Nanami NSFW 🎀

"His favorite position" A short Nanami fic Tags: Fem!Reader (Can be GN? Mentions of female genitals but mostly focused on penetration) MatingPress! BreedingKink! Creampie! DirtyTalk! Possesive!Nanami! NoPullingOut! WordCount: 1.6k Notes: HIII! My classes have finally started so I wont be able to be as active as I'd like anymore 😭 But yeah, I've had mating press brainrot for a bunch of characters but focused on Nanami. Dividers:@/cursed-carmine & @/cafekitsune

Nanami likes to watch you like this. Pinned beneath him, folded nearly in half, your legs up in the air, cunt stretched wide around the thick base of his cock.

His favorite position. And you know it. You can tell by the way he looks at you—calm, controlled, but wrecked just beneath the surface. Eyebrows furrowed, jaw locked, a thin sheen of sweat dripping down his neck as he holds your thighs apart and grinds in deeper.

“You always take me best like this,” he mutters, voice gravelly as he bottoms out again, slow and brutal. “Fucking made for it.”

Your moans are high and sharp, voice cracking as he angles his thrusts to hit that spot—that one spot—over and over again, relentless and mean in the way only Nanami can be. Focused. Exacting. Punishing.

“ M’so tight,” he breathes, watching your face twist with every grind of his hips. “So perfect for me...”

Skin slapping against skin in hard, steady rhythm. Your cunt squelches wetly with every thrust, obscene and loud where he's buried so deep inside you, dragging against your walls like he’s trying to carve himself into your body.

You swear you can hear it more than you can think—the drag, the slide, the stretch of you swallowing him down again and again.

And he loves it. You can see it in the way his eyelids go heavy, in the way his hips rock just a little harder when your wetness gets louder, dripping down your crack to soak the sheets under your ass. He pulls back almost all the way—just enough for you to feel the stretch at the rim, the unbearable emptiness—and then slams back in with a grunt, hips crashing against yours so hard your thighs jiggle where they’re pinned against your chest.

“S-Shit—Kento—!”

You sob through it, toes curling where they hang limp in the air, body jolting under every brutal thrust. There’s no room to move. No space to breathe. Just the weight of him above you, the thick press of his cock inside you, and the way the whole bed shakes beneath his rhythm.

You’re not even sure he can stop.

“You're taking all of me,” he mutters, voice low, wrecked, almost like it’s paining him. His brow furrows deeper, sweat dripping off his temple. “It’s too much, isn’t it? But you’re still letting me in.”

He pushes in deeper, impossibly so, until his cockhead grinds flush against the deepest part of you, until you’re gasping and twitching and going dumb under him.

And then he grinds.

Not thrusts—grinds, slow and deep and heavy, hips rolling into yours so you can feel every thick inch press up into the softest, most tender parts of your pussy.

It’s disgusting how loud it is.

The wet, sloppy slap of your cunt sucking him back in. The sharp, rhythmic clap of his pelvis pounding yours, echoing off the walls. The choked, breathless cries he fucks out of you with every grind. The way your body sloshes, overstretched and full, every time he pushes his cum deeper inside you.

You feel used, absolutely—owned. Marked.

Your hands scrabble weakly at his biceps, nails digging in like you need something to hold onto before you fly apart. But Nanami doesn’t waver. His breathing is rough in your ear, a strained growl buried in every exhale.

“You feel that?” he murmurs again, lower this time, almost to himself. “Still fluttering around me.”

He sounds... fascinated. Like he still can’t believe how good you feel every time he sinks into you. Like he doesn’t want to stop. Doesn’t plan to.

You whimper, broken. “Kento—so big… So full…”

He doesn’t hush you. Doesn’t argue. Just presses his forehead to yours, lips brushing your cheek like a secret.

“I know,” he says, voice a quiet rasp. “But I need a little more.”

And he means it. He doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t give you a moment to breathe, doesn’t even let your legs drop from where they’re still folded against your chest. He shifts just slightly, readjusts his hips and pushes in deeper somehow, grinding slow as if he’s trying to mold your cunt to the exact shape of him

You clench again, involuntarily, and he groans—low and breathy—as your walls squeeze around him, still drenched, still sucking him in like you want him to stay there forever.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Still so fucking wet.”

And you are. Loudly. The wet squelch of your overstretched pussy surrounds every grind of his hips, each slow thrust a vulgar glide through the mess he’s already made inside you—slick with his cum, your slick, sweat, everything.

Your legs tremble where they’re still pinned tight to your chest, thighs pressed to your stomach, knees near your shoulders. You can feel your own slick dripping down the backs of them, pooling beneath you, every slow grind squelching louder, wetter, nastier.

You can’t stop moaning—each one more cracked and wrecked than the last.

His pelvis slaps into you again, deep and punishing, and you sob, fingers clawing weakly at the sheets.

“You’re doing so well,” Nanami breathes, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your mouth. “Taking everything. Every time.”

You whimper, trying to kiss him back, but you’re too gone, lips parting around a shaky gasp instead. He doesn’t mind. Just kisses your temple, your hairline, thrusting slow and deep like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

It’s torture—deliberate and focused. The kind only Nanami can give.

Each grind of his hips presses you harder into the mattress, cock dragging through oversensitive walls, still soaked with the last orgasm you haven’t even come down from.

He pulls back just an inch—just to feel your pussy tighten—and then sinks back in with a low groan, deep enough to knock the air from your lungs. It’s so much. Too much. You’re full, stretched, trembling under him, twitching with every roll of his hips.

“You feel that?” he murmurs again, his voice hoarse now, his composure finally starting to fray. “Still sucking me in.”

You choke on a cry, legs shaking hard as you clutch his wrist, the one beside your head, needing something to hold.

“I-I can’t,” you whisper, breath hitching. “Kento—please—”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, slow, sweet, so at odds with the filth of what he’s doing to you.

“You can,” he says again, not even trying to be stern—just sure. “One more. Just for me.”

Then he fucks into you harder—not faster, just deeper. More deliberate. His hips snap forward with purpose, each thrust heavier, rougher, angled perfectly to rub against that devastating spot deep inside.

Your whole body goes tight, voice caught in your throat, and he feels it—feels the way your cunt clamps down, how your legs jerk where they’re trapped between you.

“There it is,” he breathes, lips brushing your jaw, your neck. “That’s it. Let it go.”

And you do. Again. Pathetically, beautifully.

You come with a soundless cry, body arched, mouth open, eyes rolled back. Your pussy clenches around him so hard he nearly loses it—has to grit his teeth and hold still, fingers fisting in your hair as he tries not to break.

But you won’t let him. Not with the way you’re still fluttering around him, still wet, still twitching.

He pulls out an inch. Just one. Then pushes back in again, slow and shaking.

“Fuck,” he gasps, finally. “I’m—gonna fill you up again, sweetheart.”

But this time, there’s no question.

No asking. No hesitation.

Just a quiet, deliberate snap of his hips, a low groan in your ear, and the final, brutal grind as he stays buried to the base. Deep. Possessive. Intentional.

You feel it before you hear it—the way his cock twitches, hard and insistent, followed by the hot rush of cum flooding your already soaked cunt. Thick. Endless. So much it starts to leak before he’s even finished, pushed out by the sheer force of his orgasm.

Nanami moans, low and wrecked, his head dropping to your shoulder as his hands slide down your sides, holding you still. Holding you open. His weight presses into you, thighs trembling slightly as he ruts through the last waves of it, cock pulsing inside your fluttering walls.

He’s breathing hard now, voice raw.

“Filling you up,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “That’s right… take it.”

Your legs twitch around his hips, overstimulated and weak, but you don’t pull away—and he doesn’t let you. He just stays there, thick and warm inside you, like he belongs.

His cum oozes around the base of his cock, hot and messy, dripping onto the sheets beneath you. And still, he doesn’t move.

He presses his forehead to yours again, breath mingling with yours.

“I’m staying,” he murmurs, voice low and sure. “I know you don’t like it when I leave right away.”

There’s a faint exhale through his nose—almost a laugh, almost a sigh—as he brushes his lips against your cheek.

You whimper softly, eyes fluttering shut, body still trembling with the aftershocks.

“Gonna keep you like this a little longer,” he says, quieter now, his hand smoothing the damp hair from your forehead. The same hand that held you down, that touched you like he owned you—now careful, reverent. “Let it soak. Let it take.”

You don’t say anything. Can’t. You just nod, small and dazed, your breathing finally slowing as the weight of him settles over you—his cock still nestled inside, his cum still warm and spilling where your bodies stay joined.

And Nanami kisses you again. Unhurried. Deep. Tender in a way that makes your chest ache.

He doesn't move to pull out. Doesn't even try. Just holds you there, exactly how he wants you—folded under him, filled, and his.

The End! 🤍

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midniqhtt · 2 days ago

Text

part two comfort reads II 4k celebration

₊˚⊹⋆ main masterlist ꨄ︎ part one list ₊˚⊹⋆

a/n: ran out of links and tagging blogs. thus part two!

hi loves! i never do anything for celebrating but i thought i could make a big list of all my favorite fics i’ve read over the past few months/years and continue rereading. i can never get enough of showing my appreciation for writers and all their hard work, and i want them to know i think of these fics/series at least once a day ♡︎

key- A: angst II F: fluff II S: smut II C: comfort

.𖥔 HARRY POTTER UNIVERSE .𖥔

𝑺𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑼𝑺 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑲

ꨄ︎ tulips part two II @amiableness II A + F + S

After finding out Remus Lupin has found himself a girlfriend, a devastated Y/n L/n asks Sirius Black to help her get over him. Except Sirius has feelings for her.

ꨄ︎ if you love something II @mischievousmoony II A

Your boyfriend, Sirius Black, hasn’t been faithful and you can’t stand it anymore.

𝑱𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑺 𝑷𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹

ꨄ︎ time warp II @astonishment II A + F

when the time-turner breaks, you find yourself at the start of 6th year once again. the only difference? it’s 1976. stuck in a time you shouldn’t even be alive in, you do your best to blend in, anxiously awaiting to see if dumbledore can help you get home. that all goes out the window when you catch the eye of a certain bespectacled boy. and the more time you spend with him, the harder it gets to walk away. but you have to…right?

ꨄ︎ why didn’t we work out II @/astonishment II A + F

James Potter had two girlfriends in seventh year at Hogwarts. Y/N Y/L/N, who he dated for five months; and Lily Evan’s, who he dated afterwards. When he’s dared to call on of his exes, guess who’s number he dials…

ꨄ︎ i can see you II @pretty-little-mind33 II A + C

James panics when he sees what his boggart is.

ꨄ︎ i’ve got plans sorry part two II @livinginshambles II A + C

James is whipped. He adores his girlfriend so much, to the point that it starts to bother his friends. His reaction to a confrontation about it with his friends is to completely pull away from you, always finding new excuses to avoid you, leaving you to try and approach him. When you overhear him trying to be cool under peer pressure and say that you're too clingy, you also start pulling away, using the same excuses.

𝑹𝑬𝑴𝑼𝑺 𝑳𝑼𝑷𝑰𝑵

ꨄ︎ a man with a plan II @ellecdc II A + F

Remus planned to never fall in love. Moony had other plans. [link is ch8]

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑶𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑻

ꨄ︎ peonies II @/amiableness II A + F

Reader is devastated when Mattheo gets a girlfriend and asks Theo to help her get over him.

𝑺𝑬𝑩𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑨𝑵 𝑺𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾

ꨄ︎ the night shift pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 II @writing-intheundercroft II A + S + F

You're the lead healer in the St. Mungo's intensive care unit, and a painfully familiar face ends up in your ward.

𝑮𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑯 𝑾𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑳𝑬𝒀

ꨄ︎ illicit affairs II @festivalsofmargot II A + S

Garreth thinks back on his life with you, and it was far from perfect. But he’d relive every second if he had the chance.

.𖥔 STEVE HARRINGTON .𖥔

ꨄ︎ i’d knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss II @andvys II A + S

Steve was slipping through your fingers and you desperately held onto him not realizing that his heart wasn’t yours anymore. Dealing with the aftermath of your breakup turns out to be harder than you thought. Steve’s presence still lingers and while he keeps a hold of your heart, someone else sneaks their way into it too.

ꨄ︎ second chance II @astermath II A + F

steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.

ꨄ︎ hot for teacher II @handful0fteeth II S

you’re going on your first date with steve harrington, and hours before he’s due to pick you up your best friend gives you some rather unsavory information.

ꨄ︎ five tickets II @slashersteve II F

Steve couldn’t pass up a chance to be able to kiss you, even if there is a price.

ꨄ︎ for a good time call II @chestharrington II S + F

In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away.

ꨄ︎ christmas affairs II @maroon-cardigan II A + S + F

your christmas turns into a chaotic mess when your boss can’t fly back home and you end up stuck in New York City with him.

ꨄ︎ maybe this christmas time II @headkiss II F

working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

.𖥔 PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS .𖥔

𝑫𝑰𝑵 𝑫𝑱𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵

ꨄ︎ best kept secret II @lincolndjarin II A + S + C + F

Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

ꨄ︎ in a perfect world, you love me pt2 II @theidiotwhowritesthings II A + C

On the way to visit an old friend, you and Mando find trouble. Both of you are subjected to a drug that puts you in your perfect world. But, when you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, how do you know what to trust?

𝑱𝑶𝑬𝑳 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹

ꨄ︎ somewhere to run II @punkshort II A + S + C

You move to a small town in the middle of Texas to escape your past and start over. You don't expect to fall for the town's handsome sheriff.

ꨄ︎ i know who you are II @/punkshort II A + S + C

A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.

ꨄ︎ the fisherman’s wife II @joelmama II A + S + F

The free-spirited Reader is arranged to marry a divorced Fisherman named Joel Miller. And although she protested this at first, she soon wonders if maybe she could be happy with her new husband.

ꨄ︎ we bleed together II @bubbles-for-all-of-us II A

what if the last day of humanity was different? What if instead of loosing Sarah, Joel lost you - the mother of his two children and the person who had built him up to a better man.

𝑱𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑬𝑳𝑺

ꨄ︎ cupcake II deactivated blog II F

Jack Daniels, lead used car salesman at his dealership, has a crush on you, the pretty receptionist. It's too bad he can't get out of his own way. Luckily for him, you have patience and a soft spot for shy cowboys.

ꨄ︎ hot chocolate II @/punkshort II F + S

You lead a quiet, boring life in a podunk town, but when a certain secret agent stumbles into your world needing your help to catch a criminal at the local carnival, your quiet little life changes forever.

𝑱𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 𝑷𝑬𝑵𝑨

ꨄ︎ online love II @absurdthirst and @storiesofthefandomlovers II A + S + F

Coming home after Cali, Javi finds that his dad has moved into modern times. There's a computer in the house. Unsatisfied with his reputation proceeding him, he decides to go online to find out if he can be the man he wants to be. Except the one he connects with, you, has a very complicated past together.

.𖥔 MISCELLANEOUS .𖥔

𝑷𝑶𝑬 𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑵

ꨄ︎ hard landings II deactivated blog II A + F

Everybody in the kriffin galaxy seems to know you...Except for Poe.

ꨄ︎ something forgotten II @bensolosbluesaber II A + F

Poe Dameron is the love of your life, but he can’t remember you. Still, Poe finds himself drawn to you and seeing flashes of a life he has forgotten.

ꨄ︎ nine part two II @foxilayde II S

Idiots in love. You’re the idiot, mainly. You happen to hear something quite salacious about your bestie. And oooh boy, are you awful at keeping your shit together.

𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑵 𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹

ꨄ︎ impetus II @wildwestdean II A + F

dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

ꨄ︎ friends after all part 34 II @angelkurenai II A + S

Dean Winchester. Mechanic. Neighbour. Best friend. Single father. And fake boyfriend? You babysit his daughter. You’ve known him for years and you’ve been really close. Everything will be put to test though when your sister's wedding approaches and he has the brilliant idea of pretending to be your boyfriend. Nobody would have ever thought of the result. Certainly not you.

𝑨𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑵 𝑯𝑶𝑻𝑪𝑯𝑵𝑬𝑹

ꨄ︎ sick of maybe II @luveline II A + C

You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).

ꨄ︎ three cents II @xneens II F

you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.

𝑻𝑶𝑴𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹

ꨄ︎ wrong place, right time II @hauntedhowlett-writes II S

what if joel didn’t answer tommy’s call from jail? and what if the waitress he’d been defending that night bailed him out instead?

𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑯𝑼𝑹 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑵

ꨄ︎ fakin it II @hihomeghere II S

After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track?

#sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #theodore nott x reader #sebastian sallow x reader #garreth weasley x reader #steve harrington x reader #din djarin x reader #joel miller x reader #javier peña x reader #jack daniels x reader #poe dameron x reader #dean winchester x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #tommy miller x reader #arthur morgan x reader #fic recs #fic recommendations

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cameronsbabydoll · 19 hours ago

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BASIC TRAINING — CHAPTER SEVEN

WARNINGS — Oral (f receiving), consensual silence kink, light gagging (hand over mouth), control kink, explicit sexual content, power imbalance, sneaking around, risk of being caught, 18+ only.

You’re not supposed to be out this late. The base curfew is 10 p.m. sharp, a rule your dad made clear the day you arrived, his voice booming about discipline and safety. “No exceptions,” he’d said, his eyes fixed on you like you were one of his soldiers. You’d nodded, promised to be good, because that’s what you do. You follow rules. You stay safe. You don’t sneak out.

But Rafe doesn’t care about rules.

It’s 12:43 a.m., and you’re crouched behind a storage crate near the barracks, your breath hitching in your throat. Your sundress catches on the rough wood, and you tug it free, heart hammering so loud you’re sure it’ll give you away. The night is humid, heavy, the kind of heat that clings to your skin and makes your hair stick to your neck. You’re shaking, not because you’re cold, but because you’re terrified of getting caught.

And Rafe? He’s loving every second of it.

“Keep moving, sunshine,” he whispers from the shadows ahead, his voice low, teasing, like this is a game. To him, it is. He’s leaning against the barrack wall, half-hidden in the dark, his dog tags glinting faintly under the moonlight. He’s in a black t-shirt and cargo pants, boots silent on the gravel, looking like he belongs in the night. Like he owns it.

You hesitate, glancing back toward the officer’s quarters, where your dad’s probably asleep, oblivious. If he knew you were out here—if anyone saw you—you’d be done. Grounded for the rest of the summer, maybe worse. You swallow hard, your sandals scuffing softly as you dart toward Rafe, keeping low like he told you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs when you reach him, his hand catching your wrist, pulling you against the wall beside him. His body’s warm, solid, and you can smell him—sweat, cologne, danger. His thumb brushes your pulse, and you know he feels how fast it’s racing. “Scared?”

You nod, biting your lip. “What if someone sees us?”

His grin is sharp, predatory. “Then we better not let ‘em.”

You don’t have time to argue. He’s already moving, tugging you along the wall toward a side door to the barracks. It’s unlocked—probably his doing—and he pushes it open just enough for you to slip through. The hallway inside is dim, lit only by a flickering exit sign. It smells like metal and boot polish, and every creak of the floor makes you flinch.

“Rafe,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “This is a bad idea—”

“Shh.” He turns fast, his hand covering your mouth, gentle but firm. His eyes lock on yours, dark and intense, and you go still, your breath hot against his palm. “You trust me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. But you nod anyway, because it’s Rafe, and he’s got you wrapped around his finger, and you’re too far gone to turn back now.

He drops his hand, smirking. “That’s what I thought.”

He leads you down the hall, past closed doors where soldiers are sleeping, their snores muffled through the walls. Your heart’s in your throat, but Rafe moves like he’s untouchable, like he’s done this a hundred times. Maybe he has. The thought makes your stomach twist, but not in a bad way. In a way that makes you want him more.

His bunk is at the end of the row, tucked in a corner where the overhead light doesn’t reach. It’s sparse—a thin mattress, a folded blanket, a pillow that’s seen better days. There’s a photo taped to the wall, too faded to make out, and a half-empty pack of cigarettes on the locker beside it. It’s so… him. Rough, temporary, like he could pack up and disappear any second.

He pulls you inside, shutting the curtain that passes for a door. It’s not much privacy—just a thin sheet of fabric—but it’s enough to make you feel like you’re in his world now, cut off from everything else.

“Sit,” he says, nodding toward the bunk.

You perch on the edge, your hands smoothing your dress over your thighs, your knees pressed together. You’re still trembling, every sound outside—a distant cough, a creak of springs—making you jump. Rafe watches you, leaning back against the locker, his arms crossed, like he’s got all the time in the world.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” he says, voice low, almost tender. But there’s something darker in it, something that makes your skin prickle. “Makes me wanna fuck it out of you.”

Your breath catches, and he chuckles, soft and mean.

“Relax, sweetheart. We’re not there yet.” He steps closer, dropping to his knees in front of you, and your heart lurches. He’s so big, even like this, his shoulders broad, his hands steady as they rest on your knees. “Just gonna make you feel good. You want that, don’t you?”

You nod, because you do, because you always do when he’s looking at you like that, like you’re the only thing that matters. His hands slide up your thighs, pushing your dress higher, exposing your skin inch by inch. You’re burning under his touch, your panties already damp, and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

“Spread your legs,” he says, and it’s not a request. It’s an order.

You hesitate, just for a second, and his grip tightens, his fingers digging into your thighs—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who’s in charge.

“Don’t make me ask again,” he murmurs, his voice soft but edged with steel.

You obey, your legs parting, your dress bunched around your hips. He groans low in his throat, his eyes fixed on the damp spot on your panties, and you feel your cheeks heat, embarrassed but thrilled, because he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathes, and it’s the first time he’s sounded anything less than in control, like you’re doing something to him. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slow, deliberate, until they’re around your ankles. You step out of them, your sandals squeaking faintly, and he tucks the fabric into his pocket like a trophy.

Then his hands are back on your thighs, spreading you wider, and you gasp when you feel his breath against you, warm and teasing. “Rafe,” you whisper, your voice shaky, “what if someone—”

“Shh.” His lips brush your inner thigh, soft at first, then a nip of teeth that makes you yelp. “Told you to keep it quiet, sunshine. You gonna be good for me?”

You nod, frantic, your hands fisting the blanket beneath you. He smirks, satisfied, and then his mouth is on you, and the world stops.

It’s nothing like you imagined. It’s better. Worse. Overwhelming. His tongue is slow at first, lazy, like he’s savoring you, and you bite your lip so hard you taste blood, trying to stay silent. But it’s impossible, because he’s good at this—too good—and every flick, every suck, every swirl makes you unravel a little more. You’re whimpering now, soft little sounds you can’t hold back, and he growls against you, the vibration sending a shock through your body.

“Quiet,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you, his lips slick, his eyes dark. “Or I’ll stop.”

You shake your head, desperate, your hands reaching for him, tangling in his hair. “Please,” you whisper, “don’t stop.”

He grins, wicked and proud, and then he’s back, his mouth relentless, his hands pinning your thighs so you can’t squirm away. You’re close, so close, the pressure building like a storm, but the sounds you’re making are getting louder, and you can’t help it, you can’t—

His hand clamps over your mouth, hard.

Your eyes widen, but he doesn’t stop, his tongue pushing you closer to the edge, his palm muffling your cries. “Told you,” he mutters against you, voice low and rough. “Keep. It. Quiet.”

You try to nod, but you’re too far gone, your body shaking, your hips bucking against his mouth. His hand stays firm, gagging you, controlling you, and it’s that—the control, the secrecy, the risk—that sends you over. You come hard, harder than in the supply closet, your vision blurring, your body arching off the bunk. His hand smothers your scream, his tongue drawing it out, making you shake until you’re limp, gasping against his palm.

When it’s over, he pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes gleaming like he just won a war. He drops his hand from your mouth, and you suck in air, your chest heaving, your body still trembling.

“Good girl,” he says, soft but smug, and you whimper, because those words again, that tone, they own you now. He stands, towering over you, and you’re too weak to move, too wrecked to do anything but stare up at him, your dress still bunched, your thighs still slick.

He leans down, kisses you, and you taste yourself on his lips, salty and strange and him. “You did good, sunshine,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Kept it nice and quiet for me.”

You nod, dazed, and he chuckles, pulling you to your feet. Your legs wobble, and he steadies you, his hands firm on your waist. He picks up your panties from his pocket, but instead of giving them back, he tucks them away again, smirking.

“Souvenir,” he says, and you flush, mortified but too overwhelmed to argue.

He leads you back to the door, checking the hall before nudging you out. “Go,” he whispers. “Before someone notices you’re gone.”

You stumble into the night, your heart still racing, your body still humming. You make it back to your room, slip inside, and lock the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You collapse onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece yourself back together.

Your notebook’s on the nightstand, but you don’t touch it. You can’t write about this. Not yet. Not when you can still feel his mouth, his hand, his voice telling you to be quiet.

You’re his now, more than ever.

And he knows it.

#cameronsbabydoll ⋆. 𐙚 ˚#military!rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x yn #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron series #drew starkey

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harrywavycurly · 3 days ago

Text

Worth The Fight: Not Going Anywhere

Masterlist: Here

CW: Minor language, smut, baby stuff, one moment of slight panic (Harry is always panicked about something isn’t he?) and a lot of fluff!

*smut happens in the first section if you don’t wanna read it you’ll know when it starts and then you can skip to the next bit and won’t miss anything*

A/N: Here it is, the last update for this series and lord have mercy what a ride it has been! Thank y’all for letting me take you on this journey with these two it has been an emotional rollercoaster but look how far they’ve come! I hope y’all enjoy and don’t worry this isn’t the last you’ll see of this little gang🥹✨

Word Count: 8K

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cumuluscranium @donutsandpalmtrees @silastylesswift @prettygurl-2009 @blueleonor @daphnesutton @angeldavis777 @harryssunflower17 @blckburd @tinawritesstuff @inlikea-coolway @mothersversiononly

Summary: Harry is sure Paris doesn’t think he’s a good dad, you two take the twins out for a walk and Niall and Ethan stop by for a visit✨

Harry can feel eyes on him the moment he steps into the nursery, but luckily he doesn’t need to panic because he knows exactly who it is that’s staring him down as he walks over to Nora’s crib to make sure she’s still asleep. He hears the faint thump of four paws hitting the carpet followed by a very distinct jingle of the bell on his collar and he knows he has only a few seconds before an orange ball of fur with ridiculously big green eyes is pawing at his ankle, his silent warning to back away before he is forced to use more aggressive tactics such as biting. Harry doesn’t know when Paris named himself the twins guardian but he takes his job extremely seriously especially while they are asleep, he stays perched on the rocking chair in the corner of their nursery and at every noise and weird sound they make he does a lap around their crib and if he thinks the situation calls for it he will rush off to whatever room you’re in and meow until you get the hint and follow him.

Normally Harry doesn’t mind, he actually likes knowing Paris is in there with the twins who have managed to flip his entire world upside down in the short three months since they were born. He knows Paris is a gentle soul but appreciates that he is willing to get violent if the moment calls for it and often times the moment only seems to call for it whenever Harry is involved. His ankles have gotten more bites over the last three months than they ever did when he was just simply trying to win you over and it has him convinced Paris doesn’t think he’s fit to be a dad and sometimes it bugs him to the extent he whines about it to you during your few hours of alone time at night before one of the twins wakes up for something.

“Relax mate m’just checking on things then I’ll be out of your hair.” Harry whispers to the orange cat who is right under his feet as he moves to take a quick look into Edward’s crib.

“Paris honey let daddy have a minute okay?” Your voice coming from the doorway makes Harry jump a bit causing you to place a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh. “Come on,” Harry looks down at Paris who looks over at you with a tilted head. “Let’s go snuggle for a bit how’s that sound?” The orange cat quickly walks over to the door and rubs his head against your ankles making you smile as you bend down and pick him up.

“Thank you love.” Harry says with a smile as he watches the two of you head towards the bedroom, he already begins to prepare himself for having to fight the orange cat off of you so he can get some cuddles in himself but that’s a struggle for future Harry because right now he just wants to soak in this moment of peaceful bliss in the room with his two little bundles of pure joy and happiness as they drift deeper into dreamland.

“Sweet dreams Edward.” He whispers as he leans over and places a featherlight light kiss to the top of his head. “Daddy loves you.” He mumbles as he stands up, a little grin works its way across Harry’s face as he watches his son move the slightest bit while letting out a soft little whimper. After a few moments of staring at the little boy who is all comfy and warm in his Pooh Bear pajamas he moves over to Nora’s crib.

“I love you.” He says softly as he reaches over and runs a hand over her tummy, knowing better than to lean in and get too close because unlike her brother who can sleep through anything, Nora can always sense when one of her parents are near and will wake up with a sad little cry just to get someone to pick her up and usually it’s Harry because he can’t stand hearing her sound so upset. “Sweet dreams.” He whispers before turning and heading for the door, making sure the monitor is on and the sound machine is set to start in a few minutes and will hopefully help the two of them stay asleep.

“And our paper houses reach the stars…” Harry pauses in the doorway of the bedroom as the very familiar sound of Niall’s voice softly filters through the small speaker of your phone. He stands there and leans against the doorframe as he watches you fold the twin’s laundry while Paris is curled up near Harry’s pillow at the top of the bed, still shocked at how many outfits his two little humans go through in a single day. As you sway to the music he can’t help but smile as his eyes roam over your frame, you look so soft in your t shirt and sleep shorts he really can’t be bothered to keep his hands off you any longer.

“Paris look away I’m about to kiss on your mom.” You let out a chuckle as Harry’s arms snake around your middle from behind, pulling your back flush against his chest while he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. The sudden noise makes Paris look up and upon seeing Harry in the bedroom he is quick to leap from the bed and make his way out of the room. “He’s gonna go check on them isn’t he? I know he just thinks I’m the worst dad on the planet and-”

“Harry he doesn’t think you’re a bad dad he is just protective that’s all. How are they?” You ask cutting off his rant as you finish folding one of Nora’s onesies, tossing it into the hamper with the other folded clothes that you’ll put away later.

“Sound asleep. Nora didn’t even move when I told her goodnight.” He tells you after placing a soft kiss to the side of your neck and resting his chin on top of your shoulder.

“And how much did that hurt your feelings? I know you secretly love it when she cries for you.” Your tone is only partially teasing and Harry doesn’t need to be looking at your face to know you’re smiling, he can hear it in your voice.

“I’ll recover but it was a bit devastating I mean even Ed let out one of those sigh coo things he does but Nora? It was like I wasn’t even there and that’s just-odd.” He explains as you turn around in his hold, his mouth turns downward into a small little pout as you reach up and cup his face with your hands.

“Poor daddy.” You tease as you get on your tiptoes and place a quick kiss to his lips.

“Poor daddy indeed.” He mumbles as you pull away making you roll your eyes as his hands grab onto your hips.

“I’ll let you get her when she wakes up in a few hours how about that? You can get all the Nora and daddy time you want.”

“Oh and let you and Ed gossip about me? I think not.”

“We don’t gossip about you we just discuss the events of the day that’s all.”

“And these events always have to do with me and how I’m dressed or how many bottles I’ve dropped.”

“I mean-four in one day is a bit extreme and you used to be worried I was the clumsy one.” He rolls his eyes as he leans down and places a kiss to your forehead.

“You may not be the clumsy one but I still worry about you even when you’re just down the hall.” He admits making you fight the urge to smile as his lips place a soft kiss to the tip of your nose while your arms wrap around his neck. “We have what? At least an hour until one of them wakes up?” He mumbles between kisses down your jaw making you let out a giggle.

“Something like that yeah.” You answer as one of Harry’s hands moves to the back of your neck so he can gently lay you down on the bed, you let out a soft laugh as he hovers over you.

“Hi Cranky.” He says with a grin as he stares into your eyes, you can’t help but smile back at him as you run a hand through his hair.

“Hi Mr. Popular.” Harry lets out a breathy laugh as he leans in and presses his lips against yours for a kiss that’s full of nothing but love. Your mouth move against his slowly as his tongue teasingly swipes across your bottom lip before it slips past your parted lips. Your hands move to slide under the soft material of his shirt, roaming over the muscles of his back and gliding over his sides so you can feel the hard lines and dips of his toned stomach.

“Baby,” you pause your movements as Harry reluctantly pulls his mouth away from yours and looks down at you with lust filled eyes. “Can we please change the music?” You bite your bottom lip to hold back a laugh as Harry turns his head and moves to grab your phone that’s still playing Niall’s Flicker album on shuffle.

“You don’t find his voice sexy?” You ignore the glare Harry sends you as he turns the music off before tossing the phone over to his side of the bed.

“I do but I’d really prefer to just hear yours right now-saying my name.” And before you can respond with a snippy remark Harry’s lips are on your neck nipping at the spot below your ear earning him a soft moan as his hand grabs at the soft flesh of your thigh so he can gently bend your leg at the knee placing your foot flat against the soft comforter you have on the bed. “Tell me if it’s too much okay?” You just give him a nod when he pulls back just enough so he can get a good look at your face.

“You have to actually do something before I can tell you if it’s too-” yours words get stuck in your throat as Harry rolls his hips letting you get a feeling of just how hard he is under his shorts.

“Always so impatient.” He teases as his hand finds the waistband of your shorts but before he can slip his hand underneath the soft material you give his shoulders a soft push. “You want on top?”

“Yes it’s better that way or-you can be behind me-oh or we can be on our sides? What do you want?” Harry lets out a soft chuckle as he stares down at you with a silly looking grin on his face.

“Baby I just want you.” He answers before leaning down to place a kiss to your lips. “In whatever way is most comfortable for you.” He explains as his hand rests on the waistband of your shorts, his thumb rubbing circles on your soft skin of your hip.

“God you would say something like that right now-all sweet and nice.”

“Sorry want me to dirty it up a bit? Tell you I want you bent over and ass up?”

“You’re so annoying.” Harry doesn’t miss the smile that teases the corners of your mouth as your hands run up and down his arms.

“Just tell me what you want.” You rub your lips together and Harry can tell your thinking about what would be best and he finds himself leaning down to place a kiss to your cheek, not wanting you to get too lost in your thoughts. “I just want you to be comfortable.” He tells you before placing a kiss to your other cheek.

“Let’s-let’s try it this way and if it’s too much I’ll get on top.” You tell him as your hands slide down his back, dipping under his shorts making him let out a groan as his head ducks down to the crook of your neck as he helps you shimmy his shorts down.

“Gotta help me get these off love.” He mumbles against the sensitive skin of your neck as he tugs at your shorts, you lift your hips and move your leg so you can quickly slide your shorts down your legs until you can kick them off to the floor. “You swear you’ll tell me if it’s-oh fuck.” Your hand wrapping around Harry’s hard shaft has him letting out a choked moan, you give him a few slow strokes as you hitch one of your legs over Harry’s hip pulling him closer.

“You know I love you but please stop talking and fuck me already.” Your words have Harry letting out a small groan as you give him a few more strokes with your hand.

“Love it when you’re bossy.” His voice is deep and filled with need as you let out a gasp when you feel him tease your entrance with the tip of his cock before slowly pushing himself in. “I love you too by the way.” You let out a muffled laugh as his mouth finds yours, kissing you with an intense hunger as he continues to slowly push his thick shaft inside your wetness.

Your hands tangle into his hair as he licks into your mouth, his tongue sliding over yours as you move your lips against his. His grip on your hip tightens as you give his hair a gentle tug as you feel the familiar ache that comes before the soothing pleasure of Harry being fully tucked up inside you, the overwhelming sense of fullness that only he can give you. His lips travel down your jaw as he gives you a gentle thrust of his hips making a moan falls from your lips.

“That’s-yeah that’s good-really good.” Harry smiles against your jaw as his hips find a deliciously steady pace that has your hands griping his shoulders, it’s not nearly as rough and hard as he knows you want because even though you’re about twelve weeks out form delivering the twins you still get some soreness and discomfort if he goes too hard.

“Fuck baby m’not gonna last if you-you keep clenching me like that.” He groans as your walls clench around his length as your nails dig into the top of his shoulders while your hips rise to meet his thrusts.

“Feels so good.” Your voice is strained as you close your eyes and Harry knows you’re close already so he lets his hand slip between your two bodies until his thumb is pressing against your clit making your hips jerk. “Oh god.” Your deep moan has Harry closing his eyes and trying to compose himself so he doesn’t burst inside you right then and there, not that you’d mind because you like knowing you make I’m lose control when normally he doesn’t even think about his own release until you’ve made a mess all over him at least once.

“Shit shit-oh fuck m’gonna come-fuck baby you feel so good.” His words are rushed and muffled against the warm skin of your neck as his thrusts get sloppy and then you feel it, the warmth of his release spilling into you. With a deep moan his thumbs adds a little more pressure to your clit as he rubs tight circles to it and that’s what sends you toppling over the edge into your own pool of bliss.

“Oh fuck-I missed feeling you wrapped around me like this-shit baby you’re so tight feels so good.” He grunts as he pulls out and with a single thrust of his hips pushes all the way back in letting the tip of his cock hit the spot that has you crying out in pleasure nearly making him have to place a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound so it doesn’t wake up your sleeping babies in the next room.

“Oh yes just like that- oh Harry-Harry oh god.” His name falling from your lips has him groaning as he slowly moves his hips and works you through your release, your walls pulsing and clenching around his shaft as he coats your warm walls with his load.

“God you’re amazing-fucking love you so much.” He pants as he moves his thumb from your clit so he can grab your hip as he pulls his head back so he can look down at your flushed face, his hips going still so the two of you can catch your breath for a moment.

“I love you too.” You say breathlessly making him grin as your hands cup his face. “I’d say that was our best time yet? Only took what? Twenty minutes?” Harry playfully rolls his eyes as you pull him down for a quick kiss.

“Would’ve last longer if someone wasn’t so eager.” He teases after pulling away, you just shrug as he rolls over so he’s laying on his back next to you. “Practically had me in a vice grip the moment I slipped in so you’re actually lucky I lasted as long as I did because-”

“God you really are such a narcissist-telling me how lucky I am that you lasted as long as you did.” Harry lets out a huff as you swat his chest with the back of your hand before moving to sit up. “I think our bodies are just used to working under time constraints so we just get to the good bits quicker.” You explain making him laugh as he tucks his arms under his head while you move so you’re straddling his thighs.

“Is that so?” He asks with a quirked brow as your hands rest on his lower stomach, your thumbs running over the ink on his hips poking out under the hem of his t shirt. “Did my little librarian read that somewhere?”

“No but you want to know what I did read somewhere?”

“What?”

“That whoever finishes first is supposed to put the laundry away.” Harry can’t even get a word out before you lean down and place a kiss to his lips. “So I’ll just go take a shower while you do that.” You add as you pull away and move off of him, his hands instinctively reach out for you as a pout forms on his face.

“Oh now you’re just being mean.” You give him a shrug as you bend down to grab your shorts off the floor on your way to the bathroom. “We can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve finished first so I don’t-”

“Harry just put the laundry away and join me in the shower okay?” His eyes go wide as you look at him over your shoulder, a smirk on your lips and when you shoot him a playful wink he all but falls off the bed trying to stand up and quickly grab the twin’s clothes to begin putting them away.

“Don’t hog all the hot water.”

“Then don’t take too long.”

“Be done before you know it.”

“Oh-trust me I know how quickly you work.” That has Harry sending you a glare that makes you laugh as you turn around from where you were standing in the doorway of the bathroom, you hear him mumble something about you being mean but you ignore it and go start getting the shower ready.

You quirk a brow as you watch Harry adjust one of the straps on the infant carrier he has attached to his chest, not really sure if you fully trust the device to hold your little girl who is also currently watching her dad struggle to secure the contraption with wide eyes and drool dribbling down her chin from her spot in her bouncer. Harry lets out a satisfied huff as he places his hands on his hips before turning to face you and the baby at your feet with a proud grin on his face as if he just discovered the meaning of life, but in reality he just managed to successfully get an infant carrier on without asking for your help. You glance down at Nora who is watching her daddy with amusement written all over her little face as he makes a silly face at her but before he can reach down and grab her out of her bouncer you hold a hand up.

“We should test it with something first before we just put her in it.” Harry pauses at your words, looking up at you from where he’s crouched down in front of the happy baby.

“Test it? With what?” He questions as he stands up with a furrowed brow. You look around the living room for anything that could even remotely pass as the same size or weight as Nora or Edward but then Harry is rushing into the kitchen and before you can even ask what he’s doing he is back with a watermelon in his hands.

“This isn’t dirty dancing Harry I don’t need you to carry a watermelon.” You tease making Harry just let out a chuckle as he carefully places the melon into the carrier where one of the twins will eventually go.

“Feels pretty secure.” He informs you as he walks around with the melon strapped to his chest. You step towards him and reach out to feel how tight the restraints are, Harry smiles when you give it a small nod of approval.

“Okay now the tough question,” you take a step backwards and look down at Nora and then over at Edward who is asleep in his bouncer next to his sister. “Ed or Nora Bear?” Harry rubs his lips together as he looks between the two babies while unclipping the melon from his chest.

“Uh well Ed is asleep so I say he goes in the stroller and Nora Bear can come with me for a bit and then when she falls asleep we can switch?”

“A man with a plan.” You say with a smile as you walk over to him. “I like it.” Harry laughs as he leans down and places a kiss to your lips before rushing off to put the melon back in the kitchen while you grab the stroller from the front entryway.

A few minutes, a minor hiccup while putting Nora in the infant carrier that was due to her grabbing hold of Harry’s chain that has his cross pendant on it and one masterfully coordinated transfer of a sleeping Edward from the bouncer to the infant carrier that is clipped onto the stroller later and the four of you are down the hallway standing in front of the elevator. You smile at Nora who is happily strapped to Harry’s chest and lightly babbling to herself as you adjust the hat on his head while waiting for the elevator all while Edward is peacefully sleeping.

“Love the hat Harry it’s very-honest.” He gives you a look that lets you know he has no clue what his hat says, having just grabbed one off the coat rack by the front door.

“Honest? Oh god what’s it say?” He asks only slightly worried as the soft ding of the elevator announces its arrival before the doors slide open.

“It says unemployed and beautiful.” You answer as you push the stroller into the small space while Harry lets out an annoyed groan while shaking his head as he steps inside.

“Of course that’s what it says-naturally I pick the silliest hat you have in your collection to wear on our first little family stroll through the neighborhood.” You reach over and give his back a soothing rub as he lets out a sarcastic sounding chuckle after pressing the button for the lobby.

“Oh trust me there’s sillier ones you could’ve picked but this one is at least letting everyone know where you’re at job wise and obviously we all know how pretty you are.” You reassure him with a lightly teasing tone making him shoot you a playful glare before turning his attention to Nora who is sucking on her hand.

“Your mommy is just so funny isn’t she? Always having a laugh at daddy’s expense.”

“Can’t help it-it’s just so easy.” You tell him with a casual shrug as you look down at Edward who is still asleep. A few moments later the doors open up and Harry lets you out first, following close behind you with a hand on your lower back.

“Now remember the rules?” He asks you as the two of you stand in front of the doors that lead out into the sidewalk in front of the apartment complex. You just nod and slide your sunglasses on, he does the same before looking over at you as if he’s waiting on a verbal conformation.

“Don’t talk to strangers and always stay close.” You answer with a smile but Harry lets out a sigh as he turns so he’s fully facing you, Nora securely strapped to his chest and everything.

“Baby I’m being serious we haven’t-this is our first time out with them like this so I just want to be safe.” You can hear the hint of panic in his voice so you reach over and place a hand on his cheek.

“It’s going to be fine.” He leans into your touch letting the warmth of your hand calm his nerves down a bit before he turns his head and places a kiss to your palm. “Now let’s get this show on the road-momma needs some coffee.” And with that Harry is letting out a laugh as he reaches to open the door and hold it open for you to push the stroller through officially starting the first ‘Styles family walk’.

You let out a sigh of content as you place your iced coffee in the cup holder of the stroller, having walked to the cafe down the street that Harry once ventured to on his own during the early months of your pregnancy to get you a peace offering in the form of a donut. Naturally they recognized him, his short sleeved shirt letting his most noticeable tattoos be on display but to his surprise they didn’t say anything minus the polite hello and a sweet compliment about how adorable the twins are after taking his order. You could feel his anxiety spike when he noticed their wide eyes but when they just handed him his drinks with nothing more than a smile he let out the smallest sigh of relief.

“How’s she doing? Getting sleepy?” You ask Harry as he takes his usual place at your side with one hand loosely placed on the top of your shoulder while his other one holds his green juice that he knows you’re probably going to end up drinking the majority of.

“She’s about two big yawns away from passing out.” He informs you with a smile as he looks down at Nora who trying to nuzzle her face into the plush side of the carrier.

“Should we switch before she falls asleep then?” You question as your eyes glance down at Edward who has only been awake for a few minutes thanks to the bell on the door of the cafe, his eyes wide and looking around at the little black and white music note toys hanging from his carrier.

“That’s a good idea.” You smile at your little boy as Harry places his green juice in the cup holder opposite of yours as the two of you roll to a stop near a bench on the sidewalk. “Hello my love did you have fun walking with daddy? Gonna take a little nap now with mommy while I let brother have a turn? Yeah? Sound good?” You feel your heart turn to mush as Harry uses his softest voice while talking to Nora as he begins to unclip her from his chest. You clap your hands before opening your arms up to take her from him making her kick and let out a small excited noise causing you to grin as Harry hands her to you.

“Hi my little Nora Bear. Ready for a little nap?” Harry smiles as you bounce her a bit while he reaches into the stroller for Edward. “Oh my goodness who is that? Is that brother? What’s he doing hmm?” You hold Nora so she can see Edward who lets out a small excited noise once he sees his sister and hears your voice making Harry laugh.

“Gotta be still for a moment son or it’s gonna be all wonky and-”

“Harry.” Your voice has him instantly freezing, holding Edward close to his chest while you stand there with a half asleep Nora in your arms. “I think-I think someone is behind us.” Your voice is low but holds a seriousness that has Harry on edge because while you’re used to being photographed when out and about with Harry this is the first time it’s happened since the twins have been born seeing as this is your first time taking them out in public that’s not just a quick trip over to Anne’s or Harry’s house that usually is just them being seen getting in and out of the car in their carriers with their faces never visible.

“I’ll handle it.” You just nod and go back to placing Nora in the stroller, pulling the visor down a bit more to help block her face from the sun and any prying eyes that might want to take a chance at snapping her photo. “Hold him for a moment please sweetheart.” You don’t hesitate to grab Edward from Harry’s arms, smiling down at the little boy who is just happy to be out of the stroller and looking around.

“Hi sweet boy did you have a nice nap?” You ask as you lean down and rub your nose against him making a small little squeal leave his body as he tries to grab onto your face when you pull away. Harry turns and takes a few steps so he is blocking the view of your back from the two men that are very obviously trying to get a few photos of the four of you, and Harry understands this is their job he isn’t mad at them, annoyed yes but not mad. He really just wants to establish some boundaries before the small group of two becomes a gathering of five or six and things get a bit more hectic and possibly dangerous.

“Do you mind not getting too close? Twins have a bit of stranger danger.” He asks politely and the two men just nod and smile as they take a few steps backward. “Thanks I appreciate it.”

“Congratulations Harry.”

“Beautiful family you’ve got.”

“Thank you-thanks a lot.” You hold back a little chuckle as he awkwardly rubs his lips together and gives the two men a small nod before turning around.

“Did you hear that Eds? Your daddy has a beautiful family.” Harry rolls his eyes under his sunglasses as he holds his arms out so you can help him strap the baby into the carrier.

“It’s true though.” He says with a smile as he adjusts the straps a bit after getting Edward situated. “I do have a beautiful family.” He adds as he leans over and places a kiss to your temple, you smile as you hear the sound of camera clicks going off behind you. “I love you cranky.” You let out a little giggle at your nickname as Harry reaches over for his green juice.

“I love you too Harry.” He doesn’t even blink or make a face as you take the cup from his hands before he can even bring it up to his lips. He just watches you in amusement as you take a sip and make a face that has your nose scrunching up a bit. “You asked for carrots in your juice on purpose.” You accuse him as you hand him his cup, Harry just lets out a scoff but the corners of his mouth twitch the smallest bit letting you know he is hiding a smirk.

“Now baby why would I do that? I know how you feel about carrots in your juice.”

“You’re so annoying.” He just laughs as the two of you begin walking again, his free hand rubbing your lower back while you push the stroller that now holds a sleeping Nora.

“You’re full of shit he doesn’t look anything like you.” You rub your lips together to hide your amused grin as you watch Harry send Niall who is currently holding Edward on the couch, a glare from his spot on the loveseat.

“You having a laugh mate? He has blue eyes and-”

“Most babies are born with blue eyes you twat.”

“He has brown hair and blue eyes Harry he’s practically my twin.”

“You have lost your fucking mind if you think my son is your twin.” You let out a chuckle as you look down at Nora who is looking right at you with drool dribbling down her chin as she smiles at the sound of her daddy’s voice.

“Harry m’gonna have to ask you to watch your language in front of my little one he doesn’t need-”

“That’s it.” You let Nora grab onto your finger as you watch Harry shoot up from his seat and reach his arms across the coffee table. “Give me my son.” He snaps making Niall let out a full on belly laugh that causes Edward to make a noise of delight at the chaos going on around him.

“M’not giving him to you Harry it’s my day for cuddles you prick.” Niall argues as he looks away from Harry and down to Edward who is looking at him with his big blue eyes.

“Baby tell Niall he can’t call Edward his son anymore.” You just roll your eyes as Harry turns his head to look at you over his shoulder, as you take a seat on the edge of the armrest of the loveseat he was sitting in just a few moments ago.

“As I’ve said before-I’m not getting in the middle of this.” You tell him with a laugh as you adjust Nora in your arms, he gives you a pleading look when you finally glance up to meet his stare.

“Hello peasants I have come to see my babies.” Your eyes look away from Harry and over to your entryway as Ethan walks through the front door with a bright grin on his face as he slides his shoes off.

“I would like both of you to understand something.” Harry says with a glare aimed at Ethan as he walks past the couch and into the kitchen so he can wash his hands. “These babies aren’t yours.” He states with his hands on his hips once he realizes Niall really isn’t going to hand Edward over to him.

“Someone has their Gucci in a twist.” Ethan mumbles with a roll of his eyes as he walks into the living room with his hands out ready to take Nora from you. “What’s the old man’s deal Nora Bear?” He asks her as he carefully scoops her from you after placing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Old man?”

“Good lord Harry yer in a mood and honestly we don’t need this kinda energy right now.” Harry’s eyes go wide as he watches Niall stand up and tuck Edward close to his chest. “Come on Ethan let’s take our babies to the nursery for some peace and quiet.” You cover your mouth with your hand as Niall heads down the hall to the nursery with Ethan in tow.

“I see where Paris gets his attitude from.” Ethan whispers to Nora making Niall laugh as the two of them walk into the twin’s nursery.

“I-I can’t believe we are friends with them.” Harry says with a huff as he slowly plops back down into the loveseat.

“They just love their babies that’s all.”

“They aren’t their babies.”

“I mean maybe they aren’t their fathers but they are a big part of their lives so in a sense yes Harry-our kids are their kids.” Harry lets out a sigh as you slide down the armrest so you’re sitting in his lap with your legs laying over the armrest on the other side of the loveseat, his arms wrap around your middle as you place a hand on his cheek.

“What do you mean maybe they aren’t the father? I know for a fact you’ve never been with Niall but-”

“Harry.” Your tone has him snapping his mouth shut and his cheeks turning pink as he realizes just how silly he sounds. “You’re the only baby daddy I have and the only one I plan on ever having.”

“But more babies though right? And also can you just call me your boyfriend? I don’t like-”

“I will call you whatever you want if it makes you stop being so whiney.”

“Okay how does husband sound? That work for you?” Harry feels your body stiffen as you stare at him with a confused look on your face. “I’m not proposing-at least not right now I do plan on-”

“You-you really want to marry me?” Your voice is low and full of surprise as your hand falls from Harry’s cheek down to the side of his neck. The smile he gives you has your heart feeling as if it’s melting as his hold around your middle tightens.

“Oh cranky you really don’t get it do you?” You just continue to stare at him making him let out a little chuckle. “I want to do everything with you-the family vacations and the silly little photo shoots and the yearly Christmas cards that you’ll undoubtably make us all wear matching outfits for and yes I really do want to marry you if that’s something you’re into and if not then that’s fine just know I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

“You love the silly photo shoots.” You mumble as you feel your eyes begin to sting with the unshed tears that you’re trying so hard to keep from falling down your face.

“Yeah. I do.” He says with a smile as one of his hands comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear that managed to slip over your lash line and slide down your face.

“What if you change your mind? What if all this becomes too much and-”

“I won’t change my mind because you and those two tiny little humans we managed to make together are my whole world I can’t-I can’t imagine living without the three of you in my life so please believe me when I tell you I’m not going anywhere.”

“I believe you. I’m not going anywhere either.” Your voice is watery but Harry hears you loud and clear making him let out a small sigh of relief that he feels like he’s been holding in for months now, not being able to stop himself from constantly wondering what your future looks like and if he’s in it or not.

“Good.”

“We can discuss the marriage thing later.”

“What about the more babies thing? Can we discuss that?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you making you let out a laugh as he leans down and kisses your cheek. “Styles party of six just sounds good doesn’t it?”

“Is that including Paris because if so then sure I’ll give you one more baby in about two years.”

“Knowing us you’ll end up with triplets.” Harry lets out a groan as you give his stomach a harsh smack at the mention of triplets.

“Why would you put that into the universe Harry? I mean seriously?”

“Sorry sorry you’ll only have one baby at a time now-how’s that sound?”

“God you’re already talking about knocking her up again? Jesus Harry let the girl’s body have some rest.” Niall says as he walks into the living room with Nora now tucked close to his chest. You let out a quiet snicker as you wipe at your eyes while Harry just shoots his bestfriend the bird as he takes a seat on the couch.

“He asked me to marry him as well can you believe that?” Harry feels his face get hot as you casually let the words slip out of your mouth while getting comfortable in his lap. Niall lets out a fake gasp just as Ethan makes his way into the living room holding little Edward.

“What’s with all the gasping? It sounds like an episode of Rue Paul’s Drag Race in here.”

“Harry asked her to marry him and asked to let him get her knocked up a few more times.”

“What? We-we were gone for less than ten minutes? You really are quick huh?” Ethan says with a playful wink sent in your direction that has Harry staring at you confused but as you struggle to hold back a laugh while trying to wiggle out of his hold it all clicks for him and his eyes go wide.

“You-you told him?” He asks only mildly shocked because he knows you tell Ethan everything so of course you let him know certain things that happen between you and Harry in the bedroom, including the few times he’s managed to beat you to the finish line so to speak. You just ignore him as you try to stand up after swinging your legs over and placing your feet on the floor but Harry isn’t having it as his arms snake around your waist pulling your back flush against his chest.

“Told him what?” Niall asks as Ethan takes a seat next to him on the couch. “Why’s it Ethan always gets to know the juicy bits before me?”

“Because I live across the hall.” Ethan answers with a shrug as he looks down at Edward who is perfectly content in his uncle’s arms. “But apparently Harry has been-”

“Baby make him stop.” Harry whines as he hides his face in the crook of your neck making you giggle while Niall just rolls his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. “If you love me at all you’ll-”

“Oi! Don’t go bein a baby H let the man tell the gossip so I can share it with Amelia tonight over dinner.” Harry lets out a groan as his hold on you tightens while Ethan just turns to look at Niall.

“Harry puts the quick in quickie if you catch my drift.”

“He puts the what in-oh oh wow really? You a selfish lover now Styles?”

“Oh for fuck sake I’m not having this conversation with the two of you.” Harry snaps as he lifts his head and sends the two men on the sofa a glare as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s perfectly healthy to discuss your sex life amongst friends Harry don’t be embarrassed.” You give Harry’s knee a pat as Ethan tries his best to reassure him but before anyone can respond Nora lets out a tiny whimper that has Niall’s eyes softening as he stares at the little girl in his arms.

“That’s my queue.” You smile as Harry’s arms drop from around your waist so you can stand up allowing him to get up from his seat and reach his arms out over the coffee table. “She’s due for some daddy time while she gets a bottle.” Harry explains as Niall stands up, leaning down to give the little girl’s head a kiss before handing her over to Harry.

“She just got some daddy time but it’s fine I’ll let you feed her.” Harry narrows his eyes at his bestfriend who just breaks out into a fit of laughter as he reaches over and gives Harry’s shoulder a pat. “Lighten up Harry m’just messin with you besides we all know Nora is the spitting image of her mom.”

“It’s true sweetheart she looks exactly like you.” Harry confirms with a smile as he looks at you over his shoulder. “Come on lovey let’s go get some lunch.” He whispers to Nora as he leans down and kisses her nose making a little tiny coo escape her causing Niall and Ethan to make awe sounds while Harry takes a few steps towards the kitchen.

“I still think Ed looks like Zayn.”

“For Christ sake don’t get him goin on the Zayn thing.” Niall mumbles as Harry walks into the kitchen to get Nora’s bottle ready, luckily not hearing Ethan’s little teasing comment.

“You two are horrible.” You tell them as you point at them both with as stern of a look you can muster on your face. “Edward looks just like Harry and you both know it.” You add as you place a hand on your hip, Niall just shrugs while Ethan rolls his eyes.

“Well duh-of course he looks like Harry it’s just fun to mess with him that’s all.” Ethan argues as his eyes land on the little boy in his arms that without a doubt belongs to the green eyed brunette in the kitchen.

“Well stop before he starts talking about of his kids look like him or not with his therapist.”

“Fine.” Ethan answers with a huff.

“Niall?” You quirk a brow at him making him let out a sigh.

“Fine yeah no more he’s not the daddy jokes.”

“Thank you.” You say with a smile as you walk around the back of the couch and look over Ethan’s shoulder letting Edward get a decent view of you causing his face to light up. “Hi baby-you enjoying your uncle time?” You ask in a sugary sweet voice that has his little feet moving causing Ethan and Niall to chuckle at how excited he is hearing your voice. “Daddy went to go get your lunch okay? Just a few more minutes my sweet boy.”

“He’s so obsessed with you.” Niall jokes as Edward makes happy noises as you reach over and give the tip of his nose a little boop.

“Oh yeah proper momma’s boy that one is.” Harry says as he walks back into the living room with two bottles in one hand while holding Nora tight to his chest with his other one.

“Takes one to know one.” You tease making him laugh as you take one of the bottles from him and hand it to Ethan so he can start feeding the happy little boy in his arms.

“Speaking of momma’s boys where is-” Before Ethan can get the rest of his sentence out Paris walks into the living room, stoping at the entrance and looking around and when his eyes lock on Harry who is sitting down in the loveseat with Nora to start feeding her he automatically begins walking over to him.

“He’s going to make sure I feed her properly.” Harry huffs as Paris gracefully leaps up onto the armrest of the couch. “Hi Paris before you even get to meowing at me- m’supporting her head don’t worry.” He tells the orange cat as he perches on the armrest so he can face Harry and look down at Nora who is contently sucking on the bottle in her mouth.

As you look around the living room you can’t help but smile as you watch Edward begin to happily drink his bottle while Ethan and Niall talk to him, you glance over at Harry who is smiling down at Nora while she drinks and Paris supervises and your smile turns into a full blown grin. You feel incredibly full of love for everyone in the room and you know the two little babies currently getting fed lunch are so adored by the people surrounding them it makes you wonder what it would’ve been like if you never gave Harry a chance to be in your life as more than just the father of your children. You imagine your life would look a bit different but before you can begin to slip into the never ending pool of ‘what ifs’ you look up just as Harry looks over at you with a smile and eyes that hold nothing but love in them and you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be and that all the tears, petty arguments, emotional rants and fights really were worth it.

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ebodebo · 1 day ago

Text

these boots are made for walkin’... │ simon riley

simon teaches you a lesson in this tumblr writing special .ᐟ

│cod masterlist │ inbox │ taglist │ao3│

│CONTAINS│18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, slight dubcon vibes, boot riding till orgasm (i know that's right,) slight brat taming vibes, power imbalance (he's your lieutenant,) age-gap (late 40s/early to mid 20s,) superiority complexes, meanie & condescending simon, & no use of y/n. [979 words]

│AUTHOR'S NOTE│yes, your eyes do not deceive you! this is a very special tumblr writing special! my bestie & fellow writer @sceletaflores and i have decided to collaborate and give YOU a writing challenge. your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to write a fic about anything and anyone you like, but it must be 1k words or less. make sure to tag us, @ebodebo and @sceletaflores, with #ratwritingunder1kchallenge so we can see your fic and add it to our challenge masterlist. we’ve both made our contributions—are you ready to make yours?

│MORE│dividers by @bernardsbendystraws!

You barge into his cramped, dimly lit office, skin sizzling and tongue hot with accusations, the only sound is the scratching of his pen on paper.

"Why the hell would you pull me out?" you shout at Simon, your lieutenant, who is hunched over his desk doing paperwork.

He doesn't even look up; he just scribbles messily across the page. "Best adjust your tone, Sergeant," he replies, his voice low and gruff as always.

You stand your ground, arms crossed over your chest. "No," you declare, your voice firm and unwavering.

This time, he glances up at you, and his tone shifts to a lethal seriousness. "What was that?"

"I will not let you or the other guys treat me like a little kid, Ghost. I may be young, but I earned my rank, and Laswell wanted me here, so you're just going to have to deal with me," you insist, your arms flailing with anger.

He exhales sharply, setting his pen down and rubbing a hand across his masked face. "You're gettin' to be a real fuckin' pain in my ass, you know that?"

"Good. Then maybe I won't be so fucking easy to ignore," you grit out, your voice straining.

"You should be thankin' me," he suggests, leaning back in his chair with a creak.

"Thanking you?" you gawk, your eyes wide.

"You're ungrateful," he stands. "Disobedient," he mutters, moving from around the desk to walk over to you. "A real brat."

"Ghost," you start, your voice trembling as he stands right in front of you.

"Worst of all, you come in here with your chest puffed, thinkin' you can talk to me the way you did. Oh, sweetheart," he shakes his head. "You need to learn some damn manners."

“Ghost,” you urge, feeling the toe of his boots press against yours.

He shakes his head; his harsh emotions are easy to read, even with his face covered. “Get on your knees, Sergeant,” he directs firmly, his eyes looking down at you.

Your eyes widen in shock as his command catches you off guard. “Wha—what?” you stammer, confusion evident in your voice.

“Did I stutter?” he asks, his eerily voice low.

"No… I—Ghost..." you manage to stammer, your voice trembling with worry.

He twists his head to the side, clearly agitated. "You show me some goddamn respect and call me 'sir,'" he commands before turning back to meet your wide eyes and tight shoulders. "You lack the discipline needed to succeed here," he continues, resting his hands on his hips. "You haven't a single clue how mean I can be. You haven't seen me lose control. Not really," he states, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"So, I'm… what? Lucky?" you say, trying to tread lightly—or as lightly as your rebellious mouth allows.

"Yes," he confirms without hesitation. "You are. But right now? You're tearing apart every shred of patience I have left to give. So, I’m telling you one last time: get on your knees, Sergeant."

A fire ignites in your stomach that you despise, but you obey, sinking to the cold floor before him.

"Wasn't so hard, now was it?" he sarcastically questions. His tone makes you want to erupt in anger, but you hold back and bite your tongue. "Now, sit on my boot."

"What?" Your voice comes out more breathless than you intended as you look up at him.

He narrows his eyes, tapping his foot impatiently. You can tell he's testing your obedience. "Sit," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Your mouth opens slightly as you slowly move to sit on his foot, feeling his laces and the fabric rubbing your cunt through your cargo pants.

“Good girl,” he praises, making you swallow deeply as you stare at his leg. “Use my boot, Sergeant,” he encourages through clenched teeth.

“For what?” You look up at him, your chest heaving from nervousness and adrenaline.

“For this,” he says, picking up his boot slightly to rub against you. You grab his calf and let out a stifled moan at the sensation. “Yeah. Feels damn good, huh? See what happens when you listen to me, Sergeant,” there’s condescension in his tone before his voice goes dark and low. “You get to have this greedy pussy takin’ care of.”

Your body jerks forward at his words, and you can feel yourself grind into his boot, mouth hanging open as you let out a small whimper.

He lets out a gruff laugh, which you look up with needy eyes. “Take what you need,” he tips his head in approval towards you.

And so you do.

Your fingers span across the back of his calf as you work your aching cunt on his boot.

Back and forth, the fire in your stomach burning hotter and brighter with every rhythmic movement.

“Look at you squirmin’ on my boot,” he murmurs, hand resting on top of your head as you wail and whine. “Like a cat in heat. Fuckin’ needy and whiny.”

You lock your arms around his leg as you feel the soft blow of your looming orgasm.

“Eyes on me,” he commands, moving his thumb to press against your pouty bottom lip.

You comply, gazing up at him as you rock yourself against the leather fabric, seeking more friction. Your eyes remain half-lidded as you watch his intimidating gaze swirl beneath the mask.

“You gonna start mindin’ me, Sergeant?” he prompts, squeezing your bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger. “Better not mouth off again, or I’ll let Price deal with you.”

Your orgasm crashes over you as you wail into the fabric of Simon’s cargo pants, fingers digging into his calf.

“Thanks,” he speaks after a brief moment as you are still trying to recuperate.

“For… what?” You tilt your head in confusion as you try to catch your breath.

“My boot needed a good shinin’.”

│MINI AUTHOR'S NOTE│this writing special was created because i challenged @sceletaflores to write a fic that is less than 1k words. she then challenged me to do the very same, and we thought it would be a fun challenge to share with other writers on here! remember, make sure to tag @ebodebo and @sceletaflores with #ratwritingunder1kchallenge so we can see your fics and add them to our challenge masterlist. we can't wait to see what you all come up with. mwah!

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lazy-ahh · 3 days ago

Note

hihihi I love your work, can you do a omni mark x a hero make reader

COLD HANDS, WARM HEART

pairing omni! mark grayson x (superhero) male reader

winter always made your bones ache. the cold seeped into old scars, the silence pressed too close, and patrols felt longer without someone to share the quiet with. until him—until mark, with his sharp edges and sharper tongue, started showing up uninvited. until his cape became your blanket, his gloved hands your warmth, and his presence the one thing that made the cold feel worth enduring.

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro , @cynvia

the winter air bites at your skin, sharp and unrelenting as you perch on the edge of the rooftop, your breath curling in front of you in hazy puffs of white. you watch the mist dissolve into the night, fleeting, like so many things in this city. below, the streets pulse with life—neon signs painting the snow-dusted sidewalks in streaks of pink and gold, laughter spilling out from packed bars, couples huddled close under shared scarves. your gaze lingers on a family of four, the parents tugging their kids along, their cheeks flushed from the cold, their laughter bright and unburdened. something warm flickers in your chest despite the chill.

you hate winter. always have. it’s too quiet in the worst ways, too full of memories that cling like frost—cold hospital rooms, the hollow silence after sirens, the way grief settles like snow, heavy and suffocating. but nights like this? they make it worth it. if braving the cold means people get to go home safe, if it means kids get to keep laughing like that, then you’ll freeze on this rooftop every damn night.

stretching your arms above your head, you roll your shoulders, wincing as the cold stiffens your muscles. patrol’s been quiet tonight. too quiet. either a good sign or the calm before the storm.

"you’re slower than usual."

the voice cuts through the silence, smooth as ice, and you don’t even flinch. you’ve gotten used to him appearing out of nowhere—like a shadow given sentience, like the winter itself decided to take shape behind you. your lips quirk into a grin before you even turn around, your breath still fogging the air between you.

"or maybe you’re just getting faster," you shoot back, twisting to face him with a playful tilt of your head.

mark stands there, arms crossed, his red cape barely stirring in the frozen air. the black lenses of his mask give nothing away, but you don’t need to see his eyes to know he’s studying you—that slight tilt of his chin, the way his mouth twitches, just barely, like he’s caught between annoyance and something dangerously close to fondness.

you grin wider, just to see if you can pull that expression out of him again.

"doubtful," he says, but there’s no real bite to it—just that low, measured tone that always makes you want to poke at him until it cracks.

you hop down from the ledge, landing in a crouch before springing up lightly in front of him. the snow crunches under your boots as you straighten, already grinning, your breath a visible puff between you. "what, did you miss me?" you tease, leaning in just enough to invade his space—close enough to watch the way his mask tilts ever so slightly downward to track your movement. "couldn’t resist tagging along on my super thrilling patrol once again?" your voice lilts, all mischief, and you punctuate it with a wink, just to see if you can get a reaction. (you always can. it’s your favorite game.)

"i had nothing better to do," he replies, monotone as ever—but there it is, that tell: the faintest tilt of his head, the way his gloved fingers flex at his sides like he’s stopping himself from reaching out.

"uh-huh. sure. definitely," you draw out the word, slow and syrupy, just to watch his jaw tighten under the mask. you nudge his shoulder with yours as you pass, the contact lingering just a beat too long—his cape brushes against your arm, cold and smooth, but beneath it, you can feel the warmth of him. "well, since you’re here," you call over your shoulder, already breaking into a jog, "you can be my backup. try to keep up."

you don’t look back. you don’t need to. you already know he’s right behind you. you take off running, leaping across the gap to the next building. you don’t need to look back to know he’s right behind you—his presence is like a shadow, steady and inevitable.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

patrolling with mark is... different. not in the way it is with other heroes—no boisterous banter bouncing between fire escapes, no synchronized flips off billboards just for the thrill of it. when it was just you, nights were quieter, lonelier; just the hum of the city and your own breath fogging in the cold as you kept watch from shadowed ledges, a solitary guardian in the dark. you'd learned the rhythm of these streets alone—the way moonlight pooled in alleyways, the particular creak of that one fire escape on 5th, how silence could be either comforting or ominous depending on the hour.

but mark? he moves through the night like he owns it, all silent certainty and effortless power. he doesn't fill the spaces with jokes or pointless chatter, but his presence changes everything. where you used to weave through shadows, now you move through pools of streetlight unafraid. where silence used to sit heavy on your shoulders, now there's the quiet sound of his cape whispering against concrete when he lands beside you. he listens in that intense way of his—head tilted just so, like every word you say is being filed away somewhere important. and sometimes, when you say something particularly ridiculous (usually mid-swing between buildings), you catch it: that tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth, the barest hint of a smirk he thinks the dark hides. (it doesn't.)

you stop a mugging with your usual flair (minimal property damage this time, a new personal best), help a swaying drunk guy who squints up at you with bleary reverence—"you're either a tall an' really ripped angel or i died at the bar. both?"—and even rescue a hissing ball of fluff from a tree.

mark observes it all with his arms crossed, the picture of detached amusement, right up until the moment the terrified feline decides his shoulder is the safest perch in the city. the way he goes perfectly still—back rigid, fingers twitching like he's calculating sixteen different ways to remove the creature without looking like he's fleeing—makes him resemble some ancient statue of a very confused, very murderous saint. you press your lips together so hard they tremble, shoulders shaking with silent laughter you can't quite contain.

"you're wasting time," he says, voice impressively level considering there's now a puffball of claws and fury draped across his shoulders like some bizarre living epaulet. you scratch the cat behind its ears, grinning when it starts purring loud enough to rival a motorcycle engine.

"it's called community service, markus," you croon, dragging out his name like it's some private joke between you. "look it up. chapter four: 'how to not be a grumpy hero 101'."

then, because you've never been able to resist poking the bear (especially when the bear is currently being used as a cat tree), you scoop up the feline and deposit it directly into his arms. the way he freezes is nothing short of art—hands held out like he's been handed a live grenade, shoulders hiking up toward his ears. the cat, sensing his utter lack of cat-holding expertise, takes exactly three seconds to scramble up his chest, use his face as a stepping stone, and plant itself triumphantly atop his head like some fuzzy, self-appointed crown.

you lose it. completely. your laughter bursts out bright and uncontained, head thrown back as you clutch at your sides. tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, and you're pretty sure you look ridiculous—bent double, one hand braced against your knee as you try (and fail) to catch your breath—but you can't bring yourself to care. not when mark is standing there like some bizarre holiday display, all sharp edges and simmering annoyance topped with the world's most self-satisfied cat.

and if you catch the way his mask can't quite hide the way his lips twitch, the way his shoulders lose just a fraction of their usual tension—if you notice how his gaze lingers on you a second too long, like he's memorizing the sound of your laughter, the crinkles by your eyes, the way your nose scrunches up when you're this unbearably happy—well. that just makes you laugh harder, until your ribs ache and your cheeks hurt and the cold night air feels warmer than it has any right to be.

"get it off," he says, voice eerily calm despite the fact that there's now a very smug cat sitting atop the terrifying omni-man successor like it's claimed its rightful throne. the feline kneads its paws against his scalp, purring loud enough to vibrate his mask, and you watch with absolute delight as one of his eyebrows twitches through the mask—the only crack in that perfect veneer of control.

your grin stretches wide enough to hurt, eyes sparkling with mischief as you whip out your phone with a flourish. "nah, i think it likes you," you sing-song, snapping a quick picture of the ridiculous scene. the camera click echoes between you, and you immediately angle the screen to admire your handiwork—mark, all brooding intensity, topped with a fluffy white cat that looks absurdly pleased with itself. "oh this," you declare, tapping at your screen with exaggerated importance, "is going in the hall of fame. right between that time you face-planted into a dumpster and that other time you face-planted into a dumpster."

"delete that." his voice drops into that dangerous register that makes lesser villains wet themselves, but you've never been lesser anything. not in mark's eyes. never in mark's eyes.

you pocket your phone with a wink, leaning into his space until you can see your own reflection in his dark lenses. "make me," you challenge, crossing your arms with all the bravado of someone who absolutely knows they're playing with fire.

he could, obviously. he's faster, stronger, and you're pretty sure he could vaporize your phone with just a glare if he really wanted to. but he doesn't. instead, he just stands there—a living statue of long-suffering patience—with the cat now grooming itself atop his head like it's settling in for the long haul. the way he exhales through his nose is nothing short of cinematic, his entire body radiating the energy of a man replaying every life choice that led him to this exact, undignified moment.

you can't help it—your expression softens into something unbearably fond, lips quirking at the corners as you take in the sight. there's something almost... soft about it, this terrifyingly powerful man letting you get away with this nonsense. your fingers itch to reach out, to brush away the strand of hair the cat has dislodged from its perfect place, but you settle for nudging his shoulder with yours instead, your smile turning warm and just a little bit smug. "alright, come on pretty boy," you murmur, "patrol ain't over yet."

his jaw clenches at the pet name. his chest rises with a breath that's just a fraction too deep, like he's physically holding back everything threatening to spill out—all those carefully guarded words and dangerous feelings that hover between you like static in the air before a storm. the cat ruins it with a dramatic sneeze that sends its whole body shuddering. somewhere in the distance, a siren wails its mournful song, the sound weaving through the city canyons to find you here, in this ridiculous, perfect moment where the most dangerous man you know stands frozen with a disgruntled feline perched on his head like some absurd crown. yep, perfect.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

later, when the city's finally settled into that rare pre-dawn hush and the sky bleeds from inky black to soft violet at the edges, you both find yourselves on your favorite rooftop—the one with the cracked concrete ledge that fits your backs just right, the one that frames the sunrise like it was put there just for you. you sink onto the familiar spot, legs swinging carelessly over the sixty-story drop, and after a beat of hesitation that's more habit than anything, mark folds himself down beside you with that unnatural grace of his.

"thanks for hanging out tonight," you say, bumping your elbow against his ribs with just enough force to make him grunt. your smile is all soft edges now, the playful bravado from earlier melted into something more genuine—lips quirking unevenly, eyes crinkling at the corners as you watch the first streaks of gold cut across his sharp profile. "even if you did complain the whole time."

"i didn't complain." his voice is its usual low rumble, but there's something different about it now—less polished, rough around the edges like he's been awake as long as you have.

you snort, leaning further into his space until your shoulders press together from elbow to elbow. "you exuded complaint. it was very loud." you can feel the vibration of his sigh through the contact, the way his muscles tense and release under your weight. "like, impressively loud. olympic-level silent bitching."

he gives you a quick glance, eyebrow lifting slightly before he looks back at the view in front of him. you almost chuckle. right, forgot about how 'swearing doesn't make you cool'. mark doesn't answer, but then—he doesn't need to. not when he shifts just slightly to accommodate your leaning, not when his cape rustles as he tugs it around your shoulders without being asked. the fabric is still warm from his body heat, carrying that faint ozone-and-leather scent that's become as familiar as your own. you let your head tilt against him, cheek pressing into the curve of his shoulder, and if your heart does something complicated in your chest when he doesn't pull away—well. that's between you and... you.

it's different like this. patrols alone had their own rhythm, sure—the quiet solidarity of watching over a sleeping city, the satisfaction of knowing you were enough to keep the darkness at bay. but with mark? the shadows don't just retreat; they reshape themselves around you both, like the night itself knows better than to interfere. there's safety in the way he moves with you, not behind or in front but beside, always beside, even when he pretends he'd rather be anywhere else.

(especially then.)

his mask is off now, discarded somewhere to your left, and when you sneak a glance up through your lashes, you catch the exact moment a sliver of sunlight paints across his face—gilding the stubborn set of his jaw, the dark sweep of his lashes, the barely-there quirk of his mouth that no one but you would ever think to call a smile.

yeah. you could get used to this.

"you're cold," he mutters, the words rough around the edges like gravel, but his thumb is already brushing over your knuckles—once, twice—as if he could chase the winter from your skin through touch alone.

"yeah, well," you laugh, breath clouding between you in a hazy puff, "not all of us have built-in space heater genes." your fingers flex instinctively toward his warmth, pink-tipped and stiff from the cold, and you don't miss the way his gaze drops to them, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

he huffs—a sound that's almost a laugh, almost surrender—and then, after a heartbeat suspended between you, his hand finds yours properly. his fingers slide between yours with a certainty that steals your breath, his grip firm and steady like an unspoken promise. his palm is furnace-hot against your chilled skin, callouses rough in all the right places, and you can feel his pulse where your wrists press together—steady as sunrise, relentless as tides.

your smile comes unbidden, soft at the edges and brighter than the dawn creeping over the skyline. you squeeze back, just once, just enough to say i know, i know, me too.

and maybe—with his warmth seeping into your bones, with his thumb tracing absent circles over your wrist, with the first golden light of morning gilding the snow-dusted rooftops around you—maybe winter wasn't something to endure after all. maybe it was just the universe holding its breath before handing you this: his hand in yours, the quiet between heartbeats, the slow unfurling of spring hidden in the spaces where your fingers intertwine.

huh. maybe you didn't have to wait for spring as long as you thought.

ayeee!! the writing grind is slowly but surely making its comeback—and honestly? i’m kinda proud of myself for it lol. hope you guys enjoyed this little 2.7k word dose of emotionally constipated omni-mark and his (very patient) disaster of a... 'comrade'. term break starts next thursday for me, which means more time to write, less time to stress (theoretically), and a self-imposed mission to finally tackle that mountain of requests i’ve been hoarding like a dragon with a blank word document. no promises, but maybe… just maybe… i’ll actually finish them soon. (pray for me.)

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 3 hours ago

Note

I'm so curious now, what did the reddit creeps say about your bath snacks post? Tumblr interpreted it pretty poorly sometimes so I'm curious how much worse reddit was

Lol, yeah, so

That post has gone past 100K notes on Tumblr, so you naturally get the full range of responses. It's therefore all about proportions. I obviously haven't run actual stats here, but I would estimate the following:

Majority commented some variant on "this is adorable" (including the popular variants "me and who", and "lord I see what you have done for others"). 70%

Significant minority was tagging with fandoms, with one example of fanfic and one memorable example of someone screenshotting, erasing mine and Steff's names, and replacing them with their blorbos. 25%

A smaller minority tags it with the phrase "the straights are alright" or similar sentiments, and have to be informed that neither of us is straight. 3%

A very small minority who can't seem to shut the fuck up about their opinions on bath snacks and don't seem to have heard of the advanced technology that is plates, being as they are absolutely convinced that the snacks would definitely either pour a torrent of crumbs directly into the bath like the dammed outflow of the Yellow River, or become physically saturated with water as I ate. 1%

About 3 people total who tried to tell me this was actually a fetish for my husband that I was innocently unaware of and ORDERING me to nurture it for the sake of his emotional and sexual happiness (lol for many reasons). <1%

1 single incel who lost his entire fucking mind when he saw the phrase "eager bathroom butler" because he thought it was sexist and demeaning to my poor abused husband and went on a weird rant that concluded with "I hope you've learned not to describe someone who loves you like that ever again." <1%

So, yeah. The main issue by a country mile has been the blorbo tagging. Which! In actual fact! Is not in and of itself a problem! Provided, that is, you FIRST acknowledge the real life human beings the post is about. And there has been plenty of that, and I don't mind that at all. Stuff like "Oh my god this is so sweet! OP your husband is amazing. Also this is making me think of (blorbos)"

Respectful, recognising that real human beings exist and not just to be fodder for your fanfic, giving praise where it's due to the star of the post (my husband). I have no issue with that at all.

MEANWHILE OVER ON REDDIT

Almost every single comment was one of the following:

Anything so you can see a naked woman amirite hurr durr

He's definitely doing it so she'll fuck him later haha hope she put out

Wow this dude clearly wants to be her sex slave

And like. What the fuck. What the literal and figurative fuck is that. He sees me naked every day, our sex life does not require transactions, and I'm sorry no one has ever loved you for you to know this, but sometimes you do things for your partner because the end goal is them being happy rather than you being horny.

Absolute wankers to a man.

#asks #compared with that I'll take the blorbos

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ptej1980 · 2 days ago

Text

Perception…If you know you know

It has been interesting to watch the different reactions to IG stories and posts over the last week. There is 4 groups of people that I can gather.

1. Lukola strong- Those who are in the know, have done their research do not fall for the smoke and mirrors or misdirection, and have been in it for the long haul. They are critical thinkers, and understand the bigger picture

2. The easily swayed, the jumpers, the unsure and flip floppers that go from ship to ship anytime new story posts come out. Regardless of how little any of it makes sense, no matter how many examples of intimacy and connection Lukola have they have no confidence in what they see or have seen. The drama and trolling seems to be something they enjoy.

3. The Sub fandom zombies who are just regurgitating what they are fed by SM and tabloid trash. They are the current discord zombies who are currently thirsting over pictures of an underage JD 🤮 it is disturbing and creepy, stalker like behaviour led by the red menace.

4. The oblivious- those who have no idea what is going on and do not care. I sometimes envy them. Because when Lukola eventually launch they will enjoy it with out having gone through all the drama . If you look at either social media pages of Nic and Luke as someone who is oblivious you would definitely see a connection between the two of them, and no one else.

I am 💯 sure that if you are reading this you are a number 1 or 4. I hope I haven’t offended anyone but I think at this point it is laughable 🤭

We get pics of Nic and Luke in Adelaide ( yes Lukola FBI I believe in their skills and analysis). Which is then followed up with a chaos week group of stories by Nic.

Her rainbow bestie in Adelaide posting a similar hotel, yep possible same hotel, same room yeh nah…like every thing vague and unconfirmed except his love for his co stars in WIFLFAG.

With 🐜, well she has nothing of interest except 4 pics of the same dress in an empty luxury hotel. The funny thing is the plastic cup on the ground. If she was actually a guest I am guessing the “luxury hotel “ could at least get her a real glass. No sign of any people there of significance, no tags. A shadow of someone who was probably her dad. Nothing. I don’t have to say but if she was actually in a relationship with someone you would think that she could post 1 pic, story, anything but…..no.

I feel like most of us do think that we might be coming to endgame which is really exciting. After Nics stories the stroller pic, Luke’s IG clean out, all the signs are there. I don’t think it is going to be a smooth ride but we have weathered every storm and always come out on top. Ring Truthers unite, until the reveal.

#don’t believe everything you see #if you don’t like it don’t read it.#adjacents out #ring truthers unite #until the reveal

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yoiisa · 2 days ago

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hi there, can u write a fic (college au/no blue lock) where reader & isagi are in a relationship, but his roommates slash friends don't know bcs reader always comes over whenever isagi says that his friends (bachira, kunigami, & chigiri) aren't at their apartment, but then get caught one day when his friends went back home early?

ive only stumbled upon ur account recently and i love ur fics/writing!!

omg love!! idk how colleges in japan work, so im just going to model this based on american colleges :D

all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: slightly suggestive and making out!!

➜ you knew isagi yoichi for around 6 months before the two of you started dating, but you'd been eyeing him for all of that time ➜ he was exactly your type- quiet, but the sweetest and most considerate person ever. ➜ he had beautiful blue eyes, was taller than you, and played soccer for the school. holy hell, talk about your personal kryptonite ➜ he was always too shy to ask you out though, so you had to take initiative on that front

You're sitting under a tree with Isagi in the school's courtyard. People are passing you by, heading to their respective classes. All you can think of in this moment though is how nice this is. The summer breeze is brushing his hair perfectly and the sun is making his eyes look like tiny sapphires. He looks like a prince. "Um, [name]?" he asks looking down at you. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet." You blink a few times, snapping out of your trance. You look down at your lap, staying silent for a little while. "Hey, Isagi?" you start. He leans forward and you feel like your heart is a car that someone just revved. "Umm, you don't have a girlfriend right?" "N-no," he stammers, taken aback. "Why?" "Do you," you cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. You meet his gaze and give him a tiny smile as you force the words out of your throat. "Do you wanna go out with me?" Your heart stops as he physically flinches back. "Nevermind!" you quickly say, holding your hands up in defense. "I'm so sorry, just forget all of that-" "N-no! That's not it, I- I do like you," he insists, "I just didn't expect you to ask me out." He lets out a deep breath and chuckles. "I was actually going to try and ask you out. My friends were giving me all this advice on how to do it. You just caught me off guard though. Beat me to the punch, huh?" He takes your hand in his and squeezes it. "But to answer your question, yes. I would like to go out with you."

➜ and that was that! the two of you were a couple. only one thing though- you'd never met those illusive friends ➜ whenever you went over to his dorm- a quad with two bunk beds and four desks, as well as a quite beautiful view of the whole campus through the window- there was no one else there but the two of you ➜ six months went by and not a single glimpse of them! you asked isagi about it once and he gave you a few excuses

"Well Bachira's really close to his mom, so he leaves campus a lot to hang out with her every now and then. She doesn't live too far from here anyways," Isagi explains as he rests his head in your lap. "And then Chigiri has a part time job at a physical therapist's office. He used to go there for himself since he messed up his leg once in an accident a while ago." You nod, running your finger through his hair. "And what about Kunigami?" "Also has a part time job as a kiddie's soccer coach," he says. "Hmm," you smirk and tickle your boyfriend's neck. He flinches and you giggle, "So you're the only one unemployed, huh?" He stiffens and gives you a look out of the corner of his eyes. "No. Bachira doesn't have a job too."

➜ when you finally meet Isagi's roommates . . . it's a mess ➜ after not seeing them enough times, you grew relatively comfortable with the idea that you never would in the dorms, and so did he ➜ he would have you over pretty often, and to be completely honest, sometimes things got a little spicy! ➜ so here you were, sitting on his desk and his standing between your legs. your lips locked in a heady kiss that was making you lightheaded. your tongues lapped hungrily at one another and your teeth clacking ➜ and then the door opened.

"Yoichi~" you gasp as he pulls back from your mouth. He starts to trail kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking small bruises into your collarbone and neck. "Mmm, you're so sweet," he groans, inhaling your scent. He feels like getting drunk off of it. His hot hands trail under your shirt, tracing around your curves. You giggle, but then both of your bodies freeze as you hear the door clicking. Isagi, in a moment of pure panic, tightens his grip on your waist and fucking shoves you off the desk and onto the floor. He was trying to hide you underneath the desk, not wanting his roommates to catch you both in this position, but all he does is just accidentally make you kneel in front of him. Right in front of him. Honestly, it helped enough because now your back is to his roommates, who are no doubt staring at you both as if they just walked in on a porno. Isagi stares at the trio. Bachira looks scandalized, Kunigami looks shocked, and Chigiri looks annoyed. "You couldn't bother locking the door when you have a hookup over?" the pink haired boy asks. "What. The. Hell. Is. This," Bachira says, looking two seconds from passing out. "Bachira, breathe," Chigiri grumbles, walking inside. "At least get her off her knees," Kunigami says, following Chigiri. He comes up behind you and taps you on your shoulder. "Miss-" You, in your panic and fear and shame, cannot think to say literally anything else other than, "I'm his girlfriend, not a hookup." Everyone stops breathing. "His GIRLFRIEND?!" Bachira roars, lunging at you. He grabs you by your shoulders, whirls you around and pulls you up to your feet. Kunigami hits him on the back of his head, "Don't handle a girl like that!" "I-It's fine," you say, waving Kunigami off with a small smile. "I'm so sorry about this. It's just, whenever I've been over, none of you are ever here, so I guess we got a little . . . careless." "You've been here before?" Bachira asks. A thud sounds from behind you and you whirl around. Bachira and Kunigami peek over your shoulder. Chigiri walks up to an Isagi whose cherry red. The embarrassment was just too much for his brain to handle anymore it seems. "Yoichi!" you shout, kneeling next to him. "I'll get him water," Chigiri says, walking to the dorm's mini fridge.

➜ the two of you never live this first impression down. not even at your wedding.

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #isagi x reader #isagi x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #yoichi isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x you

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xandezsims · 3 days ago

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L&D Trans Sim Tagging: EA Made an Oopsie

Xan here. Remember how I never got into Fullbody outfits, in the original Trans Sim tutorial? Well, I am honor-bound to get into it a little. Why? Because I made a discovery, and it's...not great.

TL;DR: The Part Flags for most of Life & Death are messed up. Trans Sims are wearing the wrong meshes and it cannot be avoided; EA has to fix it.

If this concerns you, please upvote the report, and spread the word. They have ignored the Sims community about gender-related glitches in the past. Help us make them fix this, so we don't have to.

In-depth explanation about the problem below.

I was stoked to see we got clothes for both frames in the newer packs. Finally, Sims can wear whatever gender clothing they want! That's the goal, right? But, recent testing made me wonder how they handle opposite-frames. I thought I could learn something to help with inclusive tagging. So, I stuck Carmen in a dress from L&D, and:

It passes from the front, but...her chest. That's the opposite gender distortion. The one caused by putting a AM (masc frame) mesh on any AF (female) Sim, trans or not. I've definitely talked about this.

I went and cloned both meshes to check the tags, and sure enough:

Quick tagging lesson: toggling Restrict Opposite Frame means Carmen can't wear the AF one. She has to wear the AM frame dress, because as a trans Sim, her frame is AM. (Literally, the Opposite Frame of her gender.) But because she has breasts, she inherits the chest distortion all female Sims get wearing a man's top. The same applies for Erik, her counterpart (AM w/AF frame).

With a sinking feeling, I went back to the game and tried...everything.

I ran out of space, there are more. Trans-men are the same. I got halfway through the AM catalog and ran out of willpower. I'm betting almost every item made for both frames in this pack is tagged wrong. It's locked by frame, instead of gender. With pants, that's not a problem--but tops, dresses and suits will all be swapped.

So, now we know Fullbody meshes work similarly to tops. They need to be locked by Gender. And it's really just that tag. To test, I went back to my cloned dresses, and fixed it with two clicks:

This means all women regardless of frame can use the AF, and all men can use the AM. And here's the result: AF dress on AF Sim, AM dress on AM Sim. They literally swapped dresses.

So, easily fixed! That's 2 files out of...all of them. (sigh) I filed a Bug Report, linked above. Hopefully the amount of evidence I provided will get an actual response. That, or they'll think I'm an arrogant prat for telling them how their game works. But, I didn't break it.

Moral of the Story: this is a great example of what not to do if you make cc, or if you retag what you download. Remember, if you want to limit who can wear a mesh:

"Restrict Opposite Gender" for Tops and Fullbody; this makes sure all AF and AM Sims wear their meshes, and don't end up with chest lumps.

"Restrict Opposite Gender" for AF Bottoms; Trans-AM Sims break in half. Don't Restrict AM Bottoms at all. They fit everyone.

Or, Don't Restrict Anything, if you want all options. Note: distortions will happen. Mark your gender filters. They help a lot.

Earrings, Hats, Makeup, Gloves, Socks, Tights work for everyone

Necklaces and Nails are "Restrict Opposite Frame"; Trans Sims can't wear these from their own gender. They don't fit.

If you got this far, thank you for sticking it out. My innocent question turned into a tagging lesson (again). But, if it helps anyone in the future, I'll be glad. At least now we know there's a problem.

Please boost the Bug Report, share if you found it useful, and thanks for reading. I'm on the soap box again re: trans inclusion, but it's still Pride and I can't not stand up for my people. The more we know, the better we can do on our side.

Finally, tagging some folks who might want to know, if they don't already (feel free to ignore): @sejianismodding @the-crypt-o-club @yooniesim @whyhellosims @thefoxburyinstitute @sims4tutorials @mmfinds @gncc

#sims 4 bugs #ts4 bugs #s4 tutorial #ts4 tutorial #sims 4 studio #lgbt sims #ts4 trans #carmilla #phantom #realizing I never actually explained how tagging works #might be time soon #in my defense I didn't know when I wrote the first guide #but I'd rather not annoy everyone banging on about this

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zepskies · 22 hours ago

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I've never actually done this before...

Reaching follower milestones has never really been my main goal here. I hopped over from Ao3 to the Tumblrverse two years ago to share my stories and see if I could connect more with any potential readers. What I didn't know was how amazing SPN (and adjacent Jackles fandoms) would be over here...

How much fun I would have expressing myself, challenging myself to write new things and grow as a writer, and getting to vibe with my readers and other amazing writers.

I now consider some of those special people my friends, and they continue to make my day better every time we interact — whether it's hyping each other up and fangirling in each other's comments and reblog comments, or talking about everything and nothing in our DMs. That support has gotten me through some rough times in the past two years.

So "celebrating" this milestone of over 5,000 followers is really just me saying THANK YOU to everyone who's supported me by reading, commenting, and reblogging my work, helping me brainstorm, giving me inspiration, or just simply being my friend! 💜

⋆˙⟡ WAYS TO PARTICIPATE:

Because you guys know I'm extra af 😂, there are 3 sections to choose from:

⟡ Ask Me Stuff

⟡ Summer Writing Challenge!

⟡ Mini Fic Requests

Ask Me Stuff:

⟡ Let's revisit these EOY Artist/Writer questions. Ask me any of them!

⟡ Ask me anything you want to know about my storyverses: Break Me Down, Unravel Me, Lost On You, Midnight Espresso, Smoke Eater, The Honorable Choice, Every Second Counts, Take Me Home, or any others!

Summer Writing Challenge:

If you're feelin' frisky and wanna join this summer writing challenge of less than 5,000 words before September 1, here's how to play...

💗 Gif Check: I'll send you a gif depending on the character you choose from the list below. Write a story that matches the vibe or completes the "scene." Just shoot me an ask with the character you want to write about, and request a gif!

🎨 Color Prompt: You choose a character from the list below. I'll choose a color palette for you based on what I think your aesthetic is!

🎙️ Songfic: Give me a character + a decade and/or genre of music, and I'll give you a song to match!

**Guidelines:

Submissions with pairings can be Character x Reader, Character x OC, or Character x Character.

(Please no RPF or Wincest.)

Include tags, notes, warnings if necessary - including if it's 18+

Please use the "Keep Reading" break if it's over 500 words.

Max word count 5,000 (for your sanity lol). Minimum 500 words.

Tag @zepskies (me) somewhere in the post.

Include this tag - #Zepskies 5K - within your first 5 tags.

Send me an ask until July 30! Post your fic by September 1.

I will of course read and reblog with my thoughts on your amazing work! If you get a chance, please try to do the same for others who participate. At the end, I will compile a master rec list of each fic submitted. 💜

Mini Fic Requests:

Uno Reverse! 🔄 For these drabbles (1,000 words or less), I will only answer non-anonymous asks so I can verify if you're over 18. Please make sure your age is listed in your bio! 😉

Check out the "characters I currently write for" down below. My inbox will be open for these types of requests from June 27 - July 4 only!

💗 Gif Check: Pick a character from the list and send me a gif! I'll do my best to write you a drabble that matches the vibe.

🎨 Color Prompt: I've been getting a lot of inspo from color aesthetics and moodboards lately. Pick a character from the list and a color. Any color! I'll do my best to write a drabble with that color scheme in mind.

🎙️ Songfic: Most people who know me know that I get a lot of inspo from music. Pick a character from the list and send me a song you think I'd like! I'll do my best to write a drabble that fits the song.

☕️ Characters I currently write for:

(or would like to write for)

⟡ Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester - Supernatural ⟡ Soldier Boy - The Boys ⟡ Mark Meachum - Countdown ⟡ Beau Arlen - Big Sky ⟡ Russell Shaw - Tracker ⟡ Joel Miller - The Last of Us ⟡ Javier Peña - Narcos ⟡ Harry Castillo - The Materialists ⟡ Alec McDowell - Dark Angel ⟡ Jason Teague - Smallville ⟡ Boaz Priestly - 10 Inch Hero ⟡ CJ Braxton - Dawson’s Creek ⟡ Éomer, Aragorn, Haldir, Thranduil - Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit

THANK YOU!! (Part 1)

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@wvffles @tofics @kazsrm67 @mostlymarvelgirl

@chevroletdean - Thank you for giving me the idea for the "color" prompts and the guidelines for the writing challenge with your 500 follower celebration!

@winchestergirl2 @lacilou @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @waywardxwords

@twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @wayward-dreamer @waywardlatina

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@deanwinchesterswitch @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @jollyhunter @moodyquesadilla

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@siampie @spnbabe67 @talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @redhoodieone

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @kmc1989 @foxyjwls007

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thisapplepielife · 21 hours ago

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Written for @steddiesongfics.

Lonesome is a State of Mind

June Prompt: Summer Songs | Song: Drunk on a Plane by Dierks Bentley (Bonus: Lonesome is a State of Mind by Djo lyrics for the Djo June challenge) | Word Count: 2500 | Rating: T | CW: Bare Feet in Public, Recreational Alcohol Use | Tags: Modern AU, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Little Angst, Lotta Silly Fluff, Meet Cute, Steve Had to Kiss Some Frogs to Get His Happy Ending, Robin Unfortunately Had to Bear Witness

Also on ao3.

It's stifling in the apartment, the summer air heavy and thick, even as the sun is just rising. It's making every movement seem ten times harder. Even through the closed windows, Steve can hear everything going on down below, the sounds of the city, the street, busy with activity.

His future is not what he thought, and here he is again, having thought something wrong. He should be used to that by now, but he's not. He's afraid he'll never be. He's too optimistic that things will work out. You'd think he'd learn his lesson by now. He's not a kid anymore. No, he's twenty-nine and misaligned.

Going from two to one has been harder than he thought it would be these past six months. From a house full of sounds of life, to this. Stifling silence.

She was the one. Wasn't she? He's not even sure now.

Five years this time. Five.

Two before that. What's he doing wrong? He wanted to commit, but it turns out two years wasn't enough time for someone to know if they wanted to do the same. Fine. With the next relationship he was more cautious, more patient. Went slow. Didn't rush.

Made sure they were really in love.

But five years wasn't long enough either, turns out. And now he has two engagement rings hanging around his neck like albatrosses and two non-refundable tickets for a honeymoon that was supposed to start today, just with no wife.

She's at his house, with his dog, but he lives somewhere else, somewhere separate.

What the fuck is so wrong with him that things just fall apart as soon as he tries to offer someone his love?

Nancy didn't want it in high school, either. Now he's convinced he's more than bullshit. There's a pattern, and he's the common denominator.

He jumps when the buzzer for the downstairs door sounds. Robin. He presses the button to unlock the front door for her, and works on schooling his face so she doesn't see how close to a nervous breakdown he really is today.

He was supposed to get married yesterday. He didn't.

"I never liked her anyway," Robin says, "She's an asshole. You're not gonna try to get back with her, right? I can say that?"

"You can say that," Steve answers. He knows it's not true. He wouldn't have made it five years with anybody that Robin didn't like. And he especially wouldn't have planned to marry them. Robin's just taking his side, unconditionally. Best friend privileges. He appreciates it.

"Glad to hear it. Flight leaves in two hours," she states, picking up his sunglasses, tossing them at him, "Wayfarers on, Harrington. Grab your bags. We're going to the beach. That all-inclusive resort is calling my name."

Steve groans. He doesn't want to go to the beach.

"Steve! Now!" Robin demands, and he knows better than to argue. And it'd be stupid to waste these tickets, this whole vacation. He went through the trouble switching the ticket to Robin's name, after all.

He puts on his neon green swim trunks, and a bright pink tank top. Slides on a pair of flip flops. It's gaudy. Loud and in your face. Maybe if he embarrasses her now, she won't make him go.

Robin says nothing.

He stands there staring at her.

"Bags?" she asks.

He shrugs. Maybe he'll travel light for once. See what that's like.

She just pushes past him, into his bedroom, and stuffs random clothes of his into his suitcase. While she's busy doing that, he makes himself a travel mug of orange juice. And vodka. That's the important part.

Piling into the waiting cab downstairs, he sucks on the whirly straw, and off they go.

One honeymoon, two platonic soulmates.

Finally at cruising altitude, Robin is staring at him.

"What?"

"What are you wearing?" Robin asks, finger snagging the chain around his neck, pulling.

"My bad luck charms, duh," he says, twisting off the top of another little bottle of Jack. Pouring it into his thimble of Coke. "It wards off—"

"—women, men, humankind in general?"

"Sure," he says, thumbing at the two diamond rings hanging from the gold chain.

"You're being a dramatic dingus."

"Cheers, have a drink with me," he says, tapping his plastic cup against hers.

"It's ten in the morning," she says, still judging him for conning the flight attendant out of more liquor. He's already rocking a nice buzz, and he'd like to keep building on it, thank you very much.

"You can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning," he retorts, stretching out in his seat, putting his bare foot up on the armrest of the aisle seat guy in the row in front of him.

"Steve," Robin hisses, pressing on his knee, trying to get him to put his foot down. Then she leans towards the row in front of theirs, "I'm so sorry, he's not usually this feral."

She can't budge him, despite her best efforts. He refuses to move. That is, until the guy whose seat he's encroaching on runs his fingers up the sole of Steve's foot. That's enough to make Steve jerk his leg back reflectively, ticklish, unable to stop himself. He hears the pleased laughter floating back to their row, and Steve leans forward, poking his head around the seat.

"Foot fetish, huh?"

"You're the one that offered it up to me," the guy says.

Steve laughs, the liquor making him brazen, "I mean, I'm not into that. But if you are, I'd be happy to open negotiations."

"Well, isn't that a thought," the guy laughs, and Steve can't tell if he's flirting with him, or just making fun. Maybe a little of both. It honestly doesn't really matter. Steve doesn't mind either option.

It's already made his morning better.

Steve leans his shoulder into the back of the guy's seat, jostling him. "My fiancée dumped me. This was my honeymoon."

The guy turns and nods towards Robin, "Her? Was it because you're trying to get strange men to touch your feet?"

"Ew," Robin says, "No. I'm Robin. The embarrassed best friend. That's Steve. Again, I'm sorry. He isn't putting his best foot forward. He decided to start early this morning."

Steve laughs, and so does the guy. It's a great laugh. Steve wants to hear more of it, wants more of his attention.

"I'm Eddie," the guy says, "and your foot forward seemed fine to me. But if you've got a better one, let me have it."

Steve, not about to back down from a challenge, wedges his left foot between the seats.

The guy next to Eddie whips his head around, "If your nasty foot so much as grazes me, I swear to god I'll shove drumsticks up both your asses."

"That's a very specific promise," Steve says, pointing his foot towards Eddie the best he can. "At least buy me a drink first."

The guy huffs, annoyed.

"Steve Harrington, leave these men alone. You're gonna get us kicked off this flight. Banned from this airline. Banned from all future air travel forever, maybe. We'll be on the no-fly list. We might get left in Cancun."

The grumpy guy in the middle turns around, looking at Robin, "This is at least fifty percent Eddie's fault at this point. He feeds on chaos, makes things worse, and encouraging what's happening right now is a dream come true for him. Trust me."

"It's true," Eddie pipes up, "I'm a freak. Being interesting will always beat conformity. Put your feet on people if you want. Be real. Be weird. Be real weird."

Steve grins, looking at Robin, "See?"

"No," she says, shaking her head.

Steve retracts his foot, and Eddie turns in his seat, looking right in Steve's eyes, "Stay weird, Steve Harrington."

Then, he hands Steve two additional mini bottles of liquor, and Steve grins, relaxing back into his seat.

Steve tries to mind his own business. It works for a while.

"What are you headed to Cancun for?" Steve asks, peeking at Eddie from between the seats.

"Bachelor party," Eddie says, looking back at him.

Steve sticks out his bottom lip, "Yours?"

Eddie laughs, shaking his head, nodding towards his seatmate, "No. Mr. Drumsticks Uptheass, here."

Steve grabs the back of the guy's seat and shakes him, "Don't do it, man. She'll break your heart. Put a ring on it and suddenly she can't stomach the thought of spending her whole life with you. Trust me. It's happened to me. Twice."

"Shut up, you don't know me or my life. I can see why nobody would want to marry you," middle-seat snaps.

"Gareth," Eddie warns.

Steve shoves the back of Gareth's seat, launching himself back into own. Arms crossed, pouting.

He's a fucking catch.

What kind of name is Gareth, anyway?

"He didn't mean that," Robin says, leaning forward, trying to smooth this over, "I'm sure your wife-to-be is lovely and would never call off your wedding."

Gareth just glares over his shoulder, then leans forward, looking across the aisle, eyes laser focused on the man sitting there, minding his own business. "Goods. Goodie. Hey. Switch seats with me."

The guy across the aisle ignores him.

"Goodie!"

What kind of name is Goodie?

"I don't know you, any of you," the alleged Goodie says, pulling his hoodie strings, cinching it down over his face. Ending the conversation.

"Jesus Christ," Gareth Uptheass says, forcing himself out of his seat, climbing over Eddie's knees, and out into the aisle.

Then, he looms over Steve. Well, he tries. He's not very tall. "Get up. We're trading seats. If you want to flirt with Eddie so fucking bad, you can do it without involving me. I'm sitting next to her now."

Steve looks at Robin, "Oh, she's a lesbian."

"Great, and she's wearing shoes. The exact kind of woman I'm interested in right now. Get. Up."

"I need to put on my shoes," Steve says.

"Really? Why start now?"

Steve gets up, and squeezes into the middle seat next to Eddie. There's another guy in the window seat.

"I'm Steve," Steve says, since they haven't been introduced.

"So I've heard," he answers, "I'm Jeff. Keep your hands and feet to yourself and we'll be good."

"Jeff's a normal name," Steve declares. He's glad someone else has a normal name around here.

"Thanks," Jeff says.

They talk and talk until Eddie gets up to go to the bathroom. Steve waits a respectable minute and a half to follow.

Tapping on the locked door, he gets no answer.

Knocking again, "Eddie."

The door across the hall opens, "Over here."

Whoops. Wrong bathroom. Steve slides into the cramped lavatory with Eddie, trying to balance himself on the flimsy sink, hoping like fuck it will hold him.

Steve wraps his legs around Eddie's waist, pressing himself up against Eddie.

"Do you really have a foot fetish?" Steve asks.

Eddie laughs, "Not in the slightest."

"Good, that's good," Steve answers, playing with the hairs at the nape of Eddie's neck. "You gonna give me a little in-flight entertainment?"

Eddie cups his cheek. It's tender, and nobody's touched Steve like this in a while. He leans into it.

"How about we just make it off this plane without being put in handcuffs?" Eddie suggests.

Steve huffs, but will allow it.

"What if I want you to put me in handcuffs?"

Eddie laughs, "Then, sweetheart, like you said earlier: I'd be happy to open negotiations."

Back in their seats, Steve falls asleep on Eddie's shoulder.

Then, they land and go their separate ways.

The next morning, Steve regrets everything from the day before. His head is pounding, like elves are trying to chisel his skull in two. He's mortified. He got drunk, took off his shoes, and followed a stranger to the plane bathroom.

Robin's never gonna let him live this down, not even with the goodwill of it being his sad non-honeymoon. She won't feel sorry for him forever.

The mimosa isn't working as hair of the dog that bit him, nor is the greasy breakfast, and he closes his eyes behind his sunglasses.

He hears Robin pull out her chair, and groans.

"I'm dying. Put me out of my misery."

He hears a deep chuckle, familiar now, and feels his cheeks flush. Eddie. Of all the resorts, Eddie from the plane is here? It's absurd.

Steve's eyes snap open. It's too bright.

"You're staying here?" Steve asks. He's so fucking embarrassed. What are the odds of that?

Eddie shakes his head, smiling wide.

"Nope. But Gareth asked Robin where you guys were staying. He knows me well enough to know I'd want that information. He's a good best friend, even if he was a little testy yesterday."

"Uh, I think he had a reason. I was being, well, unreasonable. Sorry about the feet. And the bathroom. And everything else."

"No reason to apologize. I'm here, aren't I?" Eddie asks with a smile.

He is. Steve smiles. Eddie found him. Eddie went out of his way to come see him again.

Nobody goes out of their way for him, except Robin, and she definitely doesn't count.

"So, you wanna spend the day with me, Steve Harrington?"

Steve does, and he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head, and leans forward. Lips barely brushing Eddie's, "Oh yeah. I'm ready to open negotiations."

Later

It's loud, and Steve's getting shoved around in the pit. He doesn't mind. He could stand backstage, but he wants to be right here, front and center. Eddie can see him all night this way.

Corroded Coffin is doing their thing, and Steve's along for the ride. They aren't super famous, not a bit mainstream, but they fill ballrooms and small venues, the crowds stoked to see them.

Steve's thrilled to see them, thrilled to see Eddie, always. Third time was the charm. Steve finally met his match. Finally got a yes before the question had even left his throat. Eddie married him as fast as he could. Steve knows it's because Eddie didn't want Steve to stress that another engagement might fizzle out.

Steve was all in, and so was Eddie.

Eddie flips his hair off his shoulders, running his fingers under the neck of his t-shirt, fishing out a chain. Two diamond engagement rings clink together as they flop onto his chest. Steve leans against the barricade, grinning.

Steve considered them bad juju. Albatrosses. But Eddie started wearing them around his own neck. A talisman, he says. Good luck.

A point being made, Steve's sure.

Oh, you didn't want him? Well, good. He's fucking mine.

He's unhinged.

Steve loves him.

Loves that he took that flight, loves that he got drunk and rude and weird. Loves that Eddie rolled with it. Loves that of all the people in the world that could have been sitting in front of him, that it was Eddie Munson.

The one who would wholeheartedly love him back.

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