#and it's one you likely do not want to be held to

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[inkskinned]

the thing about some men is that they want you to remember, at all times, that you are underneath them. that with one word or look or "joke", you will stay beneath them. that even "exceptions" to the rule are not true exceptions - the commonly cited statistic that one in eight men believe they could win against serena williams.

women's gymnastics is often not seen as real gymnastics. whatever the fuck non-euclidian horrors rhythmic gymnasts are capable of, it's often tamped down as being not a sport. some of the most dominant athletes in the world are women. nobody watches women's soccer. despite years of dancing and being built like a fucking brick, men always assume they're faster and stronger than i am. you wouldn't like what happens when they are incorrect. once while drunk at a guy's house i won a held-plank challenge by a solid minute. the party was over after that - he became exceedingly violent.

what i mean is that you can be perfect, and they still think you're ... lacking, somehow. i hope you understand i'm trying to express a neutral statement when i say: taylor swift was the possibly the most patriarchy-palatable, straight-down-the-line woman we could churn out. she is white, conventionally attractive, usually pretty mild in personality. say what you will about her (and you should, she's a billionaire, she can handle it), but a few things seem to be true about her: 1. she can write a damn catchy song, and 2. the eras tour truly was a massive commercial success and was also genuinely an impressive feat of human athleticism and performance.

i don't know if she deserves the title of "woman of the year," i'm not debating that in this post. what i am saying is that she was named Woman of The Year, and then an untalented man got onstage at the golden globes and made fun of her for attending her boyfriend's football games. what i am saying is that this woman altered local economies - and her dating life is still being made into a "harmless" punchline. the camera panned, greedy, over to her downing a full glass of champagne. congratulations taylor! you are woman of the year! but you are a woman. even her.

fuck, man. write better material.

a guy gets onstage at a college graduation and despite the fact like half the crowd is made up of women, he spends a significant proportion of it warning these people - who spent possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on their education - that they were lied to. that the "real" meaning of femininity is motherhood. that they shouldn't rest on the laurels of that education-they-paid-for but instead throw it away to kneel at a man's heel. imagine that. sweating in your godawful polyester gown (that you also had to pay for!), fresh out of 4 years of pushing yourself ever-harder: and some guy you've never met - who knows nothing about you - he reminds you this "win" is a pyrrhic one at best. you really shouldn't consider yourself that extraordinary. you're still a woman, even after years of study.

god forbid you are not a pretty woman, but if you are pretty, you must be dumb. god forbid you are not ablebodied or white or cis or straight or good at swallowing. you must be beneath a man, or else they are not a man. the equation for masculinity seems to just be: that which is not a woman or womanly (god forbid). anything "feminine" is thereby anathema. to engage in "feminine" things such as therapy, getting a hug from a friend, or crying - it is giving up ones manhood. therefore women need to be put in their place to ensure that masculinity is protected.

this is something i have struggled to explain to radfems - they are not doing the work of feminism, but rather the patriarchy. by asserting that women and men must be (on some secret level) oppositional and in conflict, they also assume that being a woman is akin to being another species. but bigotry does not stem from observational truths or clarity - that is what makes it bigotry. there was nothing in my childhood that made me fundamentally different from my brother. we are treated differently nonetheless. to assert there is some biological drive that enforces my gender role is to assert that women have a gendered role. men do not see women as equal to them not because of biological reality - but instead because the core tenant of the patriarchy is that women aren't full, realized people.

we are told from a very young age to excuse misbehavior as a single man's choice - not all men. it is not all men, just that one guy. all women are gold-digging bitches who belong in the kitchen - but if a man is mean, bigoted, or violent to you, it's just that particular guy, and that means nothing about men-as-a-whole. it is only one guy who got mad when you gently rejected him. it is only one guy who warns her this trophy is heavy, are you sure you can hold it? it is only one guy who smashes her face into the cake. it is only one guy talking into a mic about hating our bodily autonomy.

i have just found that they often wait until the moment we actually seem to be upstaging them. you sit in a meeting where you're presenting your own findings and he says get me a coffee? or you run to the end of the marathon and are about to finish first and he pushes your kids out in front of you. you win the chess game and they make some comment akin to well, you're ugly away. we can be the billionaire and get the dream life and finally fucking do it and yet! still! they have this strange, visceral urge to say well actually, if you think you're so great -

it's not one just one guy. it's one in eight.

[bunnis-monsters]

jealous incubus husband. that’s all. go crazy

A/N: this is a request for my 5K event! I am doing ALL requests I get within the next 24 hours, send one while you can!

You had taken a whole 10 extra minutes to get home that day. What in the world could keep you away from him, your beautiful, adoring husband that LONG!?

“Hey baby, sorry I’m a little late. A friend of mine stopped me to catch up a little, he’s been out of-“

Your words went through one ear and out the other after he heard you say the word “he”.

“… he?”

Your incubus husband’s tail whipped furiously, smacking back and forth, hitting the floor and bed.

“Um… yes, he. As I was saying, he was out of town to-“

Within seconds your husband was on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head and glaring down at you. His dark purple eyes glowed as the sun set, his pupils becoming slits as his tail swayed behind him like he was a very displeased cat.

“I don’t much appreciate a male getting near my mate…”

He huffed, pouting a little as he sniffed at your neck. Though a male’s scent lingered, he knew any contact had been very brief.

And yet… he couldn’t stand it. You, his entire world that ruled his heart and owned his very soul had been near a male without him present.

He rubbed his scent on you, using his tail to pull your thighs apart so he could see that pretty pussy of yours.

There was a wet spot on your panties already, your eyes wide with arousal and confusion. “W-what’s gotten into you? Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“No… my wife was approached by a male and I wasn’t there… you’re my mate, you know? I have to protect you…”

The tip of his tail rubbed against your fat pussy, slipping under your panties to get at your clit. You let out a surprised moan, looking up at him with hazy eyes as he groped your tits. “Only I can do this, only I can make you feel this good…”

He kissed you, his saliva a natural aphrodisiac due to his incubus genes. You began to pant, bucking your hips into his.

It was strange, your husband was usually so soft and clingy, wanting you to play with his cock and ride him while giving him affection and praise for being so pretty… it seemed jealousy changed him quite a bit.

“Mine…”

He purred against the shell of your ear as sliced your panties with his claws, the head of his cock rubbing between your fat pussy lips.

“Mine, you got that? No one else gets to see you like this…”

Again, he pouted, his usual self shining through a little as he fucked into you. His cheeks were puffed out and he looked at you with such need it was palpable.

“I’m pretty, aren’t I? You only want me? Just me?”

He was desperate for your reassurance and approval, tears streaming down his face. “You’re all mine… and I wanna be all yours..”

You were struggling to think due to the strong aphrodisiac in your system, but showed your love by pulling him into a sloppy kiss, holding him as tight as your weakened body could.

He moaned into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as he sucked on your lip. “Baby… my baby…” you muttered, cupping his cheek and caressing it gently.

“Mmm…”

After a long night of love making and mood swings, your husband laid on the bed, curled up with you and wearing only his pink silk robe.

“So glad you’re my pretty little wife…”

You smiled, giggling as he held your chubby belly in his hand. “I am too…”

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y

[coldfanbou]

Stepmom's Uniform

Naughty Step Mom Nayeon tries to please her stepson in this fic. A little rough sex and stepcest that Nayeon just can't resist.

Length 2.1K

Nayeon X Mreader

Your relationship with your stepmom was odd, to say the least. With your father having to spend so many late nights at the office and barely being able to spend a couple of hours at home each day, you were left alone with your stepmother, Nayeon. It was only natural that you got closer to her over the months. Sleeping with her was something else, though. Usually, during the day, you spend time with her outdoors. Today, you were strolling through the city with Nayeon; you passed by your old high school. She points to it, “I remember when I had to wear a school uniform. I looked so nerdy back then. Maybe I’ll wear it for you one day.” You continue your walk, stopping at a nearby cafe to sit down. You and Nayeon chat for some time before you change the topic.

You bring the topic back to the school uniform, “Do you still have your old school uniform?” 

Nayeon looks at you, a little surprised you brought that up. She fixes her hair behind her ears and nods, “Yeah, if you really want to, I could wear it for you.” She gives you a nervous smile. “I didn’t think you’d actually want to.”

You place your hand over hers. “I want to see you in it.” You run your fingers up Nayeon’s arms and get closer to her. “I could be your teacher, and you’re my submissive little student.” Nayeon felt chills run down her spine. Her smile grew more prominent, and she nodded. The idea excited her, and she imagined herself being taken by you. The two of you quickly got up and walked back home, discussing the idea. You got home, and Nayeon instantly rushed to her and your father’s bedroom. She searched for her old uniform, knowing she kept it in a suitcase filled with old clothes. She looked through it all, finding her old uniform at the bottom of the suitcase. She headed to the connecting bathroom, stripping out of her clothes and underwear. She wore the uniform, staring in the mirror as she lifted her skirt. The lack of panties turned her on. Nayeon also knew you’d be able to tell once she sat on your lap. She left the bathroom, grabbed her glasses to complete the look, and returned to the living room. 

“Wow, you look amazing.” You tell her, grabbing her waist and pulling her in close. “You’re so cute.”

“Stop it. Do I really?” Nayeon asks, her cheeks turning red. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty hot too.” You kiss Nayeon’s neck before whispering, “You know, considering I know what your body looks like under it.”

Nayeon wraps her arms loosely around your neck, “You’re such a bad boy, getting off on your step-mom wearing her old uniform.”

“You’re a bad step-mom, tempting me with it.” You say as you move your hands lower and grab her ass, noticing the lack of panties. “Oh, you’re so bad, Mommy,” Nayeon smirks at you and inches forward, pressing her lips against yours. You move your hands a little lower and lift Nayeon; you press her against the walls, snaking your tongue into her mouth. Nayeon moans into the kiss as she feels your bulge rub against her slit. 

“You’re so hard, baby.”

“Hard for you, Mommy.” You reply, knowing that was what got her off. The taboo of fucking her stepson was her turn-on. After the first time, she struggled to keep her hands off you, and every time you called her mommy, it only fueled her lust. Nayeon held your head in her hands as she continued the kiss, your tongues rubbing against each other until you ran out of breath. “You’re a naughty student and a naughty mommy.” You whisper into her ear before leaving a trail of kisses along her neck. “I want you to suck me off.”

“Of course, baby. Just put me down.” Nayeon said in her sultry voice. You lower Nayeon, letting her get onto her feet and watching as she kneels before you. Her eyes follow yours as she expertly unbuckles your belt and gets your pants out of the way. Nayeon grabs your cock, freeing it from its confines, and runs her tongue around her lips. She stroked the base of your cock slowly, continuing to look at you as she moved closer and pressed her lips against the tip of your cock. She traced her lips with it slowly, “You taste so good, baby.” Nayeon says as she kisses the tip again. 

Her teasing turns you on, and you see the lust in her eyes. Placing your hand on her head, Nayeon knows you want more from her. “Slow down, baby. Let Mommy take care of you at her own pace.” She smiles at you, knowing you won’t refuse. Your stepmother sticks her tongue out, running it along the underside. The lewd act, combined with her nerdy appearance, adds to the experience. Your cock twitches from excitement in her hands, making her giggle. “You’re so needy, baby.” 

“For you, Mommy.” 

“I’ll make sure you get to let out everything you have,” Nayeon says, stroking your shaft a little faster. She runs her tongue along the tip, swirling around it before finally swallowing the head. You groan from the feeling of her warm wet mouth finally taking in your cock. Nayeon feels happy with herself after hearing that and bobs her head slowly, making sure her tongue rubs against every part of your head. She snakes a hand under her skirt, rubbing herself and moaning in the blowjob. Nayeon lets out a short laugh as she pops you out of her mouth, “Do you like Mommy’s mouth? I’ve gotten better, haven’t I?”

You place your hand on Nayeon’s head and force your cock back into her mouth, “Yes, Mommy. You’re a lot better now.” You groan, feeling her tongue move side to side along your cock. You reach down, groping her modest chest through her shirt and making Nayeon moan more. 

Nayeon pulls you out of her mouth with a pop, “I want you, baby,” She moans. Nayeon rises to her feet, stroking your cock and turning around. She spreads her legs and bends over slightly, shaking her ass as she waits for you. You flip her skirt and rub your cock against her folds, groaning as you feel how wet she is. “Mmm, that feels good, but I want more baby. Come fuck my tight little pussy.” Nayeon moans, pressing her ass against you. You hold her waist with one hand and press the tip against her entrance, pushing it in. You hear Nayeon gasp as you begin to split her in two. You feel the tightness of her stretched cunt as you push further in. 

Nayeon bites her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as she holds back her moan. “You’re so big, baby.” She groans, feeling you slide deeper into her. You hold Nayeon’s waist tightly and slam the rest of your length inside. She lets her voice fill the room, screaming as you hit her cervix. “Oh god, baby, fuck me.” She moans, looking at the floor as you begin thrusting. Nayeon can feel your cock sliding in and out of her stretching her cunt as you move deeper. 

“I bet you were a naughty girl in school, weren’t you?”

“Don’t say that,” Nayeon grunted in response.

“Were you the school slut?” You ask her, almost immediately feeling her tighten around you. “I think your body is answering for you.”

“I wasn’t,” she whines, struggling as your cock moves inside her. “I’m just your slut.” She moans, leaning her body back against you. You push Nayeon forward, having her between the wall and you. You snake your hands between her and the wall, rubbing her clit with your fingers, moving in small circles. “Ahh! I’m your slut, baby. Don’t stop,” Nayeon cried out. She stood on her toes, her pussy being shaped into the form of your cock. 

“Did you have sex in school? You ask her as you continue thrusting; you hear her whimper something and repeat your question. She says something quietly. Not satisfied with how she answered, you grabbed Nayeon’s arms and pushed her onto the couch, laying her on her back. You fold Nayeon in half, her legs by her head, and ram your cock deep into her cunt before asking one more time. 

“YES!” Nayeon screams as she feels you smash into her cervix. “I DID!” Nayeon continues. She grabs your shirt, tugging on it as you thrust. “They weren’t as good as you, baby. Keeping fucking your mother.” Nayeon pleads, feeling her orgasm coming. “I’m gonna cum,” She whines, her grip on your shirt becoming stronger. You were far off your orgasm and continued thrusting; you cum together. Nayeon throws her head back as she feels your cum rush into her, filling her cunt. You keep yourself buried inside, letting Nayeon’s walls milk you before slowly pulling out. 

You stand beside Nayeon, staring at the blissful expression on her face. You lean down, kissing Nayeon passionately. “I bet Mommy was the school’s fleshlight.” You whisper into her ear. 

“I’m only yours, baby.” She groans, “Mommy wants more; carry me to the bedroom.” You pick Nayeon up, carry her to her bedroom, and lay her down. Nayeon tosses her glasses on the bed. She grabs the hem of her vest and pulls it over herself, following that with her button-up shirt. Nayeon was left in her skirt and a tie. You remove the rest of your clothes and pull Nayeon’s tie, getting her close enough for a kiss. Nayeon wraps her arms around you, “This time, I want you to cum on my face.” You smile at her and spread her legs, watching as your cum from the earlier runs between her legs.

You align yourself with Nayeon’s entrance and ram your length inside, sliding in with ease, “I’ll take a picture, another one for the collection.” Nayeon arches her back and moans as you stuff her cunt again. You hold her sides as you begin thrusting; moving through her, you notice a bulge where your cock is. “Mommy, take a look at what I’m doing to you.”

Nayeon looks down, seeing your cock make a visible bulge. She smiles. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it, but it turned her on every time. Nayeon kisses you again, “Mommy’s pussy is made just for you, baby.” She moans, smiling as you fuck her roughly. 

“Mommy’s all mine.” You moan as you cup one of her tits, squeezing it. 

“That’s right, Mommy’s all yours. No one, not even your dad, can touch me.” She groans, shutting her eyes as she enjoys herself. You feel her walls tighten around you slowly and begin thrusting quicker. Her walls barely have time to come together when you rip through her again. Nayeon grips the bedsheets, feeling her second orgasm coming. “You’re going to make me cum again. Remember to pull out; mommy wants you to paint her face.” 

“Of course, Mommy.” You moan, thrusting into her. Every thrust brings you both closer to your climax. You reach down, flicking Nayeon’s clit and making her cum first. You feel her walls clamp down on your cock, trying to milk you for more of your baby batter. You continued thrusting until you were on the edge of cumming. You pull out and quickly move beside Nayeon. She grabs her glasses, puts them back on, and opens her mouth as she waits for your cum. You jerk yourself off quickly, your cum spurts on her face, coating her glasses with a few drops landing on her tongue. You move down, letting the last bit paint her chest. You slow down your strokes and take a look at how you did. 

Nayeon smiles at you, satisfied with the facial. “Take a picture of your school slut, baby.” You grab your phone and snap a few pictures of Nayeon, adding them to the collection you kept. You lay down beside Nayeon; she reaches for your cock, stroking it gently as you look through the photos you have. You look through them all, each one from a time you had sex with Nayeon. Eventually, you reach the first picture, “Aww, look at me. That was the day you made me yours.” Nayeon glances at you, “You know, baby, your father put cameras in here.”

“I know; I helped set them up.” You respond. “He doesn’t know how to access them, though. So, for now, they’re our little sex tape. We can watch them whenever you want.”

“You naughty boy,” Nayeon says, squeezing your cock.  She rolls onto you, straddling you. “Next time, we’ll do our roleplay. I’ll be the naughty teacher’s pet, and you’ll be my teacher. That will be a great video.”

[navybrat817]

Fall for Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't think he's good enough for you, but still wishes he could be your guy. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Longing, insecurities, "just friends" (for now), Steve is a good friend, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: We'll call this a Friday Feels inspired by a nonnie.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a special kind of torture for Bucky to watch the person he loved flirt with someone else.

To be fair, he couldn't say for sure that you were flirting. Being friendly? Yes. You had a warm and welcoming personality, the kind he was drawn to the moment you two crossed paths months ago. One of the things he loved about you was how genuine you were. It was only natural that you pulled others in as well. Your compassion, charm, beauty, everything called to him.

You were the whole package, inside and out.

“What the hell am I doing here?” He muttered. He hadn't wanted to go to the bar, but Steve assured him it was a hole-in-the-wall sort of place. Not a lot of patrons on a night like this. Somewhere no one would bother them. He added at the last second that you were going.

Bucky grabbed his leather jacket to go as soon as those words left Steve’s mouth.

Instead of having a drink with you like he wanted or just talking, he simmered in silence in a booth while you stood at the bar. He narrowed his eyes as the guy you were talking to moved an inch closer. A bit too close for his liking.

Steve said his name was Will. They had met each other at some point in passing. Short blonde hair and a trimmed beard. Ex-military, but still built like he had a war to fight. Behind the guy’s blue eyes lurked pain, guilt, and regret that most would miss due to his general stoic demeanor. Bucky could relate all too well to horrors that haunted even the strongest of men.

But when Will looked at you, his eyes lit up. They held a sense of longing. Hope.

Once again, Bucky could relate all too well because that was how he looked at you.

“You’re doing that staring thing again,” Steve said, grabbing a beer from the bucket and setting it down in front of him. “Just talk to her.”

Bucky took a swig, but didn't take his eyes off you. He was afraid if he looked away that Will might convince you to leave with him. “Talk to her about what?”

His best friend sighed. “You know what.”

Steve knew how he felt about you. Talking about his feelings wasn't easy, but he had to tell his best friend. And it wasn't the first time Steve encouraged him to speak up. He said you had the right to know so the two of you could figure out how to move forward, whether as a couple or just friends, instead of dancing around it.

But how could Bucky admit how he felt when he didn't deserve someone like you?

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

“We're friends,” Bucky stated. The words tasted as bitter as the beer he sipped. No, not bitter. He couldn't feel that way just because he had a piece of you when he wanted all of you.

Was he selfish for that?

He nearly shattered the bottle in his hand when you giggled at whatever Will said. Something akin to jealousy settled in his chest and he had no right to feel that way. The two of you weren't together. You were single and didn't owe him a thing.

But he knows if you gave him a chance, he’d treat you well. Better than any other guy before him. He would do his best to make you happy. Maybe that wasn't enough.

“Will is a good guy, but he isn't you, Buck. You’re still one of the best guys I know,” Steve said.

“You don't have to kiss my ass, punk,” he muttered, immediately regretting it. He was only trying to help and God knows he had done more than enough for him over the years.

Steve shook his head. “And you don't have to feel sorry for yourself, jerk.”

“I’m not,” he whispered. Maybe he was. He was sorry for so many things.

As if you sensed his sadness, you looked over your shoulder and met his gaze. You smiled at him, the kind of smile that stole the very breath from his lungs and made his head spin. He wanted to believe it was a smile you reserved only for him. And the softness in your beautiful eyes, he imagined he could see his future in them.

Could you see the endless love he had for you in his?

His heart ached when you turned away and put your hand on Will’s arm. Of course, you were attracted to the guy. Why wouldn’t you be? The thought of you kissing him though, being intimate with him? He felt sick enough to finally look away.

Bucky glanced at his distorted reflection in the beer bottle. A long time ago, he would've called himself handsome. Not because he was full of himself, but because he knew himself then. He knew how to walk the line between confidence and cockiness. He was full of life and wonder once. Now the weight of his sins showed in how he carried himself.

Sins you never judged him for.

“Jamie? Are you okay?”

Steve nudged him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was so lost in his mind that he hadn’t heard you call out to him. He should’ve known since you were the only one who called him Jamie. When he looked up from his seat, he saw that you were no longer standing next to Will as he was still at the bar. And there was nothing but concern in your gaze as you set your drink down on the table.

“What? What happened?” He asked, not smooth at all.

Your eyes flickered to Steve and then back at him. “I asked if you’re okay. You don’t look too well.”

“Not feeling so great,” he said, which wasn’t a lie. “This place…”

“Oh,” you said, sliding into the booth beside him. He inhaled, your sweet scent soothing the pain in his heart and making it race all at once. “Well, why don’t we head out? There’s no reason to stay if you don’t want to stay.”

He gently smiled. You were always willing to go with the flow and change plans if things ever got too loud or too much for him. “I’m fine. Besides, you just got your drink and you haven’t had a chance to play pool with Sam or Natasha,” he argued. He didn’t want to spoil your night.

You put your hand on his arm, but it seemed different than when you touched Will’s arm. This was tender, soothing. “If being here is making you uncomfortable, then I don’t feel like sticking around. They’ll understand. Steve, please, back me up on this.”

“She’s right. You two should go,” Steve said, conveniently leaving himself and the others out of the equation.

Bucky spared Will a glance, who was now talking to the guys he went into the bar with. He swallowed hard before the next words left his mouth. “What about your new friend?”

“You are my friend, Jamie,” you said. He winced inwardly at the reminder. Friends. You were just friends. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s just go. How about a movie at your place? Something low-key so you feel better.”

“You sure?” He asked, wondering just how eager he looked to leave with you.

“I’m sure,” you smiled, making his heart warm again.

“Okay. You convinced me,” he said. Not that it would’ve taken much. Your smile could bend the will of just about anyone.

“You know, I hear healthy conversations are also good to help people feel better,” Steve chimed in, earning an elbow to the side from Bucky.

You raised an eyebrow and slid out of the booth. “Yeah. Sure. Jamie and I can have a healthy conversation and you all enjoy the rest of the night.” You offered Bucky a hand to help him out. He didn’t want to let go. “C’mon. We have a movie waiting for us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky teased, proud of himself when you giggled.

Steve gave him an optimistic smile and he couldn’t help but return it. He wasn’t sure if Will had given you his number or if you planned to see him, but maybe he’d take a chance and tell you he had fallen for you. Maybe, if he was lucky, you had fallen for him, too.

Just maybe.

And maybe, just maybe, this could be a thing? Did Will give you his number? Will Bucky say how he feels? What's going to happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[milksnake-tea]

✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : When Sunday wakes up, the last thing he expects is to be in the middle of the Stellaron Hunters' infirmary.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 2.3k

✩ TAGLIST : @dr-felitas, @vxnuslogy, @https-mika

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : guys idk what im doing imma be so fr. BUT HEY !! we are here <33 also sunday has ocd and religious trauma so uh. be on the lookout for that lol. not beta read we die like sunday's mom

series masterlist || next chapter >>

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Incessantly, it drones on, matching the repetitive beat of his heart. With his eyelids too heavy to lift, it’s all he can listen to - the whirring of a fan, the lub-dub in his chest, and, of course, the high-pitched beeping of the machine next to him. It’s maddening.

A pained grunt leaves him as he tries to move. His abdomen screams in anguish, the flesh feeling as though it’s about to be ripped apart by the seams. His lower wings are no better - cramped and crushed, they crumple against his body, cracks and pops sounding as he shifts.

It takes almost all his strength to squint his eyes open. His vision is blurry, disorientated, but he thinks he can see tiles.

Somewhere next to him, he hears wheels roll against clean floor tiles, and then the shuffling of cloth. Suddenly, a blinding light shines into his eyes. He immediately recoils, an unbecoming hiss escaping him.

“Reaction looks good, no cloudiness… You awake in there, birdie?”

Sunday squints out a glare, or well, he glares the best he can while having the sun in his face.

“Feisty. That’s good,” his company observes, but decides to take mercy on him anyway. Dark spots litter his vision as he blinks into reality, his eyes readjusting. 

The ceiling isn’t that outstanding, just the standard white tiles of any other hospital. There’s a curtain hanger in the corner of his eye, and other than that, he can’t see much else. He figures he must be in a hospital.

He tries to sit up again, but his arms, weakened by the fall, fail him. An arm catches and steadies him.

“Careful there. You’re still recovering from the fall.”

Sunday wearily looks over at who caught him. An unfamiliar face stares back. He’s mildly surprised - he knows every worker on Penacony by name, so to find someone he hadn’t met yet…

“How are you feeling?” they ask, helping him to sit up. “Dizzy? Pained? Ready to take another nap?”

He tries to focus on them, but can’t as his gaze wanders to the rest of the room. 

His earlier assessment proves to be accurate, or at least, he got the general idea right. It’s smaller than he originally thought, and it isn’t as neat and organized as the hospitals back on Penacony.

A doctor’s desk stands in one corner, covered in first-aid kits, notebooks, and holographic screens. Standing besides it is a mini-fridge and a microwave, and a cabinet looms overhead - likely containing more medical devices. There’s another bed other than his. It looks like it hasn't been used in months.

His gaze lands on the one thing that’s painfully out of place in this room - a rifle, dark, long and equipped with a bayonet, lying in a display case alongside many other firearms.

Figures. A wanted criminal of his magnitude wouldn’t be held in an esteemed hospital. He’s lucky he isn’t in a prison cell.

“I don’t…” Sunday shakes his head. “Where am I?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Indignation sparks. “I’m… sorry?”

His captor caretaker sits back on their office chair. They look to be around Robin’s age, but their attire… To put it bluntly, it wasn’t anything a respectable healthcare worker would be caught wearing on duty.

“It’s best if you don’t ask too many questions right now,” they advise. “You can stress out later. Now, look at my finger.”

“I-” Reluctantly, Sunday does as he’s told, following their finger with his gaze as they move it around. “May I at least have your name?”

“Mm…” They quickly type something down. “Not right now.”

“But-”

“Eat this.” Sunday nearly chokes as something’s shoved into his mouth mid-sentence. Spluttering, he eventually manages to chew, but it’s not without another heated (or at least, he hopes it’s heated) glare at the so-called doctor.

They raise a brow. “Don’t like sweets? That’s weird, could’ve sworn he said you did.”

He? Sunday pauses in his chewing. 

The person pokes his cheek, earning a squeak from the Halovian. “I can see your thoughts on your face, Birdie. You’ll meet him soon enough, just keep chewing.”

Weakly, Sunday’s wing bats at their finger. They chuckle lightly at that.

“You look like a kicked puppy.” They lean forward, resting their chin in their palm. “Does it still hurt?”

Sunday shifts to sit straighter. To his surprise, instead of sharp pain like before, there is only a dub ebb before it fades away entirely. He shakes his head, swallowing the rest of the medicine. Whatever it was left a distinct taste of pastries, like the ones he’d steal off Robin’s plate as a child.

Robin… The thought of his sister tears at his heart. The more coherent he becomes, the more he remembers, and the guiltier he feels. The last he’d seen of his sister was her wings as she embraced him for the first time in years, right before they’d plummeted to the ground.

“My sister,” he manages to croak out, wincing at his own hoarseness. “Is she alright?”

He searches the other’s face for any indication that she isn’t. Just the wrong twitch of the brow could send him rushing out of the bed and to wherever Robin was.

But he doesn’t find anything in that eerily calm smile.

“The pop star?” They cross their legs leisurely. “Should be. Kafka said she saw nurses when she picked you up.”

“Kafka,” Sunday repeats. Horror slowly dawns on him as he realizes where he’d heard the name. But it doesn’t last long before he forces on a smile once more. “You don’t mean Kafka, the Stellaron Hunter? The woman with a 10 billion credit bounty on her head?”

“11 billion actually, if you round it up.”

“...yes, thank you.” Sunday’s smile strains painfully against his face. He’s never wanted to throttle someone so badly, not even that despicable Aventurine of the IPC. But knowing just who sat in front of him, it’s a battle he can’t win.

He takes in a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself.

He almost wants to laugh. It’s ironic, isn’t it? The esteemed Oak Family Head, fallen from grace and saved from eternal damnation by one of the most infamous criminals the galaxies have ever known. If his younger self could see him now, he’d surely kill himself from the shock.

Sunday blinks tiredly. Maybe he should just kill himself now, and get it over with.

“Hey.” A pen tilts his chin up. The Stellaron Hunter offers him a reassuring grin that does little to ease his nerves. “Chin up. Think of it this way. If we wanted to hurt you, we would’ve. But we fixed you up instead. My services don’t exactly come for cheap, you know.”

“Then what do you people want?” Sunday chuckles depressingly, almost self-deprecatingly. “My position as Oak Family Head is no more, and the Harmony has surely turned their back on me. Unless you wish to trade me into the IPC for a bounty, I’m afraid I have very little use to you.”

Logically, he knows he needs to keep his mouth shut - his life lies in the hands of these criminals, and the last thing he needs is them thinking that he’s useless. But he can hardly bring himself to care anymore.

“Look, I don’t question Elio.” His wings twitch at the name of the infamous slave to destiny. “But he’s never been wrong before. He brought you here for a reason.”

Sunday looks up. Given the expression on your face, he must look pathetic. You reach over and pat him lightly on the head like a parent would their child.

“Like I said, don’t question too many things right now.” You stand up, quickly checking your wristwatch. “Elio will be here in a few minutes. As for me, I have something to attend to, so I’ll see you around.”

Sunday’s hands freeze. A few minutes?

That’s not nearly enough time.

His hands find his cuffs, and he readjusts them, over and over and over again until the metal link gleams just right and there are no wrinkles left in sight. He pats down his suit hurriedly, straightening out his lapel and brushing off his shoulders again and again before they’re finally weightless. His gloves are pulled tight against his fingers. The medallion that hangs off of his shoulder, he positions it once more to be sure. Then, just when he thinks he’s done, his gloved hand brushes against a lock of grey hair, and he remembers-

He’d just woken up. He must look disheveled, messy, dirty and unsightly and nothing like the Sunday of the Oak Family that he was supposed to be, and if he wasn’t what they expected, they’d surely kill him, or dispose of him, or-

He looks up. You’re seconds away from the door.

“Wait!” he calls out hurriedly, inwardly cursing himself for his haste, but he needs to make sure he is perfect. His voice evens as you turn. “My apologies. Do you happen to have a mirror around here? And… a hairbrush, if you don’t mind.”

You blink. Sunday’s heart pounds as he awaits your answer. Subconsciously, his fingers begin to fidget and dig into his palms. Was that too much of a request? Had he overstepped?

“So that’s why he told me to bring them,” you comment offhandedly, as if remembering a past conversation that had made no sense until this moment. “Yeah, just a sec.”

You open one of the drawers by the desk and rummage around a bit before taking out a handheld mirror and a hairbrush. Your shoes click against the floor tiles as you makee your way back to Sunday’s side.

Sunday has to fight demons just to stop himself from snatching the hairbrush from you. Small tremors shake his hand as he takes it from your palm. He moves to take the mirror.

“Let me do it,” you interrupt, sitting down and holding the mirror up so that he can see himself. Sunday stills, before he smiles in appreciation.

“Thank you,” he whispers, although he’s not sure why. 

Seeing his reflection, admittedly, he doesn’t look as bad as he’d originally thought. But still, his hair is messier than normal, and that’s all it takes for the voices to scream imperfect and unsightly.

His eyes flick to you. You only watch him with mild interest at best, but it feels as though your eyes are piercing into his soul, scrutinizing and judging every bit of him. 

He digs his fingers into his palms, the mild pain grounding him. Then, he begins to brush.

The silence is deafening, but Sunday forces himself to ignore it. Meticulous and steadily controlled strokes and brushes gradually bring his hair back to the casual, yet elegant and put-together style it was usually in, and Sunday feels a weight lift from his chest.

“Did they give you any medication back on Penacony?” you ask suddenly. Sunday freezes.

“I’m… sorry?”

You tilt your head. “I’m just asking as a precaution, because sometimes we get Hunters who need these medications and can’t access them due to well...”

Ah. Sunday relaxes. Right, of course. You were just doing your job. You didn’t actually think there was anything wrong with him, that he was ailed.

“No, they did not,” he says pleasantly, finishing the final (excessive) touches to his hair. “Although I do appreciate the concern, there would be no need even if I did require such assistance. I have no intention of joining you all.”

You squint a bit at his answer, but don’t press. “You’re pretty prideful, aren’t you.”

“As is everyone.” Sunday sets down the hairbrush, pleased at last with his appearance. “Believe me, no matter how far you think me to have fallen, I will never stoop as low as to accept charity from the likes of you.”

A snort tests his patience, his eye twitching at the sound. You lower the mirror with a smile he can only describe as both infuriating and unnerving, as if he were a naive, overconfident child.

“That’s a lot of talk for someone who’s just become the Family’s number one enemy,” you snicker. “Where else are you turning to? The IPC? Pfft, good luck with that.”

“Where else but Penacony?” The corners of his eyes crinkle as he leers bitterly at you. “I am but a sinner, and as such I must face my punishment, whether it be eternal imprisonment or death.”

“That’s it?” You scoff. “You’re just going to accept your fate, just like that?”

Sunday closes his eyes. “Better to face a rightful punishment than to live as a criminal.”

He anticipates a scathing reply, but your conversation is interrupted by a creak of the door.

Meow.

A cat? His eyes snap open. 

Standing in the now-opened doorway was a lithe black cat with yellow-green eyes that glow like fireflies. It licks its paw innocently, rubbing its head before it settles its gaze on you and Sunday.

A chill goes down Sunday’s back as they lock eyes. Under that cat’s eyes, he feels raw and exposed, as if someone had ripped him and all of his secrets wide open for the world to see. Instinctively his wings flare in a feeble attempt to defend himself.

“Well, that’s my cue.” The wheels on your chair roll as you stand up once more. “I’ll see you around, princess.”

“Do not call me that,” Sunday snarls. You laugh lightly.

“Don’t like it? I think it fits you pretty well.” You reach down, scratching the cat’s chin before respectfully moving out of the way. “Oh, and one more thing before I go.”

You turn around to give him one more lookover.

“Do try and stretch those wings more. Keep them cramped up like that any longer, and you’ll never fly again.”

With that, you shut the door, leaving Sunday alone with the cat and the eerie echo of your words.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[moonstruckme]

I absolutely adore your roommate James series! It’s so tender and soft and sweet and it feels like the literary version of a hug 😭 you nail it every time!

Thank you sweetness!!! I am giving you a hug actually <3

cw: threatening with a weapon

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Things have come to a point where James needs to admit to himself that he likes you as more than a friend. 

The problem is, he likes you as a friend so much. He’s no stranger to the dilemma of risking a friendship for something more, but he’s not a teenager anymore and you’re not Lily. James knows he wouldn’t be able to play it off as a silly, harmless crush with you. And, really, he wouldn’t want to. You bully your way into his thoughts all day long. Your sweet voice, the way you talk with your eyes, tiny moments like the way your lips parted when he’d first slipped and called you sweetheart. You’d schooled your expression into teasing exasperation almost immediately, but there had been a softening in your eyes that made him impatient to do it again.

If he told you all that, James would probably come home to find all your things gone. You can barely handle it when he tells you you look nice. He doesn’t want to lose you. 

So, against his wishes and all his instincts and proclivities, he’s going to let it lie. James wants to be your friend more than he wants to discover what else you could be together. He can love you this way, too. 

That doesn’t do anything to deaden the thrill that goes up his spine when he picks up his phone and hears your voice on the other end, though.

“James?” 

“Y/n?” He checks the number on his phone. It’s not in his contacts. 

“Yeah. Um, are you—are you busy?” There’s a wobble in your voice. James’ heart drops straight down to his stomach. 

“I’m not,” he says, stopping short of the field where his teammates are gathering and turning back towards his car. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah.” It’s clearly not, but he was silly to ask. Of course you’d say that. “I just, if you’re free, I was wondering if you could maybe pick me up?” 

That wobble hasn’t gone from your voice. James’ heart trembles in solidarity. 

He gets back in his car, starting the ignition with perhaps a tad too much force. “I’m on my way,” he promises. “Where are you, what’s wrong?” 

“I’m outside the Waterstones on Manor Road, you know where that is?” 

“I know the one, yeah.” 

Your voice sounds held together by fragments. “I’m sorry, it’s far.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, then regrets it instantly. This is hardly the time for a good-natured scolding. He turns out of the parking lot. “I’m coming. What’s wrong?” 

“I’ve—I’ve had my phone and wallet taken. I don’t have my key to the apartment.” 

“Taken?” James’ head buzzes like a TV turned to the wrong channel. “By who?” 

“A man, I—I don’t know. Um, I’m borrowing this woman’s phone, and I think I should give it back.”

His lungs feel small, panic choking him. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Be safe, yeah?”  

“Yeah.” A breath crackles through the phone. James wonders if you’d been choking, too. “Thanks, James.” 

“Just be safe.” 

The sun has dipped below most buildings by the time he gets there. It makes it difficult to see you, but James’ eyes work like a compass, finding your shadowy form curled up on the curb. The bookstore looks to be closed or close to it, no patrons walking by you as you sit with your knees bent close to your chest. 

You see his car pull up, and he’s halfway to you before you’re even standing. Your arms come around James as readily as his around you, your face squished willingly into the fabric of his workout shirt. Your breath seems to stutter out of you. 

“It’s okay,” he says, grasping the back of your head. He’s not sure if he’s talking to you, or himself, or either of you. He’ll tell whoever will listen. “You’re okay, sweetheart, it’s alright.” 

“Sorry,” you squeak. “I don’t know why I’m crying now.” 

“You’re okay,” James says again, just for good measure. His lips find the top of your head. “What happened?” 

“I think I was mugged,” you laugh. It comes out warped, completely unlike the sound he’s spent months chasing after. “This guy showed me a knife, and told me to hand him my bag and phone, and I just gave them to him. It was right out in the open.” Another jagged, heart-aching laugh. “I feel so stupid.” 

“Why would someone else mugging you make you stupid?” James lets you go enough to give you a little space, but his arms stay around you, his hand rubbing firmly over your shoulder blade. “Did you call the police?” 

You gnaw on your lower lip. It already looks bitten to shreds. “No.” 

He nods, taking a breath. James isn’t typically the responsible one in his relationships. He’s not good at knowing what to do. It makes him think of being thirteen and seeing Sirius all bruised and broken, feeling his heart break and knowing that he had to fix things despite the both of them being too young to have any clue how to deal with something so huge. James is an adult now, but he still feels too young. 

“Do you want to go home?” he asks you. 

You bite down hard on your lip, but your eyes gloss anyway. “Yeah,” you say, voice breaking. 

James pulls you close and gives in to treating you the way he wants to, kisses pressed into your hairline and tender words pouring from his lips. He gets you into the car and takes you home. 

Throughout the rest of the evening, you’re at once more reticent and more talkative than you’ve ever been. You’ll stare into the distance for minutes at a time, but then you’ll speak up, seemingly randomly, about some small fact you’d forgotten or a thought that’s been pushing at your consciousness. You tell him that you don’t think you could describe the man well enough to the police. That you have no concept of how long you stood around before you thought to ask for someone else’s phone. That you sort of wish you’d refused to hand yours over, because really what was the worst that could have happened?

“Well, he could have stabbed you,” James says.

“Yeah, but how often is that really fatal? And he might not have. It’s embarrassing, all he had to do was show me the knife and I turned everything over. I probably would have been fine.” 

“I don’t think you’re automatically fine if you’re not dead, angel. You were still at risk of being stabbed.” 

“I’d still have my phone and everything, though.” 

“I think you’re worth a bit more than that stuff.” 

“Mm, agree to disagree.” 

James does things he doesn’t particularly want to do—phoning your bank, filing a police report online, texting your landlord about a new set of keys—and several things he really does want to do. Once you’ve changed into your cozy clothes he practically swaddles you in blankets, putting a hot chocolate in your hand and that show you’re always watching on the TV. He makes you dinner, teases you until he gets a real smile, puts your mum’s number in his phone and texts her to let her know you’re okay. James touches you amply, lips on your cheek and hand smoothing the hair from your face and one knee pressing into your leg through the blanket. 

And you let him. 

[1d1195]

Sunflower

~7.2 k words

From Me: Requested by my 🍓-anon. Sorry it took some time. I took a couple liberties (mostly because I love food a lot so I couldn't make it taste bad hahahaha) I hope you like it! I'm going to post your ask with the request tomorrow. 💕 Right now it's just the one part (but I feel like some may want a second).

Warnings: fluffy and a bit of jealous Harry. Nothing too angsty though this time around.

Summary: Harry has a high paying job that allows him to eat at some of the finest restaurants in the city. But the little bistro that has good drinks and a great staff is by far his favorite. Or maybe it's the waitress he can't get out of his head that has him coming back so often.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Sarah looked skeptical.

“I swear,” Mitch smiled. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but the drinks are good and so are the apps.”

Harry watched the banter of his two best friends. “How did you even come across this place?” Sarah asked as Mitch held the door open for her to enter. Harry took hold of it so Mitch could follow after her. There were no more than fifteen tables and a bar. It was fairly dark but in a good way.

If anything, it contrasted sharply with the sunflowers at nearly every turn. There was a mural painted on the back wall of bright flowers against the dark paint. Each table had a bright blue glass vase with a single sunflower stem in the middle of the table. The aprons the staff wore were covered in a floral print of a garden of sunflowers. It was stunning. Bright and beautiful.

“Aptly named,” Sarah smirked.

Harry chuckled. “S’nice,” he agreed.

Harry and Sarah continued their observation while Mitch waited patiently at the host stand. “I came here for lunch with a client,” he said answering Sarah’s earlier question. “Their friend owns it.” After another moment they were brought to a table. There weren’t many people there; given they were there at two in the afternoon on a Saturday it wasn’t so surprising. The bar was nearly filled, several patrons seemed to be regulars as they got a say in what sporting event got to be on the TV. Only two other tables were filled and there was no need for a bustling staff. “I came for dinner, and it was full capacity with a line. But when you know the owner, you get a table early. They have a little outdoor patio around back too but it’s seasonal.”

The three of them looked over the menu in silence. Until Sarah broached the subject of getting one of every type of appetizer and then there was their daily debate of which appetizer was best and maybe they would have to do one of each since they wouldn’t be able to decide which was best.

Their debate was interrupted by the waitress coming over to introduce herself.

“Hi everyone, welcome to The Sunflower Bistro, have you been here before?”

“I have,” Mitch smiled. “We’re arguing over an appetizer, what do you think?”

Without pausing, she didn’t help the debate. “Oh, one of each,” she giggled.

“See! I told you!” Sarah lightly smacked Mitch’s arm.

This only made her smile grow. “Can I take your drink order while you narrow your choices?” She asked.

There was an exchange of words. Words Harry didn’t hear. But then Sarah and Mitch were looking at him expectantly.

“Harry?” Mitch asked.

“A drink, hello?” Sarah laughed.

Quickly he shook his head. “Sorry,” he cleared his throat, his eyes glancing down at the menu but unable to read anything. “Just water for now,” he murmured unable to make eye contact with her.

“I’ll be right back,” her voice was sweet and pretty.

“Are you alright?” Mitch asked.

“She’s beautiful,” Harry mumbled. “I can’t even look at her.”

When he saw her approach, he was immediately tongue-tied. Overwhelmed. It was like seeing the ocean for the first time. Or a garden. Or a painting in a museum. There wasn’t a way to pinpoint what made her so beautiful. It seemed to be everything. The way her hair was clipped behind her head and just a few soft pieces framed her cheeks. Her bright smile. Her sparkling eyes. The way the sunflower apron cinched her hips. All of it. Or none of it. She was beautiful. Overwhelmingly so. Harry swore he forgot how to breathe. He had been in love before—at least he thought he had been. This wasn’t comparable.

So he couldn’t even look at her.

Sarah giggled. Enjoying the way her friend’s face turned pink at the admission. Mitch smiled. “Aw Harry’s got a crush!”

“Shut up, she’ll hear!” Harry snapped and put the menu in front of his face, hiding from the rest of the restaurant.

“Oh my God,” Sarah laughed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I could not look at her,” Harry mumbled putting the menu over his face.

“She’s very pretty,” Sarah agreed and reached out to squeeze Harry’s arm. “But you have to look at her.”

Harry’s heart was racing. Like he was sprinting on the treadmill or in the middle of a phone call with an important client. Harry had been nervous before. The exams in college, his first interview, on-boarding new clients. This wasn’t comparable either. “I really don’t think I can, Sarah.”

“Did we make any decisions?” Her kind voice returned, and Harry scanned the menu eagerly, his cheeks still flushed, he was sure.

“Honestly, no,” Sarah laughed. “We’ve been admiring how beautiful this place is.”

And you, Harry thought.

“Oh, I know, it’s practically dreamy working here. The sunflowers are the perfect flower. It’s so sunny and fun,” she explained.

“Have you worked here long?” Mitch asked.

“Yes, since it opened. My friend owns it. It’s like a family kind of thing around here. It’s so nice,” she looked so happy to talk about this place. Passionate. “Niall’s really nice about me going to school and getting me the shifts I want.”

“Oh, that’s so nice! What are you studying?”

Harry wanted to involve himself in the conversation, but he was so speechless by her kind sweet presence, it was impossible to think of a word to say to her. He was grateful his two friends were there to carry the flow of dialogue because it was apparent Harry was going to be useless in that regard.

“Harry also went for a degree in finance,” Sarah segued to look at Harry. He missed her response. That was evident. He would ask when she went back to place their orders what was said specifically.

He looked at her, fully. He hoped he wasn’t staring at her to the point that she wanted to hide and run away from him because he was being a creep. After a pause that was a brief longer than he would have liked, he cleared his throat. “I graduated a couple years ago. I work for a large accounting firm,” it was a miracle he didn’t stutter from how nervous he was. He was holding the menu still to keep his hands from shaking.

Her smile brightened. She looked genuinely happy for Harry. He imagined she was anything but disingenuous, but still. For a complete stranger, who could barely utter two sentences to her, she bubbled with excitement at this knowledge of getting to know him. “Oh! That’s amazing! Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m graduating this spring,” she explained. “I’m super nervous about the whole internship process...I feel like it’s super difficult and overwhelming.”

“Harry’s still in touch with the person he did his internship with,” Mitch volunteered.

He wasn’t. At least...not to the degree that Mitch was suggesting. “Well, I’ll have to give you my card,” she winked at him. “I’ll give you a few more minutes to decide on appetizers.”

Harry felt some kind of crushing relief to watch her walk away. Which was ridiculous because the moment she was gone, he realized how badly and stupidly he wanted her to come back. He could barely even talk to her, but her presence made him happy. Deliriously so.

Sighing, he turned to Sarah. “Am I ruining m’first impression?” He asked.

Sarah smiled and shook her head. “Not at all.”

Harry really hoped not. “I’ve never felt like this,” he mumbled and decided bare minimum, he needed to pick something to eat. At least he could repeat it in his head a few times before she returned and not embarrass himself while ordering.

Hopefully.

*

Like the perfect waitress, she came back to check their food was good and their drinks were refilled. Mitch was right. The drinks were good and so was the food. “Can I get you guys anything else?” She asked sweetly. Fortunately, Harry managed to order his own food without Sarah or Mitch’s help. He didn’t stammer and didn’t make a fool of himself in front of her.

“No thank you,” Sarah turned to Harry. “Did you want to give her your card as well?” She asked. Harry felt like he was having an allergic reaction. His skin felt hot, and he thought that his throat was closing. Part of him wanted to kick Sarah beneath the table but a small piece of him was grateful for her direction and encouragement because it was evident he couldn’t do this on his own. He was prepared to give her his whole wallet. Credit cards, cash, anything in there was hers.

“Er...right,” Harry fumbled, his hands shaking as he opened it.

Harry tried to keep his breath under control as their fingers brushed when she took the card from him. His heart was working triple the beating time it was supposed to from the soft touch that couldn’t have lasted more than a second. “Oh goodness, my card doesn’t look anything like this,” she frowned. “Please don’t judge how ridiculous it is, I thought it was cute and memorable,” she pulled a few cards from her apron pocket.

It was cute and memorable. He didn’t want her to change a thing. The top corners were webbed with a little sunflower vine. Otherwise, the card was white with a half-print, half-cursive font covered in blue. “Well, aren’t you a Jane-of-all-trades,” Sarah laughed. She had listed tutoring, babysitting, painting, lawn-mowing, cleaning, etc.

“Gotta pay the bills somehow,” she admitted. She sighed. “I’m grateful to Niall as I’ve steered away from most of those odd jobs that my dad taught me,” she laughed again. “Waitressing, despite everything, is a lot more stable while I’m still in school. I made that when I was fresh out of high school. It needs a serious update.”

“Harry, where did you make your business cards?” Mitch asked.

If this were a regular day and Harry wasn’t so tongue-tied and nervous, he probably would have thanked his friends for their effort to support him in being his wingman and wingwoman. But he was so out of sorts, so unbelievably captivated and captured by her, he couldn’t fully use his brain. It was embarrassing. If she had even an inkling that he liked her, she probably wasn’t going to reciprocate merely because he was so embarrassing to listen to. There was no way someone so pretty would like him and his inability to speak.

What would their dates even look like? Her voice was so nice, like a song he hadn’t heard since he was young. The kind of song that made him believe in love even though he was young. Her laugh was probably adorable. Her smile was adorable so it could only be so. But she would want conversation. Right? Was she just to chat about her day and her feelings and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything but stare at her? Admiring how pretty she was?

Actually, that sounded like a pretty decent plan for Harry. But she deserved more.

So instead, he cleared his throat once more. “S’online. I’d have t’look up the website. But yours is memorable,” he assured her. “I like the colors.”

“Thanks, Harry,” God he loved the sound of her voice saying his name. Her adorable smile was so sweet he felt his heart melting. “It definitely needs an update now that I’m about to graduate though, please let me know if you find the website.”

Harry wanted to tell her that he would give her whatever she wanted for as long as they lived and then in their next life too. But instead, he simply nodded and tucked her card safely into his wallet.

*

“This is insane,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled the door out of the way. It had been two days since he left The Sunflower Bistro and the pretty, sunflowery girl he was completely enamored with after hardly speaking to her. While her phone number weighed heavily in his wallet, he couldn’t bring himself to call her. Worried he wouldn’t be able to get a word out when she answered.

How he thought he was going to talk to her without Sarah and Mitch as a buffer was beyond him, but he couldn’t walk past this place either knowing he could see her and try to make up for his tragic first impression. “Hey Harry!” She said walking by the hostess stand. “Nice to see you again! Niall, can you put him in my section?” She asked.

Harry felt the words die in his throat, so he was glad he didn’t have to speak to Niall.

“A regular, hmm? Took you long enough,” Niall called after her.

“Had to hold out for a good one!” She shouted back and disappeared behind a door.

Harry wondered if all those times he had been in love before were real. His chest was fluttering with some emotion he hadn’t felt before then. It was a longing that filled every ounce of his lungs, every cell of his blood. Every inch of him. Like some kind of homing sound was coming from her and echoing in his body. He felt so unbelievably whole when he looked at her. Like he was seen.

Niall brought Harry to a table and smiled at him as he left.

“Hey! I was hoping you’d text or call, I figured it was my crummy card that deterred you. Or maybe it was unreadable,” that laugh of hers was a melody Harry wasn’t going to forget for the rest of his life. She leaned on the opposite side of the booth looking at him. Her hair was pulled back the same way as it was the other night. Silky and pretty. Harry wanted to slide his fingers through it more than anything. Her smile that had haunted all his thoughts at work and made him grin at his computer screen like a lunatic was also still just as earth shatteringly beautiful as last time. Made him tongue-tied just as he was last time.

“Um...yeah, no...,” he managed to smile at her joke. “M’jus’...” he shook his head trying to think of a reasonable excuse that would make any sense as to why he hadn’t called the pretty girl yet.

“Hey, no worries; I’m sure work keeps you busy!” Her voice was cheerful. “I’m glad to see you, is all. Are your friends coming?” His heart nearly stopped that she was glad to see him.

“Not this time,” he hoped that wouldn’t disappoint her because then he would call Mitch and Sarah and order them over. He still had a right mind to do so. Seemed to be the only way he would be able to talk to her more than a few mumbled words.

“Alright, well I’ll let you mull over the menu while I grab you a water. Unless you want something else?”

Drinking alcohol around her might make him fully mute. Or make him spill every thought he had. Without his friends as a buffer, both seemed heinous. “Water’s good.”

“I’ll be right back,” she flitted off like she was floating. Harry believed she was an angel so that made sense.

“C’mon Harry,” he mumbled to himself looking over the menu deciding what he would try today. He was fortunate the food was so good, and it would give him an excuse to come back more times than probably necessary so he could see her again.

“Here you are!” She practically chirped, setting his glass of water in front of him. She leaned against the opposite side of the booth again. “Anything look good?” She asked.

Her.

“Um...m’a fan of street corn,” he scanned the menu again.

“That’s probably my favorite app on there—or the pretzel bites with queso. It shouldn’t work but it does. The veggie soup here is criminally underrated but it’s not really soup season so no fault there. I’ll give you a couple more minutes,” she sauntered off again with her kind smile.

Harry wondered what her favorite song was and why she got into finance. He wanted to ask her what her least favorite subject was in school and what kind of music she listened to while she was cooking. Knowing her favorite candle and what kind of shampoo she used seemed like critical information he needed to know. He wanted to know how many siblings she had and whether or not she would want two kids or three.

All of which was ridiculous.

And further proof Harry had never been in love with anyone before he saw her.

*

Harry visited on Mondays and Fridays. It was a good way to start his week and a great way to end his week. Seeing her bookended by the workweek was nothing short of perfect.

He did this for three weeks. Niall merely smiled, as if he knew why he was there. Harry could feel his cheeks turn pink each time the staff gave him a knowing smile. It was obvious he was there to see her. To be placed in her section. “Hey Harry!” She chirped when he sat at his regular table.

Mitch and Sarah joined him twice more since the day they brought him. He was less tongue-tied but nearly just as shy. They gave him an immense amount of shit for being so smitten. But Sarah thought it was adorable. “You could just ask her out.”

“S’creepy,” he grumbled. “I doubt a waitress wants t’be hit on by their customer.”

“Right, coming twice a week just to see her isn’t creepy,” Mitch eyed him suspiciously as he sipped his drink.

Harry sighed in frustration and rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye. “I jus’—”

“Hey guys,” she nearly cooed so sweetly. Her cheeks turned pink. “I’m running a little behind today. I’m really sorry. This has been the longest double in the world,” her smile was still adorable. But she did look tired. Poor thing. “We’re down a server. And a line cook,” the exhaustion she felt was palpable.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Sarah cooed. “Harry, scoot over, let her sit,” she ordered.

Harry did immediately. Simultaneously terrified and excited to be so close to her. “Oh, it’s alright. I just—”

“Seriously, darling,” Mitch smiled. “Sit,” he encouraged.

She did.

The warmth of her body rolled off her and wafted over Harry in waves. It was like a gentle hug. His heart was rapidly beating, as it always did but somehow even faster now that she was so close to him. “Thank you, my feet are killing me,” she sighed. “I need new shoes, but my car just ate up a big chunk of my paycheck,” she frowned. “When it rains it pours right?”

Harry was trying to figure out the best course of action to help her on every front. He already imagined her tip was going to be exorbitant and he hoped she wouldn’t be upset by that—because he truly wanted to help her. “Have y’eaten yet?” He asked softly.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “No, I have been running around like crazy. Totally missed my chance at lunch.”

“S’not good, love,” Harry frowned. He wanted to call her Miss Sunflower or something similar, but he had one neuron still keeping him sane and decided ‘love’ was more neutral than not.

She nodded in agreement. “I know, I shouldn’t even be sitting. I’m sorry to lay all that on you guys. You’re just the first nice group I’ve had all day. It’s like a break in itself—not that I won’t do what you need and—”

“Oh please,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “We can just fill this table for you if that will make your life easier. Don’t worry about us,” she assured her.

The relief on her face was so sweet. Harry struggled to not wrap her in a hug beside him. “Thank you guys. It’s so nice to see you. I’ve never had my own regulars before,” her smile was so cute Harry wanted to kiss every inch of her face. His skin felt warm sitting so close to her. Snaking his arm around her waist would be so easy, so effortless. “I’ll get you a round of drinks?” She asked as she stood from her seat beside Harry. “Anything to start with today?”

“Pretzel bites,” Harry blurted quickly. “Please.”

He hoped he could convince her to sit and have a few when they came to the table. “My favorite,” she grinned knowingly.

*

When Harry sat in her section, she knew it was going to be a good day. His sweet smile, his easy-going nature, and just his kind presence made her shift immensely better. “He’s here again,” Niall sang as he headed to the kitchen where she was putting together a to-go order for one of her tables.

Her cheeks warmed under Niall’s sing-song tone. “If your food wasn’t so good he wouldn’t be here.”

“Darling, he’s not here for the food,” Niall sounded the slightest bit exasperated. He had repeated himself of the same notion since the second time Harry showed up to be seated in her section. “If he was truly here for the food, would he have left you a massive tip like that to get new shoes?”

The implication was there, and maybe she was having a little more trouble ignoring it after getting way more money from him and his friends than she had ever gotten while waitressing. Her achy feet felt so much better with new shoes too. So, part of her struggled to ignore the fact that Harry was maybe, possibly, there because she was.

Harry never made her feel uncomfortable. In fact, she felt nothing but comfort by seeing him. He was quiet, sweet, and very easy to look at. It took considerable strength for her to not stand at his table forthe entire time he was seated in her section. Mondays and Fridays were her favorite days of the week. Chatting with him (even if he seemed a little shy at times) was the best part of her shifts. His smile was so charming. She wanted to tell him everything about her reflexively. It was completely disarming. Or maybe it was how green and deep his eyes were that nearly made her voice die in her throat. It took a lot of effort to remember her job was to go get drinks and food for him at regular intervals.

She really thought he wanted no part of her when she didn’t even get a text message from him after procuring one of her lame cards. Certainly, with silly little flowers and dumb odd jobs listed, he wanted to steer clear of her. But instead, he showed up a few days later in her section. It made her stomach twist with nervous butterflies flitting inside. There were a thousand thoughts running through her head as she admired her handsome customer from afar.

“Hi Harry,” she smiled sweetly as she approached his table. “How are you?” She asked politely.

“Good, how are you?” He answered.

“Good,” she responded. “I got new shoes,” she pointed a toe toward him for him to look at the new sneakers she chose. “That was extremely kind and overwhelming. You didn’t need to do that,” she bit the inside of her lip. “I tried to stop you guys from leaving once I realized, but Niall��”

“S’nothing, love,” his cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink at the compliment. Her heart skipped a beat at how adorable he was and looked. “Was a long day for you. I jus’ wanted t’help a little.”

She nodded feeling gratitude overwhelm her—it was thick in her throat. “Seriously, thank you,” she hoped he understood how appreciative she was. “No one’s ever done something like that for me before.”

“S’really no trouble,” he assured her with a smile that melted each of her organs to a puddle. She was lucky she stayed upright.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she turned and bumped into the table that was behind her causing the chair to scrape across the floor.

“Are y’okay, love?” Harry asked suddenly behind her. He gently touched the back of her arm creating a plethora of fireworks on her skin and in her heart. She shook her head and blushed nervously.

“I’m good. Clumsy me. I’ll get you your drink,” she nearly sprinted toward the bar so as not to embarrass herself further.

*

She was chatting with Harry, leaning against the booth. It was easy. Harry wasn’t a man of many words, but he was a great listener and when he did talk, everything he said was so kind and genuine. It was like talking to an old friend. Someone who just knew what she was thinking without her having to say much. There was this familiarity that was so warm it wrapped around her like a blanket. It made her feel so comfortable in his presence.

She never wanted to stop talking to him. Which was probably why she didn’t. Poor Harry listened to her chat his ear off for hours during the time he came to visit over the couple months of the semester. His quiet, “what’s that like?” Or, “do you enjoy this class?” And, “do you have a recommendation?” just kept her talking and talking.

It was hard for her to fathom Harry was there for her. Harry was graduated, had a real job, and made a ton of money it seemed if he was willing to tip a poor waitress an obscene amount of money for new sneakers. His clothes were nice, and his hair was perfectly styled. He always looked like he was ready for a business call.

His friends were extremely nice and friendly. They were also put together in a way that she never dreamed she could be so it was hard to imagine a situation in which Harry might possibly, kind of, have a crush on her the way she had one on him.

She was mid conversation with Harry. The fall semester had end and she was going to pick up more shifts somehow but was definitely going to catch up on sleep as well. She was praying that Harry would put her out of her pining misery and tell her he had a girlfriend one of these days. “You have to try this new dish! It has the brussels sprouts you like and—”

She was swept directly off the floor mid-sentence and was wrapped in a hug. It was familiar in a way that was different than the familiarity of Harry. Because she was used to this kind of hug. “Hey beautiful,” he cooed in her ear.

She smiled excitedly. “Hi, Jake! I thought you weren’t starting till this weekend!”

“I’m not, but I was nearby and thought I could use a dose of pretty,” he winked and headed toward the kitchen without another word.

She blushed and shook her head. “Sorry,” she murmured and turned to look at Harry again and finish the sentence she had started. “Anyway, the brussels spr—”

Harry had come to the restaurant in a lot of moods over the last few months. Tired, frustrated, happy, stressed, excited...she was pretty good at reading his expression and deciding what he needed or wanted to make his day better. This expression was unreadable. His jaw was tensed creating a sharp angle at his jawline she was sure it could have cut glass. His eyes were blank but watching her intensely. All of his muscles appeared taut—his posture ramrod straight. It almost looked uncomfortable. “Are you okay?” She asked softly.

Harry blinked, shook his head quickly, and cleared his throat. “Uh...yeah. Sorry,” he reached for his glass of water and took a large gulp. “Y’were saying something ‘bout brussels sprouts,” he reminded her.

She bit the inside of her lip feeling a shift in the air around them. Something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Oh, right...just...I think you’ll like the special.”

He nodded. Still completely unreadable. “I’ll try it, thank you.”

“I’ll go...put that in,” she murmured and headed toward the kitchen.

The kitchen was still greeting Jake when she entered. Everyone was listening to him recount his semester abroad. “Whoa, did you see a ghost?” Niall asked, doing a double take when she entered.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No, it’s nothing,” she punched her code into the computer and tapped the meal for Harry.

“Did Harry tell you he has a girlfriend?” Niall pressed.

“No,” she muttered, her cheeks burning red. She grabbed a plate off the shelf for the other table she was waiting on and made sure it had all the extra sides and things. She grabbed the second dish and placed it on her arm.

“Who’s Harry?” Jake asked.

“The love of her life,” Niall told him.

“Shut up, Niall.”

He chuckled. “Oh? Were you going to tell me about him?”

“I’m a bit busy right now.”

“You couldn’t text me?” Jake asked. Jake had been her best friend on the job since Niall opened the sunflowery place. They were a great dynamic duo. But Jake was into dating a lot of different women and that was totally fine and his prerogative. She didn’t judge him at all for being young and doing what he wanted. But she wanted no part of his love life. So they remained friends and it was truly better that way. He would bail her out if a customer was being rude or coming on too strong. She helped him with his math homework and made sure he remembered to drink something other than protein shakes and alcohol on the weekend.

“There’s nothing to write home about,” she mumbled, lying through her teeth and feeling devastated that something in the air shifted between them in a matter of seconds.

Niall snorted in disbelief. She glared at him. Jake smiled impishly while she gathered the final fixings for the table. “Where is he?” He asked as she pushed on the door.

“Jake,” she choked nearly losing the plate in her left hand.

“Niall, do you know him?” He looked expectantly at him. He smirked, opening his mouth to give him the details.

“Uh—”

“Niall!” She snapped. Niall closed his mouth immediately and shrugged at Jake.

She sighed with relief and pushed through to the restaurant floor. “Table thirty-four!” he shouted, muffled by the closed door. She glanced back to see him hovering over the computer.

It took every ounce of self-control to hold onto the dishes in her arms. She wanted to scream. She hurried to her table to deliver the food, prayed they wouldn’t ask for anything additionally, and then she nearly took out another waiter while running for Harry’s table on the other side of the restaurant.

Jake was letting go of Harry’s hand as she approached, and she shoved Jake out of the way. “I don’t know what he said but it’s not true.”

Harry smirked, a good sign of his normal smile and demeanor. “Y’not friends?” He questioned.

She punched Jake in the arm who barely registered the motion other than lightly rubbing his arm without breaking eye contact with Harry. “Not anymore,” she grumbled.

“She’s my work wife,” Jake said wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Can’t get her to commit to being my actual wife.”

“Don’t want any diseases,” she muttered. The blank, cold stare in Harry’s eyes returned and she felt so warm she tried to push against Jake but was unsuccessful. “Harry is also in finance,” she explained. “He offered to help me make a new business card—”

“Thank God,” Jake interrupted.

“—and he might know someone for an internship.”

Harry’s answer was gentle even though the cold stare didn’t waver. “Don’t think y’need t’change the business card all that much, love. S’sweet.”

“Childish and unprofessional,” she said pointedly.

“Agreed,” Jake squeezed her to his side. “Thanks for keeping her company while I was gone,” he said. Harry wasn’t a man of many words. But his facial expressions made up for it. He smiled politely, nodded, and glanced at his phone ringing.

“I have t’take this,” his voice was tight, apologetic.

“Of course, let’s go,” she yanked on Jake and headed toward the kitchen again.

“Not sure why you like him, he’s pretty cold,” Jake taunted as they returned to the kitchen.

“Cold?” Niall asked. “Harry makes her feel all warm and fuzzy,” he teased. She wrinkled her nose and definitely felt warm at the insinuation.

“He’s... not himself today,” she admitted. “I don’t know why,” she frowned and turned to Niall. “It’s weird.”

“Darling, you can’t be this brilliant and that stupid at the same time,” Niall pinched the bridge of his nose.

Her frowned deepened and she felt resentment for the notion of being stupid. “What are you—”

“He’s jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of Jake,” Niall rolled his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She snorted. “Why?” She blinked.

“Look at me,” Jake smiled proudly and gestured toward himself self-assuredly.

She eyed him briefly up and down. “What? You look like a tool who’s been abroad,” she remarked.

Jake shook his head, unaffected by her insult. “Think Harry might think I’m competition.”

“Why would he think that?”

“I mean, I did call you my wife.”

Niall laughed. “Oh God, poor Harry.”

Her face flamed. “I said we were friends!” She pouted. “Oh my God. Go back abroad,” she shoved him toward the door. “You are the worst.”

“Easy, love,” Jake continued to taunt, this time in Harry’s accent. “I can fix it,” he offered and headed back for Harry’s table quicker than she could catch him. But when they got there, his table was empty. A note scribbled on a napkin in Harry’s writing. Family emergency. Sorry :( Was looking forward to the brussels sprouts. You can have it on me. Next time. He left cash for the food and a tip anyway. Even though he never got his meal.

She pocketed the money and punched Jake in the arm one more time for good measure.

*

“You’re being ridiculous, you know that, right?” Sarah asked. “I know we aren’t best friends with her or anything, but she’s really nice. She wouldn’t lead you on like that.”

Harry knew that. Really, he did. But the emotion he was feeling wasn’t rational. Jake called her his wife and had his arm around her. He hugged her like he loved her. Harry was certain Jake loved her. Even in a way that wasn’t necessarily romantic, but it was...unfair. Unfair that Harry hadn’t told her he liked her. Nervous that he would make her uncomfortable by hitting on her while she was working.

“She wasn’t leading me on at all,” Harry murmured.

“All the more of a reason to not be ridiculous,” Sarah and Mitch had taken turns telling him it was childish to ignore her after all those months of chatting with her and entrenching himself as a regular and then to just not because he was jealous.

“Just because you’re jealous—”

“M’not jealous,” he grumbled.

“Right, because someone who’s not jealous would leave before he got his food because her friend called her his work wife. Someone who’s not jealous would suddenly stop being her regular after months.”

Like clockwork.

Harry was lying on the couch at Sarah and Mitch’s place face down trying to ignore the feeling of his heart breaking. No one said anything for several minutes. Sarah was working on cleaning the kitchen when Harry arrived, and Mitch suggested getting pizza. Harry wasn’t even hungry. Well, he was, but he wanted brussels sprouts.

“I might be jealous,” he admitted.

“Hallelujah,” Sarah sighed. “Talk to her.”

“Don’t y’think she’ll be grossed out that ‘ve basically been...stalking her because I like her?”

“Hello!” Sarah nearly shouted. “She likes you too!”

Harry was flooded with warmth at the idea. “She’s never said anything,” he mumbled.

“You’re her customer,” Mitch rolled his eyes. “As worried you’ve been about flirting with her while she’s working. She’s probably just as worried.”

It couldn’t have been that easy or simple.

Could it?

*

Harry was reading his schedule for the day on his computer. They were regular appointments with clients that he had in on a regular basis. He had just returned from the breakroom after an hour-long meeting and was seeing what was next or if he would have some downtime for paperwork in before his next client. The schedule looked normal. Except for the one meeting blocked off for ten-thirty. “Hey, Kate,” he called to his secretary outside his office. “Do y’know who scheduled—”

But Harry wasn’t paying attention to the time, and it was already ten-twenty-five and she walked into his office.

He dropped the pen he was holding above the calendar. His lips parted as she entered.

“Your ten-thirty is here!” Kate called.

Harry was going to fire her.

It had been two weeks since he had seen her. He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but she looked more beautiful. Or maybe it was because his office was light, mostly the sun coming through the windows and made her practically glow. Like she really was a sunflower. “Hi,” he murmured.

She wasn’t in her typical waitressing uniform. Her hair wasn’t pulled back. Harry didn’t know she could be more beautiful than when she was waitressing, but she was wearing regular clothes, a blue dress that fell to her knees and she seriously took on the beauty of a sunflower, it was astounding. “Hi,” she said.

“Y’can close the door,” he offered. “D’you want something t’drink?” He turned away from her and heard the door click shut. He went to the mini fridge on the back windowsill in the corner of his office holding a few small bottles of water. “Y’can sit,” he gestured to the chair. She did. He placed the bottle in front of her and sat across from her behind his desk. They were both silent for a moment. Harry took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Harry, I have this absurd love for numbers. People have looked at me funny since I was young. It’s like this really complicated puzzle in my head and I just want to solve it. None of the little parts make sense together until they do. The answer is so beautiful when all those pieces click, and the flow of your logic comes down to this one singular answer and it’s just perfect.”

Harry wondered if there had ever been a poem written about numbers. Or if what she said was the very first one. Harry was pretty passionate about his work, and he was glad he made pretty good money. But he didn’t think he could ever chat about numbers the way she did.

“I feel that way when I’m around you. That all this logic just beautifully clicks into place. You make me feel normal for liking numbers. You’re extremely kind and you don’t...” she bit the inside of her lip and looked at her hands in her lap. “I don’t know why I feel this way but you...you stopped coming to eat, I don’t know why, and I don’t know what I did. I want to fix it because I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and I thought we were friends. Then we weren’t. I liked picking out which special of the week you would enjoy. Maybe I’m too young or something to be friends? I can’t help that. Maybe it was because Jake called me child—”

“Don’t,” he shook his head unable to hear the name.

“So it is about him,” she frowned. “I don’t...Harry, it’s not fair to keep me out of the loop about what you’re feeling! I can’t fix whatever I did—”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why did you stop coming to eat?” her voice cracked.

Harry wanted to jump out a window for making her feel insecure and nervous. If she cried he was done for. He sighed exasperated with his own miscommunication. His cheeks felt warm as they always did when he embarrassed himself around her. “Y’not too young,” he looked at her, but it felt like he was looking right through her. Like he could see right into her brain and read every word that was waiting to exit her mouth. “You’re not childish,” he affirmed. “You are...” He shook his head. “You are perfect,” he assured her. “I didn’t want t’ask y’out while y’were working. S’kinda rude. Then Jake called you his wife—”

“I’m gonna kill him,” she whispered.

Harry ignored her comment (even though it made his heart feel the slightest bit better). “—I really like you. I think you’re way too smart for me. Way too kind. And y’work in a place surrounded with beautiful sunflowers and I can’t stop looking at you,” his heart felt heavy, the butterflies in his stomach were trying to escape. He used every ounce of his effort to read her unreadable expression as he watched her process everything he said.

“You think I’m beautiful?” She whispered.

He snorted. Of all the things she could focus on at a moment like that. “Love, y’have t’know you are.”

She shook her head. “I’m always sweaty and working when you see me.”

“Well seems y’had some proper prep time today,” he looked at her with a soft gaze that he hoped didn’t seem too excessive. “Y’look more beautiful.”

Her eyes seemed to melt with relief. “You were jealous?” She asked.

“Course I was,” he nodded easily. Like it made the most sense in the world.

“But... you never said anything.”

“I didn’t want t’make you uncomfortable,” he repeated. “I can’t imagine how many people hit on you while you’re working.”

She frowned. “Naturally not the person I want,” she grumbled cutely. Harry felt lighter. He smiled.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

She shifted awkwardly in her seat but smiled. “I uh...I came here to tell you off.”

He chuckled. “I would deserve that,” he agreed. “I... I have something for you,” he opened the top right drawer to his desk. “Saw it, and...it's not much, but it reminded me of you," his eyes were so gentle it made her heart skip a beat. He held out the little cardboard rectangle. It might not have "been much" but it was everything. A thin gold chain, a sunflower crystal pendant the lightest shade of yellow. "Love?" he asked quietly after a moment of her staring at the most thoughtful gift she had ever received. For another moment they just gazed at one another. Unmoving. Harry was wearing a button down, rolled up to his elbows. He looked at ease, finally. His cheeks flushed. His eyes so green and beautiful. She could barely breathe.

Then finally, Harry spoke again.

"Would you like t'go out with me?"

--

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[mcuamerica]

Cabin by the Lake | Azriel x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Protective Bat Boys

Summary: Azriel is in a meeting in Autumn, while his family is unprotected from malicious visitors... Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, canon level violence, misogyny, threat to child, not proofread

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

The sun was out in full force on the summer day, beating down on you and Callan, your babe. You decided instead of spending the day sweltering in the cabin, you would gather your things and bring Callan to the small lake. Not too far from your cabin, you could still see the roof from where you sat on the sandy beach. Cal sat up, watching as small fish raced around his fingers.

You sent the image down the bond to your mate, who wasn't with you because of some Court business that needed tending to. Since you couldn't find someone to watch Callan, you decided to stay back. After all, you weren't a trained warrior and didn't do very well as a courtier. You much preferred being a healer for the Court... and watching your handsome mate protect you. And now, all you wanted to be was a mother. You never got a response from Azriel, deeming that he had closed his end for the meeting.

So you read your book, legs spread out on a towel from the cabin. You kept one eye on Cal as you read, enjoying the breeze that swept through the forest. As you reached for one of the many fruits you brought along, you heard a few twigs snapping in the distance. You didn't think much of it, since there were plenty of friendly animals in the forest just outside of Velaris.

When you heard Cal babble, his wings fluttering behind his back, you glanced up. You smiled as he crawled his way over to you, reaching out to be held. You picked him up, smiling when he reached to tug on the small moon necklace that hung from your neck. You whispered to him, silently scolding him as he tugged on it. It was Azriel's first gift to you when the bond snapped, a promise that as long as the moon still lit up at night, he would be there for you.

You heard more twigs snap, this time closer. As you turned your head, you noticed three winged males stalking towards the trees. Your heart beat kicked up as you rose to your feet, praying they didn't see or hear you. No one was out in these woods normally, which is exactly why Azriel chose this spot to build the cabin for your family. So you would be out of harms way when he was gone.

You didn't recognize the males as they walked through the tree line. You hid behind a tree, slightly bouncing Cal to keep him entertained but quiet.

"Come on out, sweetheart... We know you're here." One of the males taunted, his voice deep and brutal. You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to remember something, anything that Azriel and your family had taught you about defending yourself. But with Cal in your arms, there was nothing you could do.

"We want to show the Shadowsinger what messing with our females gets him... See how he likes it when his female isn't under his control anymore." Another male said.

You breathed deeply, tugging on the bond like you haven't before, praying to the Mother that Azriel would feel it. You even lashed out your mind to Feyre and Rhys, hoping they would hear something.

All of the sudden, there was a male two trees away from you. Damn. He spotted you. "I found her boys... and she has a little one with her too. Look at those wings, so breakable."

You held back a whimper, slowly backing from the tree and running straight into one of the males. He was almost a head taller than you, and his wings towered behind him. Cal started to fuss, sensing that his mother was nervous.

"Maybe we can ruin his heir for him too... Since he's made it so easy for our females to take them and run from us." One of them said, the one that spoke first.

The male that stood behind you grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Nothing to say, sweetheart?" He asked, his breath too close to your neck.

"I-I don't know who you're talking about." You stuttered, hoping you were convincing.

He tsked. "Don't lie.. we've seen you on visits to Ironcrest. We know the Shadowsinger lives in these woods with his... healer wife. No big strong man to protect you know, huh?"

Then you heard a thud on the ground ahead of you. You and the man both looked towards the sound... and beheld the High Lord of the Night Court, seething.

"Take your hands off her." He growled, using what you knew to be his High Lord voice.

You were trembling as the man kept his grip on you, now feeling a blade against your side.

"I would chose your steps carefully, Rhysand. One wrong move and I might just let this knife slip right through this pretty little waist." He said, his voice right in your voice.

You felt the tears run down your cheeks. Why had you never learned to protect yourself? Why did you always have to decline it. If you knew anything... you wouldn't need your family to come in to save you. You wouldn't be fearing for the life of your babe right now.

"I'm doing you a courtesy of giving you a chose. Hands. Off. Now." He said. You heard another thud beside you, and saw Cassian standing there. He made quick work of incapacitating the other two males. You felt slightly better, but not completely. Where was your mate?

"I don't think you understand my reason for being here." He said. "You see-"

You felt a warm splatter of liquid hit the back of your head and side of your face and neck. You let out a scream, finally stepping out of the males grasp. You soon realized it was blood streaming down your hair now, and your mate was the one who slit that males throat.

You breathing quickened as you held onto Cal tightly, who was now reaching for his Uncle Rhys as him and Cassian approached. Once Azriel was in front of you, you let Rhys take Cal and collapsed into Azriel's arms. "I-I couldn't do anything. I-I'm so sorry. They could have hurt Cal a-and-"

Azriel pulled away, cupping your cheeks. "Hey, hey... Don't blame yourself. You are okay. Cal is okay. Breath. It's okay." He said, stroking your cheek as you calmed your breathing. The tears dried up in your eyes, now feeling the calming net of safety that your mate provided. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to protect you." He said, wiping some of the blood off of your cheek.

"Next time, you're going to come with us. Or you'll stay in the House of Wind. I won't leave you here again until it's properly warded." He said and glanced over to see Cal giggling in Rhys's arms at some gesture Cassian made. "I have to keep my promise, don't I?" He asked.

You gave him a small, gentle smile as you heard the giggles fall from Cal's lips. "You always keep your promise." You said, taking a final deep breath.

"And I will always protect you. And our family." Azriel said, leaning down to kiss your head. "Now let's get you cleaned up. I think I want to spend the day at the lake with you." He said, winking at you.

You nudged him and shook your head as the two of you made your way over to your son. "Too soon." You said, though a small fit of laughter fell from your lips.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed!

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[xo2dee]

ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ʟᴀᴍʙᴇɴᴛ

⛧ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sukuna x (Fem)Reader

⛧ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: true form!sukuna, pregnant!reader, heian era customs, pregnancy, mentions of cannibalism, sukuna being an asshole (what do you expect)

⛧ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3767

⛧ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Carrying the King's of Curses child, you knew wouldn't be easy, but you were more than happy to have a baby of your own. Even if said baby was growing rapidly while being the source of your bad back and changing appetite.

⛧ᴀ/ɴ: sukuna fluff is hard to come by in my opinion and so sorry if he's ooc but i wanted him like this. also, this for lemon and ava, two of my favorite sukuna babes 🤍

⛧twitter - ao3

Wrist flicking out, you fanned yourself, eyes heavy with the sleep you had been fighting as you pursed your lips and eyed the blooming trees of the garden. Spring was rounding itself off, the scorching weather approaching you knew in weeks as you could only prepare yourself to be practically bedridden due to your ‘condition’. You’d only arrived a year and a half prior, and you quickly realized you had not seen much of the palace still after taking a husband, be it due to the duties of a noble person who were bound to spend most their days inside and entertaining themselves another way.

You held back a snort, fanning yourself harder as you stopped and eyed a nearby bush full of bright fruit and as red as your husband’s eyes.

…Husband.

In your youth, you supposed the daydreams of living in nobility were only achievable through luck. Or perhaps told through a fortune told from the Omikuji you required as a teen, taking the fortunes of ‘blessing’ and ‘marriage’ with a grain of salt until you had grown into an adult and ran off to be elsewhere from the clutches on an arranged marriage. Into serving nobility, to becoming nobility wasn’t necessarily on your list, your marriage by all means was an unlawful one. Forged from blood and flesh when you remembered instead of sipping sake in front of the Gods, your husband-to-be curled his fingers around your wrist and bit into your palm to instead partake in you.

You had been enamored by him since you first met him, eyes memorizing every inch of his unusual face before taking his thumb into your mouth when he smeared his own blood across your lips. It had sealed your fate that moment, your love and lust for him bursting forth like a raging inferno then and during the commutation of your marriage. Something that had finally taken into effect and was weighing down on you heavily.

One you supposed was the reason for the wariness when it came to serving you.

Cutting your eyes to the side and slightly behind you, you held the sigh in, your attendant keeping her eyes on the ground (perhaps watching your feet when you walked) as to shield her pensive expression from you, however you were not the unobservant type and focused on the knot between her eyebrows. Mai, your first and most loyal attendant, was never one to shy away from pestering over you, speaking her mind and filling in for advice whenever you needed it, so to see her quiet and on edge grated your nerves more than you liked to admit. She had been your first friend when you arrived, and you absolutely despised when she reverted back into the meek and submissive attendant she played whenever your husband was around, and it was enough to make you frown and worry if you had done something wrong.

You sighed loudly, snapping your fan shut and turning to the woman slowly, “You look like you have something you want to say.”

Mai’s eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, long and curled as her doe-like eyes rose to meet yours. She seemed to mull over your statement, before bowing her head in submission and speaking quietly, “Permission to speak?”

A smile graced your lips, softening your expression and nodding to her in return, “You always have permission with me, Mai.”

And just like that, Mai’s entire attitude flipped at your nonchalance. Straightening herself up, she dropped the service act and eyed you with suspicion and wary, mixed in with tired disappointment at having to cater to your more… reckless wants. “It’s just that Lord Sukuna has told us to monitor you and keep you in the palace when he’s away. And you’ve disobeyed that… again.”

Ah, there it was. With a scowl threatening to mar your face, you turned your back to her and began to pick through the strawberries in the bush you had been eyeing before, “I’m in the gardens. That’s still the palace… Is it not?”

“Yes, but –”

“This one looks ripe…” you cut her off, not necessarily wanting to hear her prattle on about how your husband made it horrifyingly clearly that you were to say inside at all times when he wasn’t at the palace. You’d heard it all before so many times it had been practically engraved into your skull with ink, and you were fed up with sitting on your knees inside away from the outside world and learning calligraphy constantly. Lips downturned you plopped a good-looking strawberry into your mouth, humming at the juice and tangy sweetness that exploded upon your taste buds, before your stomach gave an abrupt twist and a foot kicked out against your ribs. You winced and rubbed at your belly while the fruit suddenly tasted foul, and you swallowed with a grimace, “I hate how hungry I get nowadays, especially when I seem to crave more than just human food.”

Mai had been watching you like a hawk, leaning forward to intercept you whenever you reached for another fruit, “Oh, let me get it for you –”

“Please, Mai, I can pick my own strawberries. You worry too much.” Batting her hand away, you plucked it, hiding it in your sleeve and turning to her with an exhausted smile as she took your fan from you.

“Yes, My Lady. But please consider my words, we can keep you entertained in the palace.” You watched the lines on her face carefully, creased at her eyes and wrinkles forming at her forehead, and you could only wonder if your pregnancy had been the cause of her newly formed stress (partly, you knew you could’ve blamed it on your husband, his aggressive and aloof behavior all in one keeping most of the servants on the tips of their toes, but you quickly squashed it whenever you remembered she tended to you entirely).

Of course, you knew she was only doing her job, however her job was also giving you a severe case of claustrophobia being cooped up inside all the time. It wasn’t like you were planning to ever leave the palace’s premises either, just small strolls in the garden or spending time by the pond to cool off. Honestly, you had reason to believe she and your husband were just worrywarts (yet for the latter, you would keep that strictly to yourself).

You nodded your head in the direction you wanted to go, signaling Mai to walk beside you as you sighed and lowered your voice, “The midwife told me exercise will help…” you caressed your palm over your protruding stomach, “The baby is already huge and only seems to keep growing. A little sun helps me too, Mai… I can’t stay cooped up forever.”

Mai took a few moments to respond, her shoulders relaxing and her voice regaining familiarity, “I’m only worried since the last time you fainted out here.”

Lips thinning outwards, you remembered it all too well. Not necessarily fainting, though you blamed it on the many layers you wore around the palace and how warm it was getting outside, but you remembered the aftermath and how your husband had all but slaughtered a few lowly servants in retaliation as to letting you out (and because of his temper). You had thought the gore would’ve had you running, but you’d grown so used to him murdering someone whenever they slightly pissed him off you could only sigh at the thoughts. Of course, you knew Mai’s worry also came out of fear, however you weren’t about to let him do anything to her. “I know, but I feel fine… Just swollen feet and my back aching every time I move.”

And the baby kicking at your body whenever something displeased him.

Mai sighed your name exasperatingly, dropping the formalities, “Please, given your condition I think it’s best if you return to the palace.”

Irritation began to seep in your muscles, your baby moving in response to your emotions as your feet marched faster to walk. If you wanted to walk around the garden, you were allowed to, you would deal with your husband later if he found out. “What my husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him… Just another stroll and we can go back in, I’m getting tired anyways.”

“My Lady – oh!”

Mai abruptly skidded to a halt, body bending quickly into a low enough bow for the towering sight of your husband appearing before you both. You spared her a quick glance, flickering back to your husband, Lord Sukuna, when you realized he wasn’t the least bit concerned over her. He kept all four eyes on you, a challenging glare in them and you nearly wanted to laugh at the sight of two of his arms crossed and the other two planted on his hips. He looked every part of a disappointed husband – a father in the making, and you could already feel the talking your ear was going to get. Ah well, you could always feign falling asleep on him, that seemed to always make him softer.

Bending slightly into your own bow, he spoke, addressing Mai with a singular command, “Leave,” and you only returned back to your own height whenever you peeked that she was gone. You held back the groan at the pull your spine gave, wincing slightly at the shine of the sun before his large form eclipsed it as he finally moved close to you with no one in sight. The familiarity of his warmth and scent eased some of your irritability, wondering why he was back to early and ecstatic that he came to look for you once he couldn’t find you.

You smiled up at him, rolling the strawberry around your fingers before gesturing with your head to the path you had been walking, “Walk with me?”

Sukuna was ever-so unwavering in his staring, watching you practically dawdle in your place with the world’s most unamused expression, “Weren’t you told to stay inside?”

You repressed a shudder at his rough voice as your skin prickled, another sigh leaving while your shoulders slumped; caught. “I might remember you telling me that.” He seemed to not be in the mood for your sweettalking.

A loud exhale made your smile turn sheepish. “You piss me off.”

You knew that was coming, pulling out your hand from the sleeve to produce the strawberry from before, letting his eyes follow the way you rolled it into your palm, “But you’re here now… Nothing could really happen now since I have you.”

Sukuna’s eyebrow furrowed, eyes narrowing inward before he scowled at you enough to let his upper lip slightly curve over his teeth, “Changing the subject won’t help you. Are you gonna walk back, or do I have to carry your ass and –"

In a bold move you silenced him, pressing the strawberry to his lips with two fingers and slightly pushing it forward in hopes he would eat it. His eyes couldn’t narrow or glare any further, shooting from you to the fruit, and holding them there for a few moments and you wanted to giggle because it nearly looked like he pouting. Your husband never really ate human food, perhaps to humor you before he would spit it out and complain about the horrid taste it gave him, however there were a few times his interest would peak and want a bite of whatever you had in your hand – especially when said food seemed to satisfy you so much. You supposed it was his curiosity to understand you better, having a human in such close quarters and as a wife was perhaps as jarring as it was to have him as your husband.

Toying with him, you said, “It gave me bad taste earlier… Want to try it?”

Sukuna’s lips twitched behind the fruit, a clear sign he’d indulge you that time and when you went to move your hand away from him, one of his hand snatched your wrist with a small squeeze. An unspoken word for you to leave your fingers on the fruit and indulge him. And you did so with coquettish blink, pressing the strawberry harder against his lips until they gave way and his teeth were biting into it with the juice from inside sliding down your fingers as he slowly and sensually ate the strawberry from your fingertips. It didn’t help that he kept his eyes on your own the whole time, your cheeks burning as you never were able to get used to your husband’s forward assertion on sensuality.

Your breath caught and eyes widened when his tongue slid over the length of your fingers before slipping in his mouth and sucking on them until they were free of any residue stickiness. You couldn’t help the rapid beat of your heart, lips parting as his thumb tapped in rhythm to your pulse point before he let go of your fingers with a loud ‘plop!’ and a satisfied hum rumbling out of him as you could only gaze dumbfounded at the saliva coating your fingers. After a few moments you cleared your throat and swallowed, eyeing him warily as you knew his stomach probably wouldn’t last long and he’d be hacking it up with loud complaining.

And on cue, you watched fascinated as the mouth on his stomach frowned.

Oh, here it comes. It never lasted long in his system.

You sighed as he spat it out, licking his lips and scowling at the ground, “You’re right, tastes like shit.”

“Would you like me to say something to the servants?” you asked, mentally cheering with a soft smile on your face when he fell into step with you to walk along the gardens. It was never hard to get what you wanted out of him.

“It’s not poor gardening skills, it’s you.” You opened your mouth, ready to backtalk at the insult, yet he silenced you with a hand raised before one of his fingers traced along your cheek, “Weren’t you waddling in and practically whining for some of my food?”

How could you forget, a week ago you’d been lured out of your bed chamber by the most mouthwatering smell and your baby kicking incessantly once your stomach growled. You had stumbled upon Sukuna and Uruame, the latter making Sukuna’s dinner and the dinner something you never were to partake in since his appetite did not quell your hunger. However, when you found yourself salivating with your stomach rumbling and your baby kicking, it was a jarring experience to come to realize you were indulging in cannibalism and liked it. Liked it so much your child never rolled in a fit that night and Sukuna had been extra attentive to you afterwards with his praising.

An answer was on your tongue, though you chose to neglect saying anything when your taste buds twitched at the thought of that dinner and instead enjoyed your walk in peace. Your husband only snorted, a slight laugh leaving him at your pout before he returned his limbs to himself and rolled his gaze forwards on the path you’d been on. Times with him were normally relaxing as he was actually rather lazy when he had nothing to do, his affections ranging from just enjoying your presence in silence to twirling your hair around his finger whenever you were close enough. You never minded, glad to spend time with him though it was equally as nice whenever he seemed get even clingier once finding out you were pregnant.

Even his soft, lingering touches moments ago set your heart ablaze, and you wondered if he felt the same whenever you ran your fingers through his hair whenever he felt like resting his head in your lap.

Minutes into your relaxing walk you felt it, an agonizing cramp pulsing in your back and the soles of your feet screaming in protest at being mobile for too long. Of course, you get some time to do something with him and your body halts that and screams at you to stop. You didn’t want to say anything, not wanting to bother him nor ruin the peaceful moment you were so grateful to have. Although the pain in your body had other plans, cramping upwards and throbbing whenever you tried to take another step so much you immediately had to double over with one hand resting on your stomach.

You stopped, the other hand moving to hold your aching back, and you were vaguely surprised he stopped at the same time. A wince and awkward bouts of silence later, you groaned and straightened back up, “I’m sorry, I think it gets worse every day.”

Sukuna remained silent and still, before a rumbling from his chest prickled the hair on the nape of your neck. “Hm, almost like you should’ve listened to me.” He was back in that disappointed husband stance, and you knew if you were to look into his face you’d see the smug grin at your misfortune. Gritting your teeth you didn’t give him the satisfaction, watching glumly as he sighed rather loudly and moved away from your side to continue walking in the direction of this palace.

You reaped what you sowed you supposed, having to walk back alone after being told not to be out of the palace when he wasn’t there. And your body complaints for moving about too much agreed, a quiet moan of frustration leaving you as you closed your eyes and counted to ten to calm your nerves, reopening them when the pain muted itself into a dull ache for the time. However, you completely clammed up at the sight of your husband bent down in front of you, the black of his haori draped over his shoulders shielding your view of his sculpted back and his face turned forward giving you no indication of what he was doing.

Yet, he did seem like he said something, though you were too befuddled to even understand what he had said.  

“What –”

“Are you deaf?” he interrupted, turning his head slightly and motioning with his head from you to climb onto him, “I said get on, before I change my mind.”

He wanted you… to ride… on his back? Never once did he ever engage in something like that with you (besides carrying you in his arms, but that had been the night of your wedding and he’d practically tossed you on your beds afterwards), though you weren’t about to pass by the chance for him to carry you. Though you weren’t too sure how to climb on his back and hold on so heavily pregnant, Sukuna didn’t have four arms for nothing you supposed.

Not wanting him to change his mind and keep him waiting, you clambered onto him to best you could dressed in several layers with your legs kicking free to slip underneath the lower set of his arms. You held back a squeal when your baby kicked at all the movements, arms flying forward to nearly constrict Sukuna’s airway off as he in return grunted and stood to his full height while beginning to move forward in a slow pace. You were grateful he was taking it slow, still trying to get comfortable and trying not to think about how bad it would hurt to fall off his back from his enormous height…

“Stop fucking squirming…” he grunted again, readjusting you with his arms as your body reclined higher up on his back and he continued walking, “Acting like I’ve never touched you before.”

“It’s not that. He – “ you cut yourself off, you hadn’t necessarily told him that you believed your baby was a boy, and you didn’t want to hear any of his teasing, “the baby kicks and squirms whenever I move too much.” Or whenever he hears your voice, you groused, further proving your point when he kicked at you again whenever Sukuna spoke once more. You wondered if he could feel the kick on his back.

“Damn.” A pause of silence and Sukuna was jostling you on his back, “How much does that prick weigh? Or is that all you?”

Your hand itched to slap the back of his neck, though you held yourself together and only offered him a scoff while making yourself comfortable, “He takes after his father.”

“And he wiggles like a worm, just like his mother.”

You had half a mind to say something about him referring to your child as a boy, your cheeks hot when you rested your chin atop his shoulder and eyes growing lidded with sleep while he inadvertently rocked you with his steps. You bit the inside of your cheek in a girlish thought that your husband was walking slower on purpose, rolling your ankles to stop you from kicking your feet at the idea he wanted to spend more time with you alone. Then again, he was doing all of it for you when he could’ve just left you alone, or not come out to find you at all.

Maybe some days he missed you as much as you missed him.

In a bold declaration, you pushed yourself forward until your nose was skimming Sukuna’s cheek, a chaste kissed you placed there seconds later whenever he didn’t say or do anything to push you away, “Thank you, my Lord.”

Sukuna hummed low in his throat, a deep rumbling that vibrated against your arms and soothed your aching ribs, “Don’t get used to it. I just didn’t want to wait around for your slow ass to waddle back in.” Though he sounded rather harsh, you knew he was just doing roundabout affection in his own way.

Your head lolled against his, the leaves on the trees above swaying you into a warm midday nap the longer you watched them through your eyelashes, “Take me to bed?”

You didn’t necessarily hear his response, though you weren’t dreaming it when his fingers tightened the hold he had on your thighs, the warmth he emitted doing wonders for the pains in your body as he secured you further into his back to ensure you didn’t fall off. You couldn’t help the smile, your cheek smushed into his shoulder as you took one final look at the sunlight path before you both and closed your eyes as exhaustion took its hold over.

With a last conscious thought, you reminded yourself to thank Mai later for allowing you a nice stroll in the garden – especially when you were doing it with your family.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Just Like His Father

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: none, pure fluff, I actually saw this on tiktok and thought it'd be cute to make sth out of it

You were in the kitchen finishing making dinner when your husband returned from a business meeting.

"Hey, love" Lewis greeted you as he entered the kitchen.

"Hey, baby" You smiled as he stood behind you and wrapped his arms around you leaving a kiss on your cheek. "You tired?"

"No, but I am starving." He sighed. "What's for dinner?"

"Curry chicken and rice. It'll be ready in a minute, you can sit at the table"

"Oh, yes, please.." He groaned. "Where's Marlo?"

"He should be in his room doing his homework. The young gentleman didn't have lunch today so he has to eat dinner" You chuckled remembering the talk you had with your son earlier today. Marlo was 5 years old and in preschool. He was the smartest, most lovable, but also unintentionally the funniest kid ever.

"Marlo, daddy's home!" You shouted. "Wash your hands and come sit at the table"

"Why were you laughing when you said he didn't have lunch today?" Lewis asked curiously.

"Oh you just wait till you hear it from him" You giggled taking the dish and walking with it over to the table.

When Marlo washed his hands, he ran into the kitchen extending his arms towards Lewis. "Daddy!" He screamed with joy seeing him.

"Buddy" Lewis softened, picking him up in his arms and hugging him tightly. "I missed you. Did you have a good day at school?" He asked.

"Yup" Marlo nodded.

"Tell daddy what happened at school today" You said trying to refrain from laughing so that Marlo doesn't think you're making fun of him.

"What happened at school?" Lewis was still confused. "Did someone mess with you? Did someone touch you? Y/n?" He was already visibly upset and paternal protective instincts kicked in within seconds.

"No, no-"

"Mom did.." Marlo blurted out and his gaze shifted to you. “Mom messed with me..”

"What do you mean?"

"Marlo, did you eat your lunch at school today?" You asked crossing your arms and leaning your elbows onto the table waiting for his response.

"I didn't actually" He said turning to Lewis.

"And why is that?" Lewis asked.

"Because my girlfriend was sat right across from me and you put a note that said I love you babe" Marlo explained pointing his finger at you.

Lewis paused for a second, blinking a couple of times before bursting into laughter. "Your girlfriend, buddy? You have a girlfriend?"

"I'm not sure if I still have one after today" He sighed.

"Oh, your girlfriend didn't like mom's note?"

"No! She got mad!"

You chuckled again remembering how upset he was about it earlier today when he first told you the story. You felt bad for him, but you couldn't help but laugh at the kid stuff that was concerning him.

"And what did you do after that?" Lewis listened intently as you put food on the plates for both of them.

"Nothing, I explained to her that she's married to my dad and I said that my dad is Lewis Hamilton."

"You hear how beautifully he emphasized that my husband is none other than Lewis Hamilton" You joked as Lewis held his head laughing.

"What? I didn't say anything wrong?" Marlo shrugged his shoulders. Love problems were clearly too much for the young man.

"Baby, no girl will ever love you as much as your mom loves you, remember that." You stood up from your chair and walked over to him placing his small face between your hands and kissing his forehead.

"Well, she doesn't have to know that!" Marlo defended.

"Okay, okay. No more notes in lunch boxes just so that your girlfriend doesn't feel like I'm a threat to her apparently" You playfully rolled your eyes going back to your seat. "Now, please start eating your dinner"

"But I still don't understand, regardless of the note, why didn't you eat your lunch?" Lewis asked him.

"Because I wanted to prove her how much I loved her." He sighed before continuing "Dad once told me how he proves his love for you by eating everything you cook even though sometimes he may not like it, but he eats everything because he loves you. I just did the opposite."

Your and Lewis' hearts melted when you hear him say it. You were so proud of your little boy who was too young to know what love was but he learned it so well from his daddy. you knew that one day he would make some girl the happiest girl in the world, just like his father made you and continues to do so day after day.

After dinner was over, both you and Lewis wanted to get Marlo ready for bed. After you gave him a shower and Lewis helped him brush his teeth, you read him a bedtime story and cuddled him before saying goodnight. You also made pinky promises that there would be no more "embarrassing" notes from mom in the lunchbox, and that Marlo would eat his lunch every day.

After that you and Lewis decided to relax on the couch in front of the TV in each other's arms.

"If one day we have a daughter and she comes to me at the age of 5 and says she has a boyfriend, I swear, I will lose my mind" Lewis said jokingly even though you knew he meant it.

"Yeah, we'll homeschool her so she doesn't have any contact with the boys" You said sarcastically rolling your eyes at him.

"Exactly! That's a great idea actually!" He seemed to love it of course.

"Oh stop it!"

"As you told our son today, so I will tell our daughter, no man in her life will ever love her more than me. That's a fact. I already love her."

"Baby, we don't even have a daughter...yet"

"Then I better get to work, no?" He smirked rolling you over and nuzzling his head into your neck making you giggle.

"Well, you better, Lewis Hamilton."

[propertyofwicked]

PROMINENT - LN

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open for requests (or if u just want a chat!) ✧

warnings - smut! MDNI!! unprotected, praising, sorta soft!dom, light choking, hand/arm/vein kink (honestly idk) - NOT PROOF READ

sorry for the inactivity i have been busy with moving out :( but im back!!

masterlist the playlist

she couldn’t help it; her eyes were drawn to them every time. lando’s arms were mesmerizing, each vein a winding path that her thoughts followed into daydreams she’d never dare voice. it started innocently enough, just a fleeting glance when he’d push his sleeves up, revealing the intricate map on his forearms. but it quickly became an obsession, her mind wandering to places she struggled to pull it back from, especially when he was near.

lando noticed. he noticed the way her breath would catch, how she’d flush and her eyes would glaze over slightly whenever he leaned in close. he’d always had a playful side, and this newfound power he had over her reactions was too tempting to resist.

so, he began to tease her, subtly at first. leaning on the counter beside her, stretching out his arms so the veins popped against his skin, he’d pretend to look for something just out of reach, giving her an eyeful. he loved the way her cheeks would turn pink, and how she’d suddenly find something very interesting to focus on elsewhere.

they were alone in the kitchen, her preparing dinner while he looked for a snack. lando sauntered over, resting his forearms on the island countertop right in front of her. she tried to concentrate on chopping vegetables, but he made it impossible. he leaned in further, his breath warm on her neck, and she felt the familiar heat rush to her face.

“need any help?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

she shook her head, trying to keep her eyes on the cutting board. “no, i’ve got it.”

but lando wasn’t one to give up easily. he shifted closer, so close that she could feel his body heat, his veins standing out prominently against his tanned skin. he reached out to steady her hand, and she nearly dropped the knife.

“careful,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand, his arms bracketing her against the counter, “wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“lando…” she started, swallowing hard, but her voice betrayed her, breathy and unsteady.

“yeah?” he smirked.

she turned to look at him, her resolve crumbling under his gaze. “you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“maybe. i just love seeing you blush,” his replied, grin widening.

her face heated further, but she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.

“you’re impossible.”

“maybe,” he repeated, leaning in to kiss her cheek, right where the blush was brightest. “but you love it.”

he trailed his kisses across her skin, pecking her lips quickly before cascading down her jaw and neck.

“so, why do you like my arms?” he asked her coyly, though not truly expected a response.

“i think they’re pretty,” she replied quickly, “but i also like the way your veins run along them,” she added, a hesitant finger moving to trace a line from the back of his hand leading up his forearm.

the room fell into complete silence, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of slightly accelerated breathing. lando’s gaze ceased to leave hers as his hands moved closer to her, wrapping around her waist tightly - her brain worked hard to decipher what lando was thinking, however it didn’t need to work too hard as his hips pushed up into hers.

her eyes closed, leaning into the touch of his fingers following the path of her arms, along the skin of her neck till his hand held her jaw, his thumb tracing across her parted lips.

“i feel the same way about your lips,” lando announced, dipping his head to press short kisses along her cheek till they met her lips. he kissed her softly, nipping at her lower lip as she deepened the kiss, her hands moving to tug at the soft curls at the base of his head, “- always look so soft. so tempting. ‘love when they’re wrapped around me,” he added, stepping back slightly and taking her face in his hands as though he needed a better look at her.

she loved his attention, feeling lightheaded any time he touched her so delicately. he moved closer to her once more, kissing her with such intensity till she was pushed up against the counter, back arching into his embrace.

“jump,” he told her, holding onto her tightly as she jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist for him to move them both to the bedroom. her eyes dropped, focusing intently on the way his arms flexed as he carried her, the veins running along his arms seemingly standing out more as they moved into the orange sunlight shining through the windows. he loved the effect he hand on her, knowing she would do anything he said filled him with a sense of power.

he placed her on the edge of the bed, peeling the t-shirt from her body before letting her lean back to rest on her arms, her eyes looking up at him. his body moved to hover above hers, propping himself up as his hands travelled down her body, his lips kissing every inch of uncovered skin till he was knelt in front of her, tugging at her shorts momentarily before removing them fully, her underwear in tow.

“you’re so beautiful,” lando murmured against her thigh, trailing kisses along the skin till he reached her heat.

“lan please,” she whimpered, desperate to feel him all over her, tired of waiting. her broken voice went straight to his cock, straining against his trousers as his hands moved to grip the underside of her thigh, pushing them up to grant him full access.

“needy,” he replied, though he ran two fingers through her folds, feeling how her body responded to him.

“but you love it,” she breathed out, laughing lightly at their full circle moment.

“i do,” he conceded, trailing his fingers down until they reached her entrance, pushing in slowly whilst his tongue found its way to her clit. he started off gentle, allowing her to believe he was taking it slow - however he quickly shattered her delusion by gripping at her thigh harder and eating her like a man starved. he alternated from flicking his tongue over her clit and taking her fully into his mouth, sucking at her sensitivity, his fingers setting an unrelentless pace, twisting inside of her, sporadically connecting with the spot that had her back arching from the bed and her hands reaching to clutch at the curls atop his head. lando grunted into her at the feeling, the vibrations sending shockwaves through her body that had her crashing around him, her legs tightening around his head.

“fuck,” she mumbled, sitting back up on her arms to look down at him, though he wasn’t done. her eyes settled on his arms once more as he pulled his fingers from her, and grabbed at her legs, pushing them back up as his tongue made to clean up the mess she had made. lando crawled back up her body, his form above her was almost intimidating, his pupils darkened with lust as her hands reached out to trace the veins on his arms once more.

his head dropped, kissing and nipping lightly at her neck as she reached to tug at the hem of his shirt, pulling it quickly from his body before he rejoined his lips to her skin.

“such a good girl,” he told her, looking down on her as he stood in front of her. her face was red, and her chest still heaved - though he didn’t have long to look before she was pushing herself up fully, hands reaching out to toy with the zip of his trousers. though she didn’t undo them as he expected - no, she began to palm his bulge through the material, looking at him with a coy smile as she feigned innocence.

“don’t tease,” he warned her, taking her hands in his and directing her fingers to his zip, but she continued to grip his clothed cock. his hands took hers again, pulling them away from him and holding them above her head as he continued to free himself with one hand, “- what did i just say?”

“don’t tease,” she answered him, still smiling sweetly.

“and yet you continued to tease,” he prodded, using the grip on her wrists to push her back to lie on the bed. lando reached for his belt, stripping it from his belt loops and using it to tie her wrists up above her head.

“too tight?” he asked her, watching for any sign that she was uncomfortable, but instead he was met with a shake of her head to which he pressed a short kiss to her lips.

the rest of his clothes soon joined the pile amassing on the floor, and he was standing over her, cock in his hand as he ran the length through her folds. she whined out, desperate to feel him but he silenced her pleas with a kiss, his lips caressing hers gently as he pushed into her slowly. he was taking time to enjoy the moment, trying to memorise every little detail about her - the way she felt, her lips, the way she responded to him. it was something he would never get tired of, something he never wished to forget.

his thrusts suddenly grew erratic, hips slamming into hers quickly, punishingly.

“taking me so well,” lando grunted, his mouth nipping at the skin of her neck as he felt his own pleasure taking over, "look so pretty like this, making a mess on my cock as i fuck you stupid," he added, his praise and the tightening grip that kept her wrists above her making her brain short circuit. her head rolled to the side, eyes staring intently at the arm that held hers, enamoured by the way his muscles flexed with every jut of his hips.

lando bit back the urge to tell her to look at him - usually, he wanted to see her face when he fucked her, but right now, he was obsessed with the way she looked at him, taking in the sight of him working her to a finish. he felt her tighten around his length with every thrust, squirming beneath him as she got closer and letting out strings of pathetic moans that increased in volume and incoherence. he wanted to drag the moment out for as long as he could, thoroughly enjoying the way she surrendered herself to him completely all because his veins were noticeable.

“you look so hot like this,” she told him, panting.

“me? you should see what you look like baby,” lando replied, though slightly distracted by her hips rolling up into his, matching the pace of his thrusts as though she was begging for relief - begging him to bring her to her climax. she looked completely ruined, mascara running down her face lightly as tears pricked in her eyes, her lip gloss smudged - and he was the reason. it awoke something primal within him, an animalistic desire.

“you wanna cum again? huh?” he asked her, slowing the rocking of his hips, choosing to slam his cock deep into her harshly, before slowly pulling out. over and over again.

“please, don’t stop. please,” she uttered, choking on her words slowly as he bottomed out inside of her again. this time, he didn’t pull out. instead, he rolled his hips into hers, the tip of his cock pushing harshly into her spongy walls, teasing her sensitivity. the pleasure was overwhelming, coursing through them, consuming every fibre of his being as her vision began to darken, only able to see starts spinning through her mind.

the knot in her stomach tightened, threatening to snap at any moment, her chest arching as she attempted to pull her hips back, desperately trying to recreate his thrusting motions. lando soon got the hint, resuming his ruthless pace as he slammed back into her. her hands opened and closed, unable to move but overcome with desire to grip at something, anything.

“f-fuck please. please,” she begged.

“i know, angel, i know,” he comforted, feeling her tighten around his length as the two got closer and closer to relief, “doing so good f’me, baby. such a good girl.”

she moaned out his name, mewling loudly in appreciation of the tenderness in his voice, but she needed more. he knew she needed more, but he couldn’t reach her clit without losing his balance and toppling over. so, his mouth found her neck once more, sweet kisses pressed along her flesh until he reached her nipple, his tongue drawing circles around it before taking it into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucked at the flesh. her head dropped to the side again, staring intently at the arm that kept her caged to the bed.

still, she needed more. he manoeuvred himself lightly, pressing his entire body weight on the arm keeping her trapped beneath him, hips still snapping into hers, the tip of his cock intruding her cervix with every thrust. lando’s free hand trailed her body, settling gently on her neck, his fingers digging into the skin of her airway lightly.

“this ok?” he checked, knowing it was usually fine but still needing her reassurance. she nodded rapidly, her hips raising and rolling into his in a sign of approval. if he tried, he could feel her veins pumping blood beneath his fingers - she truly was the perfect woman for him, knowing how much she trusted him flooded his own veins with a strange sense of relief, love and comfort.

"cum for me, c'mon. i want to feel you making a mess on my cock."

his command was all she needed to be consumed by pleasure, the combination of his dirty words, his punishing thrusts and the pressure he exerted on her throat finally pushing her over the edge. her whole body trembled beneath him, pleasure coursing through her body, her legs flinching with every wave.

lando’s movements became more erratic and yet sloppy as he chased his own high, his grip on her neck softening as his mind went blank with his own desire to finish.

“fuck, angel. so good,” he grunted, flows of incoherent praises tumbling from his lips as he let go of her wrist, pushing back to stand and grabbing her thighs to pull her closer to the edge of the bed. he pulled her hips up from the bed, holding her legs tightly around his waist as he thrusted into her relentlessly, using her body to reach his own high. she looked up at him with half-closed, unfocused eyes, lost in the pleasure that still swam around her brain. he looked even better, eyes fully closed, head thrown back and his mouth parted as he moaned out for her.

she felt overstimulated, mentally and physically. her walls tightened around him trying to offset the slight sting and fatigue - the feeling sent him into overdrive. lando came quickly with a grunt of pleasure, emptying his load inside of her and allowing her sporadic tightening to milk him dry, painting her walls in a pearly white liquid. his balance faltered for a moment as his entire body jutted, dropping her body back on the bed harshly and pulling his length from her. he joined her soon after, laying his entire bodyweight on her as he panted, struggling to catch his breath.

“that was hot,” she told him, freeing her hands from their restraint as she moved to stroke his back, her nails softly tracing along his skin.

“feral. it was feral."

[its-avalon-08]

bruised knuckles (cs55)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, he calls her his ex's name, tears, comfort

(no hate to any ex-girlfriends, i just needed it for the story)

Y/n slammed the apartment door shut, the echo bouncing off the bare walls. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, the Montreal wind whipping through the open window doing little to cool the simmering anger inside her. The fight with Carlos had escalated quickly, their voices rising above the city's evening hum.

It all started with a seemingly harmless Instagram post. A picture of Carlos and his ex-girlfriend, Isabella, posing together at a charity event they'd both attended. The caption, "Great catching up with a dear friend, Isa! #SupportGoodCauses," only fanned the flames of insecurity Y/n had been trying to ignore for weeks.

"It's nothing, Y/n," Carlos had said, frustration lacing his voice. "We've been friends for years. It's just a photo."

"But you never post pictures with me," Y/n had countered, her voice tight. "Not from events, not from anywhere."

"That's different," he'd argued. "This was for charity. Besides, you hate being in photos."

"Maybe I wouldn't hate it if it felt like you wanted to show me off," Y/n shot back, the words stinging on her tongue the moment they left her lips.

Carlos had sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Come on, Y/n. Don't start this again."

The conversation spiraled, old hurts resurfacing. Y/n, a freelance photographer who thrived on capturing moments, felt invisible next to Carlos, a Formula One driver constantly in the spotlight. The insecurity gnawed at her, and Isabella's friendly post felt like a giant red flag waving in her face.

The fight reached its peak when, in a fit of anger, Carlos reached across the table, his hand landing on hers. "Look, Isa –" He stopped short, his eyes widening in realization. The air hung heavy as the weight of his mistake settled on them both.

Y/n's heart shattered into a million pieces. The name, a careless slip, confirmed her worst fears. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She stood up, her voice choked with emotion.

"Don't touch me," she whispered, the words barely audible. Then, louder, her voice cracking, "You called me your ex. That says it all, doesn't it?"

Carlos scrambled to his feet, reaching for her, but she flinched away. Tears streamed down her face as she grabbed a duffel bag from the closet and started shoving clothes inside with trembling hands.

"Y/n, wait," Carlos pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice. "It was a mistake, I swear."

"Don't," she choked out, the single word laced with a lifetime of unspoken hurt. "Just don't."

carlos's pov

Regret, cold and sharp, clawed at my insides. Y/n stood there, the duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her beautiful eyes red-rimmed and filled with a pain that mirrored my own. My stupid mistake, the one unforgivable slip of the tongue, hung heavy in the air.

"Y/n, please," I pleaded, my voice thick with emotion. "Don't do this."

She reached for the car keys on the hook by the door, her movements jerky, mirroring the storm raging inside her. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a desperate plea for her to stay.

"We can talk about this," I stammered, my hands shaking. "It was a mistake, a stupid, careless mistake. I love you, Y/n. You know that, don't you?"

But the words seemed to fall flat, bouncing off the walls of the suddenly cavernous apartment. Her gaze, once filled with warmth and love, now held a coldness that sent shivers down my spine.

"No, I don't know that anymore," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The sound of the engine turning over ripped through the silence. I lunged towards her, desperation fueling my movements. "Wait!" I yelled, but she was already out the door.

I watched, helpless, as she slid behind the wheel, her face etched with a pain that mirrored the agony twisting my gut. The car lurched forward, pulling out of the driveway and disappearing into the Montreal twilight.

I sank to my knees, the floorboards cold against my skin. Tears, hot and unchecked, streamed down my face. My vision blurred as the weight of my actions crashed down on me. I'd driven her away, the woman I loved more than anything, with my own stupidity.

The silence in the apartment pressed in on me, suffocating. The remnants of our fight – a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the counter, a book abandoned mid-sentence on the couch – mocked me with their normalcy. Everything seemed so trivial, so meaningless, without Y/n.

The sound of her car fading into the distance echoed in my ears, a constant reminder of the love I'd so carelessly thrown away. In that moment, I would have given anything to take back my words, to rewind time and hold her close, to assure her, with every fiber of my being, that she was the only woman I loved.

But all I had left was the deafening silence and the crushing weight of regret, a heavy price to pay for a stupid, careless mistake.

Rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the neon lights of Montreal into an unrecognizable smear. Y/n gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, tears blurring her vision further. Each sob that wracked her body felt like a shard of glass tearing through her chest.

Following a route etched into memory, she pulled into the familiar driveway of Charles and Alexandra's house. The house, usually a haven of laughter and warmth, felt like the only place she could go.

Scrambling out of the car, she ran for the porch, the downpour soaking her clothes in seconds. Pounding on the door, she barely registered Charles' surprised face before collapsing into his arms, her sobs erupting anew.

"Y/n? What's wrong?" Charles asked, concern etched on his face. He ushered her inside, the warmth of the house a stark contrast to the storm outside.

Alexandra appeared at the sound of the commotion, her eyes widening at the sight of her friend. "Oh my god, Y/n! What happened?"

Wrapping her arms around Y/n's shaking form, Alexandra led her to the living room couch. "Charles, get some tea, honey. A strong one."

As Charles disappeared into the kitchen, Alexandra held Y/n close, her gentle touch a balm on the fiery pain. Finally, between choked sobs, Y/n managed to get the words out.

"It's Carlos," she hiccuped. "We had a fight. A horrible fight."

Out came the story, a torrent of hurt and betrayal. She spoke of Carlos' insensitivity, his unwillingness to acknowledge her feelings, and finally, the crushing blow – the slip of the tongue that confirmed her worst fears.

"He called me his ex," Y/n choked out, burying her face in her hands. "He doesn't even love me, does he?"

Alexandra squeezed her hand, her voice firm but gentle. "Hey, hey, look at me." Y/n complied, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a tear-streaked face. "Don't jump to conclusions. You know Carlos can be a bit of an idiot sometimes."

Y/n scoffed. "A bit of an idiot? He doesn't even see me, Alexandra. I'm just some inconvenient truth compared to his glamorous life."

Charles returned with a steaming mug, placing it carefully in Y/n's hand. "Here," he said softly. "Drink this. You need to calm down."

Y/n took a sip, the warmth spreading through her chilled body. "It's not fair," she continued, her voice trembling with anger. "He never wants to post pictures with me, never makes me feel like I'm part of his world. And then, on top of it all, he calls me his ex?"

A tense silence filled the room, broken only by the soft crackling of the fireplace. Charles exchanged a worried glance with Alexandra. He knew Carlos and Y/n's relationship had been strained lately, but this was worse than he'd imagined.

"Look, Y/n," Charles began, choosing his words carefully. "We don't know the whole story. Maybe Carlos messed up, but you know he loves you."

Y/n gave a humorless laugh. "Love doesn't act like that, Charles. Love doesn't make you feel invisible."

Alexandra took over, her voice laced with quiet strength. "Y/n, honey, sometimes love needs a good talking to. You can't just run away and expect things to fix themselves."

Y/n considered this, her anger simmering into a dull ache. The thought of facing Carlos again filled her with dread, but the idea of losing him altogether was even more terrifying.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, burying her face back in her hands.

Charles and Alexandra exchanged another look. They knew this was a fight Y/n and Carlos had to face alone. But for now, all they could offer was a warm hearth, a listening ear, and the unwavering support of friends. The storm outside might rage, but inside, a different kind of storm was brewing, one fueled by love, hurt, and the uncertain path that lay ahead.

The first knock on the door was almost gentle, lost in the rumble of thunder that seemed to be having its own tantrum outside. The second one, though, made Alexandra and Y/n jump. It was a pounding, a desperate plea that sent shivers down both their spines.

"Charles!" Alexandra exclaimed, worry flickering in her eyes.

Charles, already on his feet, moved quickly towards the door. He flung it open, bracing himself for another downpour, only to find Carlos standing on the porch, rain clinging to his clothes like a second skin. His face was pale, streaked with rain and something else that looked suspiciously like tears.

Without a word, Carlos pushed past Charles, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Y/n curled up on the couch. He moved towards her like a man possessed, ignoring Charles's bewildered questions.

Y/n flinched as he approached, but Alexandra placed a calming hand on her arm. Carlos stopped a few feet away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He looked like a broken statue, rain dripping from his hair like tears.

Then, with a shaky breath, he sank to his knees before Y/n. His voice, rough and raw, cut through the silence.

"Y/n," he started, his voice barely a whisper. "Please, just listen. I don't even know where to begin. I messed up. I messed up so badly, and I don't deserve you, not after what I did."

He took a shuddering breath, his eyes locking with hers. The raw pain and desperation in them made Y/n's heart clench.

"That name," he continued, his voice cracking. "There's no excuse. It slipped, a stupid, careless mistake. But the truth is, you're all I see, Y/n. You're the light in my world, the calm in the storm. You make me a better person, even on my worst days."

A single tear escaped his eye, tracing a path down his cheek. Y/n's breath hitched. Seeing Carlos, the confident, fearless driver, reduced to such a vulnerable state, chipped away at the wall of anger she'd built around her heart.

"I know I've been a jerk," he continued, his voice thick with emotion. "I haven't shown you how much you mean to me. You deserve to be celebrated, to be shown off to the world. I was scared, Y/n. Scared of losing you, of not being enough. That stupid post, it was a reminder of what I almost lost when you came into my life."

He reached out a hand, his fingers hovering just above hers. "I love you, Y/n. More than words can ever express. You're my best friend, my confidante, the woman I want beside me through every victory and every defeat."

The room hung heavy with unspoken emotions. Y/n watched him, a silent battle raging inside her. Charles and Alexandra stood by, unseen witnesses to the raw vulnerability playing out before them.

Finally, Y/n reached out, her hand trembling slightly. She took his hand in hers, the warmth a stark contrast to the coldness that had enveloped her heart.

"I...I need to hear you say it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Show me, Carlos. Show me that you love me."

Carlos's face lit up with a smile that could rival the sunshine on a perfect day. He squeezed her hand, his voice thick with emotion.

"I'll spend the rest of my life showing you, Y/n. I'll post pictures until you beg me to stop. I'll shout your name from the rooftops if that's what it takes. Just give me another chance, please."

A sob escaped Y/n's lips, this time a sob of relief. Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time they were tears of forgiveness and a love that, despite the storm, still burned brightly.

As they pulled each other into a tight embrace, the storm outside seemed to lose its fury. Thunder rumbled one last time, a distant echo of the tempest that had raged within them. In the warm embrace of love and forgiveness, Y/n and Carlos found their calm, ready to face whatever storms life threw their way, together.

The drive back to their apartment was a quiet one, punctuated only by the rhythmic swish of the wipers and the occasional rumble of thunder that seemed to echo the turmoil within them. Y/n sat close to Carlos, her hand resting on his arm. Her fingers brushed against a tender spot, a small bruise blooming where he'd pounded on Charles' door.

Without a word, she reached out and cradled his hand, her touch soft against his calloused palm. A tear welled up in Carlos's eye, spilling over and tracing a glistening path down his cheek.

"Y/n," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't deserve you."

Y/n squeezed his hand gently. "Don't say that," she said softly. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, and that includes me."

Hesitantly, she brought his hand up to her lips, placing a gentle kiss on the bruised knuckles. The touch sent a jolt through Carlos, a mixture of pain and a surprising sweetness.

"It wasn't about the pictures, Carlos," she began, her voice barely a whisper. "It was about feeling unseen, like I wasn't a part of your world."

Carlos looked at her, his eyes searching hers. "But you are my world, Y/n. You're everything to me."

A small smile played on Y/n's lips. "I know," she said, her voice filled with a newfound understanding. "You just needed to show me."

She reached up and wiped away the tear that stubbornly clung to his cheek. Her touch was a balm, soothing the raw emotions that had been churning inside him.

"We can work on that together," she continued, her voice firm but gentle. "Right now, all that matters is that we're okay."

Carlos took a deep breath, letting out a shaky sigh. "I love you, Y/n," he confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "More than anything in this world."

Y/n's heart swelled with love. "I love you too, Carlos," she whispered, leaning closer.

Their eyes met, a universe of unspoken emotions passing between them. Slowly, Carlos leaned in, bridging the gap between them. The kiss was filled with a quiet intensity, a promise of a new beginning, a love that had weathered the storm and emerged stronger.

As they pulled away, breathless and filled with a newfound closeness, the rain outside began to taper off. The clouds parted, revealing a sliver of moon peeking through. It wasn't a perfect night, but for Y/n and Carlos, it was a new beginning, a chance to rebuild their love, brick by brick, stronger and more beautiful than ever before.

[bunnis-monsters]

Elloo! Congrats on 5K , rooting for a 10k event in the future

Can I request some fluff with bunny reader and werewolf boyfriend after giving birth. Like bunny reader had an extremely hard and painful time while giving birth so werewolf is taking care of her type of fluff. (DEFINITELY NO NSFW PLEASE, I CANNOT IMAGINE THAT)

Your mate helped you waddle to bed, fussing over your refusal to let him carry you.

“You’re still weak, little one. You’re still bleeding.”

He helped you into bed, placing a cool rag on your abdomen and a heating pad under your back.

“You’re just doing so much for me… I don’t wanna… take up too much of your time…”

He blinked in shock, reaching out to grab your chin and turn your gaze towards him. “Hey, don’t talk like that. You just gave birth to my pups, the least I can do is take care of you after such a difficult birth. You’re my mate, and I love you more than anything. I want you to be comfortable and well…”

He cooed, beginning to groom and preen you, softly nipping at your bunny ears and trying to calm you down. You were crying again, your hormones out of whack from the pregnancy and birth.

You had given birth to three healthy pups, but it took everything out of you to do so. Your mate had been terrified for you, seeing all the blood and mess on your soft thighs as he held onto your hand and comforted you through the birthing process.

Now he was acting like an overprotective mother hen, feeding you, bathing you, and holding onto you as if you were his own little pup.

Your mate had always been an amazing lover to you, and now he was just as good of a father. When you breastfed, he stood by, ready to take one pup and hand over the next so they could feed.

He did all of the burping, diaper changes, and dressing himself while you recovered.

He couldn’t help but pamper his sweet little mate, buying you whatever snacks and sweets you wanted while spoiling you with gifts and affection.

“I really appreciate you…” you said softly as he held you in bed, your pups sleeping in the cribs next to you.

“And I appreciate you for bringing such precious little pups into the world…”

———————

SFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @peachesdabunny @misswonderfrojustice @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833

[illyrianbitch]

Lights, Camera, Love!

Pairing: Reader x Rhysand

Summary: Rhysand, Hollywood's hottest heartthrob, has everyone smitten—everyone except you, his co-star. But when rumors of your feud begin to affect the show's ratings, your producers propose a last-ditch solution: a fake romance to salvage your public image and reignite fan interest.

Warnings: cocky Rhysand, just two snippy co-stars, ianthe, co-parent feysand, helion and amren as big hollywood peeps

Word Count: 4.7k

a/n: this is a lil series ive had tucked away with some inspo....lets see if ayll fw it enough hehehe. dedicated to @milswrites and @daycourtofficial bc their love for this pushed me to pick it up again

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was unprofessional, truly. 

You wanted to roll your eyes, to scoff and walk off set. 

But instead, you simply shifted uncomfortably in your seat, adjusting the hem of your dress as Ianthe, your overly enthusiastic interviewer, fluttered around Rhysand like a lovesick butterfly. Her giggles grated on your nerves as she leaned in a little too close, her hand lingering on his arm just a second too long.

Ianthe was known for her probing questions and flirtatious demeanor— it’s what made her such a popular source for exclusive interviews. Not only did she know the right questions to ask, but she knew exactly how to ask them in order to get what she wanted: juicy gossip, something she could feed on. It wasn’t a coincidence that her last name held such a resemblance to the word parasite. She was one. 

You didn’t want to do the interview to begin with. The upcoming release of your newest season meant various events and panels that left you unsettled and anxious. You loved your job— loved your character even more. But being in the public eye alongside Rhysand was hard. Suffocating, really. 

It felt like hours that you sat there with a practiced smile, waiting as she conversed with Rhysand. The studio lights were warm, and the backdrop behind you— a cover of the show's logo— made you feel a bit more comfortable. But still, the unease persisted, and you counted down the seconds until this interview was over and you could return home. 

"So, Rhysand," Ianthe said, her voice silky smooth. "You've become quite the heartthrob lately. How do you handle all the attention from your adoring fans?"

Your first instinct was to laugh. Your second was to roll your eyes. The third was to vomit in your mouth. You somehow resisted the urge to do all of the above, settling for biting back the rising nausea at the shameless flirting. 

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, a charming smile spreading across his face. "It's all part of the job, I suppose. Though, I must say, the fans are incredibly supportive. It's their enthusiasm that keeps us going."

Us. This time it physically burned you to not roll your eyes, even subtly. Your lips curled into a pained smile. Ianthe didn’t seem to notice the forced gesture, her gaze locked onto Rhysand as if you weren’t even in the room. 

You looked down, absently playing with a ring on your index finger. The metal felt cool and familiar, and you smiled faintly at it, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. It seemed to fill your lungs with a steadying breath, one that was enough to gather yourself, to steel your resolve and endure sitting beside someone who sucked up all the oxygen in the room without even trying.

It took a few more minutes before Ianthe was turning to you with an expectant smile— perfect white teeth. Veneers, most likely. The smile was strange up close and you resisted the urge to lean in and expect them further, to search for any signs of hidden pointed teeth, sharpened to resemble that of a predator. 

You blinked, tilting your head and welcoming her attention with a large smile of your own. Certainly not as perfect, but a lot less unnerving, you hoped. 

 “Y/n,” She started, readjusting herself in her seat. “You look beautiful. It’s always nice to see you.”

You gave a small nod in acknowledgement. You’d talked to Ianthe a few times, mostly on red carpets and press events. Never longer than a minute, never past fake pleasantries and a kiss on the cheek—- from her end. 

“Thanks Ianthe,” you said, smile still plastered on your cheeks like glue. “It’s always a pleasure talking with you.”

There was a glint in her eye that told you she didn’t believe a word you said. At least you both had that in common, perhaps you could bond on your shared love of bullshit. 

 “Tell me, what's it like working alongside Rhysand? He seems to have quite the presence on set."

You paused for a moment, considering your response carefully before delivering it with a smile. 

“Rhysand is an experience. Even after years, he still manages to keep me on my toes.”

What your statement really translated to was: Rhysand was a cocky asshole. Everything was about him. All. The. Damn. Time.

"It's truly remarkable how he commands the attention of everyone in the room. It's as if the rest of us simply fade into the background when he's around.” 

Because he’s an attention whore. 

You didn’t say the last thought— as much as your body screamed at you to. 

Rhysand's smile tightened imperceptibly, a flicker of irritation dancing in his eyes before he masked it with practiced ease. "Well, thank you," he replied smoothly,  "I suppose it's just the natural magnetism of a true star."

He delivered his words as a joke, as if you both shared a similar, endearing humor regarding one another. You fought to conceal a satisfied smirk, knowing that your veiled dig had hit its mark. 

Ianthe continued to prattle on, her questions growing increasingly mundane as the minutes ticked by. There was a lull—a brief moment of respite where Ianthe paused to collect her thoughts. 

It was Rhysand who broke the silence, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. "I must admit, I've always admired Y/n’s dedication to her craft," he said, his tone almost earnest. "It's not easy to disappear into a role the way she does."

You bristled at the backhanded compliment, knowing all too well that beneath his seemingly benign words lay a razor-sharp edge. It was a surprise to you that Ianthe didn’t pick up on it, her dull eyes and bright smile still worn on her nauseatingly beautiful face. 

"Well, Rhysand," you replied, forcing a tight smile, "I suppose we all have our strengths. I can’t coast on charisma alone.”

His smirk returned in full force, a wolfish gleam in his eyes. "Ah, but isn't that what makes us such a dynamic duo, sweetheart?" he said, "The perfect balance of substance and style."

You fought to conceal a frustrated sigh, to bite back the snarl you wanted to make at the annoying nickname he’d adopted for you recently. He knew it drove you nuts, knew it made you want to call him something less sweet. 

As much as you wished to continue the conversation, to match his veiled insults with ones of your own— that were sure to be far more clever, you knew that this verbal sparring match would only serve to prolong your agony. Instead, you plastered on a diplomatic smile, nodding in agreement as Ianthe launched into yet another round of inane questions.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It felt like an eternity before you were freed from the clutches of the interview. 

Ianthe stood, flashing you a smile that felt more condescending than friendly. "Thank you both for coming," she said, her eyes lingering on Rhysand. You watched as she scanned him one last time, eyes drinking him in like a fresh glass of wine. 

You forced a polite nod. "Thank you, Ianthe. Always a pleasure."

She gave you a look that made you feel small, but you quickly swallowed it and turned away, heading toward the exit. As much as a nice, warm bath was calling to you, you had lunch plans with Lucien and were itching to be in the presence of someone you actually liked. 

"Well, that was entertaining," Rhysand commented, a smirk playing on his lips as he caught up to you. 

You glanced at him, trying to keep your irritation in check as you quickened your pace, offering a few spare smiles to the employees you passed. "If by entertaining, you mean tacky, then sure."

His smirk faded slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. He raised a brow.  "Tacky? I was just keeping things lively."

"Lively," you repeated with a laugh. You stopped, the movement so abrupt that Rhysand almost bumped into you. You turned to face him with a flat look. “You’re a shameless flirt."

His eyes narrowed at you— a deep blue that you swore at times was almost violet. His head cocked to the side and you shrank deeper into yourself, feeling somewhat at odds and uncomfortable in his burning gaze. The smirk tugged harder at the corner of his lips.

“Well, isn’t that the whole point?”

You scowled, opening your mouth to respond. But before any words could leave your mouth, a familiar voice filled the air. “Rhys!”

A head turn led you to catch Feyre’s eye as she walked towards you, a bright smile on her face. Her eyes lit up as her gaze landed on you and Rhys, one hand holding onto the smaller one of her son. 

You watched as Nyx, quite possibly one of the prettiest kids you'd ever seen, ran up to Rhysand with a joyous laugh, opening his arms up, wide and expecting. In one swift and natural movement, Rhysand scooped him up effortlessly, his earlier annoyance instantly dissipating from his features. 

“Hey, buddy,” Rhysand said, his voice softening as he kissed Nyx’s temple.

Against your better judgment, a smile tugged at your cheeks at how brightly Rhysand’s face lit up. He pulled Feyre into a quick, sweet embrace, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.

If there was one thing you were willing to give Rhysand credit for, it was this.

His breakup with Feyre had been incredibly public. The divorce, the fallout—both of their reputations took a hit when it came out that she had initiated the divorce, later compounded by her being outed on a date with a woman from her past. Yet, despite everything, they both managed it with such grace.

Feyre was incredibly sweet. You never truly understood how Rhysand landed her in the first place, how they had been married for over five years, so deeply in love that they started a family. You thoroughly enjoyed her company, even though it wasn’t as often as you would’ve liked. She was still Rhysand’s family, after all, and you took every chance you could to avoid being around him when it wasn’t necessary. 

But Feyre was a large reason you enjoyed your job. She eased the anxiety that came with joining a cast that was already so close, essentially taking a role that had belonged to her— even though your character was introduced after hers was written off. 

It was clear that despite everything, Rhysand and Feyre had managed to maintain a bond, not just for their sake, but for Nyx’s. The love they still shared, the ease with which they navigated this new chapter of their lives—it was something you respected, even envied a little.

You averted your gaze, fingers running over the cool metal of your ring as you turned to leave, but Feyre called your name, her voice as kind as usual. 

You paused, looking back at her. “Yeah?”

Feyre’s smile was warm. You took her in for a moment, how naturally beautiful she was— how she exuded a certain energy that you could only describe as regal. A smile fit for a queen.  “How was the interview?” 

You shrugged, giving a small smile. “The usual. Ianthe was...”

You pursed your lips as your voice trailed off. There were many ways you could finish off your sentence but you weren’t sure how diplomatic you could be anymore or if Feyre would be bothered by an honest review of your interviewer. 

Feyre leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “A bitch?”

You laughed, catching Rhysand’s glance as he looked over for a moment. His attention quickly returned to Nyx and you turned back to meet Feyre’s beautiful blue eyes. “Exactly.”

Feyre shook her head, a sympathetic look on her face. “She was always so condescending with me, too. It’s because she’s desperate to sleep with that loser.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder, jokingly but lovingly casting a glance back at Rhysand. She clicked her tongue. “Poor delusions.”

Another laugh left your lips and you nodded, suppressing a grin. “Yeah,” you drawled, “She wasn’t very subtle.”

Feyre raised a brow. “I don’t think subtly is in that limited vocabulary of hers.”

Your eyes drifted to the small interview set, where Ianthe was still standing, talking to someone and sparing regular glances over at Rhysand—a predator about to make her move. It was best for you to leave now, you thought, to avoid watching the inevitable hunt. 

“I should get going,” you said, turning back to Feyre. “I have plans. But, it was so nice seeing you.”

Feyre beamed, putting a hand on your arm. You briefly took in the ink that covered her forearm, the delicate, beautiful tattoos that you always wanted to admire further.  “You too,” she said, “Let’s have lunch soon.”

You nodded, a genuine and pleased motion. Your conversation with Feyre was the first one today that you didn’t have to fake any polite mannerisms. “I’d love to.”

Casting one last glance at Rhysand, you watched as Feyre approached him and put a hand out to Nyx. Rhysand smiled down at her, a soft, familiar look that made your chest tighten with an emotion you didn’t care to examine.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was 10:00 am when you were called into the production office, a room nestled in a quiet corner of the studio lot. You were tired, having only slept a few hours the night prior, and you could feel life slowly dripping back into you with each sip of coffee. The area was relatively private, shielded from the prying eyes of paparazzi, so you opted for comfort over glamor, dressed in jeans and a simple hoodie—nice, big, and comfortable.

Helion was usually meticulous about these meetings, ensuring both you and Rhysand were well-prepared and informed ahead of time. This sudden summons felt off. You didn’t know what to expect, and that uncertainty weighed heavily on your mind as you pushed open the door to the conference room.

Rhysand was already in the room when you arrived, effortlessly lounging in a chair with the kind of put-together look that only seemed to accentuate your own disheveled state. It made you hate him even more. You didn’t attempt to hide your scowl. He glanced up as you entered, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Phew, you'd think it was a Sunday and you were hungover," he remarked casually, a small smile playing on his lips. 

You shot him a pointed glare, resisting the urge to snap back and opting to take the open seat next to him, sitting back to take a sip of your coffee. 

Rhysand leaned over into your space, reaching a hand to tug at the strings of your hoodie with a grin on his lips. You swatted his hand away with a deepening scowl. "Cut it out."

He chuckled lightly, settling back into his chair. "So, what do you think this is about?" 

“No idea,” you sighed, crossing your arms defensively. You gave him a pointed glare. “What did you do?”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “And why are we automatically assuming I did something?”

“Well when are you not?” You titled your head. “Doing something, I mean.”

Rhysand caught onto the meaning of your words instantly. He narrowed his eyes at you before something crossed his features. Then, he was leaning in again, a smirk on his face as he scanned your own. “Are you feeling a bit left out? You’re always welcome to join.”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a scoff of disgust as you maneuvered yourself to lean farther away from him. “You’re shameless.”

The door clicked open, and your attention snapped over as Helion entered the room. You began to offer him a smile, but the motion died on your lips as you met his gaze. 

You loved Helion— as an executive producer, and the main man regarding your public relations, you’d formed a great relationship with him. It helped that you were best friends with his son, too. But today his typically buoyant air was clouded, his expression wearing the weight of serious deliberation. It was one you could only compare to that of a disappointed father about to deliver bad news. Beside him, Amren followed like a silent storm cloud. 

Amren, on the other hand, was someone you didn’t have a favorable relationship with. She was Rhysand’s personal agent and she excluded the same energy he did— something that tasted a lot like pretentiousness.  Her sharp gaze swept the room, and you instinctively avoided meeting it.

If Amren was here, and Helion was wearing that stern expression, it could only mean trouble. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, a knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach.

You and Rhysand shared a quick, knowing glance, a similar confusion mirrored on both your faces. You straightened yourself as Rhysand offered a disarmingly charming smile. 

"What's going on?" he asked.

Helion exchanged a glance with Amren before sighing heavily. He leaned forward, slapping a piece of paper onto the table and pushing it toward both of you. 

The first thing that caught your eye was the TMZ logo— something that made your stomach drop instinctively. You bit at the inside of your cheek, your eyes repeatedly running over the headline. You looked up through your lashes to meet Helion’s expecting gaze. 

Rhysand's voice was incredulous as he spoke. "Did you... print these out?" 

You casted a quick glance of disbelief at him. Idiot. He paid no mind. 

Helion ignored the comment, taking a seat across from you as he leaned back, crossing his arms. He gave a nod towards the two copies before you. “Go ahead. Read," he instructed calmly, his expression grave. The tone alone made you shiver from its unfamiliarity. 

You picked up your copy, scanning the bolded headline and the accompanying pictures. 

FAILURE ON SET: HOW AN OVERBEARING CO-STAR FUED IS THREATENING THE VIEWER EXPERIENCE

Ianthe Parcite weighs in on the rumored feud between co-stars Y/N and Rhysand after exclusive interview.

As expected, the large printed image was a glamor shot of Rhysand and one of the interview set. You were nowhere to be found. Your grip on the edges of the paper tightened as you began to read the article.

In an exclusive interview with TMZ, Ianthe Parcite, known for her candid critiques, has taken a stark stance on the alleged feud between Hollywood’s famed co-stars, Y/N L/N and Rhysand Darling. Contrary to initial impressions, Ianthe now reveals that behind the scenes, tensions ran high and professionalism faltered. “I sensed an atmosphere of unease and discontent,” Ianthe remarked, reflecting on her recent encounter with the co-stars. “Y/N appeared dismissive and disengaged during our interview, which is concerning for the show’s dynamics.” Ianthe didn’t hold back in her assessment of Rhysand either, noting his apparent lack of receptiveness to her questions. “Rhysand’s demeanor was noticeably distant, almost unreceptive to any meaningful dialogue,” she disclosed. “It’s unfortunate when personal dynamics overshadow the professionalism required on set.” The revelations have sent shockwaves through the fanbase, with many expressing disappointment over the potential impact on their favorite series. As speculation swirls around the future of the show, fans are left wondering if the rift between Y/N and Rhysand will escalate and if it's worth watching a show doomed for failure. 

You scoffed incredulously, pushing the paper further away from you as if its distance would minimize the anger that simmered underneath your skin. You deeply regretted holding back in the interview— regretted not tearing that pompous bitch into two.

"So she doesn't even include a picture of me and yet I'm the main one she rips into?" 

You found the courage to look around the room, your gaze landing on Helion with pleading eyes. His response was a noncommittal shrug, accompanied by a slight raise of his eyebrows. It was clear he didn't have an easy answer, either.

Running your tongue along your teeth, you shifted your gaze to Rhysand. His jaw clenched as he laid the paper on the table. "It's not even a great photo of me," he remarked dryly, "I'm too pale in it."

Your mouth fell open in exasperation. "Unbelievable," you muttered under your breath.

Rhysand shot you a glare that lingered for a few tense seconds. You matched his gaze evenly before he redirected his attention to Helion and Amren. "This is ridiculous," he asserted, "Did they seriously publish this?

A moment passed. Helion sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Yes. Every tabloid is eating it up.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling every muscle in your body tense with the frustration prickling at your skin. “It wasn't our best interview, sure, but it definitely wasn't that bad," you insisted, tapping a finger down on the offending article.

Amren's gaze flickered toward Rhysand, and you followed it. Rhysand shifted uncomfortably, his expression briefly sheepish before he turned to you with a defensive edge. You narrowed your eyes, tuning to face him properly.

“Did you do something?”

Rhysand rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous.” 

Your mouth fell agape and you let out a deep, angry breath through your nose. “Don’t use that word about me,” you hissed at him.  You pointed emphatically at the paper. "That is ridiculous. And you look like a guilty dog. What did you do?"

"Nothing," he finally muttered, his eyes narrowing in irritation. He shifted in his seat, pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves. 

It was Amren's voice that cut through the tension, her tone cool and calculating. "It's what he didn't do, really," she remarked cryptically, her gaze still lingering on Rhysand.

He shot her a pointed glare and you frowned, your brows furrowing to a tight knit. A faint headache throbbed at your temples. Turning to Helion for clarification, you found him leaning forward, lips pursed in thought. 

"It appears Ianthe was a bit... offended that Rhysand turned down her advances," Helion explained carefully, his words laden with implication.

Your eyes widened in surprise, disbelief coloring your features. "Seriously?" you blurted out, your head twisting to face Rhysand once more, moving with such swiftness that an ache pulled at the muscles of your neck. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Rhysand's eyes widened in response, his expression a mix of offense and confusion. "Excuse me?" he retorted, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "So you have a problem with me when I sleep with people and when I don't?"

Annoyance flared within you. "You flirted with her the entire interview," you accused, your voice raising slightly in pitch. "The one time you decide to take a vow of celibacy and it's with the one name that can tarnish my reputation?”

Rhysand scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Your reputation, of course," he muttered sarcastically. "You're such a hypocrite."

"Your actions reflect on me too, Rhysand," you shot back, "Do you ever think about that?"

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with a pinched expression. "Oh, please," he countered, "If you hadn't been sulking and throwing daggers at me the entire interview, I wouldn't have had to flirt with her to salvage it. You should be thanking me."

Your jaw tightened at his words. "Thanking you? Look what happened—"

Before you could finish your retort, Helion slammed his palm down on the table with a sharp crack. You and Rhysand both jumped at the sudden interruption, turning to face him with wide eyes.

"Enough," Helion declared firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Stop bickering like children."

You and Rhysand exchanged a reluctant glance and with a sigh, you sank back into your seat, folding your arms defensively. 

"It'll blow over in a week, right? No big deal," Rhysand said casually, his tone attempting to downplay the severity of the situation. You raised your eyebrows at the suggestion, but as hopeful as it sounded, part of you knew that this was a bigger deal than you both cared to admit.

Helion regarded him with a critical eye, his lips pressed into a thin line. Feeling an itch at your skin, you unfolded your arms. 

"He’s right," you said hopefully, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, rumors of us not being... the best of friends isn't something new. People know this."

Rhysand offered a nod of agreement. “Exactly. It's just tabloid fodder," he said, his gaze shifting between Amren and Helion with a hint of concern.

Leaning slightly on the table, Amren shook her head slightly, her eyes– a color so light they were almost silver— glowed with intensity as they swept over Rhysand and then fixed on you. The heat of her gaze made you swallow and you found yourself tempted to apologize for things you’d never done— confess for crimes you hadn’t committed. But against your instincts, you held her gaze for another lasting moment. Amren seemed to appreciate the stare and she raised an eyebrow of approval before she spoke. 

“It's more than that now," she stated firmly, her voice cutting through the air like a finely sharpened knife. "This isn't just idle gossip anymore. It's becoming off-putting. A few small rumors are funny at first, but now people don't want to watch. It's affecting our ratings."

"We can't afford to lose viewers over this," Helion added, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency you’d never heard. He was stressed— extremely so. He picked at the gold rings that adorned his hands. "The show needs a strong, united front, not two leads sniping at each other in public."

You exchanged a glance with Rhysand. Your mind raced and you settled your gaze on Helion. 

You trusted him. He always had your best interests in mind, and navigating public fallout wasn’t unfamiliar territory for you. This was fine, this was manageable. 

“Okay,” you said, the words directly intended for him.  “What do you want me to do?”

He threw a glance at Amren. 

“Well,” he started, “We need to manage the narrative. The tension between you two is too obvious. Starting with the press tour, we'll need you both to project a good connection. No more sniping or tension in public—it needs to be all smiles and cooperation."

You nodded slowly, digesting his words. Next to you, Rhysand sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "Are you saying we need to fake being friends?"

The two agents before you shared another glance. You frowned at the exchange, an unsettled feeling brewing in your gut. Helion’s face slowly shifted into one more amused— and you watched as a grin grew on his lips, something suspicious, mischievous even. His eyes gleamed.

“Not just friends," he said, his gaze shifting between you and Rhysand. He looked to Amren one last time, who gave a small nod of approval before he continued, 

"We need you to fake a romance."

You choked on the air in your throat, your heart skipping a beat at his words. You blinked rapidly, gaze darting between Helion and Amren, seeking any sign that this was a joke or a misinterpretation. 

They were messing with you both, surely. This was some joke to make you both apologize, some horrendously unrealistic suggestion that made the idea of you two being simply friends something straight out of paradise.

But their faces were deadly serious— set with a purposeful intent etched into their features. Helion’s grin ate at you. 

Rhysand's laughter broke the tense silence, though it lacked humor as he shook his head in disbelief. His wide eyes met yours, a silent exchange of incredulity passing between you before both of you turned to Helion simultaneously. When no other words were offered to you both, the reality of the suggestion seeped in. 

As if you both registered it at the same time, both you and Rhysand rose swiftly. 

"Absolutely fucking not—" 

"—There is no way in hell I'm—"

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

GUYS IM OBSESSED IM SORRY I CANT. reader is such a hater and i think its so funny, whatever rhys does its just *eye roll* booo he sucks

i loveee them ur honor

if youd like to be added to the LCL! taglist, lmk!! <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124

Rhysand tag list 🫶🏻:

@serrendiipty

[ashwhowrites]

Hi dear!

I have a funny Eddie request for you. Eddie and reader is trying for a baby and they are both thrilled when Reader becomes pregnat.

Reader's sex drive also increase because of the hormones but suddenly Eddie is all "we should be careful" and just want sex without penetration and when Reader finally gets frustrated and ask "what is the problem" Eddie is like "what... what if I poke them?!" upon which reader rolls around in the floor with laughter before explaining that firstly, the baby is like the size of a tadpole and surrounded by its own airbag (the uterus) and secondly, the uterus will remain "closed" until labor, so let's just do this!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Poking

Eddie loved that Y/N was settled and ready to have kids. Sure, he was excited to have a family. But he loved the act of trying for a baby. He loved that she was on him more than ever and he could happily have sex all the time.

Then the test was positive and the rushing started.

~~~

The pregnancy for Y/N wasn't bad, but she was just at the beginning of it all. She did notice her hormones have been heightened, including her sex drive. She obviously was attracted to her husband, but now it was like everything he did sent a puddle between her legs.

Eddie was doing the dishes, nothing more. He stood against the sink in his loose sweatpants and a random t-shirt. Y/N chewed at her body lip as she sat at the kitchen counter, her eyes taking in every tattoo that showed.

She slipped off the stool, sneaking towards him as her arms wrapped around his waist. Eddie smiled as he felt her pressed against his back.

"Well hello, dearest" Eddie chuckled

"Hello," she said, her mind elsewhere as she moved her hands under his shirt and rubbed at his chest. Then she reached up to peck away at his neck, softly pushing his hair aside.

"Whatcha doing there?" he shuddered, dishes long gone in his head as her nails scratched down his happy trail and sliding into his sweats. He moaned as she softly cupped him through his boxers, making his hand grip the sink.

"I was just watching you...then felt like touching you" she whispered in his ear, softly tugging at the earring that decorated his ear with her teeth.

"I did hear marriage causes weird turn-ons, especially when men do chores" Eddie teased, but whimpered as she cupped his again.

"Love seeing you busy with your hands, and those long fingers" she purred, he could feel his cock growing hard under her touch and from her words.

"Someone is in the mood" he smirked, turning his head to look back at her

"Are you?" she asked, raising her eyebrow

Eddie grabbed her hand out of his sweatpants and then turned around. He held her hand against his chest and leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss.

He meant for it to be a simple and sweet kiss, but she deepened it. She took control of the kiss and pace as she wiggled her hand loose and trailed it over his sweatpants. Her tongue slipped in his mouth as she rubbed his bulge through his pants.

He moaned into her mouth as his tongue worked against hers. He moved his hands to cup her ass as she continued to rub him.

She pulled back, giving his lips small pecks before fully pulling away.

His eyes were dark and burning with lust as he stared at her

"Fuck me, handsome" she cooed, removing her hands from his bulge to run up his chest and wrap around his neck

Eddie sighed, he wasn't sure how he felt about sex now that he knew a baby was in there. He tried to think of how to say it but then her lips were sucking on his neck and all his thoughts were out the window.

He growled as he let his body go, his hand slipping down her comfy shorts. He smirked when he could feel her bare and soaked cunt. His fingers ran through her puffy folds, his fingers collecting her wetness. He felt her lips stop, just her mouth panting against his neck.

"Feels so good" she whined, her hands moving into his hair as she tugged

"Yeah? Like when daddy plays with your wet pussy?" He said huskily into her ear, his fingers together as he pressed on her clit

She jolted forward, whining loudly

He took pity on her, rubbing slow circles

She sighed in sweet relief, her hips softly moving. She took her right hand, spitting on it, and went back inside his sweats, but this time slipped inside his boxers too.

Eddie shuttered as he felt her nails skimming down his length. She softly cupped his balls, loving the way he moaned out. His fingers moved faster on her clit and she tried to stay focused.

She wrapped her hand around his cock, moving it up and down. She matched his pace on her clit, attaching her lips to his.

They made out hungrily as they worked each other to an orgasm. His fingers sent her over the edge, and the way she pumped his cock had him spilling all over her hand.

~~~

Over the next few weeks, she grew more needy. As the helpful husband Eddie was, he made sure he gave her an orgasm when she needed it.

But he did it all without truly fucking her. He wanted to, of course, but he was uncomfortable with his baby being part of it. Y/N didn't know, that's why she had her hands on Eddie at all times.

He tried his best to brush past her advances, softly turning the path into other things

"Fuck me" she whined, moving her hips against his covered cock

Eddie could feel his cock pulsing as he tried to think. She was practically humping him at this point and it felt too good. He moaned and threw his head back. He bit down on his lip and placed his hands on her hips.

He moved her hips against him, making her move faster. She moaned as she rocked against him, the feeling of her sleep shorts rubbing against her clit was blissful.

"But look how sexy you look rubbing against me so desperately" he mocked

"Want you in meeeee" she whined but did nothing to stop her hips

"Daddy wants you to cum from rubbing against his cock like a desperate good girl" he demanded, his voice deep as he bucked his hips up. Giving her the slight feel of his cock pushing up against her

She whined and panted, her eyes rolling back as he leaned forward and sucked on her naked chest. His tongue played with her nipples and she began to see stars.

She couldn't hold anything back, moaning and screaming loudly as she came.

~~~

Eddie walked out of the bathroom, towel on his waist after his shower, and into the bedroom.

He froze in his spot as his eyes landed on his wife, naked and lying on the bed. She smirked as he visibly drooled and called him over with her finger

Eddie stood still at his spot, knowing if he walked toward her he would end up inside of her

"Um, I forgot something in the bathroom" Eddie panicked, turning around and racing out the door

Y/N frowned, a little worried as she grabbed an old shirt he didn't wear anymore and slipped on her underwear. She walked to the bathroom, knocking on the door

"Eddie? Everything okay?" she asked as she knocked

"Fine" he squeaked, his voice cracking

"When you look at your naked pregnant wife and run away, that does not seem fine"

Eddie opened the door, a look on his face that she couldn't recognize.

"What is it? Is the pregnancy a turn-off?" she asked, the thought itself bringing tears to her eyes

"NO! No, don't cry!" Eddie panicked. But the pregnancy hormones already had her choking on her tears

"Then what is it?" She snapped, crossing her arms as she stared him down. Sniffling the tears away.

"It's just...what if I poke it?" Eddie asked an embarrassed blush covering his cheeks

"Poke what?"

Eddie sighed, hating that he had to spell it out

"What if I poke the baby! I don't want them just chilling and then my dick is just there."

Eddie stared as her tears stopped and she went dead silent. The anger behind her eyes vanished.

She blinked a few times

Still silent

"Babe?" He asked he went to poke her arm to see if she was breathing. But then she let out the hardest laugh he had ever heard. She was holding her stomach, leaning over and laughing. Tears down her cheeks as she tried to regain herself

"What is so damn funny? If you were that baby you would not think it was funny being stuck in the middle of your parents going at it!" He defended, crossing his arms as he pouted

She laughed but took some deep breaths. Trying to speak between fits of laughter

"Oh honey," laughing again, "that is not how it works. The baby is like the size of a tadpole and secondly, my uterus will remain closed until labor, so the sex is just the two of us," she explained, just small giggles as his face changed.

"So...we can have sex and nothing hits them?" Eddie asked

"Correct" Y/N smiled, rubbing his arm in a comforting way

Eddie smirked, grabbing her hand and placing it on his towel. She smirked back.

"Then let's do this"

Tags!

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