#she needed to know she will be okay with this absence in her chest

[pentacass]

[dior-luxury]

How'd They React To You Skipping School

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . comedy/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] cater . leona. floyd . vil . rook . silver . sebek . malleus

- [𝐩:𝐬] none

Note: I had like no idea of what to post, so I just decided to post one of my drafts!

Cater Diamond

Cater is used to you doing your own thing, but when he realizes you're skipping school without telling him, it throws him off. He first notices your absence in class when he glances over at your usual seat and finds it empty.

"Huh? No way. Did she sleep in?" he mumbles, tilting his head.

He checks his Magicam feed just in case, and sure enough—there you are, chilling at a café, sipping on a fancy drink with a little dessert on the side.

"Omg. She’s out living her best life while I’m suffering in Trein’s lecture?? Rude."

At first, he considers letting it slide. After all, it’s not like he never ditches, but the more he thinks about it, the more a nagging feeling settles in his chest.

So, the second class ends, he shoots you a text.

Cay-kun 🧡: Baaaaabe, why am I seeing u on my Magicam instead of in class? U cheating on me with a strawberry shortcake? 😭🍰

You don’t reply right away. He sighs, leaning against a hallway wall. Then, an idea strikes him. If you’re going to skip school, why not have a real ditch day adventure?

Thirty minutes later, you’re peacefully enjoying your alone time when a very familiar voice chimes in from across the café.

"Omg, no way. What are the chances? I just happened to be in the area~", Cater says, sliding into the seat across from you with an easy grin.

You roll your eyes. "Cater, you totally left school to find me."

He laughs, taking a sip of your drink without asking. "Busted. But c’mon, how could I let my precious girlfriend have all the fun by herself? We could’ve planned a whole cute ditch day together!"

Though he’s joking, there’s a flicker of something else in his expression—concern, maybe? You don’t miss the way his fingers drum lightly against the table, the way his usual easygoing smile seems just a bit forced.

"Next time, at least tell me, okay? I wanna make sure you’re safe. Plus, if you’re gonna skip, might as well do it with style. Matching outfits, cute couple photos—the whole deal."

Even though he’s being playful, you know he’s serious. And honestly? You wouldn’t mind skipping with him next time.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is no stranger to skipping school—hell, it’s practically his hobby. So when he hears from Ruggie that you didn’t show up to class, his first reaction is to scoff.

"Tch. So what? Not like it’s my problem."

But as the day drags on, something bugs him. He expected you to at least text him if you were gonna skip.

By the time lunch rolls around, his patience is gone.

Instead of going to class, he heads straight to his usual napping spot in the botanical gardens—where, conveniently, he finds you lounging on a bench, headphones in, eyes closed as you soak in the afternoon sun.

For a moment, he just watches. Then, with a sigh, he plops down beside you, one arm draped over the back of the bench as he tilts his head toward you.

"You got some nerve skippin’ without tellin’ me."

Your eyes snap open. "Leona? How’d you—"

"I am the king, y’know. I got eyes everywhere."

He leans in, his voice dropping to that low, lazy drawl that always sends a shiver down your spine. "So? You got a reason for dodging class, or you just felt like slacking?"

You mumble something about needing a break. Leona raises an eyebrow, letting out a deep sigh.

"Hmph. Well, can’t say I blame you. But if you’re gonna play hooky, at least do it right."

Before you can react, he shifts, lying down with his head in your lap, eyes already closing.

"Since you’re already here, you might as well stay. I ain’t letting you run off alone again—next time, you skip, you tell me first. Got it?"

His words are firm, but the way his hand lazily rests on your knee, fingers tracing absentminded patterns, tells you everything you need to know.

You weren’t just skipping school—you were skipping him. And Leona Kingscholar doesn’t like being left out.

Floyd Leech

When Floyd finds out you skipped school, the reaction is instant and dramatic.

It starts when he bursts into your dorm room, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Shrimpyyyyy~ Why weren’t you in class today?"

Before you can even answer, he flops down onto your bed, stretching like a lazy cat.

"I was soooo boooored. Sitting in class with no Shrimpy to tease? Ugh, it was awful!"

You roll your eyes. "Floyd, it’s just one day. I needed a break."

The air shifts.

Floyd props himself up on one elbow, his usual playful smile still in place, but there’s something more intense behind his eyes now.

"Hmm. A break from school? Or a break from me?"

You blink. "Wait, what? No, that’s not—"

Before you can finish, he’s suddenly on top of you, his long fingers gently but firmly pressing against your wrists. His grin widens, but his grip tightens just slightly.

"Y’know, if you wanted to play hooky, you could’ve just told me. We coulda done something fun together." His voice drops to a murmur, lips brushing against your ear. "But instead, you ran off all alone… That’s kinda mean, don’tcha think?"

Your heart skips a beat. "Floyd, I didn’t mean it like that—"

In an instant, his mood flips back.

"Hehe, just kidding~!" He suddenly rolls off you, laughing as he sprawls out on the bed again.

"Buuut next time you skip, I’m coming with you. No ifs, ands, or buts. Shrimpy doesn’t get to run away from me, got it?"

Despite the playfulness, you know he’s dead serious. And honestly? It’s safer to just agree. Because when Floyd wants something…

He gets it.

Here’s how Vil, Rook, and Silver would react to you skipping school, each in their own unique way!

Vil Schoenheit

Vil notices your absence immediately. He keeps a close eye on you—not in an overbearing way (or so he claims), but enough to know when something’s off.

It starts when he walks into class and sees your seat empty. He frowns.

"Where is she?" he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.

Even Rook, who usually lets things play out naturally, raises an eyebrow at Vil’s reaction.

"Perhaps ma belle has decided to take an impromptu escape from the drudgery of academia?"

Vil clicks his tongue. "Hardly. She wouldn’t skip for no reason. Which means…"

His eyes narrow as he pulls out his phone and dials your number. It rings. And rings. No answer.

Vil is not amused.

By lunch, he has had enough. With a sigh, he closes his notebook, stands up, and says, "If the professors ask, tell them I’m handling a… personal matter."

A few students exchange glances, but no one questions him. When Vil Schoenheit is on a mission, he gets what he wants.

—

You’re lounging at a quiet spot near the outskirts of campus, enjoying the rare moment of solitude, when suddenly—

"There you are."

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice.

Vil stands before you, arms crossed, his violet eyes burning with irritation.

"Would you like to explain to me why you’ve chosen to neglect your studies today?"

You stammer out something about needing a break. The pressure of school, the endless expectations—it was all just too much.

For a moment, Vil just stares at you. Then, with a sigh, he walks over and gracefully sits beside you.

"I understand," he says at last, his tone softer now. "But running away won’t solve anything, my dear. If you were overwhelmed, you should have come to me."

His fingers gently brush a strand of hair from your face, his expression unreadable.

"Your beauty, your mind, your potential—they are things that should be nurtured, not neglected. And if anyone dares to say otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me."

You swallow, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

"But…" he continues, tilting your chin up slightly, "if you ever pull something like this again without informing me, I will drag you back to class myself. Understood?"

With Vil, skipping school is not just about missing lessons. It’s about maintaining excellence—and to him, you deserve nothing less.

Rook Hunt

Rook doesn’t need anyone to tell him you skipped school. He feels it.

The moment he steps into the classroom, a shiver runs down his spine. He scans the room, and sure enough—you’re missing.

"Ah… mon trésor, where could you have vanished to?"

Anyone else might have let it go. But Rook? Rook Hunt?

Oh, no, no, no.

This is a hunt.

—

You think you’ve found the perfect hiding spot—a secluded meadow just beyond campus. The breeze is gentle, the grass soft, and the world feels so blissfully quiet.

But then—

"Ah…! What a rare and exquisite sight! A most beautiful creature, escaping the confines of duty to embrace the wild!"

You jerk up, heart pounding. "Rook?! How—"

He smiles down at you, eyes glimmering with delight.

"My dear, you wound me! Did you truly believe you could evade me?"

You groan. "Can’t I have one day to myself?"

Rook simply chuckles, kneeling beside you. "But of course! And what a splendid setting you have chosen! Ah, the crisp air, the golden sunlight—it is a moment worthy of poetry!"

You sigh, leaning back. "So, you’re not going to drag me back?"

Rook tilts his head.

"Non, non, ma chérie. Who am I to interfere with the call of your spirit?" His voice lowers, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "However… I must ask—were you running to something… or from something?"

You pause. You hadn’t thought about it that way.

Rook hums, plucking a flower and tucking it behind your ear.

"Whatever it is, you need not face it alone. If ever you wish to flee again… invite me along, oui? Let us embark on a grand adventure together."

His words are sweet, but the message is clear—next time, he will find you. And next time… you might not mind.

Silver

Silver is usually the one who accidentally skips class (thanks to his habit of falling asleep anywhere), so when he realizes you’re the one missing, it catches him off guard.

Lilia is the first to notice his concern.

"Looking for someone, Silver?" he asks, sipping his tea.

Silver hesitates. "She’s not here. She wasn’t in class this morning."

Lilia chuckles. "Ah, young love. Are you worried, or do you just miss her?"

Silver’s ears turn a little pink. "That’s not—"

But he is worried.

So, after finishing his morning duties, he sets off to find you. It doesn’t take long.

He finds you by a quiet stream, legs dangling over the edge, watching the water ripple. You don’t even hear him approach—until he’s sitting beside you.

"Skipping school, huh?" he says, voice calm but firm.

You sigh. "Are you here to lecture me?"

Silver shakes his head. "No. But I am here to make sure you’re okay."

You blink, surprised.

He gazes at the water for a long moment before speaking again.

"I get it. Sometimes, the world moves too fast. Sometimes, you just… need to stop." He exhales. "I’ve felt that way too."

His honesty takes you off guard.

"But," he continues, turning to look at you, "you don’t have to bear it alone. If you ever need to slow down… let me stay by your side."

Your heart clenches at the sincerity in his voice. Silver has always been gentle, always patient—but beneath it all is a quiet strength, one that makes you feel… safe.

He offers you his hand. "Let’s go back together. But if you really don’t want to, then I’ll stay here with you."

You stare at his outstretched hand. And for the first time today, you don’t feel like you have to run.

Because with Silver beside you, the world doesn’t seem so overwhelming anymore.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek prided himself on being alert, disciplined, and ever-diligent in all things—so when he noticed your absence from class, his first instinct was absolute outrage.

"Where is she?!" he bellowed the moment roll call finished, slamming his hands down on his desk.

The entire class turned to stare. Even Lilia, who was used to Sebek’s theatrics, raised an eyebrow.

"Calm yourself, Sebek. I’m sure she has her reasons," Lilia said, sipping his tea.

Sebek whirled around. "Reasons? What reasons could possibly justify this?! My human— I mean, my beloved has abandoned her education!"

His heart raced in his chest, not just from frustration, but from concern. What if something had happened to you? What if you were in danger? What if—gasp—you were avoiding him?!

No. Unacceptable.

Without hesitation, Sebek stormed out of class, determined to find you and drag you back to school himself.

—

You were relaxing in a quiet corner of the gardens, lying beneath the shade of a tree, finally enjoying some peace. That is, until—

"HUMAN!"

The roar of your name nearly sent you flying out of your seat. Before you could even react, Sebek loomed over you, arms crossed, golden eyes blazing with intensity.

"You dare to SKIP CLASS?! What kind of nonsense is this?! Have you no sense of duty?!"

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "Sebek, please. Not so loud."

"LOUD?!" he repeated, even louder. "How can I possibly remain quiet when you have committed such a heinous act?! Skipping school—DISGRACEFUL!"

You sighed. "I just needed a break. I wasn’t in the mood for class today."

Sebek scowled. He wanted to scold you further—to lecture you on the importance of education, of discipline, of honor—but then… he saw the tired look in your eyes.

His frustration wavered.

"You… were not in the mood?" he repeated, his voice softer now.

You nodded. "I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just wanted to breathe a little, that’s all."

Sebek stiffened. His grip on his arms tightened. His natural instinct was to demand you push through it—to insist that duty must always come first.

But then… he thought of Lord Malleus. How often had his master been told to put his responsibilities first? How often had he been isolated because of that very thinking?

Sebek hesitated. Then, very slowly, he sat down beside you.

"If you were feeling unwell… you should have informed me." His voice was still gruff, but gentler now. "It is my duty to stand by your side, no matter the circumstance."

You blinked, surprised by the change in his tone. Sebek? Being understanding? That was new.

He cleared his throat. "But! This does NOT mean I condone such behavior!" He huffed, turning away. "If you must rest, then rest properly! Not by… skipping school like some delinquent!"

You smiled. "So, you’re not mad?"

"OF COURSE I AM—!" He caught himself, exhaled sharply, then muttered, "…Just do not make a habit of it."

You giggled. Despite all his dramatic ranting, you could tell he was genuinely worried about you.

And maybe, just maybe… Sebek Zigvolt cared more about your well-being than he let on.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus immediately noticed your absence the moment he stepped into class.

At first, he thought you were simply running late. But as the minutes passed and your seat remained empty, his usual calm began to crack.

"She is not here," he murmured to himself, fingers tapping lightly against his desk.

Lilia, watching from the side, smiled knowingly. "Ah, young love. Worried already?"

Malleus said nothing, but his green eyes darkened.

The moment class ended, he vanished. Not even his retainers could stop him.

—

You were peacefully sitting beneath a willow tree, flipping through a book, when the sky suddenly dimmed.

A chill ran through the air. The once-bright afternoon grew darker, as if the sun itself was hiding.

And then—

"There you are."

Your head snapped up. Standing before you, tall and regal as ever, was Malleus. His emerald gaze bore into yours, unreadable and intense.

"You did not come to class today," he stated. Not a question. A fact.

You swallowed. "I just… needed a break."

Malleus was silent for a long moment. Then, he took slow, deliberate steps forward.

"A break," he repeated softly. "From school… or from me?"

Your eyes widened. "Wait, what? No, Malleus, I—"

Before you could finish, he had closed the distance. He stood so close, his presence towering, consuming.

"Do you understand how worried I was?" His voice was gentle, yet firm. "You disappeared without a word. Do you truly believe I would not seek you out?"

You fumbled for words, guilt creeping into your chest.

"I didn’t think it would be a big deal—"

"You are my beloved."

The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, so absolute—made your breath hitch.

"Everything about you is a 'big deal' to me."

Your heart pounded. You opened your mouth to respond, but Malleus was already sitting beside you, his usual regal demeanor softening.

"If you wished to escape," he murmured, "you need only call for me. I would take you anywhere you desire."

His fingers ghosted over yours.

"But next time, do not disappear on your own. My heart does not take well to such… uncertainty."

A lump formed in your throat. You hadn't meant to worry him—not like this.

You turned, meeting his gaze. "I promise. Next time… I’ll tell you."

His expression eased, and a rare, soft smile graced his lips.

"Good."

And just like that, the sky brightened once more.

Malleus Draconia was no stranger to solitude. But when it came to you…

He would not tolerate being left behind.

[evamame]

2:05 A.M. / atsumu miya

your eyes, still heavily laced with sleep, flutter open to see atsumu laying by your side with his back leaning against the headboard. your baby daughter is curled up in his arms, fussing to no end.

atsumu feels you stir beside him and looks down at you, explaining the situation in a low whisper, “woke up and heard her cryin’.”

“just now?” you ask, your words hushed. you look over at the clock on the bedside table—2:05 A.M.

“‘bout five minutes ago. no amount of shushin’ is gonna get this girl to sleep.” he gently rocks her against his chest, running his hand through her wispy locks of hair in a futile attempt to soothe her.

you two are both drained. the forced smile on atsumu’s face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes is powered by the purest of love and adoration, but his gaze is still laced with exhaustion nonetheless. his eyes droop with heavy weariness, and you’re no different. every night your baby girl can’t help but throw an uncontrollable fit programmed to drive you both insane.

a long sigh of defeat leaves your lips as she continues to bawl, the noise beginning to ring in your ears. “take your shirt off.”

atsumu turns his head to you, one brow cocking up in confusion, “huh? ma’ shirt? why?”

you take the wailing baby from his arms, “just do it.”

he hesitates for a moment before obliging, quickly throwing his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. he holds his arms out, and you carefully hand your daughter back to him.

“skin to skin contact might help her calm down.”

he pulls your daughter impossibly close to his chest at your words, “ya’ think so?”

“i know so. the feeling of your heartbeat will relax her.”

you watch as he looks down at your daughter, and the silent pleading, willing, for her to calm down is palpable in his gaze. then soon enough, as if it’s a miracle, she slowly begins to settle in atsumu’s arms. her loud cries start to die down at the sound and feel of her papa’s heartbeat close to her ear.

“it’s really workin’,” atsumu mutters quietly in disbelief under his breath.

“see?” you curl up closer to atsumu’s side, running the back of your hand soothingly over your daughter’s tiny cheek.

“guess she just wanted her papa’s cuddles,” atsumu smiles tenderly, one filled with relief at the absence of her cries. he kisses the top of her fragile head before leaning his own head back against the headboard in defeat, followed by a soft sigh of resignation. his eyes close shut to rest for a quick moment, brows furrowed.

“just wake me up next time. i‘ll deal with it.”

he shakes his head, voice weak and raspy from a lack of sleep, “yer’ more tired than i am.”

“but—” you open your mouth to protest, but are cut off by atsumu’s words.

“i know. it’s okay. ya’ do great dealing with her all day when i’m at practice. lemme do this for ya’.” he leans over to place your daughter, who’s now fast asleep, back into the beside bassinet.

he slides under the blanket, strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to his warm chest as his legs tangle with yours. he tucks you under his chin, his breath tickling the top of your head as he mumbles, “ya’ need some rest too, mama.”

“don’t you want to put your shirt back on?”

you feel his lips curve into a teasing smile against your hair despite his exhaustion, “maybe the skin to skin contact will help ya’ get some much needed sleep too.”

“it doesn’t work like that,” you murmur.

“mhm,” he hums in response, and if he wasn’t so tired, he’d laugh at the way you fall limp into his arms, heavy with sleep not even a second afterwards.

masterlist | tag list | tags: @scoupsworld @mires765 @amaliaaliena a/n: atsumu is THE girl dad

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[gravegoer]

sevika, grayson and ambessa cuddling hcs 🥹🥹 i love them

Cuddling the butches -`✮´-

thank you for the ask, anon. heres some sevika , grayson , and ambessa because the last fic a while ago got a lot of love (rightfully so) <3 !!!

more of them , masterlist

Ambessa loves being the big spoon, pressed up behind you with one of her thick arms under your head, the other grabbing at your torso.

It's calming for you both when you trace over the scars on her arm under your head, leaving small kisses trailing after your fingers. She shows her appreciation by returning the favor and running her hands under your shirt to trail up your stomach.

If you grew ticklish at your touch, she would reluctantly stop, punctuating her actions with a kiss to the shell of your ear.

Sometimes, you would roll over to lay on her chest, her back now against the bed and her arm over your shoulders.

This way, she could see your face and admire your features with a smirk. Loving the way you look up at her with sleepy eyes and a smile gracing your lips.

Her chest was thick and comfortable to lay on, hearing her heavy heartbeat in your ear. This was one of your favorite sounds, and did its job at lulling you to sleep.

These were just your activities before you fell asleep, but once you do thats when the fun begins..

She was unusually hot when she slept (not just temperature wise). Sometimes, you'd have to throw the blankets off you both in the middle of the night just for some freedom.

And the fact that she is as close as possible to you doesn't help either. But on cold nights, you appreciated it, snuggling your face closer into her arms to feel the heat.

Her snores were deep and loud. That woman is always in a deep DEEP sleep. Sometimes, it woke you up, but you didn't mind. It just gave you more time to relish being in her arms.

Sevika is just a big softie, she wont admit it in words, but she loves being little spoon.

You definitely have to stretch your limbs a bit to wrap around her frame, but it's okay. it's for her. Usually, you can wrap your legs around her waist and hold her shoulders. She feels safe.

Sometimes she will turn around and put her face in your chest so that she doesnt have to face the world (just your tits).

She likes to inhale your scent and hear your heartbeat, and it makes it easier for you to stroke her hair and hum to her.

In that position she has her thick arm wrapped around your waist, holding you to the bed. (God knows she only needs one thats why she was nerfed)

She doesn't wear her mechanical arm to bed most of the time in fear of hurting you or crushing you with it.

But sometimes she will be lazy and just throw a pillow around her metal arm so that she can hold you still.

If you had a bad day, she insists you lay in her lap, face in her stomach while she smokes a cigarillo.

To add to that, have you seen her thighs? You fall asleep instantly due to comfort. And shes not complaining.

And if you are really sleepy, she will carry you around the house with one arm whilst doing her daily tasks. (Have you seen her wrangle isha with one arm?)

If she needs to step away for a second, she sits you on the counter, leaving you to huff at her absence before immediately picking you back up again.

Grayson is definitely the type of person to like the weight of someone's body on top of hers.

Just lay on her, legs on both sides of her hips and arms around her neck. She doesn't need a weighted blanket while you're sleeping over.

It's also easy to plant kisses on her neck and jaw, soothing her to sleep.

She also has a bunch of pillows, and you both wake up with them all over the floor (you might also be on the floor)

She is tossing in turning in her sleep every night. She was born this way, and if you do it too then you might be kick boxing eachother in your sleep.

Also, she will let you sit on her back while she lies on her stomach, pressing at her tense muscles and running your fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck.

When you are having a hard time falling asleep, she will soothe you with her husky/gravelly voice right in your ear. You can feel her hot breath on the side of your face while she whispers sweet nothings to you.

I know she's a dream to wake up to, her hair sprawled out all over the pillow and skin illuminated by the sun rise (NEED THAT).

When you wear her clothes to sleep, beware because you might not be sleeping for the next hour (that probably goes for everyone on this list..)

And her gun is always at her bedside. She is strapped and ready to protect you.

i know i said im on hiatus but shh...im posting drafts... i swear

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

the first appointment rafes able to go to🥹🥹 the nurse knew you knew the gender but didn’t realize rafe doesn’t know so when she says it rafe feels all these crazy emotions about the pregnancy

our little girl - rafe cameron x pregnant!pogue!reader

series masterlist

content: pregnancy check up, fluff, gender reveal,

word count: 829

You tried not to let the nerves show as you sat in the slightly uncomfortable chair of the OB-GYN’s office, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sweater. The sterile smell of the clinic, the quiet hum of medical equipment, the faint sound of a baby crying somewhere in the hallway—it all felt so routine now. You had been here countless times already, had gone through every scan, every checkup, every little milestone without him. But today was different. Today, Rafe was here.

Even though you knew Rafe’s absence wasn’t his fault, it still stung—the loneliness, especially during a time like this, was hard to ignore. Pregnancy wasn’t something you could navigate alone, even when surrounded by people. But now, sitting next to him in the exam room, everything felt different. His knee bounced with quiet energy, his fingers gripping yours tightly, grounding you. He was here. Not just physically, but emotionally. Since he found out about the pregnancy, he’d stepped up in ways you hadn’t expected, becoming more mature, more present—more than you could have hoped for. He was trying, trying so hard to be the man you and your baby needed.

Rafe had been quiet on the drive over, uncharacteristically so, and now, as you glanced at him, you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his other hand clenched into a fist on his thigh. You nudged him gently. “Nervous?” He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “No.” But then he sighed, squeezing your hand. “I mean… yeah, kinda. I don’t know what to expect.” You smiled softly. “It’s just a normal check-up. You’ll finally get to see them, though.” His lips twitched at that, a ghost of a smile passing over his face before it was gone. “Yeah.”

The door opened, and the nurse stepped in, her warm smile instantly putting you at ease. “Alright, how are we doing today?” she asked, flipping through your chart. “Good,” you answered as Rafe nodded beside you. “Excited, Dad?” she asked with a friendly grin, glancing at Rafe. He blinked at the title, as if it hadn’t quite sunk in before now. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, I am.”

The nurse chuckled knowingly before moving toward the ultrasound machine. “Well, let’s get a look at your little girl.” Your stomach dropped. Rafe’s entire body tensed beside you. His fingers tightened around yours almost painfully, and you didn’t even have to look at him to know he was staring at you, his chest rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths.

The nurse must’ve noticed the shift in the air because she glanced up, confused. “Oh—wait…did I—?” You swallowed hard, finally turning to look at him. His face was unreadable, eyes locked on you, lips parted slightly. He was stunned. “Rafe…” you started softly, guilt swelling in your chest. “You knew?” His voice was quiet, almost hoarse. Your heart clenched. “I—” You sighed. “I only found out last week. I didn’t—” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and for a moment, you thought he was upset. But then he exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face as he let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh.

A girl, he murmured, like he was testing the words on his tongue. The nurse gave you both a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize he didn’t know—” “It’s okay,” you reassured her quickly before looking back at Rafe. His eyes were still distant, unfocused, like he was trying to process everything all at once. “You’re having a daughter,” you said gently, squeezing his hand. Something shifted in his expression then. His brows furrowed slightly, his lips pressed together, and when his eyes finally met yours, they were glassy. Overwhelmed.

A daughter.

You could see the realization hitting him all at once—the gravity of it, the weight of the responsibility, the fact that this pregnancy wasn’t just some abstract idea anymore. It was real. She was real. Rafe inhaled sharply, nodding slowly. “Okay.” His voice was thick, uneven. “Okay.” And then, for the first time in months, you saw it—the pure, unfiltered emotion in his eyes, the raw vulnerability he rarely let himself show. It made your own throat tighten. The nurse gave you both a moment before she cleared her throat gently. “Do you still want to see her?”

Rafe nodded immediately. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” As the nurse prepped the machine, Rafe turned to you, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed over your skin. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. You could see everything written all over his face—the awe, the fear, the love.

And when the screen flickered to life, when the grainy black-and-white image of your daughter appeared, Rafe let out a quiet, shaky breath.

“There she is,” the nurse murmured.

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered.

And for the first time since this pregnancy started, you knew—without a shadow of a doubt—that he was all in.

taglist: @littlelamy @drewstarkeyswife0 @icaqttt

[faestunna]

what do you think about Oliver taking readers virginity? Like obviously Connie fucked people before so with her he didn’t have to hold back too much but there’s poor little innocent reader basically begging him to fuck her and he has to be gentle. He won’t allow himself to be rough. Not that reader would mind because yeah they’re inexperienced but have you seen him? Virgins can be horny too, Oliver!

first of many

PAIRING: oliver mellors x innocent!reader

WARNINGS: mention of parental death, secret relationship, smut (18+), making out, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, belly bulge, creampie, almost corruption kink?, innocence, dirty talk, oliver is so sweet

WC: 2.1k

A/N: this ask just made my entire week, i will NEVER stop thinking about oliver mellors. this ending feels rushed but gawdddd i need that man

masterlist

It was your third night at the gamekeeper’s cottage when you quietly let out, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Oliver was nearly completely taken by surprise. His frame already hovered over you, his fingers digging into your hips like no man had before. Sure, you’d kissed one before—one. He was a young boy from Tevershall who gave you a quick peck and nothing else.

You were older now, and Oliver wasn’t like the other boy at all. Whenever he kissed you, he did it with a fire that roared like the hearth of his cottage. It was warm and strong and powerful. He wasn’t afraid. You liked it. It’s why you almost pouted when he pulled away from you at the sound of your words.

He sat on his knees, his chest bare for you to place your hands on it, something you’d come to learn he liked. But you didn’t move to touch him, instead pulling his sheets up to your frame, suddenly cold without him. He looked away in thought. You mistook it for regret. “Oliver?” You blinked up at him.

After the war, it was crucial that you find a well-paying job to support your mother who’d been left lifeless in the absence of your father. The Chatterley’s had owned the mines in your town for your entire life, and Lady Chatterley was incredibly gracious hiring you as another maid. But the best part of your job wasn’t shopping for groceries or scrubbing linens in the wash room—it was the man you met while running your fingers in the creek one warm afternoon.

“Got himself in a predicament, I’d say,” one of the maids had said in the kitchen. “What, with Bertha Coutts running around with other men while he’s out at war?” The other women murmured and shook their heads in disapproval.

You knew he carried a great weight on his shoulders from his previous marriage—current marriage since she still hadn’t given Oliver the divorce he deserved. But whenever he was with you, that weight seemed to lift itself. He’d managed to sneak you around the Chatterley grounds, hidden in the woods and lost in his sheets.

“Oliver?” You said again, reaching for his hand and covering it with your palm.

He blinked at you with an expression you couldn’t read—lust, restraint, or confusion. Then, he looked down at your hand over his. When he turned it over, returning the gesture, you noticed his touch was softer than it had been on your hips just moments ago.

You leaned forward and sat up close to him so his nose brushed yours, guiding his hand to your waist just to feel something from him. You weren’t stupid just because you were a young woman—you knew that sex was more than a transaction of wealth like your mother and friends made it out to be. You wanted Oliver, you needed him in a depth of yourself that you didn’t know existed.

“It’s okay, Oliver,” you said sweetly. Oliver didn’t know there were still women in the world as sweet as you, and you were the only one he needed. His other hand cupped your cheek almost instinctively. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

A darkness overcame his eyes, but it wasn’t necessarily frightening. If anything, it consumed you with comfort. “Oh, I’m not afraid, love.”

Without a moment to waste—because he only got you for so long before you ran back to the manor—Oliver pressed your lips to his again. He immediately pushed you back onto the bed, but not roughly or sharply. It was a gentle nudge and he went down with you, the weight of him pressing against your chest and core. His hand moved from your hips to your belly to your chest.

He squeezed the flesh of your tit, eliciting a quiet gasp from your lips that disappeared into his. Other than the soft sounds of the sheets moving, the birds singing outside, and the occasional moan from you, the air was pleasantly silent. The moment was for the two of you and no one else.

With your eyes closed in ecstasy, you felt his lips leave yours only to feel them again your neck, trailing across your collar bone to where his hand kneaded your breast. “I’ve barely touched you,” he said against your skin. You writhed under his touch with desperation.

You’d never been one to be desperate.

“Oliver,” you breathed his name like a song. He didn’t care about anything else then.

“You need me, love?” Oliver didn’t look up at you. He replaces his hands with his lips and latches onto the small bud on your breast, rolling the other one between his fingers. Your back arches into him, only feeling his warmth even more, as you nod with a whine. “Where?”

Oliver, a married man aged by the war, had experience. He knew exactly where you needed him, and the fucker was teasing you for it. “You know where.” You said, cut off by a moan as he presses himself close to your core. Just the simple pressure on your brag that was aching for him was enough to practically feel your skin blooming.

“Right here?” He asked cheekily. Curse the small grin he gave you.

The air was cold on the spot where his mouth was as he moved further down your body. He didn’t waste a single space of you without placing a kiss so that his touch is never gone for too long. He didn’t stop lowering himself until his head hangs above your mound, and when he saw your most vulnerable spot, he moaned.

“You’re beautiful, (y/n),” Oliver praises you like you’re a painting in the Louvre or a flower in the field outside his cottage.

“What’re you doing?” You asked suddenly.

His hands rubbed over your soft thighs, falling a little bit in love with how they felt in his hands. He knew right there and then that this was one of his favorite places in the world. “Don’t think about it, darling,” Oliver said tenderly. “I can love you in more ways than one.”

Once you nod and lay yourself back down, he exhales a warm breath against you. You shudder. “Easy, lass,” he called you. You didn’t know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t the feeling of his tongue flat against your folds. They didn’t necessarily need the wetness, but it was oh so beautiful to feel against you.

You could feel his tongue sharpen and soften against the right spots. Your hips and legs squirmed at the feeling of Oliver’s mouth essentially feeding off of you. His tongue moved mercilessly against the most important part of you.

Then, you suddenly felt something tracing the outline of your opening before slowly plunging itself inside of you. You’d never known what it’s like to be opened. To be spread apart and picked open like a ripened fruit.

“Oh,” you let out softly as if there was anyone nearby to hear you.

He pulled his finger away before sliding it in again, soon creating a gentle rhythm that leaves your pulse racing. “Feel nice?” He whispered, slightly muffled from leaning his head into your leg. You nodded rapidly, unable to form words. “Breathe, darling.” Oliver told you before he slowly added another finger.

Two of them now stretched you open. His arms wrapped themselves around your thighs to still your ragged movements. Your knuckles turned white as you clenched the sheets in your hand.

And despite the uncontrollable fever rising in your core, you thought to yourself, I could stay here for the rest of my life.

But the moment is cut short when Oliver pulled himself away. You let out an unexpected cry at the loss of contact, mainly because you felt like you were on fire. Oliver moved towards you and kissed you again, but this time, there was a strange taste on his lips.

“What is that?” You pulled away to ask.

His brows furrowed. “What?” But he could smell it from his own breath. The man fucking laughs, “It’s you.”

It isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world to you, though it was also the first time you experienced it. “And you enjoy it?”

Oliver’s fingers fumbled the slide off his trousers, leaving himself in nothing but his trunks. You’d never seen a man so exposed like this. Your eyes lingered over his frame, taking in the image of him like it would make it last longer.

“It’s the best fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted.” He took your hand and guided it to the last piece of clothing on his body. He nodded when you looked up at him, and you slowly pulled them down. You stopped at his knees from the sight of his length.

He was hard and smooth, apart from the small bump of a swollen vein on the side. Oliver watched as you gazed at him. He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. He slowly moved himself over you, and placed your hand over him. It was heavy in your palm. “Oliver, I- I don’t think it’ll fit.” You said almost in exasperation.

A gentle hand rested the back of your head on his pillows as he took his own length and slid it through your slick. The tip rubbed against your already sensitive pearl, and you moaned from the pleasure shooting up your spine directly to your heart.

“It will, darling,” he pressed a kiss against your forehead before you felt that same stretch from earlier, only it was stronger.

A shiver racked through your spine as your eyes fluttered shut, gulping down a small, “Oh, my god.” Your hands flew to his shoulders, sliding down his back to feel the way his body flexed and released with every movement he made. He entered you so slowly but so perfectly.

“Atta girl,” he whispered into your ear with only the slightest bit of restraint in his voice. “Take it just like that, (y/n), that’s it.” He could’ve fucked you to sleep right there. He could’ve twisted your hair in his fist and pulled your hips to his so you felt him right in the center of you, but he didn’t.

Because, unlike most men and many of the gentleman you’d encountered, Oliver had a heart.

You could feel it beating against your own, two unsteady rhythms somehow matching to create melody only you could hear. He continued to push himself inside until you could feel the base flat against you, allowing for the perfect amount of pressure on your most sensitive spot.

“Feel alright, love?” He asked, gently brushing loose strands of hair stuck to your face from the thin sheet of sweat on your skin. Oliver took your hand from his shoulder and placed it over your lower belly.

With one swift move, he retracted his hips so you felt nearly entirely empty before pushing himself into you again. Your mouth parted open, followed shortly by a delayed gasp at how euphoric something could feel. “Feel me right there,” he practically instructed you. And you could feel him. Just the slightest bulge with every thrust he gave you.

He didn’t quicken his movements any more, though if you could scramble to form words, you’d be begging for it. You only nodded in response, small whimpers falling from your mouth as Oliver’s hips began staggering. “Don’t stop,” you managed to say.

You could feel him shake his head against you. His chest rose with heavy breaths. “I won’t stop,” he said, partially to you and to himself. Feeling you clench around him everytime he fully covered himself again in your warmth was maybe the best thing he’d ever known.

And he didn’t stop. Not even when you felt his release shooting inside you, moaning into his hair as that euphoric feeling coursed through your body again. He felt it coat him in a hot slick.

Once he pulled himself away, the mixture from both of your climaxes dripped out of you. You sat up curiously and looked down only to feel a slight burn around where he’d stretched you. You gave a small wince and nothing else; it was slowly becoming a pleasurable pain.

“Now here, love,” he said. You looked up to see him leaning back on his arm, and in between his legs, his cock was still a solid weight in his lap. He stroked it lazily as if he was waiting for something better. “We’re not finished yet.”

© faestunna 2025.

[heyimkana]

Pads & Conspiracies

AO3 Link

Set in the same AU as Pillow Talk and Come Home to Me, but can be read separately.

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Female Reader

Genre: Marriage AU, Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life, Comedy

Summary: Sung Jinwoo isn’t so much an S-Rank Hunter as he is an S-Rank Husband. Today, he’s dealing with his wife’s period cramps, pad sizes, Beru’s cravings and a tiny domestic conspiracy.

Content Warnings: None—unless you count teeth-rotting fluff, adorable husband-wife moments, and Beru’s constant Shakespearean monologues.

Word Count: 10K (I wrote too many fluffy/silly moments—sorry 😔)

This one's for @satoruandjinwoobrainrot I'm sorry for taking so long to answer your ask, babe 😭 I hope you enjoy it ❤️

Your sweet, loving husband is in the middle of another dungeon raid. A dangerous one, at that—its mana levels place it just below an S-Rank gate. But Jinwoo, as always, enjoys the challenge. High-level dungeons offer greater experience, and he’s always hungry for more, isn’t he?

He steps into the boss room with his chin held high, the sleeves of his fitted black shirt rolled up to his elbows, veins prominent against fair skin.

“I’ll take care of this one myself,” he tells Igris, craving a good fight to keep his skills sharp. He can’t afford to get rusty just standing on the sidelines.

Jinwoo’s thin lips curl into a smirk as the beast looms before him—a colossal snake, three times the size of Kasaka, its fangs longer than his own towering height. The Demon King’s daggers materialize in his hands, gripped tightly between lean fingers as he taunts, “Quite a remarkable aura you’ve got there. Keep me entertained for a bit, will ya?”

The snake hisses, and Jinwoo lunges, aiming for its vitals—but suddenly—

MY LIEGE! MY LIEGE!

Beru’s frantic voice cuts through his mind, breaking his focus. The distraction costs him; he misses the strike.

Jinwoo’s chest tightens with dread. Beru is the shadow soldier assigned to protect you. The former Ant King could take on an S-Rank Hunter without breaking a sweat.

So why is he panicking? What could possibly shake him?

More importantly—are you okay?

If he weren’t mid-fight, he’d swap places with him or share his senses to see for himself. But since Beru can still speak calmly—well, frantically but coherently—Jinwoo knows he’s not in combat.

Still, the distraction nearly proves fatal. The snake whips its tail, and Jinwoo only barely dodges, his reflexes saving him by milliseconds. A direct hit would've pulverized his bones.

“Beru, talk to me!” he shouts, panic bubbling in his throat. “What happened?!”

Mine liege, lo, it hath been naught but an hour since thy wedded dame did informeth me—

“Speak normally!”

A-apologies, my liege! It is… that time of the month again. She told me she is in great pain. There is significant bleeding.

His dagger clashes against the snake’s fang. “She’s having her period?”

Yes, my liege.

Oh, thank God, Jinwoo breathes in relief, dodging yet another attack. It’s not that he’s glad to hear you’re simply suffering from your regular period cramps—but it’s much, much better than the dreadful thought that had emerged in his head a second ago.

Tell her to hang on, he instructs through the link, driving a dagger through the snake’s scales. Blood stains his shirt, but he barely notices. I’ll be there as soon as possible.

I will inform her, my liege. But I must stress—she is in tremendous pain. What if something worse occurs?

Jinwoo clenches his teeth, frustration surging through him. He would've asked his sister Jinah if she was in town, but she'd left on vacation with Jinho two days ago.

I need to get this over with fast, he thinks. Do what you can to help her, Beru. I’ll finish this and return immediately. Tell her to wait for me.

Yes, my liege, I shall assist her in any way I can in your absence. But your presence is sorely needed. I cannot soothe her the way you do.

That, Jinwoo knows—and he’s proud of it. But he still can’t abandon the fight just yet.

The snake is tougher than expected. Jinwoo could end it quickly if he focused, but his mind is elsewhere. You’re all he can think about.

What does my wife need?

She requested medicine and sanitary pads, my liege. But… we appear to be out. Shall I dispatch a high orc to the store?

No. The last thing he needs is to terrify the entire neighborhood. Again.

His tempo falters. For the last two minutes, he’s done nothing but dodge and parry. His chest tightens at the image of you, curled up in bed, hurting and alone. He considers calling Jinho or his sister—but they’re on vacation at the moment.

And then—things get worse.

Dozens of slithering snakes suddenly come into view. Smaller in size, but lethal nonetheless. They bare their fangs at him, hissing—probably fucking pissed off because he hasn’t been taking them seriously.

Jinwoo curses under his breath. Clearing this dungeon just got more complicated. Can she wait twenty… maybe thirty more minutes?

My liege… she is crying.

“IGRIS!” Jinwoo calls out in haste. Debate’s over. “Take my place. I need to leave—now.”

The powerful knight does not hesitate. With a dozen lower-ranked soldiers at his back, Igris rushes into battle, the Demon Monarch’s longsword held tightly in his hands, casting lightning bolts with every swing.

Jinwoo’s eyes flash from icy blue to violet, gleaming in the darkness of the cave. His daggers vanish into thin air as misty black tendrils envelop his frame like smoke.

“Exchange.”

***

Having swapped places with a patrolling shadow soldier, Jinwoo emerges onto the peaceful streets of Seoul. The stark contrast to the dark, suffocating dungeon is jarring. The sun blazes overhead, hot and merciless, causing beads of sweat to form at his temple as he sprints toward the nearest pharmacy.

“H-Hunter Sung Jinwoo!”

A female cashier gasps as he storms through the automatic doors, his combat boots—still slick with monster blood—leaving grotesque red smears across the pristine white marble floor. Her eyes widen in horror. Has a dungeon break occurred nearby? It’s not every day that an S-Rank Hunter bursts into a store with his chest heaving, his shirt soaked in blood, and his dark hair clinging to his forehead.

“A-Are you all right, sir? Is there a problem—?”

“Yes.” His voice is firm. Grave. The kind of tone people expect right before an evacuation order is issued.

The intensity of his gaze wipes the color from her face. Time seems to freeze.

“I need you to get me some pads.”

“…Pardon?”

***

“S-So, um…” the cashier begins awkwardly, spreading an overwhelming selection of pads across the counter. “We have reusable pads, regular pads, ultra-thin pads, maxi pads, overnight pads… These ones are scented, these are not. Oh, these are exceptionally soft, but they’re a bit expensive. And these ones—”

Jinwoo stares blankly at the display, her words blurring together. He’s trying to listen, but nothing is sinking in. The explanation seems endless and he's losing it.

“Why… why are there so many different types?” he asks, genuinely bewildered. “Don’t they all serve the same purpose?”

“Well, yes, sir, but every woman has her own preferences. Some might like scented pads to mask the, um, odor, while others prefer—”

She keeps going. His brain starts turning to mush.

“All right. Which one’s the best?”

“Like I said, sir… it depends.”

“Which one do you use?”

“Eh?!” Her cheeks flush crimson. She wasn’t prepared for that level of personal, and Jinwoo is so out of it right now to notice it. “T-This one, sir.” She gingerly pushes a pack forward, unable to meet his eyes. When she woke up this morning, she hadn’t expected to be discussing her menstrual product choices with Sung Jinwoo, of all people. “They’re cotton-based. Um. More breathable.”

“Okay. I’ll take that one.”

“Right. What size do you—uh, I mean, does your wife usually use?”

He stops and stares. Of course they have sizes.

Seeing his soul leave his body, she gently suggests, “You might want to give her a call?”

“Give me a sec.” He closes his eyes. Beru.

Yes, my liege.

What pad size does my wife usually use?

She prefers the overnight kind. The ones labeled for ‘heavy flow,’ my liege.

Jinwoo opens his eyes. “Overnight pads. Heavy flow.”

“With or without wings?”

He stops and stares. Again. “O-one moment.”

Beru. With or without wings?

She favors the ones with wings, my liege.

“With wings, please.”

“Scented or unscented?”

His head drops back. God, why are there so many choices?

Beru.

The scented ones have caused her skin irritation before, my liege, so I suggest—

“Unscented, thanks.” God, please, no more questions.

“Y-yes, sir.” The cashier quickly bags the selected pack. “Is there anything else?”

Beru?

She has said that her abdominal pains are severe, my liege.

Right. “Yes, some painkillers too, please—for cramps.”

A beat.

A-also, my liege… may I be so bold as to request… candy mints? This humble servant has long been curious about their taste. I-if it’s not too much trouble, of course.

Jinwoo sighs. “And some candy mints. Thank you.”

***

Stepping out of the pharmacy with a plastic bag dangling from one hand, Jinwoo’s mind spins in a dozen directions, each one trying to figure out how he can make you feel even a little bit better. He knows this pain visits you monthly, yet it never sits right with him—just watching you suffer while he does nothing.

Maybe some comfort food will help…

He makes a quick detour into a nearby convenience store, heading straight for the snack aisle. These days, he’s memorized all your favorites—the specific brand, the exact flavor. Unlike the nightmare that was navigating menstrual pads, this is familiar territory.

As he strolls down an aisle, he spots a familiar brand of potato chips—the exact flavor you always reach for first. He smiles. Without hesitation, he grabs a few bags, tossing three in for you and one for himself.

But just as they land in the cart, Beru’s voice buzzes into his mind like a pesky conscience.

My liege, I do not suggest giving these food items to her. They are not suitable for women during menstrual cramps.

Jinwoo freezes mid-step. “What?” he mutters, glancing at the chips. There’s food you’re not supposed to eat during your period? He genuinely didn’t know. He makes a mental note to be better next time.

What should I get for her, then?

Foods that are high in fat and sodium should be avoided, Beru explains smoothly, as if he’s been rehearsing this in the mirror. They can increase bloating and water retention. She needs easily digestible meals—foods that reduce inflammation. Fruits like bananas and berries are good choices. A light vegetable soup, especially with ginger, will ease her cramps. And dark chocolate, my liege. It helps with mood regulation.

Jinwoo blinks, frowning. That’s… oddly specific. How do you even know all this? You’re an ant.

Beru puffs up with pride—even through telepathy, Jinwoo can feel it. I have studied human biology extensively through your interactions and dialogue, my liege. While I am not human, I have amassed considerable knowledge to ensure the safety and comfort of your lady wife. In fact, I have also learned about human sexual reproduction by studying anatomical references and behavioral data. If you wish, I can provide suggestions to improve fertility—

Nope. No need.

But, my liege, it has been several months since you began your attempts to produce an heir, and the results have been less than rewarding. May I suggest altering your coital positioning to improve pelvic angle and sperm—

I will strangle you.

M-m-my apologies, my liege. Please have mercy!

Jinwoo exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was just trying to buy soup ingredients—how did this escalate so quickly?

Right. Soup. He returns to the task. I’ll just get what I need and cook it for her later.

An excellent decision, my liege. She will surely be pleased.

Jinwoo’s hand reaches for the chip bags to return them—only for Beru’s voice to chime in one last time, soft and trembling.

M-my liege… may I also have the potato chi—

No.

He doesn’t need to see him to know—Beru is weeping somewhere in the shadows.

***

The player screen flickers before his eyes:

Cooldown Time Remaining: 2:32:36

Jinwoo swears under his breath. Shadow Exchange won’t work for another two and a half hours. He has no time to waste.

Without hesitation, he leaps into the air and calls, “Kaisel.” The sky darkens instantly as the massive wyvern materializes, letting out a ferocious roar that echoes across the city skyline.

“Take me to my wife,” Jinwoo commands, his voice low, sharp with urgency. “As fast as you can.”

The air whips around him as Kaisel surges upward, wings slicing the clouds like blades, the landscape a blur beneath. He plants his feet on the creature’s back, wind tugging at his shirt, but his eyes are fixed on the horizon, his mind drifting back to you.

How is she now? he asks Beru.

The ant’s voice answers quickly, full of subdued concern. She is still in bed, my liege. Unable to sleep. It has been a very taxing pain—on both her body and her spirit. She has been fighting it for hours.

For hours? Jinwoo's heart tightens, stabbed by guilt. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?

I wished to, my liege. But… she forbade me. Beru’s voice dips with guilt. She did not want to worry you, especially knowing you had a raid this morning.

Jinwoo exhales harshly, his eyes narrowing. Of course you did, he thinks of you—not in frustration, but in aching admiration. Always protecting me, even when you're the one in pain.

What about your healing magic?

I have tried it several times, my liege. It dulls the pain, but only slightly. I fear my abilities cannot counteract this form of suffering.

Keep at it, he orders. And heat a water bottle—press it against her lower stomach. It should ease the pain a little. He’s done it for you countless times. It always helps.

At once, my liege.

His heart aches at the thought of you lying curled up in bed, face pale, body trembling, fighting off the ache in silence. This isn’t like the others, he thinks. Isn’t this her sixth day? That’s past the worst of it, usually.

He presses two fingers to his chin, deep in thought. He’s memorized your cycle by now—he knows your usual pain, your patterns. Normally, your cramps hit hard on the first day, then fade within a couple more. Why is it still so bad? Did something change? Whatever the answer is, it doesn’t change the fact that you're still in pain.

And that he's not there to soothe you.

Damn it.

Had he known this would happen, he never would’ve left your side this morning. Just like earlier this week, when he spent the whole day holding you, warming you, stroking your back until sleep claimed you. No raid, no mission, no beast was worth more than your comfort.

Jinwoo clenches his jaw, wind howling around him as Kaisel surges faster. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to comfort you sooner, he thinks, his heart heavy with regret.

The shadows tremble beneath his feet as Kaisel speeds forward, a black streak across the blue sky.

I promise I’ll be there soon.

***

Jumping off Kaisel's back even before the beast sinks its talons into the ground, Jinwoo dashes toward the house, barely registering the startled high orcs tending the garden as he passes. The second he reaches the door, he slows, catching his breath. Carefully, he turns the knob—gentle, quiet—so he doesn’t startle you.

As expected, he finds you lying on the bed, curled up on your side. His heart squeezes at the sight of you, and he feels a mix of sympathy and helplessness for not being able to take the pain away.

He places the plastic bag on the bedside table and eases down beside you. “Hey…” His voice is low, velvety-soft as his fingers comb through your hair. “I’m here.”

Your eyes flutter open at the sound. “Hey… You’re here? I thought you were still on the raid…”

“I was, but Beru told me you were hurting.” His brows pull together as he gazes at you. “I couldn’t stay after that.”

“You shouldn’t have left. I’m fine.” You shift, trying to sit up and brush it off, pretending to be strong as always.

“Don’t,” Jinwoo says quickly, gently guiding you back down. “Lie down, honey. It’s all right.”

“I’m fine, Jin. Honestly.”

He smiles—tender but a little sad. “You always do this, don’t you? Always trying to be strong so I won’t worry. It’s cute when you do, and I love that about you, but...” His hand brushes along your temple. “It’s okay not to be so tough all the time, you know that, right? When you come to me and ask for my help, that makes me happy too. Maybe even the happiest. I love it when you’re being needy—didn’t I tell you that?”

You give him a tired smile. “Still… you didn’t have to leave the raid. I feel bad.”

“Don’t be. I wanted to see you. As soon as Beru told me you were crying in pain, I had to get out of there. I just couldn't stand it.”

“Beru was being dramatic…”

“I wish you’d be a bit dramatic,” he smirks, roguish and seductive. “Crying, whimpering my name, begging me to come home and soothe you.” His voice falls into that low, teasing register. “I’d love that.”

You groan. “I’m too weak to punch you right now, but please try and visualize it for me.”

He laughs quietly, his eyes softening again. How do you still manage to be this adorable while in pain?

He brushes his fingers down your cheek, cupping it tenderly. “I’m here, okay? You don’t have to pretend. It’s just me.”

His heart melts at the sight of you nuzzling your face further into his palm, your contented sigh mollifying his worry. “Okay.”

“Is there anything you need? I brought you some painkillers,” he says, reaching for the bag. “Got new pads too—overnight, unscented, with wings. Also… dark chocolate to help your mood. I wanted to grab your favorite chips, but Be—” He coughs once. “I mean, I read somewhere they’re not great for cramps. Something about water retention.”

“Wow,” you giggle faintly, impressed. “Look at you, doing your homework.”

“Of course,” he says proudly, kissing your forehead. “I care about my wife.” Watching you curl further into yourself, he frowns. “How bad is it?”

You answer with a pained moan, rolling to your side with one hand clutching your stomach. “Bad enough that I want to punch someone in the face.”

“Ah. One of those days.” He tears open the painkiller packet, pours you a glass of water, and helps you sit up. Your hands tremble as you take the meds, and Jinwoo runs a hand up and down your arm to steady you, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I’ll run a warm bath for you, okay? I can give you a back massage too, if you want. It might help relieve the pain a bit—at least until the medicine kicks in.”

You lean forward, your forehead resting on his shoulder as you mumble, “You’re just looking for an excuse to touch me.”

“Is that what you think of me?” He sighs, despite being a little amused, because… well, yeah, he’s probably going to, just for a tiny bit. He puts a small distance between you, gesturing for you to lie down. “Wait here, honey. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He stands, preparing to head to the bathroom, but you catch him by the sleeve, holding onto him tightly. “Don’t go…” Your voice echoes through his ears in a fragile whisper. “I don’t need you to do anything. I just want you to stay here. Just for a bit.”

Watching you act like this, a part of him dies and goes to heaven. You’re more adorable than you’ve ever been.

“Hey…” Jinwoo kneels right beside the bed, bringing himself to your level. He takes your hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze, his sweet smile dripping with affection. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just gonna run the bath, that’s all. Then I’ll come right back.”

He can tell you just want him to be there, to hold you and just breathe in the same air until the pain in your stomach recedes. But a warm bath would certainly help more than just lying around in bed. He decides that the cuddling can wait until you’re all warmed up and relaxed.

You hesitate, lips puckered in a soft pout. “Just five minutes. Please?”

“God, you’re so cute.” He physically has to fight the urge to wrap his arms around you, to hold you close, to kiss your lips and love you until you’re suffocated with it. “Can I be honest?” The sweetness in his smile morphs into something mischievous. “Is it bad that I want you to stay like this forever? So you’ll always be this clingy around me?”

The moment is shattered. “Never mind. Go.”

“No, wait, come on—” He laughs, dodging your half-hearted swat. “Beg me again, baby.”

You flick him on the nose. “Go.”

With a grin still perched on his lips, your husband heads to the bathroom and gets the water running, testing the warmth with his fingers until it’s perfect. When he returns, he doesn’t say a word—just slides his arms beneath you.

“I can walk,” you say, palm against his chest to stop him.

“I know,” he says, landing a small kiss on the tip of your nose. “But I want to. Let me spoil my wife a little. It’s not every day she clings to me like this. I wanna take the opportunity to be the husband she dreams of.”

“But you already are…”

He catches you murmuring under your breath. Your honesty brings a tinge of scarlet to his cheeks. He clears his throat, pretending not to hear.

“…All right,” Jinwoo says after a pause. “Bath first. Cuddles after. Deal?”

You nod, and he kisses your temple with a smile.

***

Hooking one hand beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, Jinwoo carries you to the bathroom, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He takes pride in this—in taking care of you. Although he sympathizes with your pain, he can’t help but feel immense joy from being so needed, from being the person you lean on for support. It fills him with something warm and grounding. Purpose.

He sets you down gently, keeping an arm firm around your waist in case your legs give out. The warm scent of lavender bath salts fills the air.

“I’m going to undress you, okay?” he says, his voice soft, coaxing.

He waits until you give him a little nod before he proceeds.

He pulls your knitted sweater over your head with careful hands, leaning down to kiss the curve of your shoulder like it’s something sacred. “You’ll be all right, Sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”

Seeing you turn sheepish under his ministrations causes joy to swell further in his chest. You’re adorable when you’re shy. He lowers himself to his knees, fingers brushing the waistband of your jeans—and that’s when you stop him.

“I—I can do this part myself.”

Jinwoo glances up, a curious smile forming. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m your husband, remember? There’s no need to be shy.”

“No, it’s not that,” you stammer, hands fluttering awkwardly. “I’m wearing a pad, and… I’m bleeding.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. “And? Honey, I’ve been waist-deep in dungeon filth and monster guts. A little period blood isn’t going to faze me.”

You shake your head stubbornly, cheeks burning. “No, it’s gross. I don’t want you to see it.”

“It’s not gross,” he insists gently, reaching for your hand. “It’s just you. There’s nothing about you that could ever be—”

“No. Go,” you say more firmly, cutting him off. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

That stops him.

He studies you for a beat, his smile softening into something more thoughtful. There’s a flicker in your expression—too quick for most to catch, but not for him. Jinwoo has seen every version of you. This one is… off.

You’re flustered, yes, but beneath that, there’s something else.

Guilt?

His brows draw together slightly, a faint furrow forming between them. Why would she feel guilty?

“Jinwoo, go.”

He exhales through his nose, standing up slowly. “Always so stubborn,” he mutters, giving your head one last pat. “All right. If you insist. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

As he turns to leave, he steals one last glance at you over his shoulder.

You’re biting your lip.

He closes the door behind him and leans his back against it, arms crossed. Something doesn’t add up.

He’s not mad—he never could be, not with you—but now his thoughts are running. You looked too tense. Too evasive. And he knows you. When the pain is real, you don’t hide it like that. You don’t push him away. Not like this.

So what are you hiding, Sweetheart?

***

Jinwoo returns to the bathroom a moment later, his head peeking inside. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

He slips past the door, tugging on his sleeves until they pool around his elbows. He’s pleased to see you sitting comfortably in the tub, back resting against the curved porcelain, your expression blissful as the steaming water cradles you up to the shoulders.

“Feels good?”

You hum in contentment, eyes closed, lips parting in a quiet sigh. The tension you held earlier seems to be melting away with the heat. Your shoulders have softened. Your breathing is even. It’s working.

“That’s good to know,” Jinwoo breathes in relief, setting a fresh towel on the bathroom counter. He closes more of the space between you, settling himself on the edge of the tub right next to you. “I’m glad you feel better,” he says, reaching forward to brush a damp strand of hair from your face. “The meds should kick in soon, too. You’ll feel even more comfortable then. Also, here.” He hands you a chocolate bar, your favorite brand plastered on the package. “For emotional support. And sugar. And serotonin. You know—the holy trinity.”

“Mm. The holy trinity to make me fat.”

He chuckles at your comment. “Just something to munch on as you drown in your own filth.”

“You should join me next time,” you titter, peeling the wrapper. “We can drown in our filth together.”

“Mm. Sexy,” he deadpans. “But I can’t say no to a pretty lady bathing in molten chocolate, so yeah—next time, when you’re not feeling like you’re being stabbed in the stomach.”

“That’s a pretty accurate depiction of period cramps, actually.” You bite into the chocolate, groaning in delight as it melts on your tongue. “God, I forgot how good this is. Want some?”

“Sure.”

Instead of taking a bite, Jinwoo cups your chin gently and leans in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, slow kiss that quickly deepens. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, savoring the blend of chocolate and you—and for a second, he forgets you’re supposed to be hurting. The taste alone threatens to undo him.

When he pulls away, he licks his lips, eyes still fixed on your mouth. “Mm. Not bad at all.”

You roll your eyes despite being flustered. “I knew you’d do something cheesy like that.”

“And yet, I can hear your heart racing.” He smirks, tapping his ear, referring to his acute hunter’s hearing. “Expecting more, Sweetheart?”

“No,” you scoff, though the heat rising in your face says otherwise. “That was so predictable. Step up your game, Husband. You’re at risk of becoming boring.”

He chuckles, low and dangerous. “Careful, love. I’m only behaving because you’re sick. Say that again when you’re better—I’ll prove you wrong.”

He gazes down at you, the curve of his mouth filthy with desire, making sure you understand he’ll keep his word—and all the dirty things he has in store for you. It delights him, seeing you turn so embarrassed, and he wishes you’d stay that way a little longer. But you quickly regain your composure.

“Thank you,” he hears you say. “For doing this for me. Seriously, Jin. You’re the best.”

Jinwoo blinks at the sincere gratitude shimmering in your eyes, not expecting to see it so soon—but it’s a pleasant surprise indeed.

“The best husband in the world?” he fishes, grinning boyishly.

“Oh, absolutely. No competition. Expect your World’s Number One Husband mug to arrive in three to five business days,” you jest, your tiny giggles pulling a laugh from him too—unguarded and warm.

“Just a mug?” He reaches for a nearby washcloth, soaking it in the water. “Surely I deserve something more than that, Angel.” Though his words are playful with a hint of impishness, his heart is filled with the desire to take care of you—to protect you—especially now, seeing how vulnerable you look, all naked and… wet.

“Like what?” you ask, but he misses it—his gaze transfixed on a single bead of water that trails from your chin, sliding down your neck to rest in the hollow of your collarbone.

“Jinwoo?”

“Yeah?” He blinks, breaking free from his stupor. “Sorry. Got a little… distracted.” He clears his throat. “Let me help you.”

Your husband dips the washcloth in the water again before carefully washing your body—starting with your shoulders, then moving down to your arms. His touch is reverent, filled with quiet devotion, mindful of your soreness. He dabs the cloth over your face, softly rubbing it against your skin. As he reaches down to your neck, his gaze lingers a moment too long on the part he usually marks with lips and teeth. It’s been over a week since he last saw a bruise bloom over your veins. The urge to repaint it rises.

“You’re distracted again, honey.”

“Right, yeah.” He gets to work again, moving his hand lower to your chest with painstaking care. It’s even harder than before—but this time, he’s prepared. Trying his best to be respectful, he avoids looking at your intimate parts for too long, keeping his thoughts focused on the task at hand, not the way your body feels under his touch.

Then something flickers in his thoughts.

Wait.

You said you were on your period. That you were in pain. But…

You’re holding yourself differently now. No winces. No tension in your abdomen. You’re relaxed. Too relaxed.

His eyes narrow slightly. Strange. You don’t fake pain—not with him.

He swallows the suspicion for now, smoothing the washcloth across your side in silence. But somewhere in the back of his mind, a theory begins to form.

“So, what is it that you want?” you ask, your voice soft, breath stirring the steam as his fingers trail down your spine. “You never answered my question earlier.”

“Can I ask for something sexual?”

You snort. “Sometimes I’m impressed by how shameless you are. No, like a gift, Jin. An actual gift.”

“An actual gift, huh? Hmm…” He reaches for the bottle of soap, squeezing a dollop into his hands before lathering it between his palms. “How about… you give me some coupons?”

“Coupons?” Your brows knit in confusion. “What, like grocery coupons?”

“No,” he laughs, the sound low and fond. God, you’re cute. “Like special coupons, you know? A set of blank vouchers you give to your partner.” He starts rubbing your shoulders, hands moving in circles, massaging the tension from your muscles. “I’ll write something down on the card—whatever it is I want you to do for me—and when I give it to you, you’ll have to do it. I can use the coupon anytime I want. No exceptions. No complaints. No backsies.”

“You just want an excuse to boss me around,” you murmur, though you’re already melting under his touch.

“Maybe. But mostly”—he leans in closer, his warm breath fanning your shoulder as he reduces his voice to a low, seductive whisper—“I want to see you be a good girl for me.”

You stiffen slightly, goosebumps breaking on your skin. He doesn’t miss it—and neither does he miss the sound of your heartbeat escalating. He wonders if it’s because you’re too shy to uphold the idea… or if you just really, really like being called a good girl.

You gather yourself quickly. “A-and what if I don’t want to?”

His caress, like his voice, turns seductive and teasing, fingers trailing languidly just below your breast. “You don’t want to be a good girl for me?”

“No, I mean—” You hug your knees to your chest, burying your face in them. Oh yeah, it’s definitely the good girl part that flusters you, but more because of the way he said it, not the line itself. “I meant the coupons, you dummy. W-what if I don’t want to do the things you write down?”

He chuckles darkly, sliding his hand up to the nape of your neck, fingers twitching with the urge to grip. “Then that’s an even better gift for me.”

You shiver when he applies a little pressure there. Maybe, just like him, you recall the way he possessively holds you by the back of your neck when he kisses you—or when he takes you from behind. Jinwoo can’t help but succumb to his desire, just for a bit—lean fingers twisting around your damp strands, pulling your head back until you have no choice but to meet his gaze. He smiles down at you, eyes hooded, voice dropping an octave lower.

“Because then, I get to punish you.”

He kisses you—slow and indulgent—letting you feel the shape of his tantalizing smile. When he releases you, he’s greeted by another pout.

“I feel like you’re just going to use those coupons to exploit me sexually.”

“That’s harsh,” he replies, grinning. But is it a denial? Of course not.

“Look, honey, if you don’t trust me, you can write them yourself.” He kneels beside the tub, his hand traveling down to your thigh, rinsing the soap from your skin with careful sweeps of the cloth. “Write down the things you want to do with me. To me,” he corrects, shamelessly. “I’m down for whatever you want to do. Focus on what makes you happy.”

“But this is supposed to be my gift to you. I want to make you happy.”

“Sweetheart,” he lands a soft kiss on your knee. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Jinwoo lifts your other leg, giving it the same amount of care and attention. Your skin is warm and soft, and it takes all his self-control not to touch you sensually. The warm water beads on your skin, and every soft gasp you let out as he works the sore muscles in your ankle tests his restraint. You’re completely naked. Vulnerable. Glowing.

And he’s trying very, very hard to be good.

“Just be creative with it,” he adds, trying to redirect his focus. “Write down something fun.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” His hand glides up your thigh, hovering dangerously close to the part he’s been dying to touch. He leans forward, bringing his lips close to your ear, his smirk grazing your shell. “Putting on a nurse costume and treating me like your patient—”

You splash water in his direction before the words even finish leaving his mouth, not caring if you’re drenching his hair and clothes. He flinches, laughing, water dripping down his face and hair.

“Hey!” Jinwoo grabs your wrist, his laughter bouncing off the bathroom walls. “It was just an example! Unless, y’know… you’re into it.”

You lift your hand again, ready for another splash. He raises both palms in surrender, grinning wide and cheeky.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not giving you blank coupons,” you mutter.

“Fair enough,” he simpers, rinsing off the last traces of soap. “All right, you’re all clean. Can you stand up for me, Angel?”

He snatches the towel from the rack, drying you off and wrapping it around your body as soon as you step down from the tub. The terrycloth doesn’t reveal much—but it doesn’t need to. It hugs your curves, clings to damp skin, and he looks away quickly, jaw tightening.

“So… do you need help with your clothes, or are you still shy?”

“I can do it myself. Thank you.”

He huffs in disappointment but tries not to argue. “All right. Well, I’m gonna go make you some soup, then. Just get back in bed when you’re done. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Can you stop being so perfect?” You sigh. “You’re gonna make me feel bad.”

Though he’s pleased with your praise, your last line leaves him confused. “Why would you feel bad?”

“N-nothing,” you promptly respond, which only tautens his brows even more. “I’m gonna… put on my clothes now, if you don’t mind.”

He narrows his eyes, unconvinced. “…Yeah. Okay.”

He lingers for a second longer than he should, then finally steps out, closing the door behind him and leaving you to your privacy as you requested.

***

You press your ear against the closed bathroom door, listening intently. His footsteps echo, then fade. He’s gone. 

Now that you’re alone, standing in silence, you summon the tiny conspirator lurking beneath your feet.

“Beru,” you whisper. “Come out. He’s gone.”

Your shadow trembles, twisting into a thick fog before forming the floating head of your overly dramatic general. Barely the size of your palm, Beru zips toward you, mirroring your agitation, his antennae twitching with anxiety.

“M-Mine queen…” he croaks, dread thick in his voice.

“Beru, I hate to say this, but…” You let out a breath. "We are so fucked.”

Beru nods gravely, wings vibrating with shared terror. “Hath mine liege discerned that we have been deceitful?”

“No, not yet.” You slump against the door. “But he’s definitely suspicious. I don't think I can lie to him anymore, Beru.” Your shoulder sag, the urge to just give up and come clean threatening to take over you. “I suck at lying.”

“Mine queen, thou hast performed most admirably! Pray, do not abandon the path now!”

“I don’t even know if I want to do this anymore,” you sound whiny, but you don’t care. “He’s been so sweet to me, Beru. So, so sweet. Ugh, I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you. This is all your fault!”

His panic spikes.  “M-mine lady, why dost thou cast this grievous blame upon mine head?”

“You were the one who came up with the plan! I just wanted to see how he’d react, Beru—not create a soap opera! You told him I was crying during a raid, didn't you?! You know he can’t stand it when I cry!”

“I—I but sought to evoke the fullest display of his affection!” Beru stammers, wringing his claws together. “It was all for thy benefit!”

“Yeah, and now he’s gone all out just to comfort me! He’s doting on me like some perfect husband in a drama! He bathed me, Beru. Washed my feet!”

“Aye,” Beru breathes reverently. “tis cometh as no surprise. He ne'er doth cease to leave me in wondrous awe.” He nods to himself, admiring his king still even as his own terror slowly consumes him. “S-shall we then speak unto him the truth, mine queen? Will he findeth it in his heart to pardon us for our grievous sins?”

You chew your nail, pacing, spiraling. “He’s in a good mood right now, so maybe? But he’s done so much for me. If I were him, I’d be pissed.”

“Aye,” Beru nods solemnly. “Thy temper is most volcanic—”

You grab his floating head in your hand and squeeze. “What was that?”

“F-Forgive me! A slip of the tongue!” 

You release him with a heavy sigh. “He’s going to be so angry with me, isn't he?”

“Fret thee not, mine lady. Mine liege shall ne'er possess the heart to chastise thee. He loveth thee, beyond all else.”

“You’re right. He does love me. But what about you? Won’t he punish you? You lied to him too, you know. We’re in this together.”

At that, he pales. “Then, I deem it wise that we continue this charade!”

You seize his face again, your voice low, filled with threats. “If you betray me, Beru, I swear—”

“Nay! I shall carry thy secret unto mine grave!”

“You can’t die, you idiot.”

“...Ah.”

You groan, tossing your head back. “Ugh, fine. I’ll keep pretending to be sick. But it’s so exhausting. I have to act all weak, and I keep forgetting.” You drop your voice in embarrassment. “When I pushed him away so he wouldn’t see I wasn’t wearing a pad anymore, I felt awful. He looked so hurt, Beru.”

“Yea, I comprehend, mine lady. Yet… I do fear he shall be wrathful if he discovers thy deceit.”

“I need to figure out how to keep him from getting too mad…”

Beru taps his chin with a tiny claw. “Thou mayest ever wield thy feminine grace to beguile him, mine lady. The king is powerless before thy charms. Thou knowest well he hath no defense against thy tender touch.”

“…Are you telling me to seduce my husband?”

Beru nods gravely, as if he’s proposing a military strategy.

You stare at him, utterly deadpan. “I can’t believe an ant is telling me to use sex as a distraction.”

“I am loyal to victory, mine queen.”

You roll your eyes, pointing a stern finger. “Fine. But you. You keep your mouth shut.”

Beru salutes, vanishing back into your shadow with the gravity of a warrior going into battle.

You turn to the mirror, steeling yourself.

Lady charm. Lady charm.

You slap your cheeks lightly.

You’ve got this.

***

You have not got this.

Why? Because you’re shit at lying.

You’ve known it from the start—you’ve never been good at it. But this? This is embarrassing. The harder you try to act like you’re suffering through one of the most torturous pains of your life, the more tense and awkward you become.

You sit restlessly on the bed, arms folded on the small, foldable table in front of you. Dinner’s just ended. Jinwoo stands beside you, balancing a tray as he collects the empty plates and bowls.

“Are you okay?” he asks, eyeing you closely, one brow raised. “You’ve been… fidgeting.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” you stammer. “Just a little uncomfortable.”

“Is the medicine working?”

“Yeah, perfectly.” Oh, a golden opportunity! An excuse to tone things down! “In fact, I don’t feel that much pain anymore. Got my spirits back, all thanks to you, lover.” You throw him a smile that’s far too wide to be natural.

“O... kay,” he says, still unconvinced but amused. “So—how was it?”

“How was what?”

“The food, my love.”

“Oh!” You perk up. “It's amazing!” You savor the last bite of the soup he made for you. The savory flavors of the broth, the warm, aromatic kick of the ginger he added—all mixed with the sweetness of the carrots and onions—made it a feast for both your eyes and tongue. “That was the most delicious thing I’ve ever had.” You polish off the last drop of watermelon juice he made for you and hand him the glass. “The juice too. Everything was perfection. My compliments to the handsome chef.”

“So dramatic,” he snorts, though the joy radiating from his face says the opposite.

“I thought you wanted me to be dramatic.”

“True,” he concedes. With a slight laugh, he stacks the chopsticks on the tray and sets everything aside on the nightstand. Your husband climbs into bed beside you and pulls out a pack of mints from his pocket.

“Care for one?”

You look at him, so utterly impressed that he’s prepared everything down to the last detail. You’d just thought how nice it would be to have a mint to freshen your breath, and here he is, offering you one like he read your mind.

You part your lips, letting him slip one past them. You roll it over your tongue, the cool, sweet burst of flavor coating your taste buds. “Marry me.”

“We’re already married,” he chuckles, popping one into his own mouth.

“Marry me again. You’re perfect.”

“I'd marry you a thousand times, you know that.” He sits up, his back against the headboard. “Come here, jagiya.”

His arm slithers around your waist, gently drawing you toward him until your spine is glued to his torso. His body wraps around yours, fitting so naturally it’s like your backs were carved for each other. He adjusts his legs so you’re cradled between them, his arms settled around your waist.

“This feels nice, doesn’t it?” Jinwoo sighs, nuzzling his face against your neck, basking in your scent. “You know what I love about us being married?”

You breathe out in bliss, resting your full weight on him. “Mm, what?”

“We share the same shampoo. So now you smell like me, and I smell like you.”

“Mm. And so do thousands of other people who use that shampoo.”

“You little—” He pinches your side, making you squirm and giggle. “I’m trying to be romantic.”

“Honey, you’re the most romantic when you’re not trying,” you assure him with a kiss on the cheek, giggling. “So, my sweet King of Shadows. Tell me about your day.”

“You already know what I did today. I was taking care of my queen.” Jinwoo, out of habit, slides his hand under your shirt, gliding over your skin in lazy, teasing strokes as he casually speaks. “A princess, actually. A spoiled, demanding one. Just the way I love her.” He catches your heart pounding when his palm skims your stomach, misinterpreting it as pain rather than guilt over your stupid prank.

“Does it still hurt?” he asks softly, worry clouding his voice. He runs his palm gently over your belly, slow and soothing. “Is there anything else I can do to ease the pain?”

God, you want to tell him so badly. He’s too precious for this.

“No, I’m fine now. The medicine helps. And please, you’ve done so much more than I needed you to. Thank you.” You lift his hand and press a kiss to his knuckles, letting your gratitude—and your secret apology—sink into his skin. Another kiss lands on his jaw as you guide his hand back to your belly. “You’re so sweet to me, Jin. You didn’t have to do all that, you know. Just having you here already made me feel better.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” He presses his lips lovingly to the side of your neck, his mouth moving slowly, leaving one featherlight kiss after another. “Making you happy makes me happy.”

You smile softly, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. “You’ve said that before.”

“I mean it.”

The need to cover your entire body in kisses is almost unbearable, but he holds back, knowing it might be too much when you’ve only just recovered. He settles for embracing you tightly, arms encircling your waist, lips softly pressed just below your ear.

The pleasant warmth of his body, his intoxicating scent, the huskiness in his voice, and the tenderness of his tone—everything is enough to lull you to sleep. But your nerves keep you awake, buzzing. The guilt clings to you like an anchor, dragging you deeper with every second.

Maybe… maybe it’d be easier to just tell him now?

“You seem distracted,” Jinwoo murmurs against your nape, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. “Am I boring you, Angel?”

“N-no, I was just—” Your breath stutters, your body jerking in pleasure as he takes your earlobe between his lips, nibbling and sucking gently. His large palm slides upward, cupping your breast through your shirt, squeezing just enough to draw a moan from you. “Jin…”

“I won’t do anything,” he murmurs, promising innocence despite the desire dripping from every word. “I just want to feel you, baby. Just for a moment.”

Your eyes flutter shut, your head falling back against his shoulder again as his touch spreads warmth through your body. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, drowning in the sweet sensation. Your hand reaches backward, sliding across his undercut before fisting his strands and guiding him closer to your neck.

His kisses grow deeper, wetter, his teeth teasing your tender skin.

“So…” he breathes, too casual, as his tongue traces the line of your vein. “I heard something new today.”

You sigh, surrendering completely, tipping your head to the side to give him better access. Your mind fogs with heat, guilt evaporating under the burn of his affection.

“Yeah…? What did you—ah—hear?”

“Something silly.” He sucks the skin just below your jaw, hard enough to leave a mark. Then he licks over it, soothing the sting before moving back to your ear, capturing the lobe again with a smirk in his voice. “Something naughty.”

A soft moan escapes you, your stomach tightening. “Something naughty…?”

“Mm.” You feel the curve of his grin against your skin. “Something that Beru just told me.”

You freeze, your heart rate skyrocketing. Warmth drains from your chest, replaced by cold panic.

Did that bitch just betray me? you wonder, heart thrashing.

“W-what?” you stammer, voice thin and high. “What do you mean? What did he tell you?”

He senses your shift immediately, pulling back just enough to see your face.

“Are you all right?”

“No. I mean, yes.” You force a shaky breath. Calm down. Just breathe. “I just… I want to know what Beru told you.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrow slightly, reading between the lines. Still suspicious, but he lets it slide—for now.

“He said there are… certain positions that help conceive a baby faster.”

You choke, the words catching in your throat. “What?”

“Yeah,” he deadpans. “That was my exact reaction too.”

“Ah. And, umm—” You clear your throat, forcing a smile. “What advice did he give you?”

“I didn’t ask.” He shrugs with quiet confidence. “I don’t need advice from an ant to get my wife pregnant.”

“R-right…”

“But…” He leans in again, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, voice dark and smooth. His hand slips beneath your shirt, warm against your skin, hovering just over your bare breast. “I did some reading of my own today.”

He doesn’t knead or grope—just lets his thumb circle lazily over your peak, barely grazing, but it sets your nerves alight. It’s teasing. Intentional. Cruel in the best way.

“And while there’s no guaranteed method, apparently, positions that allow for deeper penetration might give better chances.”

You swallow hard. “A-and… what would that be?”

He reaches up, gently gathering your hair and draping it over one shoulder to bare the other. He tugs your collar down, just enough to reveal a stretch of skin—and then he’s there, kissing softly at first, then harder, until you feel the start of a bruise. His lips curve into a grin against your shoulder.

“You’d be on your hands and knees, Princess,” he murmurs, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “I’d be behind you. And you’d have your pretty little ass in the air…”

He takes your earlobe gently between his teeth, nipping, then whispering low.

“...and I’d be able to go really… really deep… until…”

His palm spreads over your stomach, warm and possessive.

“...you can feel me right…”

Two fingers press just below your navel.

“...here.”

A sharp jolt of heat courses through you as your imagination runs wild. The anticipation, the intimacy, the way his voice wraps around you like silk—it’s almost enough to smother your guilt.

Almost.

But no—Lady charm, you remind yourself. You’re supposed to distract him. Use what you’ve got. Own it.

You shift in his lap, turning just enough to catch his gaze. When you speak, your voice is honey-sweet, edged with daring, soaked in seduction.

“Why don’t we… try something right now?”

Jinwoo goes still, as if your words need time to sink in. Then you feel it—his breath stutters, his grip on your waist tightens, and his hand twitches against your skin like he's holding himself back by sheer force of will.

“…What?” he asks at last, his voice thick with caution and desire. “You mean—?”

“You know what I mean.”

“But… you said you were in pain earlier.”

You slide your legs around him, straddling him slowly, deliberately. Your hands trail up his chest, feeling the tension coiled just beneath his skin. “I told you, the medicine worked. I feel fine now.” You press your forehead to his, lips brushing his in a featherlight tease. “And you’ve been so good to me. Let me return the favor.”

His jaw tightens. You feel it beneath your fingertips—the restraint, the ache, the tenderness. “You don’t have to—”

“But I want to.”

You cut him off with a kiss—slow, deep, filled with longing. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just real.

You roll your hips in his lap, letting him feel your warmth, the shape of your desire, the silent promise wrapped in every movement.

“I need you, Jin.”

His breath escapes in a low groan, rough and needy. “You have no idea what you're doing to me.” Jinwoo buries his face in your neck, arms tightening around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll perish into thin air if he didn't hold you tightly enough. “You don’t even have to try, Sweetheart. You’re already driving me crazy.”

“Well…” you whisper, kissing along the line of his jaw, your breath hot against his skin, “What if I do try?”

You begin unbuttoning his shirt, slow and teasing. Each button undone reveals more of him—his sculpted chest, the heat of his skin, the steady thud of his heart under your palm. You push the fabric off his shoulders and trace your fingers down his body, memorizing the contours all over again.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathe out.

His eyes soften at your words, but the tension in him doesn’t ease—it coils tighter. “And you’re fucking gorgeous,” he replies breathlessly, smashing your mouths together, his kisses ardent, full of hunger.

You reach behind you, tugging off your shirt. His hands rise to help—worshipful and gentle despite the fire inside. He cups your breasts with aching tenderness, his thumbs brushing across your nipples before his mouth follows—hot, slow, adoring.

“Jin,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair as his tongue plays with you, just enough pressure, just enough tease to send a shiver down your spine.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin, gently suckling on your bud. “You always taste so good, Angel. So warm and sweet.”

You lean back slightly, guiding his hands down your sides, then rise off his lap. Slowly, deliberately, you turn and ease forward onto your hands and knees, sinking into the bed in front of him.

You glance over your shoulder, catching the stunned, ravenous look on his face. Desire burns in his eyes like an open flame—and you smirk, tipping your hips just enough to make him lose the last of his composure.

“Was this the position you were talking about?” you ask, your voice laced with honey and wickedness.

He’s behind you before the sentence ends. His hands find your hips, seizing them with veneration and need, like you're the only thing tethering him to this earth.

You push back, pressing yourself against him.

“God, baby…” His voice is hoarse, nearly a groan, breathless with restraint. He leans down, lips grazing along the line of your spine, his breath scalding as it fans over your skin. “You have no idea what you’ve just started.”

“Oh, I think I do,” you purr, rolling your hips back into him with intentional slowness. “Maybe Beru was right. Maybe we should try a few different positions. It’d be fun to get a little… experimental.”

That lights a fire in him. He smirks, lips grazing your shoulder. “Experimental, huh?” His hands travel up your sides, his voice dropping lower. “I’ve held back all this time, thinking my sweet girl liked things tender, gentle. I figured you preferred romance over ruin.”

He presses himself against your clothed core, his arousal throbbing beneath the thin fabric of his pants, grinding into you with intent. The pressure steals your breath, a moan escaping your lips before you can hold it back.

“Mmm,” you whimper, biting your lip to muffle the sound. Your hands fist into the sheets below as you push your hips back toward him again. “I wouldn’t mind something a little different. Something rougher. Maybe something that… hurts a bit.”

He stills behind you, his grip tightening, voice strained with control. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Maybe I should.”

The tension crackles between you like a live wire, aching to snap. You can feel his desire clawing just beneath the surface, threatening to break loose.

He wants to devour you, desperately. Wants to throw restraint to the wind and take you the way you’re begging to be taken.

But then—he stops. His hands fall still.

His voice, when it comes, is softer now, gentling like rain, hesitant. “We can’t. Not right now.” He brushes a thumb over your bare back, rediscovering control. “You’re still bleeding. What if the pain comes back? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You blink, stunned. A pang of guilt slices through you so suddenly it almost knocks the air out of your lungs.

Jinwoo is too sweet. Too good. And you’re just too damn evil if you keep this going.

Ah, screw it. I can’t take this anymore.

“Jinwoo.” You shift back around, pushing him down and straddling his lap. “I have... something to tell you.” There’s a different kind of vulnerability in your gaze now—not desire, but truth. The weight of it presses down on your chest.

He gazes at you with concern, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “What is it?”

“I’m not in pain,” you whisper.

He blinks. “Honey?”

You take a shaky breath, heart hammering. “I haven’t been in pain. Not really. I’m not… I’m not even on my period right now.”

Jinwoo freezes. The change is immediate. His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing with disbelief. “What?”

A guilty laugh escapes you—small, shame-tinged. “I’m sorry,” you murmur nervously. “It was stupid. I missed you. I wanted to be close to you. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I just… I wanted to see your reactions—”

“You lied to me?” His tone darkens—not with fury, but with something heavier. Something primal. His presence becomes thunderous, the air thick with power. You flinch.

“I-I didn’t mean to manipulate you,” you rush to say, heart kicking into overdrive. “I just wanted to know how far you’d go for me. I was curious. Stupidly curious.”

“This was a test?”

“No! God, no.” Your hands shoot up defensively. “I would never test you like that. It was just a prank. A stupid, awful prank. I’m so sorry.”

He leans back, sighing through gritted teeth—the kind that makes your skin prickle. His expression is tight with exasperation, but there’s a glint in his eyes—amusement, maybe. Or something darker. Something deliciously vengeful.

“So,” he drawls, his tone deceptively casual, “I left the raid early. Nearly got swallowed by a giant snake because I was too distracted worrying about you crying.” He draws out that last word, twisting the knife. “Burned through half my mana because my shadows were getting overwhelmed without me there. And then I humiliated myself buying pads in a pharmacy stocked with more options than a potion shop. And that was all… for nothing?”

You nearly fold where you stand. “I didn’t mean to distract you during the raid! I would never want to put you in danger!”

“Then why did you tell Beru to say you were crying?”

“I didn’t! That was all his doing!”

Silence. Then—“What?”

“…Ah.” You wince. The irony hits hard. You thought Beru would be the one to betray you—yet here you are, throwing him under the bus.

“It was his idea?”

Well, it’s too late to retract your words now—not that you want to. “Y-yes, it was his idea. All of it. I—I didn’t even want to do it.”

His expression darkens, like storm clouds gathering over still water. “Put your shirt back on.”

Shit. Now he’s mad.

You scramble to dress yourself, hands shaking, heart pounding. As soon as you finish—hair tousled and skin flushed—Jinwoo’s eyes flash, his usual cobalt hue bleeding into a deep, dangerous violet.

“Beru,” he summons.

The shadow beneath your feet quivers violently. You feel it—a frantic fluttering within the dark. Beru is stalling, clearly panicking in the depths of the shadow realm, desperately finding ways to escape.

But an order is an order, and he knows better than to anger his Monarch further.

The shadow materializes midair, a floating head that trembles like a leaf. “M-mine liege, how art thou this day?” Beru greets with a forced, trembling grin. “Thou doth appear most divine—”

“Was it your plan?”

Beru quivers, flicks his gaze to you in betrayal, pleading for help—but you avert your eyes, lips sealed.

“Yes, it was all his plan,” you say flatly, sealing his fate.

“Mine queen!” Beru gasps in horror. “How couldst thou betrayeth me so—”

Jinwoo grabs his shadowy face with one hand, his fingers engulfing the ant’s skull entirely. His smile is sharp. Unforgiving.

“You lied to your king,” he says lowly through gritted teeth. “And had the audacity to ask me for mints and chips while doing it?”

Beru whimpers. “M-my liege, I doth beg thy forgiveness! Mine heart is heavy with remorse. But the queen is most persuasive! I was beguiled by her honeyed words! Who am I to deny her whims, when even thou—the King—yield to her will?!”

You gasp, jaw dropping. “Beru!”

“A-also… I doth yearn for ye crisps of potato.”

Jinwoo squeezes his hand around him, nearly bursting him into pulp.

“ACK—M-my liege!” Beru chokes. “Mercy! Mercy!”

“Outside. Head on the ground. Now.”

“Y-yes, my liege!” The shadow scrambles, zipping out like a bat fleeing hell. Fleeing death. Literally.

Jinwoo turns to you. “You.”

Your throat goes dry. “Y-yes?”

He unfastens his belt in one smooth, practiced motion. The leather hisses through the loops, loud in the silence. His smirk is ice and fire all at once. “Come here.”

You step toward him, heart hammering.

“Arms out.”

You obey, raising your trembling hands in the air. He seizes your wrists, binding them tight with the belt. The leather bites into your skin, and you flinch.

“Too tight, Sweetheart?”

“A-a little…”

He tightens it.

You hiss softly, and his smirk deepens—cruel and thrilled. He knows your limits. And he knows just how much pain you can take… and crave. You asked for this, didn't you?

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

You meet his gaze.

“What do you say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Keep going.”

“I am… sorry for lying to you. I’m sorry for pulling a childish prank on you.”

“And?”

You swallow thickly. “I promise I won’t ever make you worry like that again. I swear I won’t ever do something so stupid again.”

His voice rumbles deep and low. “And if you break your promise?”

“I’ll…” Your face twists in a grimace. “…accept whatever punishment you see fit?”

He smiles, slow and wicked. Jinwoo leans in, kissing you softly—tender, gentle, almost jarringly sweet. “Good girl.”

You shiver, your voice crumbling to a whisper. “A-are you going to punish me now?”

“Oh, no. Not tonight,” he purrs, dark and smooth. “Tonight… I’m going to play with you.”

He cups your chin, tilting your face up, his gaze molten. His lips press to yours—deeper this time, more demanding, his hand gripping your chin like you’re something precious and breakable… or something to be devoured. He leaves you breathless. Dazed.

“You said you wanted to be experimental, didn’t you?” he whispers against your lips, voice a silken threat.

Your lips part to answer—but before you can speak, he spins you around, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, dragging your head back.

His breath is fire in your ear.

“Then bend over.”

***

[p0orbaby]

could you maybe write some pregnant smut with either alexia or leah please and thank youuu 🤭

this isn’t at all what you asked for because my mind went blank… but i wanted to give you something. a follow up may be on the horizon

rich!reader, postpartum sex ban, let’s gooo

-

You are experiencing what can only be described as an emergency.

Not a life-threatening emergency, no. Not in the conventional sense. There is no fire. No armed robbery. No medical professionals are needed.

And yet—despite the complete absence of immediate danger—you are suffering. You are in crisis.

Because it has been six weeks since you have been able to have sex.

Six weeks.

Forty-two days.

One thousand and eight hours.

You do the maths frequently. It brings you no comfort.

Because your wife—your unreasonably attractive, infuriatingly smug wife—has been making it worse.

You don’t think she’s doing it on purpose. But then again, you also didn’t think you were the kind of person who could be undone by the mere existence of another human being, and yet—

Here you are.

Postpartum. Horny. Not okay.

Your last shred of dignity clings to the edge of a cliff, gripping so desperately you might cry.

And then, because the universe hates you, you are forced to endure the absolute worst possible setting for your suffering: a Champions League match.

Barcelona vs Lyon. Quarter-finals. Home leg. A packed stadium. Your baby in your lap. Your wife on the pitch.

It is the worst possible arrangement of things.

Because Alexia, captain, leader, heartbeat of the team, is also—unfortunately—a menace to your well-being.

She is everywhere. Commanding. Dominating. Bossing the midfield. Calling for the ball. Intercepting play. Creating chances.

And she is sweaty.

She is so sweaty.

Her shirt clings to her back. Her thighs glisten under the floodlights. She is locked in, sharp, a threat. She pulls her shorts up—a little habit she has before every free kick—and your stomach drops to your knees.

You are not okay.

You have not been okay for weeks.

You shift slightly in your seat, trying to focus on anything else. You fail spectacularly.

Isabel, blessedly oblivious to your suffering, sleeps peacefully against your chest, one tiny hand curled into a fist against your shirt. She has not known suffering a day in her life.

And then—because life is cruel—Alexia scores.

The entire stadium erupts.

She roars, fist in the air, running to the corner flag, chased by teammates.

And you—seated in the most privileged of all possible seats—are struck with the deep, undeniable realisation that you have never been more attracted to anyone in your entire life.

Which is a problem.

Because you are in a box, surrounded by people.

Important people.

The president of the club is to your left. His wife is beside him, clutching his arm, thrilled, eyes wide. Across from you, executives are clapping. Your in-laws—who insisted on coming—are beaming.

And yet—all you can think about is how badly you want to jump your wife in front of all of them.

You clench your jaw. Adjust your grip on the baby. Breathe through your nose. Try to survive.

Twenty minutes later, Barcelona win.

The final whistle goes. The team celebrates. Cheers. Applause. The smell of fresh beer being flung into the air in the stands.

And then—the worst possible thing happens.

Alexia jogs off the pitch.

Your body, betraying you completely, tenses in anticipation.

You know what’s coming.

You have seen this play out a thousand times before.

Ten minutes later, the door swings open.

You brace yourself.

And then she walks in.

And you—like a complete idiot—forget how to breathe.

Because she is fresh from the shower.

She is in a navy tracksuit. The zip is low. Her hair is still wet, damp against her skin.

She smells like soap.

Like her.

And she knows.

She sees the way you tense. She sees the way your grip tightens on the baby. She knows exactly what she is doing to you.

And then—because she hates you—she leans down and kisses Isabel’s forehead.

Soft. Gentle. Devastating.

Your stomach drops through the floor.

She sits down next to you. So casual. So smug. She touches your thigh, her fingers barely brushing against the fabric, like she isn’t completely destroying you.

And then—to make things worse—she focuses entirely on the baby.

You stare at her.

You cannot handle this.

She hums softly under her breath, rubbing small circles into Isabel’s back. Her fingers move so lightly, so effortlessly, and your stomach flips.

Your entire body is on fire.

She adjusts the blanket. Fixes a tiny sock. Makes a soft, affectionate noise.

And you—you actually whimper.

She laughs.

The kind of laugh that makes you want to throw yourself into the sea.

She leans in slightly, voice low, amused, calculated.

“Three more days.”

Your eyes slam shut.

You are in actual, physical pain.

Seventy-two hours.

You might not survive.

God help you.

[heartyluv]

💋⌖༺𓆩🍷𓆪༻

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2,839

Summary: Sylus hates being away from his wife, always has.

Reader/Husband!Sylus w/ Breeding Kink

You're so close and you can't wait to be where you belong. It's always hard to leave your husband and your home behind for any reason, but you haven't seen your best friend in so long that the trip to see her was needed. After two weeks in your hometown, you were now in the car Sylus sent for you, getting closer to being in his arms again.

Your phone rings in your purse and you fish inside the bag to answer it. The photo of Luke and Kieran posing with the peace sign is the first thing you see, making you smile.

You press the phone to your ear after accepting the call. "Hey, guys. Everything okay?"

"No, everything is not," Kieran mumbles. "This is the longest two weeks I've ever experienced. Boss Man has been so moody."

"Please tell us you're almost here," Luke says plainly.

"You're not used to Sylus' moods by now?" you joke.

"Of course we are. But we will never get used to how flip-floppy he can be about you. It's gross, yet oddly adorable... Please don't tell him I said that," Kieran pleads.

"What's he doing?" you ask curiously.

"That's the thing. He's doing nothing," Luke answers.

"Since you've been gone, he's been to himself. I know what you're thinking. 'Isn't that typical of the Boss?' Well yes, you are 100% correct. At least typical behavior with us. Boss cannot be without you for more than a second if he can help it. Anyways," Kieran sighs. "He hasn't made a sarcastic comment, joke, or insult during your entire absence. He's been the most... "regular" since you told him you were coming home today and even more so to see you're two minutes away," Kieran adds.

"How do you—?"

"Oh, you must know that he has a tracker on you."

Of course Sylus tracks you. It's not necessarily surprising, just newfound information.

"Tell him I'm—"

"Open the door, open the door! She's here!" Kieran screeches.

Your phone beeps, indicating the call has been disconnected. Yours and Sylus' home come into view, and you feel so giddy inside. The driver rounds the small bend of the driveway, putting the car in park, and steps out of the vehicle to help with your bags. Before you can even get your fingers to the handle, your door opens.

You turn your head to the right to see you husband, the smallest but ever so meaningful smile on his face. He for sure used his Evol to get here as quick as he did because he was not present when the car pulled up. His hand is out, reaching for you. You slide yours into his and he's pulling you as politely as he can muster to bring you closer to him.

He's in his long sleeve brown top that you bought him a few months ago and his tailored black slacks, making him represent the perfect combination of comfy and classy like he always does.

He doesn't say a word, not at first. Immediately when he has you close enough, his hand cups the side of your head and he dips his to kiss your lips. The kiss is hungry and desperate. He doesn't give a damn who's around and who's watching him suck your tongue into his mouth.

This is his house, his choice, and most of all, his fucking woman.

He growls and you feel the rumble in his chest vibrate against your own with how pressed together you are.

"Sylus—" You try and speak, but he's engulfing your mouth with even more vigor as if your voice has only spurred him on more.

He realizes he needs to let you breathe, knows that he's likely making your whole body flush with embarrassment, but he can't seem to care. It's only when you bite down on his lip a little too hard, forcing him to pull back, does he finally look into your eyes.

You can barely breathe and just like he thought, your cheeks are tinged red and you're breathing deeply. You lick your lips, your smile uncontainable when his piercing red eyes bore into your large ones.

"My apologies, kitten," he finally speaks. "Can you blame your husband for being so eager?" His thumb trails your lips, mixing his saliva and yours.

"I missed you too, handsome," you respond once your breath finally stabilizes. The driver announces that he'll be on his way, and you close your eyes as if it'll make you disappear, hoping that he didn't pay attention to the way Sylus kissed you.

Who are you kidding? Even if the poor old man didn't look, he definitely heard it and is most definitely judging a little bit.

Sylus makes the hesitant decision to separate from you for a moment to tip the driver before he departs. He thanks the both of you, tipping his hat, and you two watch the red headlights depart away from your home after he got inside the car.

Sylus gets close to you again, seemingly ready to take you right here on the driveway pavement, but Luke and Keiran come running out the house, exclaiming with happiness that you're back.

"Thank god you're here. Please, fix him," Kieran exclaims.

Sylus sighs, shaking his head at his—what he deems—ridiculous behavior, but if you were in their shoes, you're sure you would've been feeling the same way.

"Bring her bags inside. Take a car and one of my cards for the next few days. Don't come back until I instruct you to," Sylus commands and all of you damn near snap your necks to look at him.

The twins chuckle, nudging at each other before throwing your husband a loud "yes sir". They both make quick moves to grab your things and Sylus holds your hand as he guides you into your shared lavish home. Kieran is the first back out the door after showing Sylus what card he took, and Luke shuts the door behind himself after following his brother's lead.

"Why are they leaving?" you ask, but you know the answer. How could you not?

Sylus tilts his head in amusement, licking his lips. "Are you hungry?"

"Not particularly..." you breathe.

"Hm," he hums. The radiant glow of the descending sun is the only light you have to see his face, to see the mischief he has written all over it. "But I am, sweetie. A treat such as yourself could satiate a hungry man like me."

He kisses you again, barely giving you the chance to respond. He's quick to kiss your jaw, then your neck. His tongue traces your skin, holding you up so that you don't crumble before him.

"Do you know how insane I've been without you?" He bites the section where your neck and shoulder meet. "The way I ached for you..." He inhales your scent deeply. "It must be what Ares felt when he was separated from Aphrodite."

Your body shudders. He chuckles smugly at that. "Tell your husband how much you missed him, kitten."

Your hand snakes up to trail into his white-gray hair. He sucks on the places he knows makes your panties flood, decorating your neck with love bites. "I missed you so much," you tell him truthfully through your lust. "Thought about you every day..."

"You did, did you?" he teases, peeling your cardigan down your shoulders. "I don't know, I'm not convinced. Perhaps actions truly do speak louder than words. Shall we put it to the test?"

As if you weigh nothing, he picks you up and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. You've seen this man lift couches over his shoulder as if he was moving a single bag of groceries. It's insane— and it makes you want to let him do every filthy thing possible to you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Sylus brought the both of you to the upstairs bathroom and you stand behind him like a lost puppy as he cuts the water on, steam pooling out of the grand shower. He removes his clothes first and you watch as every single article of clothing is thrown to the side. You can't help but to stare at his cock, hard and standing tall.

He then approaches you, gently peeling off your own clothing. After you're naked before him, he takes you inside to stand beneath the pouring stream of water. "Tell me about your trip."

Behind you, you hear movements as your voice shakily attempts to tell him what you and your friend did while you were away. He hums every so often in response, to let you know that he really is listening. Then his large hands come into view in front of you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, not sure of what he's getting ready to do. Your words are cut off when his hands grab handfuls of your breasts, making you arch your back, and your ass press against his aching cock.

He groans as the soap begins to lather, as he runs his hands all over you. Your soaped breasts are his erotic sight. His wedding ring trails over your nipple as he massages you, causing you to call out his name.

"Don't stop, kitten," he whispers lowly. "Keep going."

"Sylus, please..." you beg. You know exactly what you want from him, but to put it into words feels impossible.

"Please, what? Speak to me. Tell me what you want." He licks your ear.

"Please... I need you."

He tsks, bringing his head down to kiss your shoulder. "I'm a man who requires details before I act. Tell me more."

"I need you to fuck me... I need you inside of me," you beg sheepishly.

"My good girl," he praises. "But what about me? You left your poor husband all alone. What about what I need?"

"What do you need? I'll do anything.."

"Anything?" he chuckles and you feel him smirk against your neck.

He grabs your wrists, pinning them behind you with his Evol. You're thrown off and the whole shower is long forgotten when mixes of black and red energy constrict your wrists. He kneels in front of you, taking your foot and bracing it on the shower bench.

"Then feed your husband, sweetie." His mouth attacks your hot cunt, your soft curls tickling his nose as he ravages you. His tongue is skilled and determined as he drinks your juices like a man on the verge of dehydration. You shake and writhe, struggling to stand upright. But Sylus has you, he'll never let you fall.

His hands grab at your ass, pulling you closer as he sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth.

"Baby... I can't, holy fuck.." you pant, moaning and whining. Your sounds echo off the tile walls and with no one here, you have zero hesitancy to be loud.

"You can," he encourages through heavy breaths. "You said you'd do anything. So, be good for me and let me taste my sweet wife's cum."

His words are filthy and so fulfilling. You want to touch him, want to press him deeper, but your bound hands prevent you like a punishment. Your orgasm approaches and he can feel you constrict around his tongue, making his efforts double.

You can't even warn him that you're about to come because it hits you before you're even ready. Your thighs shake, your body nearly doubles over, and your pussy sings for him as he swallows all of you down. He kisses your weeping cunt as you start to come down then you jolt when he licks at your sensitive clit one last time.

"Please, Sylus baby. I want to touch you. I need to feel you.." You look down at him and he kisses your thighs, then your stomach, all the way up to your wet breasts.

"Maybe you have a gift, my sweet." He licks his lips, biting them as if he'd needs another fix of the ambrosia between your legs. "Your actions and your words could move mountains."

He kisses you and your hands are still bound. You taste your heady scent on his tongue, but you're so frustrated that it nearly brings you to tears. He senses this, knows this, and the relief that washes over you as your hands are released is inexplicable. You immediately grab at his neck, then his hair. You just want to be close to him.

He lifts you up, pressing your back against the cool tile wall, but your body is so hot that the pinch of cold fades immediately. "Put me in, kitten," he looks into your eyes. "Bring me home."

You nod feverishly, looking down between the two of you. His cock is leaking. If you don't get him inside you now, you're convinced you will actually cry.

You wrap your hand around his thick length, feeling the veins that will be inside you in milliseconds. He helps you, jutting his hips forward and the tip of him opens you up like a flower. You gasp, biting your lip as he gets deeper, as you and him become one.

He starts to rock his hips and his pace is excruciatingly slow. "I want to put my baby inside you," he admits as his hips start to increase in speed, giving you what you need. The declaration makes you clench around him.

"Does my wife like that?" he presses his forehead to yours. "My baby in your stomach, my ring on your finger, my money in your pockets. Everything I am, everything I own, it belongs to you, doesn't it?"

Your emotions are at an all time high. "Yes... I want it. I want to have your baby, Sylus..." You can barely speak right.

"You'd do me the honor, wouldn't you? You'd let me fill you with my cum until it's leaking out of you, then you'd let me fuck it back into all over again until it takes."

His tip kisses your cervix ever so lightly as he slams into you with purpose. The sound of skin slapping together is orgasm inducing and your flesh ripples deliciously in his hands. He uses his Evol for a moment to keep you up and still as one of his hands comes to your stomach, pressing down. "You can feel me, hm? Feel how well we fit? We know how perfect we are together. Let's find out how even better we are when we mix."

You need it. You want it. You crave it. You need to have the family you and him have always talked about. And you need his cum so desperately that you'd get on your knees and beg. But you don't need to beg. Not when he's more than willing to give.

His hands come back to you and his thrusts become stronger, more ruthless, and your body welcomes every brutal motion. "Hold it," he demands as he feels you tighten uncontrollably. And you do. You hold it like your life depends on it.

He caresses your flushed cheek. "My sweet kitten. You listen so well for me, don't you?" You nod quickly, unable to speak to the man who's taking your breath away.

"Listen well for me one more time." His cock pulses and each vein massages the inside of you. "Come for me again. Reward your husband."

You don't need to be asked again as you scream for him, your body relieved to let out what it could no longer hold. Sylus knows how much you need him, need contact, so he brings you close and you grab at him while he groans in your ear, his own release painting your walls and filling you up. You're astounded that he's not falling to the floor because if it were you depending on your legs right now, you'd be a melted mess as much as you are in his arms.

You feel how his cum warms you. With bated breath, you tilt back your head to see your husband not as collected as you initially believed. He's just as much of a mess as you are. His cheeks and ear tips are red and his hard chest is rising and falling in quick succession. Even now, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He brings you both to the bench, sitting on it with him still nestled deeply inside of you.

The water has been running the whole time, likely cold but you and him couldn't care less. You rest your head on his shoulder.

"Staying together like this could increases our chances of pregnancy, no?" he whispers before kissing your head.

You chuckle. "I hope so."

“I really did miss you,” he mumbles into your hair. “Deeply.”

It's quiet for a moment. "I did, too.” You kiss his chest. “And I meant it, Sylus. I really do want that, want this. To start a family with you."

"I meant it too, my love. Every last word."

"Yeah?"

"Of course." He cups your face to bring your pretty eyes to him. "And I don't plan on stopping until it happens."

It already made sense why he had the twins leave, but now? It definitely makes sense. You would not know rest these next few days and you couldn't think of a better way to be welcomed home.

[amirasainz]

Can you do a Lando Norris x Sister where she gets hate? Comfort please

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Behind the screen

Yn scrolled through her phone, her fingers trembling slightly. It was supposed to be a fun way to pass time—a quick look at social media to see what people were saying about the latest race. Instead, her screen was filled with comments that stung more than she wanted to admit.

"Why does Yn look so different? Has she even been eating?"

"It’s like she’s stopped trying altogether. At least put some effort into your looks if you’re going to show up on TV."

"Does she even care about her brother? She’s never at his races anymore."

Her throat tightened as she read each comment, their words echoing in her mind. The weight she’d lost had been unintentional—stress, school, and the whirlwind of her life had taken a toll. And her absence at Lando’s races wasn’t because she didn’t care. She loved her brother more than anything, but sometimes being in the spotlight, even indirectly, was too much.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek as she turned off her phone and tossed it onto the bed. Yn curled up, hugging a pillow close to her chest, wishing she could shrink into nothingness.

That’s when the door to her room creaked open.

“Yn?” Lando’s voice was soft but concerned. He stepped inside, his usual cheeky grin replaced by a furrowed brow. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, wiping her face quickly and sitting up. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t buy it. Lando walked over, sat on the edge of her bed, and looked at her intently. “You’re crying. Don’t say it’s nothing. What happened?”

Yn hesitated, but the lump in her throat grew too big to swallow. “It’s just… people online. They’re saying horrible things about me. About my weight, how I look, how I don’t go to your races enough. It’s stupid, I know, but it just—it hurts.”

Lando’s face darkened. “They said what?”

She shrugged, trying to play it off, but her trembling hands gave her away. “It’s not a big deal. People say stuff all the time—”

“No, Yn. That’s not okay.” His tone was sharp, protective. “What the hell is wrong with people?”

“It’s fine, really,” she repeated weakly. “I just need to toughen up.”

“Stop that.” Lando moved closer, taking her hands in his. “You don’t have to ‘toughen up.’ This is messed up, and you shouldn’t have to deal with it. You’re my sister, Yn. No one gets to talk about you like that.”

Yn sniffled, feeling the warmth of his hands around hers. “I just… I hate that they think I don’t care about you. I do, Lando. I just—”

“I know you do,” he interrupted, his voice softening. “You’ve always been my biggest supporter, whether you’re at the track or not. And anyone who thinks otherwise doesn’t know anything.”

She looked down, her tears threatening to spill again. “But they’re right about how I look. I’ve lost weight, and I haven’t been dressing up or putting in effort, and—”

“Yn,” Lando said firmly, cutting her off. “You’re beautiful, okay? Always have been, always will be. And anyone who says otherwise can shove it.”

She let out a shaky laugh, despite herself. “You can’t say that to your fans.”

“Watch me.” Lando’s jaw clenched, and he stood up, pacing the room. “I’m not letting this slide. They think they can say whatever they want because they’re behind a screen. But they don’t get to hurt you. Ever.”

Yn watched him, a mix of gratitude and guilt swirling in her chest. “You don’t have to do anything, Lando. It’ll just blow over.”

“No,” he said firmly, grabbing his phone. “I’m putting an end to this now.”

“Lando—”

He raised a hand to stop her. “I mean it, Yn. This isn’t just about me. If they’re saying this stuff to you, they’ll do it to someone else. And I’m not going to sit back and let it happen.”

Before she could argue further, Lando opened his social media app. She could see the determination in his eyes as he began typing.

----------------------‐---------------------------

A few minutes later, his post was live.

*“I’ve seen the disgusting comments directed at my sister, and I’m absolutely done with it. Yn is one of the most important people in my life, and the fact that anyone thinks it’s okay to tear her down is beyond unacceptable. She doesn’t deserve this, and neither does anyone else.

If this is what being a fan of mine looks like, I’d rather not have fans at all. I won’t be using social media anymore if this continues. Treat people with kindness, or don’t speak at all.”*

---------------------------------‐--------------------

Lando set his phone down and turned back to Yn. “Done. If they want to act like idiots, they can do it without me.”

Yn’s eyes widened. “You didn’t have to do that. You love social media.”

“Not more than I love you,” he said simply, sitting back down beside her. “Yn, you’re my little sister. My job is to protect you. And if that means stepping away from social media or calling out people who think they can mess with you, I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

She leaned into his shoulder, feeling a wave of relief and love wash over her. “Thanks, Lando. You didn’t have to, but… it means a lot.”

“You’re stuck with me,” he said with a small smile, wrapping an arm around her. “And I’ll always have your back. No matter what.”

For the first time that day, Yn felt a little lighter. The hateful comments still lingered in the back of her mind, but Lando’s unwavering support reminded her that she wasn’t alone.

And with an overprotective brother like him, she knew she never would be.

[elysiansparadise]

My experience with some synastry aspects/overlays

🩶His Moon in my 7th house (#1): I still remember it sometimes, that way a smile would appear on my face at his mere presence. I perceived him as eccentric as he was very different from me, but he had a certain charm. He awakened a warm side in me that at the time I did not know how to understand or handle. But what I did know is that I wanted his happiness, whether it was with me or not. We both loved each other very much, I would dare to say that in the purest way that I have ever loved someone and although there were ups and downs and it did not turn out as planned, I will always wish him the best and I will remember him with warmth in my chest.

🩶Her Moon in my 7th house (#2): She was a sweetheart, she had a light charm and charisma that enchanted many people no matter how different they were from her. Her company made me feel comfortable and she was someone who spoke about her emotions in a balanced and even tender way. I felt very protective of her and that she felt okay in every way, I even remember putting off some tasks to spend time with her because I genuinely appreciated spending time with her. One of my closest bestfriends.

🩶Her stellium (Sun, Mars, Mercury & Venus) in my 12th house: I feel very lucky to have met her in this life, she became my safe place and someone I know I can count on regardless of distance or other factors. I think we reflect a lot on a subconscious level and I see in her aspects of my personality [obviously linked to the signs in which her stellium is]. She makes me feel seen and accepted, I know she will never judge me and she has shown me with actions that I can rely on her. I feel like we connect a lot and can understand each other deeply. She is without a doubt one of my best friends and knows that whenever she needs me I can offer her comfort, advice or support. 

🩶His Venus in my 12th house: It was a bit tense, mostly because he has very tense aspects in his chart. Throughout this connection I knew that he loved me the way he knew how to love, although that did not mean that he loved me well or how I wanted him to love me. The energy of the 12th house makes me understand things, even empathize, but it does not mean that they are justified. It was conjunct to my Rising, and I experienced this seeing how he prioritized me a lot and despite being someone who was not affectionate, he was affectionate with me. However, many times because of this difference in ways of loving, I felt his absence. 

🩶Their Mars in my 3rd house: I have to admit... debating with them [I have experienced this overlay several times] was stimulating and even a bit exciting at times. There was a certain tension between us and I never experienced big arguments with them, everything remained a playful banter. They told me that they were very attracted to the way I spoke, from my voice to mannerisms. They put a lot of emphasis on my knowledge about what I liked and how my voice caught their attention. 

🩶His Jupiter in my 7th house: Husband material. It is the most summarized way of explaining it, but I saw this man as someone I would have liked to marry in the future, beyond feelings (which there were) it was a matter of admiration and looking up at him, his ideals, his way of acting. It felt more like a decision than a whim or impulse to want to be with him.

🩶Her Mars in my 10th house: She was my crush [platonic love?]. I truly adored her very much. The way she carried herself and her strong, reliable and reserved appearance that she portrayed attractive to me. I really like the confidence with which she carries herself and she always behaved very nice and kind to me, becoming protective. She had a tendency to baby me though and being incredibly sweet to me [perhaps her Venus in my 4th house]. A strong attraction and support. [Scorpio + Leo energy]

🩶His Mars conjunct my Moon: He was the first person I liked. I would say that it was a strong attraction since we met, although it was not always easy. We used to clash at times, him being more irascible and me being more lighthearted. What was very present is that we always wanted to be close to each other, we used to spend a lot of time together and could be very possessive of each other [and his Moon in Scorpio + lots of tense aspects didn't help much either]. 

🩶Her Mars square my Mars: There was some tension between us, I think she was much more impulsive than me and reacted defensively. She was very direct with me, with her affection, attraction and even when there were differences or she disagreed, being a positive point. It was very intense and we were definitely very different. She was never aggressive or disrespectful to me, but she had very intense ways of reacting when she got angry with other people and of course, I didn't like that. It should be added that she also had the Moon in Scorpio and afflicted.

🩶Her Saturn trine my Venus: She was always loyal and constant with me. She wasn't very verbal but she gave me gifts and details. Her way of showing affection or pampering me was with things she knew I liked or fulfilling whims I had. She was capable of spending hours searching for the perfect gift for me and more than once offered to help me pay for large expenses that I had to make. Definitely a lot of provider energy.

🩶Her Saturn conjunct my Moon: She is one of my best friends, I always tell her that she helps me know how to better manage my emotional crises, that she gives me comfort and security and she tells me that I give her warmth. I believe that we bring a lot of positivity to each other, there is no judgment between us and we help each other as much as we can. We have been friends for several years now and sometimes we forget that there is an age gap between us. I have always thought that she is rather practical and straight to the point, and that is one of the reasons why I feel safe with her. I have always wanted to provide her with emotional support and comfort. 

🩶His Jupiter conjunct my Rising: One of the funny things with him is that he usually does things behind my back to help me, but when we are together we basically tease/argue with each other, most likely because this conjunction happens while his Jupiter falls in my 12th house. He has done a lot of good things for me, from opportunities for professional internships to even inviting me out to hang out or taking me to my favorite places. We always make each other laugh, especially me whenever I’m in the mood. And I've noticed that no matter how tense we are, we can forget a little about it when we chat or spend time together.

🩶Her Moon conjunct my Sun: She has always been very protective of me, always looking out for my well-being when we are together and making sure I am comfortable and happy. We have been friends for more than 10 years and she lets me talk about my emotions when I feel low, or even if what I say is something trivial. She is very gentle with me and likes to 'nurture' my independence and self-expression. There is a strong emotional bond between us, even from the first moment. We used to be inseparable when we lived nearby and even after I moved away, I usually go visit her.

🩶His Moon conjunct my Uranus: He's a good friend of mine, we tend to have a lot of fun, we've been on some crazy adventures together and we've even traveled together [we even missed a flight once]. We are quite different, while he is more given to creating connections everywhere, I am rather independent and even a bit of a hermit sometimes. Despite that, we love each other a lot and provide emotional support if necessary. I have noticed that we compensate each other, if one is being more emotional, the other behaves rationally [even blurting out truths in a very cold manner]. We can go days without speaking [up to weeks] and when we see each other we catch up and talk as if nothing happened.

🩶His Mars opposite my Saturn: I feel that on many occasions he tries to behave when he is with me, many times I am even the one who has a cool head when he explodes or when he is being irascible. When we have to work together we are a great team, we even organize ourselves quite well and we have similar ethics. However, the problem comes when we hang out for a long time, since I perceive him as someone who does not want to change and someone who is generally difficult to live with. His impulsive nature and the way he behaves makes me put some distance between us, even if we can keep things cordial.

[hotshotsxyz]

hope for the future (got me on my knees)

(buddie) (s8 spec) (2.4k words) car crash spec <3 title from bastille's hope for the future, which, imo, is one of the eddie songs of all time cw: blood (like. a lot)

Eddie’s not supposed to be here. He’s not—

He’s—

God, he’s not supposed to be here again. He’s not even on shift. But Buck is.

It was a favor. He’s covering for a last minute absence on C shift. So now he’s—

He’s on shift and he’s lying in the middle of the road and he’s not moving. And Eddie. Can’t. Breathe.

“Buck!” someone shouts, and Jesus it sounds like their entire world just crumbled. Eddie’s throat feels raw like—

Oh.

He’s the one screaming.

Buck’s three feet away from him, sluggishly bleeding out on the pavement. Shannon’s six feet under in a graveyard halfway across the city. Buck’s ribs are giving way beneath Eddie’s hands. Buck’s blood is soaking through his jeans. It’s staining him, his skin, his mind.

He—

“Sir!” Someone snaps. “You need to—shit, Diaz?”

No, that’s—it’s not Eddie who’s broken and unmoving on the ground. It’s not Eddie who’s going to die with or without a tube down his throat.

It’s—

It’s—

Two pairs of hands grab him, yank him away.

“No!” Eddie screams, thrashing wildly at whoever it is that thinks they can keep him from Buck.

“Diaz, stop!”

He can’t. He won’t.

“You have to let them help him.”

They won’t do enough. Only Eddie will fight for him hard enough. Only Eddie knows how to bring him back. An animalistic snarl climbs out from his chest.

“I’ve got a pulse!” a paramedic Eddie doesn’t recognize shouts. She’s a floater, probably.

A floater is holding Buck’s life in her hands. Does she even know? Does she know that the world will stop turning if he’s not in it?

Eddie’s knees hit the pavement. Distantly, he feels the sting. Mostly, though, he feels Buck’s blood. It’s on his hands and soaking through his clothes, painting him red, red, red.

Two firefighters carefully roll Buck onto a body board and lift him to the stretcher. For a split second, it’s 2019. Eddie’s watching his wife die. He’s holding Buck’s hand and trying not to stare at his mangled leg.

“Diaz! Now or never, are you coming with us?”

He doesn’t feel himself move, but between one blink and the next he finds himself in the back of an ambulance staring down at his—

His—

Buck’s eyelashes flutter and Eddie can’t do this.

“Please,” he sobs, clutching Buck’s hand. “You—you have to—”

He’s squeezing too hard. So hard he might break Buck’s hand, but he’s terrified that if he lets go, so will Buck.

The floater moves to intubate, but before she can Buck heaves a shuddering breath and opens his eyes.

Eddie thinks he might be screaming again, only this time the sound is trapped deep inside him.

“Eds… hurt?” Buck manages.

He must be. He’s dying maybe, because that’s the only explanation he can think of for the creeping numbness in his limbs.

“He’s fine, Buckley,” the floater says.

She’s wrong. She doesn’t— how could she? She doesn’t know that every piece of Eddie that’s worth anything is dying right alongside his—

“I can’t wait any longer,” she says apologetically before shoving a plastic tube down Buck’s trachea. He chokes on it, and oh, Eddie’s choking too.

The ambulance slows and Eddie’s about to bang against the wall, about to demand they keep going, when the doors are flung open revealing an entire trauma team dressed in pristine scrubs.

The floater rattles off Buck’s vitals and the injuries they know of.

As they pull Buck from the back of the ambulance, one of the doctors catches Eddie’s eye. He nods, and Eddie hopes to God that means he knows that Los Angeles will be swallowed by the sea if this man doesn’t live.

All at once, Buck is gone and Eddie’s left standing next to an ambulance that could be the last place he ever hears Buck speak.

“Diaz, you okay?” The C shift captain whose name Eddie can’t be bothered to remember right now asks.

No.

No.

No.

He doesn’t answer.

…

There’s blood on his face. Buck’s blood. Eddie doesn’t— he’s not sure how it got there, but now that he sees it, he can feel it too. It’s tacky and drying and God, there’s so much.

Gentle hands turn him away from the mirror.

“No,” Eddie says as his sluggish brain recognizes Bobby. “No, no he can’t—“

Bobby was there when—

He held Eddie. Let him weep into his shoulder. Stood steady as Eddie’s world crumbled to pieces.

“He’s in surgery,” Bobby says.

“They don’t know,” Eddie babbles.

Bobby’s face creases in concern. “Know what, Eddie?”

“He’s— he—“ He can’t force the words out.

“Eddie,” he repeats forcefully.

“I love him,” Eddie croaks.

Bobby, steadfast and solid, cracks.

One sob escapes his chest, then another, and soon they’re both sliding to grimy bathroom floor, trying not to shatter entirely.

“I can’t lose another—“ Bobby gasps.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Bobby can’t lose another child. He can’t lose another spouse. Not now, not when he’s just begun to understand the depth of what he’s been denying himself for what feels like his entire life. Not now, not ever. Not— not, Buck.

The bathroom door bangs open and Hen steps in. Tear tracks stain her cheeks, but Eddie can’t bring himself to analyze her expression further. If Buck’s— Eddie wants to live in a world that hasn’t quite ended as long as he possibly can.

“No update,” she says quietly.

She grabs a few paper towels and wets them in the sink. She kneels in front of Eddie and brings one to his face. He flinches back.

“Eddie?” she asks.

He swallows past the lump in his throat. “What if…”

What if the blood staining his skin is the last piece of Buck he gets to keep? What if he dies on the operating table? What if he’s already dead? Eddie can’t— he won’t let anyone take the last of him away.

A harsh sob drags itself past his lips.

“Oh, Eddie,” Hen whispers, and why do people keep saying his name?

No one— he’s never heard it so many times from anyone but Buck. He doesn’t want to hear it from anyone but Buck. He shakes his head and presses his hands to his ears.

Hen says something else, but all he can hear is the whoosh of his own pulse, and it’s so unfair. Shouldn’t his heart know not to beat until he’s sure Buck’s will again?

“Eddie,” Hen says, taking his hands. “Let me, please.”

He can’t bring himself to agree, but he doesn’t fight back when she raises the paper towel to his face again. She pulls it across his skin in gentle drags, but it’s cold and Eddie can’t help but think uncharitably that Buck would’ve waited for the water to warm before he wet the towels.

When she’s done with his face, Hen guides him to the sink to wash the blood from his hands too. For a split second, Eddie wonders if Buck washed his blood away in this same sink after Eddie was shot. He wonders if Buck’s hands shook the way his are shaking now.

“That’s good Eddie, there you go,” Hen encourages him softly.

He bristles at her careful tone. Nothing she says can make any of this better or worse, not unless she can tell him with absolute certainty whether or not Buck will survive the night.

“I grabbed your duffle from the station,” she continues, and it’s only then that he notices his own bag slung over her shoulder. “Think you can get changed?”

Eddie nods mutely. Distantly, it occurs to him that this is part of what makes Hen such a good paramedic— her ability to meet someone where they are. He peels off his henley and exchanges it for the long sleeve LAFD crewneck she hands him.

He swaps his pants next, and for the first time, wearing a piece of the uniform feels wrong. He couldn’t— he wasn’t a medic today. If it had just been him and Buck out there, Buck would be dead already. He’d, what? Held his torn skin together? As if that was the wound that was going to kill him. Shannon didn’t even bleed when she died.

“Maddie and Chim are waiting for you,” Hen says, nodding toward the door. “I’m going to sit with Cap for a little while, okay?”

Again, Eddie nods. He stumbles through the door and into the arms of a woman who, for all they share, he barely knows.

He can’t bring himself to look her in the eye. She’ll know, he thinks, know that he didn’t do enough. Know that he failed one of the three people she loves most in this world.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks into her hair.

“For what?” she asks shakily.

“I should’ve— I didn’t—“

“You were there,” Maddie says. “You made sure he knows he’s not alone.”

Eddie swallows harshly.

“He knows what he’s fighting for,” Maddie continues. “Thank you.”

He wants to shake her. He should’ve done more. He’d demanded it once of a different team of doctors, and then he couldn’t even—

He was there and it didn’t matter. Buck’s still dying in a sterile operating room.

Maddie pushes him toward a chair next to Chimney in the waiting room, then sits on his other side. They talk to him, Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t hear a word.

…

“Family of Evan Buckley?”

Eddie’s on his feet before he’s even made a conscious decision to stand. Maddie follows quickly behind him, and— oh, Bobby’s in the waiting room now, too.

The doctor smiles at them, and while Eddie’s sure it’s meant to be reassuring, every second that passes without news is more excruciating than the last.

“Mr. Buckley did well in surgery,” she says.

Eddie’s entire body sags, like a marionette with its strings cut. Hen’s subtle but steadying hand on his back is the only reason he doesn’t collapse to the floor right then and there.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor continues, “but his CT was clear and we were able to locate and repair the source of his internal bleeding.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Maddie asks, high and watery.

The doctor nods. “We’d like to keep him a few days for observation, but barring unforeseen complications, we believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

Maddie presses a hand to her mouth and nods, eyes shining.

“The effects of the anesthesia should be wearing off soon, I can take two of you to his room.”

To Eddie’s surprise, Maddie takes his hand. “We’ll—us,” she says.

Eddie looks at Maddie, then Bobby. “Are you—are you sure?”

“Go,” Bobby says. “He needs you.”

Eddie’s not sure that’s true, but he sure as hell needs Buck and he—he thinks this is probably one of those times when he’s allowed to be a little selfish.

“Through these doors,” the doctor says, leading them back with a wave of her key card.

…

He’s pale, unnaturally so. It’s like, despite the massive transfusion he received, there still isn’t enough blood pumping through his veins. Eddie wishes he could wring out his shirt and return every drop he took.

“Eddie, what happened?” Maddie asks softly.

Eddie shakes his head. “I, uh, I wasn’t supposed to be there,” he says haltingly.

Maddie takes his hand with the one that isn’t holding Buck’s and squeezes.

“I don’t think he knew I was there,” Eddie continues. “It was just… God, Maddie, it was a coincidence.”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

“It came out of nowhere. They were responding to a fender bender, wouldn’t have even been a call except one of the drivers was stuck in their car, I think. He was helping someone when it—there was a car. And then he was just—I couldn’t—he—”

Maddie squeezes his hand again. “You know, I—” she hesitates, then nods like she’s made a decision. “I’ve never seen him happy the way he is with you.”

Against Eddie’s will, a pained noise escapes his throat. “I don’t know why,” he admits. He looks down at his feet.

“Sure,” Maddie says, blowing out an amused huff.

“He’s so good. He walks into a room and everything gets brighter. He’s the sun,” Eddie says helplessly.

Maddie’s smile turns impossibly fond. “You love him,” she says. It’s not a question.

A smile of his own spreads unbidden on his lips. “How could I not?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath.

Eddie whips his head around and sees Buck, eyes open, lips parted.

“Eddie,” he breathes.

He should be panicking, maybe. Throat closing, heart racing, but—the singular feeling in his chest is relief.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says, incapable of and unwilling to keep the warmth from his voice.

“You—” Buck blinks twice, slow, like he’s trying to keep himself awake.

Eddie lays a hand on his ankle and squeezes. “Rest,” he says. “I’ll stay.”

“Stay… s’nice,” Buck slurs as he slips back into sleep.

“For what it’s worth,” Maddie says after a long moment, “pretty sure he loves you, too.”

Eddie watches the slow rise and fall of Buck’s chest. “Yeah,” he says, biting down on a grin that’s far too wide for the ICU, “I think he might.”

“Could take a second for him to work that out for himself,” Maddie says.

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle. “Oh, I know,” he says. “Gives me time to pick out a ring,” he jokes. Kind of.

Maddie laughs and shakes her head. “Is this your way of asking for my permission to propose?”

“Well I’m not going to ask your parents,” Eddie replies, wrinkling his nose.

Maddie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Could you imagine if I said no after all of this?”

“I’d ask him anyway,” Eddie admits.

“Good answer,” Maddie says.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, so that was a test?”

“No,” Maddie replies, shaking her head. “But he deserves someone that chooses him no matter what.”

“I do,” Eddie says with conviction. “I will.”

“Then yes,” Maddie says. “Just—don’t ask him in the hospital.”

[caitified]

okok hear me out pls. paige bueckers x reader wife where in r is pregnant and is due any day now but paige is still on an away game.

after paige’s win she was interviewed and was asked about when will the baby arrive. she says in the camera to “hold it in”. this was honestly based off of diana taurasi’s interview iykyk. hoping you could give this one a try. i’ve been longing for paige’s family series plssss thank u so much!

DUE DATE

PAIGE BUECKERS X FAMILY READER

comments: i have so many people asking about paige’s family , so sorry for it being on the back burner but keep the requests coming. and dt interview is elite.

warnings:none.

it had been a long, tense few days for both of you. paige was away for a game, and you, feeling the weight of pregnancy’s final stretch, were stuck at home, your body aching more and more as each hour passed. your due date was fast approaching, and every minute you felt like this could be the moment when your water would break, when the baby would finally make their grand entrance. you had never felt so much anticipation, but you had also never felt so alone in the waiting.

paige, on the other hand, had her game to focus on. she was playing her heart out, doing what she does best—putting on a show, leading her team, and pushing through any pain of her own to make sure her team came out victorious. you knew how much this game meant to her, how much her role on the court had become a part of her identity, and you were proud of her. but that didn’t make the ache of her absence any easier. you are in constant fear that the baby will come sooner than paige can get back to you.

when you checked your phone, there was a message from paige that made your heart skip a beat.

“hey babe, i miss you. how’s everything? can’t wait to see you soon 💙”

you smiled at the message, clutching your phone to your chest. she was on your mind every second of the day, and you could only imagine how hard it was for her to be so far away, knowing that you were on the verge of giving birth to her child.

just as you were about to respond, you saw a notification that made your heart flutter—a notification for the post-game interview. paige had just helped her team win, and now she was standing in front of the cameras, looking stunning, as usual. but what really caught your attention was the question they asked her.

“so, paige, your wife is pregnant and due any day now. do you have any updates? is she still holding up okay?”

paige smiled into the camera, her eyes sparkling despite the exhaustion from the game. and then, in a moment of pure humor and relief from the tension she was feeling, she did something you never expected.

“hold it in,” paige said with a wink, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “just a few more days, alright?”

the reporters laughed, some of them clearly taken aback by her humour, but everyone could see the love in her eyes. she was still thinking of you, despite everything, and that small gesture made your heart swell. paige always knew how to make you laugh, how to ease the tension, even when it felt like everything was about to fall apart.

you laughed softly, knowing exactly what she meant. it wasn’t just about the baby holding out a little longer; it was about the balance she found between everything she had to juggle—the game, her career, and the life you two were building together.

as soon as the interview ended, you texted her back,

“trying my best p, but you need to get your ass back here”

a few moments passed, and then your phone buzzed. paige’s response came through immediately, her tone light but full of that familiar warmth you always cherished.

“ i’ll be there as fast as i can. i need to be there for you, baby. just a little longer, okay?”

you smiled, the anxiety of the moment easing, knowing that paige was thinking of you, even in the midst of a victory. it wasn’t just the game that made her perfect for you—it was moments like this, when she made you feel like everything would be okay, even when things were uncertain.

just a little longer, you thought, glancing down at your belly. and with paige’s words echoing in your mind, you settled into bed that night, feeling the soft kicks of the baby inside you, knowing that soon, everything would change, and you’d finally be able to welcome your little one into the world.

thanks for reading, i can do the next day when she’s home if you’d like.

[gpcwsl]

Leah Williamson x Reader

- Complete mess -

WC: 7.4k

MasterList

Warnings: long, kissing.

(Sorry for putting Leah as Captain for Arsenal, I know it’s Kimmy and I love Kim. Just for this Fiction, okay?)

The crisp afternoon air feels refreshing as you step onto the park path, your scarf wrapped snugly around your neck. It’s rare that you get a few hours to yourself, but with your mum looking after Ellie for the afternoon, you finally have a moment to breathe. You love your daughter more than anything, but between teaching, parenting, and making sure she never feels the absence of her father, you’re exhausted. A walk is exactly what you need.

You take a deep breath, allowing the cool air to clear your mind. The park is bustling, families with children running around, people walking their dogs, groups of friends chatting. You slip your hands into your coat pockets, lost in thought, when—

“Oof—sorry!”

You collide with someone, stumbling back slightly. Strong hands reach out to steady you, and when you look up, you find yourself face to face with none other than Leah Williamson.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, eyes widening. “You’re—”

Leah chuckles, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah, sorry about that. Wasn’t paying attention.”

You shake your head, still in slight disbelief. “No, it’s fine. My fault too, I wasn’t really looking where I was going.”

She smiles, and that’s when you notice she’s not alone. Behind her stand a few more familiar faces—some of the Arsenal women’s team. Beth Mead, Katie McCabe, and Caitlin Foord, all chatting amongst themselves but now watching the interaction with curiosity.

“You alright?” Leah asks, her gaze soft as she takes in your expression.

You nod quickly. “Yeah, just… a little surprised. I didn’t expect to bump into Arsenal’s captain on my walk.”

Leah grins. “Well, we were just grabbing a coffee before training. You a football fan?”

You let out a small laugh. “Yeah, actually. I teach, so I don’t always get to watch live, but my daughter and I love the game.”

At the mention of your daughter, Leah’s expression shifts slightly—interest flickering in her eyes. “You have a daughter?”

You nod. “Ellie. She’s seven. My parents are watching her for a few hours, so I thought I’d take a walk.”

Leah tilts her head. “That’s nice. Must be busy juggling work and parenting.”

You smile wryly. “That’s an understatement.”

Before Leah can respond, Katie steps closer, nudging her with her elbow. “You gonna introduce us, or are we just standing here like weirdos?”

Leah rolls her eyes but turns back to you. “This is Katie, Beth, and Caitlin.”

You greet them, feeling slightly overwhelmed but also oddly comfortable. They’re just normal people—albeit incredibly talented ones.

“You should come to a match sometime,” Beth suggests. “Bring Ellie. If she likes football, she’d love it.”

Leah nods in agreement. “Yeah, we can sort something out. Maybe even a little meet-and-greet after.”

Your heart warms at the thought. “That would be amazing. She’d be over the moon.”

Leah smiles, her gaze lingering on you for a second longer than necessary before she shifts, glancing back at the others. “We should probably get going, but it was nice bumping into you. Literally.”

You laugh. “Yeah, you too.”

As they walk away, Leah turns back one last time. “Hey—maybe I’ll see you around?”

You don’t miss the hopeful tone in her voice.

“Maybe,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips.

And for the first time in a long while, something stirs in your chest—something that feels an awful lot like excitement.

With a lingering smile on your lips, you watch Leah and the rest of the Arsenal team walk away before exhaling a quiet breath. That was unexpected. You weren’t exactly the kind of person to bump into football stars on your afternoon walks. Yet, there you were, brushing shoulders with Leah Williamson like it was nothing.

You shake your head, trying to push away the fluttering feeling in your stomach. It’s been a while since anyone made you feel like that—since anyone looked at you the way Leah did, even if it was just for a moment.

Still, you have time to yourself, and you intend to make the most of it. Your stomach rumbles slightly, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten much today. Glancing around, you spot a cozy-looking café on the corner. It seems inviting, with warm lighting and a few people inside, chatting over coffee and pastries.

Without hesitation, you head inside.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wraps around you like a comforting embrace. You walk up to the counter, scanning the menu, before ordering a simple meal and a latte. As you wait, you feel the weight of a gaze on you—multiple, actually.

Unbeknownst to you, across the café, a certain group of footballers had chosen a table near the window. Leah, who had insisted they sit there in the first place, is completely distracted, her eyes fixed on you.

Katie notices first. “Alright, Leah, what’s with the staring?”

Leah blinks, as if she didn’t even realize she had been so obvious. She turns to her teammates, a slightly dazed expression on her face. “Did you see her?” she asks, as if it’s the most important question in the world.

Caitlin raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, mate. You literally ran into her.”

Leah shakes her head, leaning forward slightly. “No, but did you see her?”

Beth smirks, sipping her coffee. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, Captain.”

Leah exhales, running a hand through her hair. “Her eyes—did you see them? They’re unreal. And her features—like, how does someone look that effortlessly gorgeous? It’s unfair.”

Katie and Caitlin exchange amused glances.

“And her voice,” Leah continues, barely stopping for breath. “It’s so soft, but there’s something about it… like, I could listen to her talk all day. She just—” She sighs dramatically, shaking her head.

Beth snickers. “You’re actually down bad already.”

“I’m not—” Leah starts, but even she knows it’s a lie. She glances back at you, watching as you take your coffee and meal to a small table by the window, oblivious to the attention you’re getting. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way your lips curl slightly when you take a sip of your drink—it’s all making Leah feel something she hadn’t expected.

Katie nudges her. “You should go talk to her again.”

Leah scoffs, though there’s a faint pink tint to her cheeks. “And say what? ‘Hey, I know we just met, but I think you might actually be the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen’?”

Caitlin laughs. “Honestly, that might work.”

Beth shrugs. “Or, you know, you could just casually bump into her again. Since you’re so good at that.”

Leah rolls her eyes but doesn’t look away from you.

Because as much as she pretends otherwise, she already knows—this isn’t the last time she wants to see you.

You take a slow sip of your latte, letting the warmth settle inside you. It’s been a while since you’ve had a moment like this—just you, a quiet café, and no responsibilities tugging at your sleeve. But something tingles at the back of your mind, a feeling like you’re being watched.

Curious, you glance up, letting your gaze drift around the café. That’s when you spot them.

Leah and her teammates.

All of them are at a table near the window, and while Beth, Katie, and Caitlin are watching with amused grins, Leah is different. She’s frozen, eyes locked onto yours, a slight deer-in-headlights look on her face.

For a moment, you’re caught off guard. Then, unable to help yourself, you offer a small wave, just a polite acknowledgment before turning back to your food.

Leah, however, doesn’t recover so quickly.

The second you wave, her entire body tenses. Then, as if her brain has only just caught up, her face flushes—deeply. She abruptly looks away, running a hand through her hair as if that will somehow cool down the sudden heat rushing to her face.

“Oh my God,” Katie cackles, nearly choking on her drink. “Leah. You’re actually blushing.”

Beth leans in, grinning. “That was so cute. She caught you staring, and instead of playing it cool, you turned into a human tomato.”

Leah exhales sharply, pressing her hands to her face for a second before dropping them. “Shut up.”

Caitlin smirks. “Breathe, mate. You’re looking a little overwhelmed there.”

Leah straightens, taking a deep breath as if it’ll help. It doesn’t. “I was not staring.”

Beth raises an eyebrow. “Right, and I’m not sitting here watching you have a full meltdown because she waved at you.”

Leah groans, resting her elbow on the table and dropping her face into her hand. “I hate you all.”

Leah peeks through her fingers, sneaking another glance in your direction. You’re focused on your food again, seemingly unbothered, but Leah’s mind is still spinning.

“She’s just…” Leah exhales, still pink in the face. “Really beautiful.”

Beth grins. “Yeah, we got that part.”

Caitlin nudges Leah’s foot under the table. “You gonna talk to her, or just keep embarrassing yourself from a distance?”

Leah huffs but doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she watches you, a small, almost shy smile creeping onto her lips.

Because, if she’s being honest, she’s already hoping for another chance to speak to you again.

The café is warm, but you know it’s time to go. You glance at your phone, checking the time. Still a little while before you need to pick up Ellie, but you’d rather take your time walking back.

Standing up, the chair scrapes loudly against the floor, breaking the quiet hum of conversation. Across the room, Leah looks up immediately, as if instinctively drawn to the sound. Her eyes track your movements as you push the chair back into place, gather your things, and head toward the bin in the corner to dispose of your rubbish.

And yet, without even trying, you do things that make Leah’s brain short-circuit.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear while holding your bag. The casual way your fingers glide along the strap as you adjust it on your shoulder. The soft sigh you let out—like you’re lost in thought, unaware of the effect you’re having on her.

Leah swallows hard. God, she’s actually unreal.

Beth notices the way Leah is practically enchanted by you and smirks. She glances at Katie and Caitlin, exchanging a silent agreement before—

Shove.

Leah stumbles forward, nearly tripping over her own feet as she’s quite literally pushed in your direction.

“What the—” she starts, whipping her head back to glare at them, but it’s too late.

You’re already by the door, and now she’s standing right behind you.

You pause, sensing someone close, and turn—only to find Leah Williamson, cheeks slightly pink, looking… nervous?

You blink, surprised. “Leah?”

Leah clears her throat, forcing herself to hold eye contact despite the absolute chaos inside her head. “Uh—hi.”

You tilt your head slightly, amused. “Hi?”

Behind her, Beth is barely containing her laughter. Katie is grinning like an idiot. Caitlin is watching like this is the best entertainment she’s had in weeks.

Leah is so out of her depth. The fearless, confident player who commands the pitch like it’s her second home? She’s gone. What remains is a flustered, slightly panicked woman who desperately wants to get this right.

“I, um…” Leah rubs the back of her neck, eyes darting everywhere but at you. “I was just wondering if—uh—” She exhales sharply, shaking her head at herself. “Okay, this is embarrassing.”

You chuckle softly, and the sound makes Leah’s stomach do something weird.

“You okay there?” you ask, smiling, completely unaware of the absolute mess you’re making of her.

Leah straightens, trying to compose herself. “Yeah. Yeah, I just…” She takes a deep breath. Come on, Williamson, get it together.

She meets your eyes—God, those eyes—and blurts out, “Can I have your number?”

It’s not smooth. It’s not charming. In fact, it’s probably the most awkward she’s ever been.

But instead of laughing at her, you seem pleasantly surprised. “Oh,” you say, lips curling in a way that makes Leah’s brain melt. “Yeah, sure.”

She blinks. “Wait, really?”

You laugh again, pulling out your phone. “Yes, really.”

Leah quickly fumbles for her own phone, hands slightly shaky as she hands it to you. You type in your number, saving it before passing it back.

“There,” you say. “Now you can awkwardly text me later too.”

Leah groans, covering her face with her hand for a second. “I am never living this down.”

“Nope,” you tease, stepping back toward the door. “But it was cute.”

Leah nearly dies on the spot.

Beth, Katie, and Caitlin are losing their minds in the background, but Leah doesn’t care. Because you just called her cute.

As you push open the door, you glance back at her one last time. “Talk soon, Leah.”

And with that, you’re gone, leaving Leah standing there, heart pounding, phone clutched in her hand like it’s the most valuable thing she owns.

Katie claps her on the back. “Well, that was painful to watch.”

Beth smirks. “But adorable.”

Caitlin sips her coffee. “She totally likes you.”

Leah barely hears them. She’s too busy staring at your name in her contacts, already smiling like an idiot.

Hours later, you find yourself back at your parents’ house. The warmth of home surrounds you—the comforting hum of the kettle boiling, the faint scent of whatever your mum is preparing for dinner, and the familiar laughter of Ellie as she plays with her granddad.

Ellie, of course, doesn’t want to leave just yet.

“Can I stay a little longer, Mum?” she asks, her big, hopeful eyes looking up at you. “Granddad said he might take me to the park!”

You glance toward your dad, who grins and nods. “I did promise, didn’t I?”

You chuckle, ruffling Ellie’s hair. “Alright, but don’t keep him running around too much.”

“No promises!” Ellie grins before grabbing her granddad’s hand and dragging him toward the door. “Come on, Granddad!”

Your mum shakes her head fondly, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “That child has too much energy.”

“I wonder where she gets it from,” you tease, but your mum just waves you off.

You step forward. “I can help with dinner if you want?”

Your mum scoffs, gently pushing you toward the living room. “Absolutely not. You had a break today—enjoy it.”

You sigh but smile nonetheless. “Alright, alright.”

With that, you make your way to the couch, sinking into the cushions with a satisfied exhale. It’s nice to just… sit for a moment.

Then, your phone buzzes.

You glance down at it, unlocking the screen, and your lips twitch at the name that appears.

Leah Williamson.

There’s something about the way the text is structured—the slightly uneven spacing, the hesitation in her words—that tells you one thing immediately: she’s nervous.

Leah: Hey… um, so I know I was kinda awkward earlier. Like, really awkward. But I swear I’m usually a lot cooler than that. Okay, maybe not ‘cool,’ but, like… not a complete mess. I just—ugh. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is… hi? How’s your evening?

You bite your lip to suppress a laugh. You can see her overthinking, can imagine her running a hand through her hair while sending this.

Smiling to yourself, you type out a reply.

You: Hi, Leah :) My evening’s been good. Back at my parents’ house. My daughter wanted to stay with them a little longer. Also… you were cute earlier, if that helps your ‘not a complete mess’ argument.

The response is immediate.

Leah: Oh my God, you’re actually trying to kill me.

You grin, feeling an unexpected warmth spread in your chest.

This was going to be fun.

Leah stares at her phone, rereading your last message for what has to be the fifth time.

Cute. You called her cute.

She exhales sharply, running a hand down her face before gripping her phone tighter. Get it together, Williamson.

The first few texts were rough. She was fully prepared for Beth, Katie, or Caitlin to somehow get a hold of her phone and roast her for them later. But now? Now, she’s finally found a rhythm.

Still flustered as hell, still nervous, but at least she’s stopped typing and deleting every message five times before sending it.

Leah: You can’t just say stuff like that. It’s dangerous.

You: Dangerous?

Leah: Yes. Extremely. I could’ve dropped my phone. Or walked into a wall. Life-threatening, really.

She barely has a second to breathe before you respond.

You: Maybe I should warn you next time then? “Hey Leah, I’m about to say something that’ll make you spiral. Brace yourself.”

Leah groans, flopping back onto her bed. She’s grinning like an idiot, and she knows it.

Leah: Yes, please. That would be helpful. I have a fragile heart.

You: I feel like that’s a lie. You don’t seem fragile at all.

Leah huffs out a quiet laugh. If only you knew.

Leah: You might be surprised.

She hesitates for a second before adding:

Leah: I’m glad you texted me back, though.

Her heart beats a little faster as she waits for your reply.

You: Of course I did. I was hoping you’d text me first.

Leah swears her brain short-circuits.

She doesn’t hesitate this time.

Leah: Yeah?

You: Yeah :)

She exhales, running a hand through her hair, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

Maybe this wasn’t so terrifying after all.

You’ve been texting Leah for almost an hour now, and honestly? You’re having way too much fun. You never imagined a simple conversation could make you smile like this, but here you are, grinning at your phone like a teenager with a crush.

It’s easy to forget the world around you when the text bubble from Leah pops up with each new message, each one a bit bolder than the last. The earlier awkwardness is fading—Leah’s still a little nervous, but her messages are smoother now, more confident.

But before you can respond, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching from the front door, followed by Ellie’s excited voice.

“We’re back, Mum!”

You glance up, blinking a little as you pull yourself back from the text conversation.

Ellie runs into the living room, her cheeks flushed from the cool air and the excitement of the park. Your dad follows, grinning and shaking his head at her.

“Had a good time?” you ask, watching as Ellie practically bounces on her toes.

“The best! Granddad showed me how to climb the big tree!” Ellie exclaims, her face beaming.

You smile and ruffle her hair. “That sounds fun. Now, how about we get dinner started?”

Ellie groans dramatically, though it’s clear she’s still got energy to burn. “Do I have to? I want to go out again.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Dinner first. Then we’ll talk about anything else.”

Your dad chuckles, heading into the kitchen to help your mum. The house feels like it’s settling back into its rhythm, and you can’t help but feel content.

But then, you glance at your phone again. Leah’s name still lights up the screen, and the conversation has slowed to a lull, almost like she’s waiting for you to say something.

With a sigh, you tap out a message, knowing you should wrap it up.

You: I have to go now, Leah. Dinner’s on the table and I’m needed. But I’ll talk to you soon, okay?

A few seconds pass, and you can practically hear Leah’s internal panic.

Leah: Yeah, of course. Enjoy dinner with your family. And, uh… we’ll talk soon, yeah?

You can’t help but smile.

You: Definitely. Take care, Leah.

Leah: You too. Talk soon.

You put your phone down, a small sigh escaping you as you settle back into the present moment. It’s strange how something so simple—just texting someone—could make you feel this way. But you already know one thing for sure: this won’t be the last time you hear from Leah. And you’re definitely looking forward to what comes next.

Leah stares at her phone, her heart still racing slightly. She can’t help but giggle to herself, her fingers hovering over the screen as she rereads your last message for the third time.

Talk soon.

The simple phrase should be innocent enough, but coming from you… it feels like a promise. She’s not sure why, but there’s something about the way you text her that makes everything feel like it matters a little more than it probably should.

She leans back against her pillows, a soft smile still plastered on her face, completely oblivious to the teasing going on in the background.

“I swear, you’re like a giddy schoolgirl,” Beth says, watching her from across the room with a raised eyebrow.

Leah rolls her eyes, but the smile doesn’t fade. “I’m not. I’m just—” She stammers, trying to form an excuse, but there’s no way around it. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am.”

Katie grins. “I knew it. You’ve totally got a crush on her, don’t you?”

Leah feels the warmth in her cheeks as she presses her phone against her face, hiding the full extent of her embarrassment. “It’s not like that,” she mutters, though even she knows it’s a total lie.

But then she thinks back to your texts, the way you’d signed off with that little “talk soon,” and her heart flutters all over again. She lets out a soft sigh, giggling to herself.

Maybe she was a little giddy.

“Alright, alright,” Beth teases. “We get it. You’re smitten.”

Leah gives them both a pointed glare, but it’s half-hearted. She can’t help it. They’re right.

“I don’t even care,” Leah says, still smiling. “I like her. Is that such a crime?”

Katie shakes her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Nope. Not a crime at all.”

Leah can’t wipe the grin off her face as she types another message to you, letting her nerves settle. She’s still a little unsure of where this might go, but for the first time in a long time, she’s excited about the possibilities.

Leah: Talk soon, yeah? And just so you know… you’ve definitely got me smiling.

As she hits send, she can’t help but giggle again, imagining what your response might be. For once, she’s not afraid of the unknown. Instead, she’s looking forward to it.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, you find yourself in the car, driving Ellie to school. Her excitement from the park yesterday still hasn’t worn off, and she chatters away in the passenger seat, recounting every detail of her adventure with her granddad.

“Granddad said we could go next week, too!” Ellie says with a grin, glancing at you.

You chuckle. “Sounds like a good plan. Just don’t climb too many trees, okay? I don’t want to be picking you up from the nurse’s office again.”

Ellie rolls her eyes but laughs, knowing full well that’s not a likely scenario.

Once you drop Ellie off at the school gate, you wave her off and watch as she runs to meet her friends. As she disappears inside, you take a moment to breathe. The school has exams today, which means you have the day off from work—something you haven’t had in a while.

You lean back in the car, considering your options for the day. A part of you wonders if you should just enjoy the quiet, catch up on some errands, maybe even grab a coffee or read a book. But then, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

You pull it out and unlock the screen, instantly seeing the message you received from Leah last night. Talk soon, yeah? And just so you know… you’ve definitely got me smiling.

You smile at the memory of the conversation.

Without much hesitation, you open the messaging app and start typing, wondering if Leah might be free for a bit of company today.

You: Hey, Leah. I’ve got the day off—are you free, or are you training?

You wait for a few seconds, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel. You’re not sure what you’re expecting—maybe she’s busy, maybe she’ll be all tied up with team obligations. But when the little three dots appear and then her message comes through, you feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

Leah: I’m actually free! No training today. Got a couple of hours before I have to meet up with the team later.

You pause for a second, the words feeling lighter than they did yesterday, as if there’s less uncertainty now.

You: Nice. Want to grab a coffee or something?

It doesn’t take long before Leah replies.

Leah: Yes! I know a place we can go. I’ll send you the address in a sec. Can’t wait to see you again.

You can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you. It’s subtle, but you can tell there’s a shift, a little more ease in her words now.

You: Looking forward to it.

You quickly put your phone down, starting the car and making your way to the café Leah suggested. The thought of spending time with her—after everything, after the teasing, the conversations—is something you find yourself looking forward to more than you realized.

You arrive at the café Leah suggested, a cozy spot tucked away in a quieter part of town. As you step inside, your eyes scan the room until they land on her—Leah, sitting at a small table by the window. She’s already a little red in the face, her posture a mix of confidence and a touch of uncertainty. As soon as she sees you, her face lights up, and she stands up quickly, almost knocking over her coffee in the process.

“Hey!” she greets, her voice a little higher than usual, but her smile is warm. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you reply with a grin, walking over to her table.

She pulls out the chair for you, and you sit down, feeling an odd combination of nervousness and excitement. There’s something about being with Leah in person that makes the butterflies in your stomach take flight. The small talk you had yesterday feels like a world away.

“So, you like this place?” Leah asks, trying to keep things light but you can tell she’s still a little on edge.

You nod, glancing around at the cozy atmosphere. “Yeah, it’s cute. I’ve passed it a few times, but never had the chance to stop in.”

“Good choice then,” Leah says, her fingers tapping nervously on her coffee cup. “I… uh… ordered for you already. Hope you don’t mind. I guessed cappuccino, but I could’ve gotten it wrong.”

You smile. “No, you guessed right. I’m a fan of cappuccinos.”

Leah visibly relaxes, the tension easing from her shoulders. She takes a deep breath and glances at you, still shy but with more confidence than before.

“So, tell me about Ellie,” Leah says, her voice soft. “She must be… well, she must be everything to you.”

You smile fondly, thinking of Ellie. “Yeah, she is. She’s smart, sassy, and always keeping me on my toes. She’s my little partner in crime.”

Leah’s smile is sincere. “I can tell you’re close. It’s nice, having that kind of bond.”

You nod. “Family’s everything, you know? It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it.”

Leah looks down at her coffee, as if pondering something. “I can understand that. My family… well, we’re kind of scattered. My dad and I haven’t been close in years. I guess you could say I’m not the best at family stuff.” (I know Leah is very close with her family just pretend for this okay, thanks.)

You tilt your head, curious. “Do you want to talk about it? If you’re comfortable, of course.”

Leah hesitates for a moment, then shakes her head lightly. “Maybe not yet. It’s just… complicated, I guess.”

You nod, understanding. “I get that. Family can be messy sometimes.”

There’s a pause, a soft silence between you as you both sip your coffee. But then, Leah seems to gather her thoughts, her eyes meeting yours with a playful glint.

“So,” she begins, shifting in her seat, “if you don’t mind me asking… are you seeing anyone right now?”

The question catches you off guard for a moment. It’s casual enough, but there’s a hint of curiosity in Leah’s voice. You take a moment before answering, trying to gauge the vibe between you.

“No,” you answer with a smile. “I’m not seeing anyone. It’s been a while, actually. And I’ve been focused on Ellie more than anything.”

Leah’s eyes brighten a little, but she quickly hides her reaction behind a sip of her coffee. “Same here,” she admits, her tone a little more guarded. “I mean, I’ve been focused on football and… well, you know, the team. But I guess, it’s… it’s hard sometimes. Being single, I mean.”

You raise an eyebrow, a little surprised. “Really? I would’ve thought someone like you wouldn’t have a hard time with that.”

Leah chuckles, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You’d think, right? But it’s not always as easy as it looks.”

There’s an awkward pause, but this time it feels less tense. Instead, it’s more like you’re both getting to know each other in a way that feels… real.

Leah shifts again, leaning forward just a little. “So… if you don’t mind me asking, do you think I’m… I don’t know, someone you’d want to see again? Not that I’m trying to put any pressure on you or anything, just… curious.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of her vulnerability. “I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you again, Leah.”

Her eyes widen slightly, as if she wasn’t expecting you to say that. Then, she laughs, a bit of nervous energy spilling out. “Good. Because, um, I think I’d like that too.”

You both sit there for a moment, letting the quiet settle between you. Leah seems more comfortable now, more herself. And for the first time, you realize that this might not just be a casual coffee between two people who bumped into each other. It feels like the beginning of something… something you both are unsure about, but excited to explore.

As the conversation slows, Leah seems to hesitate for a moment, like she’s considering something. Then, with a soft exhale, she looks at you with a hint of a playful smile.

“So… I was thinking,” she starts, her voice a little more tentative than before. “If you’re up for it, we could go back to mine and watch a movie. I mean, if you don’t have anything else planned?”

You smile, intrigued by the idea. “That sounds nice. I’d like that.”

Leah’s face lights up, and she gestures toward the door, clearly relieved. “Great! It’s not much, but it’s home.”

The two of you step outside, and after a short drive, you find yourselves at Leah’s house. It’s quieter here, tucked away in a suburban neighborhood that feels worlds away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Leah unlocks the door, and you follow her inside, your eyes scanning the cozy living room. The faint scent of coffee and something sweet fills the air.

She tosses her keys onto the side table and looks over at you. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says, pointing to the couch. “I’ll grab some snacks.”

You sit down, the soft cushions sinking under you as you take in the space. It’s simple, but warm. Homey, in a way. You pull your legs up on the couch, settling into the corner.

Leah returns with a bowl of popcorn, a couple of drinks, and a small grin on her face. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I grabbed a little bit of everything.”

You smile as she hands you a drink. “Thanks. This is perfect.”

Leah starts the movie, something lighthearted and funny, the kind of film that makes you laugh without needing to think too much. For a while, you’re both just immersed in the movie, the sound of laughter filling the space. But as the film progresses, you feel a subtle shift in the air between you two.

You shift slightly on the couch, unconsciously leaning toward Leah. Without realizing it, you end up curling up a little closer to her, your head resting lightly on her shoulder. You can feel the warmth radiating from her body, her presence somehow grounding and comforting. It feels natural—nothing too forward, just two people getting lost in the moment.

Leah freezes for a split second, then lets out a soft breath. You don’t notice at first, too wrapped up in the movie and the closeness, but then you feel her tense up. You glance up at her, only to find her staring ahead at the screen, but her cheeks are flushed, and her grip on the popcorn bowl has loosened just a little.

You smile to yourself, unaware of how much of an effect you’re having on her. The weight of your head resting against her shoulder seems to be making her a mess—her breathing slightly heavier, her hand shaking as it hovers near the popcorn. She’s trying to focus on the movie, but it’s clear she’s struggling to keep herself together.

You let out a small sigh of contentment, still feeling relaxed and at ease in her presence. But Leah, on the other hand, seems to be quietly losing her composure. Her heart races under the calm exterior she’s desperately trying to maintain.

At one point, she pauses the movie, the silence between you two becoming more palpable.

“Are you… okay?” you ask softly, not fully aware of what you might have done to make her so flustered.

Leah lets out a shaky laugh, her voice lower than usual. “Yeah. Just… didn’t expect you to cuddle in like that.”

You blink, surprised by her reaction. “Oh. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I—”

“No!” Leah quickly interrupts, her hands raised in reassurance. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest at her honesty. “I’m just… relaxing,” you say, trying to brush it off casually.

But Leah is anything but relaxed. She glances down at you, her eyes soft but filled with something more intense now. She swallows hard, as if trying to calm her racing thoughts.

“Well,” she says slowly, almost like she’s testing the waters, “just so you know… if you keep doing that… you might just make me completely lose it.”

You raise an eyebrow at her words, still blissfully unaware of how deeply you’ve affected her. But the playful glint in her eyes makes your heart skip a beat. You never expected to have this kind of effect on her, but here you are—both of you caught in a moment that neither of you seem ready to pull away from.

You don’t move away, instead, just relaxing deeper into her side, the movie playing on in the background, but the space between you both has shifted. It’s no longer just a casual hangout. It’s something else.

The movie ends, and the credits start to roll, but the atmosphere between us feels like it’s suspended in time. My heart is racing, but I’m trying to keep it together. The moment you cuddled up to me on the couch, I knew I was in trouble. Every inch of my body is on fire, my mind clouded with thoughts of you—of how close you are, how effortlessly comfortable you make me feel, even when I’m a complete mess inside.

I glance at the clock, and my heart sinks a little. It’s almost time to pick up Ellie.

You stretch out slightly, moving away from me just a little as you let out a soft sigh. “I should probably go,” you say, your voice calm, but I can hear the hint of reluctance in it, too.

I nod, trying to ignore the fact that the thought of you leaving is… well, it makes my chest tighten. “Yeah, I guess it’s getting late.”

We both stand up, and I walk you to the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. The closer we get to the door, the more aware I am of how close we are, of how my heart won’t stop pounding in my chest. I can feel the heat radiating from you, and it makes my mind spin.

I reach for the door handle, but when I look over at you, it’s like the world slows down. You’re standing there, looking at me, but there’s something different in your eyes—a softness, a warmth. And I feel it. The pull. The connection.

We’re standing so close now, and I can’t help but notice the way your breath catches just slightly, your chest rising and falling with each breath, just like mine. The tension is thick in the air, and I can feel it in every inch of my body. I don’t know what to do, but I can’t stop myself from feeling drawn to you.

I bite my lip nervously, my eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes, trying to figure out if I’m reading this right. “So…” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “What do you want to do now?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, there’s a moment of silence, where everything else fades away. Then, before I can even process it, you step closer, your eyes locked on mine.

And just like that, you lean in.

Your lips press softly against mine, the kiss gentle at first, as if testing the waters. But then, it deepens, just a little, and I feel the spark. I’m frozen for a split second, completely caught off guard by how natural it feels, how perfectly your lips fit against mine.

It’s a long kiss, one that feels like it’s suspended in time, each second stretching on, lingering in a way that makes my heart race even faster. I can feel the warmth of your body, the slight pressure of your hands, your scent filling my senses, and suddenly nothing else matters.

When we finally pull away, we both stand there, breathless. My pulse is pounding, my chest heaving. For a second, I’m too stunned to speak, too caught up in what just happened. The kiss wasn’t just a fleeting thing—it was something real, something more than either of us had expected.

You smile softly at me, and I can’t help but smile back, feeling the same warmth that’s been radiating between us all afternoon.

“Wow,” I whisper, my voice still a little shaky. “That… that was…” I trail off, still a little stunned by what just happened.

You grin, your eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something else—something I can’t quite place. “Yeah. I guess I wanted to do that for a while.”

I chuckle softly, still not fully processing everything. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

As I watch you turn to leave, I can’t help but feel a sense of longing. Something’s shifted between us, and I don’t know where this is going, but for the first time in a while, I don’t feel scared about it.

I stand in the doorway, watching you go, my heart still racing in my chest. What just happened felt like the beginning of something, and I can’t wait to see where it leads.

After training, your phone buzzes with a message from Leah. Her text is simple yet carries a weight of unspoken words:

“Hey, would love to spend more time with you today. Are you free?”

A smile tugs at your lips as you read her message. The connection between you two has been undeniable, and the thought of spending more time together fills you with warmth.

You quickly type a response:

“I’d love that. Let me check with my parents to see if they can look after Ellie.”

You call your parents, explaining the situation. They agree to take care of Ellie for the day, though you sense a hint of curiosity in their voices. They don’t press further, but you can tell they’re a bit suspicious.

With everything set, you head over to Leah’s house. As you arrive, she greets you with a warm smile, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

Inside, you both settle into the kitchen, the familiar scent of coffee and something sweet in the air. The conversation flows easily, laughter and shared stories filling the space between you.

After a few minutes, Leah’s demeanor shifts. She becomes a bit more reserved, her eyes occasionally meeting yours before quickly looking away. You notice her hands fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve, a subtle sign of her nervousness.

Sensing her hesitation, you decide to bridge the gap. You gently reach out, placing your hand over hers. Her breath catches, and she looks up at you, her eyes searching yours for reassurance.

With a soft smile, you lean in, closing the distance between you. Leah’s eyes flutter closed as your lips meet in a gentle kiss. The world seems to pause around you, the only sound being the soft rhythm of your breathing.

As the kiss deepens, you feel a surge of emotion, a connection that feels both new and familiar. Leah’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your arms wrapping around her.

The kiss is tender yet filled with unspoken promises, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you’re beginning to explore together. When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, a shared smile playing on your lips.

Leah rests her forehead against yours, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she admits, her cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and vulnerability.

You chuckle softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling with affection.

As you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realize that this is just the beginning of something beautiful. The future feels uncertain, but with Leah by your side, you’re ready to face whatever comes next.

It’s been a few weeks since that first kiss, and every moment with you feels like a dream I never want to wake up from. Our time together has been filled with laughter, shared stories, and a connection that feels deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced. But there’s something I’ve been holding back, something I can’t keep to myself any longer.

We’re sitting on the couch in my living room, a movie playing softly in the background, though neither of us is paying much attention. Your head rests on my shoulder, and I can feel the steady rhythm of your breathing. I gently brush a strand of hair from your face, my fingers lingering on your skin.

“Hey,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

You look up at me, your eyes warm and inviting. “Yeah?”

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “I… I’ve been thinking about us. About how much you mean to me. And I don’t want to keep pretending that I’m not completely in love with you.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and I can see the surprise and joy in them. You sit up, turning to face me fully. “Leah…”

I reach for your hand, holding it gently in mine. “I know we’ve been taking things slow, and I don’t want to rush anything. But I can’t imagine my life without you in it. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… will you be my girlfriend?”

A smile spreads across your face, and your eyes sparkle with happiness. “Yes,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “Yes, I will.”

I pull you into a tight embrace, my heart swelling with happiness. “I promise I’ll make you the happiest person alive,” I whisper.

You pull back slightly, looking into my eyes. “You already do,” you reply, your voice filled with sincerity.

We share a tender kiss, sealing the promise of our future together.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Kinktober day 8 | Tate Langdon x Reader

Day 8: mommy kink

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+, grinding, praising, slight degrading, overstimulation,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’I like when you do that.’’ 

‘’Do what?’’ 

‘’Fix my hair when it gets in my face. Run your hand down my back when I’m laying down. Make sure I ate today,’’ he explained as you rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand as you held hands on the way home, sensing his anxiety after a long day. You had a knack for knowing exactly what he needed. ‘’Take care of me.’’ 

‘’I just love you. People take care of the ones they love,’’ you said simply. 

Tate looked down at the sidewalk, his old converses suddenly very interesting to look at. ‘’I’ve never had anyone taking care of me before,’’ he admitted, feeling a lump of sadness settling in his stomach. 

His words made your heart ache. It was rare Tate would bring up his home life, preferring to escape it than bother you with his problems, but you knew Constance never really took good care of Tate — or any of her children. She was a terrible and neglectful mother, blaming the end of her acting career on him when her failure came from herself. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it when you couldn’t find the words. Instead, you squeezed his hand and walked the rest of the way to your house in silence. 

*

A few days later, you were watching a movie in your bed when your phone buzzed with a message from Tate. He hadn’t been able to come over today because Constance had invited her new boyfriend for dinner and wanted everyone to be there. 

From Tate: Can I come over? I’m already outside… 

Pushing your blanket off your body, you paused your movie and went downstairs, opening the door instead of texting him back. 

You found him sitting on your porch with his hands covering his face, looking like he had been there for a few minutes. His eyes were a bit red, matching his sore-bitten lips. It was a stark contrast to the green of his sweater.

‘’I had an argument with my mom and her new toy,’’ Tate explained once he was in the comfort of your bedroom. He rubbed at his face, attempting to erase the traces of his emotions. 

You nodded, sitting on the bed beside him. ‘’Do you want to talk about it?’’ 

He shook his head, not wishing to repeat what had been said. ‘’Can you just hold me? Please.’’

Without a word, you opened your arms, and Tate nestled into your embrace, giving him the love and comfort Constance failed to give her son. 

‘’Whatever has been said at that dinner, just know that your mother is wrong,’’ you spoke softly after a moment, your head resting on top of his as he held you tight. ‘’You’re loved and wanted and you didn't ruin her life, okay? Not you or Addie.’’ 

He sniffled and nodded against your chest. ‘’I love you too.’’ 

After a moment, his hold loosened, slowly calming down…and undoubtedly noticing the absence of a bra through your shirt. Lucky boy. You fought a smile, having not considered your attire when you went downstairs to get the door. 

‘’Do you feel comfortable like this?’’ you asked, breaking the silence.

Tate smiled smugly against your shirt, nodding. ‘’Very. They’re so soft and comfortable. I wish I could fall asleep like that at night.’’  

‘’Do you want me to take my shirt off?’’ you whispered, taking him by surprise. 

He nodded again, detaching himself from you so you could take off your shirt and fell back against your pillows in a more comfortable position. 

When you first suggested it, you didn’t think it would take a sexual turn, but Tate’s mouth began kissing at your breasts while his hands were massaging and kneading, fingers digging into soft flesh. God, he loved your tits. 

You would be lying if you said this wasn’t pleasurable. Tate was gentle and loving with his touches and kisses, savoring the moment. Your hand naturally found its way to his hair, running through his blond strands and encouraging him to keep going. 

Then, you began feeling something press against your thigh. 

‘’Not my fault. I can’t control what my dick does.’’

You bit back a laugh. ‘’Do you want me to take care of it?’’ Your hand wandered between your bodies to rub his hardening cock over his pants. 

Tate whimpered and pushed into your touch. ‘’Please.’’ 

He lifted his head from your chest, his eyes still red but no longer teary, and you motioned to take your spot and lay against your pillows.

‘’Mommy’s gonna take good care of you,’’ you promised, leaning down to give him a sweet kiss. ‘’I’m gonna make you feel so good, Tate. So good you’re gonna forget about tonight.’’

That’s exactly what he needed.

With your help, Tate discarded his pants and boxers, causing his cock to slap against his stomach. It must not have felt good straining against his stiff jeans. 

‘’Does that feel good, baby?’’ you asked, slowly running one finger over his sensitive length, teasing him.

He nodded, a shaky breath slipping from his lips. ‘’Y-yes.’’

You did it again, this time ending your stroke by brushing your thumb over the head. 

Tate whimpered, his hips jerking upwards and causing his sweater to ride up his stomach, flashing a trail of light blond hair. You leaned down to kiss it. 

‘’Such a good boy,’’ you praised, continuing to jerk him with your delicate hand. 

You could jerk him off until he spilled, but you decided to have some fun and try something else. Withdrawing your hand, Tate started sitting up. 

‘’Where are you going?’’ he asked, sounding alarmed. 

‘’I’m not going anywhere,’’ you reassured, caressing his thigh. ‘’Don’t worry.’’ 

Nodding, he settled back and watched you move, licking his lips as you removed your pajama bottoms and underwear. His deep brown eyes gave your body a look over, loving everything he was seeing. The natural fall of your breasts and the reddish-mauve mark his mouth left behind, the tiny mole right below your navel that no one but him had noticed, the scar on your calf from when you shaved and accidentally cut yourself. 

‘’You’re so pretty, Mommy. Can I have a kiss?’’ 

It was so nicely asked, you couldn’t deny him. 

You swung a leg over to straddle him, your hands rubbing his hips as his thick cock rested against his stomach, hard and leaking at the tip. The sight almost made the arousal between your legs drip. Your eyes met Tate's as you rose up on your knees, but instead of sinking down on his cock, you lowered yourself on the length and grinded your slick folds along it.

He moaned from the slightest bit of friction, feeling your pussy sliding languidly along his cock.

 A smirk drew across your lips, moving torturously slow. 

Tate whimpered your name, his voice laced with frustration and desire. 

‘’What is it, baby? Is this not what you wanted?’’ you asked coyly, the sound of your arousal mixing with his pre-cum filling the room. 

You saw his eyes dart down to where your genitals were touching, rubbing together. ‘’Mommy, plea-please,’’ he whined, his cock twitching and about to burst. 

You knew what he wanted, but you weren’t going to give it to him — yet. 

‘’Are you close, baby?’’ 

He closed his eyes and gripped the sheets as his stomach spasmed. ‘’I’m gonna cum, I wanna cum.’’ 

‘’Don’t hold back, baby, you can cum.’’

Ropes and ropes of white cum then spilled onto Tate's smooth stomach, his climax hitting, but you didn’t stop like he thought you would. No. You decided to push his limits and tease him until he couldn’t take it, watching his hips lifting off the bed as his orgasm came again and again, ropes of cum shooting out of his cock and adding to the mess. You were surprised he could still cum like that. 

‘’Can't cum anymore. So sensitive,’’ he said with tear-stained cheeks, whimpering through his orgasm and a little after it was done.

‘’You want me to stop?’’

‘’Please.’’ 

You caressed his cheek, wiping some of the tears. ‘’But I haven’t put it in yet...’’

—

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[kendyzzlewp]

Long Ass Break

art donaldson drabble

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

tags: fluff, domestic, married life, husband!art donaldson, tennisplayer!reader, tournament, coach!patrick

word count: 629

__________________________________________

Art was worried.

He watched as you ran off the court, your hand over your mouth as you tried for the life of you not to puke all over the clay court. Your opponent stood there frustrated, arms crossed over her chest, a scowl evident on her face.

Minutes passed and the murmuring of the crownd began to get louder due to your absence. Art looked around, his left hand scratching his head, a gold wedding band reflecting in the sun. No sign of you yet.

He was worried. He warned you about this happening, the pros and cons about playing in the tournament. You were stubborn, determined to power through because you’ve encountered worse. This was a piece of cake. Being your husband, he supported you but mostly, he just wanted to avoid your bad side.

Art glanced at the door you disappeared behind, his leg shaking in anticipation. You still hadn’t returned. The umpire was about to call the game. You were going to lose by default after being close to winning the whole goddamned tournament.

Fuck it, he thought and stood up to go through that fucking door. His heart racing as he pushed people from your team, muttering excuse me and thank you or whatever the fuck they needed to hear.

He reached the closed bathroom door, leaning closer to hear your retching as your stomach rebelled against you. His knuckles knocked on the bathroom door, as a courtesy and then pushed the door open.

Inside the bathroom, you were hunched over the toilet, clearly in distress. Art's heart clenched at the sight. He quickly kneeled down beside you, placing a gentle hand on your back.

"Hey sweetheart," he said softly, trying to offer some comfort. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

You looked up, tears in your eyes, and managed to croak out, "You were right,” you admitted. “I need a break.”

Art's heart sank as he saw you so distressed and vulnerable. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his comforting embrace. You felt a little better, the nausea still lingered around your throat but the urge was gone.

“You need to rest,” he whispered into your hair, sound muffled. “It’s starting to take a toll on you.

You sighed, tired, sweaty and defeated. “I know. Just take me home.”

Patrick burst through the door, concern and disappointment etched all over his place. “What the fuck is going on? Why aren’t you playing?”

You rolled your eyes as Art helped you stand up on your shaky legs. “I need a break Pat,” you said, leaning on your husband for support. “I need a long ass break.”

“A break?” He asked, crossing his arms in disbelief. “When have you ever taken a break?”

“Fuck off, Patrick,” Art grumbled at his best friend, turned your coach. “She needs a fucking break.”

Patrick scoffed, the sound making Art’s grip tighten around you. “How long is this break supposed to be?”

“9 months.”

Patrick's eyes widened in shock as the weight of your words sank in. He looked from you to Art, realization dawned on him. You shifted uncomfortably, wanting to just go home and sleep for the rest of the year.

"You're pregnant?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and understanding.

You nodded, leaning more heavily on Art for support. "Yes, I am."

Patrick's expression softened, his initial frustration melting away as he realized the gravity of the situation. "I... I had no idea.”

“Now you do,” Art rolled his eyes, his own concern for you evident but the annoyance toward Patrick even more prominent. "I just need to take her home before she throws up all over you.”

Patrick stepped aside, offering you a supportive smile. "Congratulations, you fuckers. Take all the time you need. We'll handle the tournament."