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roosterforme · 3 months

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Sneak Peek | Hangman x Reader

Summary: You spent so much time around the boys, they counted you as one of them. You were firmly stuck in the friend zone with Jake, so it was time to move on with a guy who could see past your flight suits. It's not immediately obvious to either of you that cranky Jake is actually jealous Jake.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentioned smut, 18+

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Happy birthday @beyondthesefourwalls!

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"It's my turn to buy a round," you said, standing up from the table and grabbing the empty beer bottles before turning toward Jimmy and Penny at the bar.

"Thanks, Rodeo," Jake murmured, and you turned back briefly and smiled softly at him. His gaze slid down your body the same way it would with any other woman, the only difference was that he had started to notice just how many other guys were regularly checking you out, too. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that fact.

When you squeezed yourself between two stools at the bar to order four more beers, Bradley asked, "Who are you staring at, Hangman? Rodeo?"

Mickey laughed as Jake quickly shook his head and turned his attention back to his friends. "I just wanted to make sure she can manage carrying everything."

"I'm sure she's fine," Bradley replied with a laugh of his own. "I got a little nervous for a second there."

"Why?" Jake asked, his eyes slowly drifting back to you, watching as you slipped your credit card into the back pocket of your jeans.

"Because first of all," Bradley said as he smashed open a peanut on the table, "Rodeo is practically one of the guys. And second," he added, popping the peanut into his mouth and chewing, "it would be weird if you start looking at her like you do all the other random pieces of ass you take home with you. Even though she is cute."

"She's cute, for sure," Mickey piped in. "But once you've seen a girl throw up in the parking lot after a drunken karaoke night, the appeal kind of wears off."

Jake smiled as you headed back toward the table, because the drunken karaoke night was when he got to drive you home and carry you to your bed while you repeatedly tried to tell him you could walk by yourself.

"Oh, you know who else is cute?" Bradley asked just as you set four new beers on the table. "That redhead with the huge tits at the dartboard."

"Damn," Mickey groaned, and now you were looking in that direction, too. But Jake kept his eyes on you.

"Do we have to talk about this in front of Rodeo?" he asked, sipping his fresh beer and starting to wish Bradley and Mickey would wander off. "In front of a lady?"

Bradley snorted so hard, Jake was surprised his beer didn't shoot out of his nose. "A lady?" he asked as he looked at you and cuffed you on the arm. "Nice try, Hangman, but Rodeo doesn't count."

"Well, you don't count either," you told him, and Bradley tapped the neck of his bottle to yours. "And neither do the two of you." Your gaze met Mickey's before settling on Jake. "You know I don't mind when you guys talk about girls. I get it. You're all hot."

But your knee was rubbing against Jake's thigh at the tiny table, and for a brief flash, he thought maybe he wanted to count in your mind as a guy you could be into.

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It was a strange dynamic, working with mostly a bunch of men all the time. They saw you in a flight suit once, and they never looked at you like you were a female ever again. And that was fine. It made your job easier in a lot of ways. There were fewer distractions, and you knew for a fact that they liked you for your personality. They wouldn't invite you to hang out all the time if they didn't.

But on nights like this, it did sting a little bit to watch the three of them tripping over themselves to go talk to the redhead who was clearly eating up the attention. You were essentially wearing the same outfit she was: jeans and a black shirt. And you thought you looked cute. And what exactly was wrong with your boobs? You looked down at your body and kind of shrugged. You didn't get it.

Natasha handed you a pool cue, and you sank a shot. You made up the excuse that you wanted to play so the guys wouldn't feel bad about abandoning you to go talk to girls, but Jake had been hesitant at first, so you shoved him along. That was a mistake, because you were reminded of how solid and muscular he was under his soft shirt.

The first few times you glanced his way, he was already looking back at you. If he were any other guy, you would have just asked him out by now, but you were so firmly in the friend zone with all of them that it was embarrassing. The rejection would be laughable.

So you put your head down and focused on the game and the chit chat around you. But after a while you got curious, and when you looked up again, Bradley and Mickey were walking back toward the table where your empty beer bottle sat. Jake had won. The redhead was running her fingernails through his hair. It was all over for the night.

You weren't jealous. You weren't. You just didn't understand why it couldn't be you. As you sank the eight ball, you said, "I'm beat. I'm going to head home."

"Me too. Want a lift?" Mickey asked, and you nodded, not sparing a single glance back at Jake.

Maybe you were the problem. Maybe you weren't sexy. You spent most of Sunday scrutinizing yourself in your bedroom mirror and going through all of your clothing. There really wasn't much of it since your closet was lined with uniforms and flight suits. And when you looked in the mirror, it wasn't like you could even tell what the problem was. You were just you, but it was starting to feel like you'd been playing around in this male-dominated world for so long, you were just blending in there.

"Fuck it," you muttered reaching for your phone. There was a text from Bradley detailing the pricing for tickets to a Padres game, which you desperately wanted to go to. It sounded fun. Then you realized the beer drinking and peanut eating would simply be moved to a different venue in which the guys would be looking at all the other women around you. Suddenly it didn't sound so fun.

There were also a handful of texts from Jake. He must have kicked his guest out early if he was asking how you were doing this morning. You sent back a short message before finding the app on your screen that had been dormant since you got stationed in San Diego last summer. Tinder. It was right there.

Nervously, you entered your login information, terrified that you'd just end up with a bunch of guys you saw on base as your best options. They would undoubtedly take one look at you and have the same reaction your male friends did. But you spent the rest of the day thinking about it. You looked, but you didn't sample. You found some guys who were surprisingly not in the Navy, but you didn't swipe. And maybe part of the reason you didn't was because Jake kept texting you all day long.

Monday was your tipping point. You were all ready to fly in your boots and flight suit when you ended up surrounded by the guys in the hangar. "We getting Padres tickets, Rodeo?" Bradley asked. "Day drinking at Petco Park?"

You nodded at him. "Sounds fun."

Then Mickey cut in as Jake walked over. "Hey, Hangman. How was our little redheaded friend?" he asked with a smirk, but Jake's expression stayed the same as his eyes met yours.

"Wouldn't know."

"Oof," Bradley said with a goading laugh. "What, you kicked her out without even talking to her afterwards?"

You swallowed and looked down at your boots as you thought about the guys on the dating app. Maybe a little change of scenery wouldn't hurt anything after all.

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

"Can you just knock it the fuck off?" Jake snapped. "I didn't even spend the night with her." He watched you put your helmet on as you walked toward your jet. "And I don't like talking about this shit around Rodeo anymore."

"Alright," Bradley replied with a tiny smirk. "No need to get mad about it."

When Jake took to the air, you were all business, as usual. You and he flew well together, like you always did. But back on the ground at lunchtime, you barely spared a glance in his direction in the cafeteria. Instead, you were completely absorbed in something on your phone as you picked at your food.

"What's wrong?" he eventually asked, and you looked up at him like you were surprised he was still there.

"Nothing," you murmured, taking a drink before returning your attention to your phone. "Just working on something."

"On what?" he asked, voice almost as snippy as it had been earlier. He found he didn't like it when your attention wasn't focused on him, which was absolutely infuriating, because it's not like the two of you were anything.

"My Tinder profile," you replied smoothly as you licked your lips, and Jake thought he must have misheard. Since when were you looking for a guy?

"Tinder?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I'm just trying to sort out which photo to use, because I like this one where I'm in my flight suit, but guys don't really tend to go for that sort of thing."

You turned your phone to show him, and Jake swallowed hard. It was a photo he had taken a few months ago. He remembered that day. Your sunglasses were hooked on the top of your suit, and your helmet was tucked under your arm, and your smile was infectious.

"I like that one," he told you softly.

But you just rolled your eyes and groaned. "But you don't count, now do you?"

Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Why are you on Tinder anyway?"

Now you laughed as you set your phone down. "Why do you think?"

He didn't want to think about it, even though he knew why. You were looking to hookup with someone. Or maybe it was even worse. Maybe you were looking for an actual boyfriend. Someone to spend all your time with. You'd be at the Hard Deck after work less frequently. You'd be going to the Padres game with some faceless idiot, and he'd be the one carrying you home after you overdid it at karaoke night. Worse yet, you could have your pick of any guy on that app who caught your eye, but Jake knew for a fact none of them were good enough for you.

"Rodeo," he grunted, unsure how to voice his concerns. You just tapped your screen a few times and then smiled at him as his heart clenched a little bit.

"I went with the photo from Reuben's wedding instead."

Jake ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't even have to ask. He also knew that photo well too. His voice was soft as he said, "Blue dress. Holding a martini. Hand on your hip." He didn't like the idea of a bunch of guys he didn't even know looking at you wearing something so pretty.

"That's the one! And now my bio is live on the app," you said as you tapped your screen one last time. "Wish me luck."

You stood with your tray and Jake told himself he would do no such thing.

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"That photo must have done the trick," you mumbled the following day in the rec room on base as Natasha helped you sort through your matches.

"I'm sure it did," she replied in awe. "You look hot in it."

You wanted to believe her, but it didn't even matter right now, because the two of you were staring at a photo of a hot guy who had sent you a message. You gasped. "Is this for real?"

"Looks like it," she replied. "If you don't fuck him, I will. Happily."

"What are the two of you over here whispering about?" You looked up into Jake's smiling eyes and gave him a grin of your own.

"Rodeo is getting all the Tinder hotties," Natasha replied, and suddenly Jake's smile vanished. "Let me know if he sends you a dick pic."

"He better fucking not!" Jake growled as he tried to reach for your phone. "Show me what this asshole looks like so I know who to pound to dust if he sends you one." You rolled your eyes and held up your phone so he could see. "His name is Tony? And he's a dentist?"

"What's wrong with that?" you asked quickly.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. "If you have to ask, then you don't want to know."

You scoffed and opened your messages. "You're being dramatic. And I don't get on you about who you decide to hook up with."

"So you're just trying to hook up with this asshole?" he asked, his lips curling in disgust.

Honestly, you weren't really sure. But he sounded nice in the messages he sent. "Would it really be so bad if I was?"

Jake scrutinized your face like he was in pain, and you had the craziest thought flash through your mind that perhaps he was jealous. But then the pinched lines on his forehead vanished, and his voice was completely calm as he said, "You do what you want, Rodeo. But don't come crying to me about it later."

"Fine," you told him as he walked away. And that's what spurred you to reply to Tony's message with a more flirtatious one of your own. You were allowed to hook up with him. You were allowed to go out on a date. Maybe you'd even eventually request a dick pic. Jake wasn't in charge of your Tinder profile or dating agenda.

A few short exchanges back and forth was all it took, and suddenly you had plans for Saturday night that didn't involve hanging with the guys at the Hard Deck for once. Tony was going to take you out to dinner, and you were already excited.

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

"Where the hell is Rodeo?" Bradley asked as he returned to the table with three bottles of beer instead of four. "She's usually here by seven."

Jake rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "She's not coming. She's on a date with some smug looking asshole named Tony."

"Good for her," Mickey piped up, earning a glare from Jake. "I hope she gets laid. You wanna grab Javy and play pool?"

With a groan, Jake dragged himself out of his seat and forced his body through the motions. He hit the cue ball with perfect precision, but meanwhile, all he could think about was some other guy's hands all over your body while he shoved his tongue down your throat. "Fuck," he growled, trying to fight the urge to text you. If you wanted him, you knew how to reach him.

Between shots, he glanced around the bar at all the other women, but he couldn't find a single one as pretty as you. He spent the rest of his night barely conversing with his friends while he hoped that your date was a complete flop. And when he left to head home alone, he caved and texted you to make sure you got back to your place safely.

That was over twelve hours ago. Jake still hadn't heard back from you. It was damn near noon on Sunday, and he was left assuming that you spent the night with Tinder Tony. When you finally texted him back, the response made him toss his phone aside.

Sorry, just seeing this now. Yes, I made it home safely. See you tomorrow.

Monday was worse. You were glued to your phone at every opportunity you got, and Jake could tell by the little smile on your face that you must be talking to that asshole.

"Rodeo, how was your hot date?" Bradley asked, bumping your helmet with his while he winked at Jake.

"Pretty good," you replied with a little laugh.

"You get laid?" Mickey asked obnoxiously, and you rolled your eyes before glancing at Jake. He was dying to know the answer to the question, but also terrified to hear it.

"Wouldn't you like to know," you replied, returning your attention to your phone. "Put it this way... I'm going out with him again for dinner on Wednesday."

"Who goes to dinner on a Wednesday?" Jake scoffed. "That's when we usually go to the bar! And what did you and Tinder Tommy even talk about the whole time? Dentures? Teeth?"

"No," you snapped at him. "He told me how pretty he thinks I am, and that he was nervous to meet me in person. And his name is Tony, not Tommy. So don't be rude when we stop by the bar after dinner on Wednesday."

"Can't wait to meet him," Jake grumbled, highly disappointed that your date had been even somewhat successful. And he still wasn't sure if you'd gone home with Tony. Or worse... if he'd gone home with you.

Jake had crashed in your bed with you once a few months ago when you hosted game night. Mickey, Nat and Bradley all passed out in your living room, so you'd taken him by the hand to your bed. Every time he thought about it, he could practically feel the warmth of your body next to his and your foot hooked over his ankle. The idea of someone else there engaging in pillowtalk or fucking you just right was way too much for him to handle, because he was starting to feel like he wanted to be that person.

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

Okay, so Tony was a little boring. A lot boring, actually. And on Wednesday night at dinner, he actually did mention dentures, and you could practically hear Jake scoffing from the Hard Deck. But Tony was hot and nice and he paid for dinner. Could you really hope for more than that?

"So, you mentioned stopping at a Navy bar?" he asked as you walked back to his car. "I keep forgetting you're even in the Navy. It just doesn't seem like you."

Maybe you should have used the other photo for your dating profile since you'd had to remind him twice already that there were a lot of women in the military now. "Yeah. It's called the Hard Deck. I usually hang out there on Wednesdays, and I thought maybe my friends could meet you?"

"Sure," he replied, and he even played boring music on the way there. But when he walked you inside, he kissed your cheek, and that felt kind of nice until Jake was looking. You felt embarrassed and a little guilty when he scowled at you from the pool table, so you eased yourself away from Tony and took him by the hand instead.

"Hey, guys," you said cautiously as you approached the pool table. "This is Tony."

Jake's jaw was clenched tight as he reached out to shake hands with your date in a death grip, and you cringed as he said, "Nice to meet you, Tommy."

And it all went downhill from there. You had to correct him three times, even though you were sure he knew Tony's name. And even the other guys didn't really seem to mesh well with Tony. Bradley looked scandalized when he told them he didn't like beer or playing pool, and Mickey tried to make a dentist joke that just didn't land.

You wanted to crawl into your bed and not come back out for a week. You also kind of wanted to ask Jake what his problem was. Tony was a nice guy. His hand on your back felt nice, and his goodnight kiss at your front door was nice. There was even some tongue, and you didn't stop his roaming fingers. Maybe another date or two and you'd ask him to come in.

"Would you like to get dinner on Saturday night?" he asked as his lips grazed your neck. "At the Boathouse?"

You closed your eyes and leaned back, and the image of Jake took over. His lips were on your earlobe, and he was whispering your name as you led him to your room. His hands were settling on your hips and squeezing gently as you melted into his touch.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, and you were jarred back to reality by his voice.

You swallowed hard and nodded as you opened your door. "Saturday night sounds good," you said as you ducked inside. "See you then."

You couldn't have Jake. You just needed to get it through your head that he didn't want you like that.

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

Jake knew he was behaving poorly even as he was doing it. Tony looked annoyed by him, and you looked embarrassed, but he just kept calling him the wrong name and standing off to the side like a dick. He was actually the asshole. Not Tony. And he needed to apologize to you at work the next day.

He found you in the hangar, pacing back and forth as you played with the strap on your helmet. When you turned, he started to say, "Hey, Rodeo, I'm really-"

"I need your help," you blurted out when you saw him heading your way. "I need you to come shopping with me tomorrow after work, because I wore my only two dresses already, and everything else in my closet is ridiculous. And Tony is taking me to the Boathouse on Saturday, so I can't just throw something together and call it a day."

Jake ground his back teeth together. The Boathouse was nice. As in, he could think of at least three people he knew who got engaged there. How much money did dentists make anyway? He was full blown jealous now. He knew that. But you'd asked him for help, so of course he was going to do whatever you wanted. Your eager eyes were enough to make him agree on the spot.

"Where are we going shopping?" he asked softly.

You looked so relieved as you said, "The mall. I don't think it will take too long, and I can treat you to dinner as a thank you."

"No," he replied. "You don't owe me anything, Rodeo."

"Thanks, Jake," you whispered as you threw one arm around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. "I know I can trust you to tell me what looks good. Because you're a guy, and you know what guys like. I've been in such a rut, and I don't even know what looks nice on me anymore. But I trust your opinion."

He wrapped his arm around your waist and held you a little closer. If you trusted him, he wouldn't let you down. He never wanted to let you down. He would take you to the mall and tell you which outfits looked nice on you, even though he knew it would be all of them, and he would be cool about you dating Tony. "Sure, Rodeo. Anything you want."

When the time came, he was miserable. You seemed excited, bouncing on your feet in your jeans and sneakers as you collected dresses and cute little outfits to try on, but he knew none of this was really for him. You'd just be giving him a little sneak peak of what Tony would have his hands all over.

"How about this one?" you asked, holding up a red mini dress that made Jake's mouth dry up. Then you moved it in front of your body and looked down. "It's probably too much for me."

He wanted to tell you that you couldn't pull it off, but he knew the fucking thing was made for you. "Try it on and see," he said softly, so you added it to your pile. Then he followed you like a puppy dog to the fitting room, holding half of the dresses for you to try on. When you passed the lingerie section, Jake had to watch you grab a few lacy items. "Have you slept with Tinder Tommy yet?" he snapped when you picked up a black bra and added it to your arms.

You looked up at him with a soft pout. "Well, no. That's why I'm trying to buy some sexy stuff, you know? Just in case I want to take it there."

Jake had seen you in your bathing suit many, many times. You didn't need to be wearing anything made out of lace and silk to look sexy, but the sight of you in half of this shit would probably give Tony a damn heart attack. Then he realized as you led him along that he himself might not make it out of the fitting room alive.

"Just stand out here, okay?" you said softly, guiding him against the wall. He grunted in response and watched you line up everything you wanted to try on inside the fitting room before closing yourself inside. You kicked your shoes off, and then he watched you push your jeans down to your feet through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. You stepped out of them, and his imagination started to supply the rest.

You were completely naked now, he was sure of that fact, and you were only a few feet away from him, separated by a flimsy door. His head tipped back against the wall as his breathing grew a little deeper. Your toenails were painted bright green, and you were talking quietly to yourself as you stepped into a black dress and started to guide it up your legs.

"This isn't too bad," you muttered, and a few seconds later you were unlatching the door and pulling it open with an apprehensive look on your face. Jake's jaw dropped open as you stepped right up to him and asked, "What do you think?"

"Rodeo," he grunted, fisting his hands at his sides to keep them from touching you as you spun slowly in front of him. "Looks good."

You frowned a little more. "I was hoping for better than good," you replied, twirling away from him and back into the fitting room.

Jake's body was thrumming with desire as he watched that black fabric pool at your feet under the door. "It was better than good, Rodeo," he said, nearly choking on the words as you stepped to the side and bent to pick it up.

"I'll try the red one," you informed him, and he had to press his lips together, knowing what was coming next. This time it took you a little longer, and he watched your feet under the door as you turned in front of the mirror. "It's really short," you finally said as you opened the door again.

"Jesus Christ," Jake moaned softly. The thing fit you like a damn glove. Every curve and soft dip of your body was right there, begging to be touched. His palms were sweaty as he wiped them on his jeans, and then you spun, ending up just inches away from him again.

He couldn't speak, and maybe you took that as a bad sign. "It's too much," you said with a little laugh. "I know it's too much, but it was fun to try it on anyway. It made me feel sexy," you said with a little shrug, barely able to meet his eyes. "I think the black one might be better for dinner at the Boathouse? Or do you think this one?"

Jake snapped out of his daze and remembered why he was here, suddenly pissed that this little fashion show wasn't just for his own benefit. "Come on, Rodeo. Tinder Tommy? Really? You think he deserves this?" When you just kind of shrugged at him, he said, "Get the red one if you're just looking to get laid."

"Okay," you replied, your little pout back on your pretty lips.

He pushed away from the wall until he was nearly touching you. Practically snarling, he said, "Are you just looking to get laid?"

"Maybe," you said softly, looking at his neck. "He's actually into me, so maybe. I don't know, Jake. It's been a long time since a guy chose me, you know?" He opened his mouth to tell you that any guy in the world would choose you when you said, "I have one more dress."

Then he had to stand there and watch the red fabric hit your feet before you guided the tiniest little green dress up your calves. He was jealous. He was so jealous. And the fact that he'd had a whole fucking year to ask you out instead of fucking wasting his time was crashing down on him right now. You were going to wear one of these dresses to the Boathouse tomorrow, and Tony was going to take it off you. He was going to fuck you, and then someday you'd probably get married. Jake would be at your wedding sitting between Mickey and Bradley and making himself sick over this whole thing.

The door opened. You were stunning. You didn't even leave the fitting room doorway this time in that green dress that was hugging your tits and your waist and showing off so much leg that Jake thought he was going to black out. "I can tell by your face that it's not good," you said with a wince. "It's a little too low cut, so I couldn't imagine wearing it in front of Tony."

His voice came out low and rough as he said, "You're wearing it in front of me just fine."

"But I don't count, remember?" You closed and locked the door, and Jake was immediately leaning against it. Literally each dress was hotter than the one before it, and Jake didn't know how to articulate what he was feeling right now. How on earth did he end up so far in the friend zone that he couldn't claw his way out if he tried? What the fuck made Tinder Tony so special? Why were you looking around on the app anyway? He couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened, but you were never going to take him seriously, even if he knew he could be what you wanted.

The rustling of fabric and the sound of the zipper had him resting his forehead on the door. "Rodeo, Baby, you can't...buy one of these dresses. Not for Tony. Okay? Come on. He's not good enough for you."

"Oh." That was all you said. You just replied with one word, and Jake's blood was boiling. He wanted to dismantle the entire fitting room and take you back home and tell you that you could do a hell of a lot better than some lame ass dentist who didn't like beer or playing pool. But you'd just muttered one word, and he was dying to know if he could ever stand a chance at making you happy.

"Rodeo?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You unlocked the door and he stepped back a few inches so you could open it, expecting to see you in your jeans once again with the dress of your choosing in your hands. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, his heart hammering in his chest. "Absolutely not!"

Jake pushed you back further into the fitting room and managed to wrench his broad shoulders through the doorway before kicking the door closed. You were biting your lip, your eyes wide as his hands came to rest on your lace covered hips.

"Jake," you whispered as he shook his head at the sight of you in a lacy black bra and tiny underwear.

"What the hell are you thinking?" he groaned, fingers digging gently into your warm body as he listened to the little sound you made. "You're killing me here." Your hands came up to his wrists before you slid them up along his arms, and Jake took a step closer until his jeans were brushing against your bare belly. He would need to be removed from the mall in a body bag at this rate.

Then you whispered, "I like you. And maybe there's a chance that you like me, too? And maybe that's part of the reason I asked you to come here with me."

Jake swallowed hard as he leaned in, dizzy from the way you smelled so sweet and felt so perfect in his hands. "Dump him. Dump Tony." You whimpered at his words as he slid one hand down further, teasing the lace covering your ass at the same time his other hand went up to tug at the side of the bra. "Because this? This should be for me."

"Jake." Your voice was a needy whine as you scraped your fingernails along his shoulders and chest, trying to pull him closer. But he shook his head as he pushed you back harder against the wall, lips hovering over yours as you whispered his name.

He knew what he wanted. He'd known for a while, really, but now he was ready to take it. "I want to kiss you. But if I do, I'm not going to be able to go back, okay?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I won't go back to being Rodeo and Hangman, just friends. I will not do that. Not with you. Not when you count more than anyone else."

Your lips crashed against his, and Jake sighed in relief as he held you in his arms the way he'd been dying to for so long. The lingerie and all the little dresses were only for him. Your kisses and your smile and your fingers in his hair were for him, not Tony. He ran his hands down to your ass as you giggled and nipped at his lips.

"Pick a dress, Baby," he muttered between kisses. "And we'll get the lingerie, too."

"Okay," you replied with a smile before you took his bottom lip between yours, making him moan.

"Tomorrow night, I will take you out, and you can show me this little getup again if you want to."

You looked up at him with the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. "I want to."

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You nudged Bradley with your elbow. "Hey, she's cute," you said, nodding toward the brunette across the aisle. "You guys should go talk to her." He and Mickey both leaned forward to look without any subtlety whatsoever, and you laughed.

"Maybe at the end of the inning," Bradley replied, manspreading so much in his seat at the Padres game that he kept bumping your leg and nudging your shoulder. But he was grinning, and you could already tell that he and Mickey were about to turn it into a competition to see who could get her phone number first.

But there was one key player missing from their game now, and you smiled as you saw Jake apologetically climbing over everyone else in your row before plopping down into the seat next to you and kissing your cheek with a smile. "The line was long as hell for your favorite beer," he said as he handed it to you. "Did I miss anything?"

You shook your head as Bradley said, "You're just in time to watch the real show, Hangman. Rodeo, I want you to time how long it takes before I get her number."

But you weren't really listening as Bradley and Mickey started to argue, and neither was Jake as he kissed your cheek again. You didn't feel like you were simply blending in, and you didn't feel like you were just one of the guys anymore. You were grinning and sipping your beer as Jake's lips met your ear and he asked, "Are you wearing that black set right now?"

"I'll let you find out later.

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Happy birthday, Alli! I hope you enjoyed the blonde one! Big thanks to @mak-32 @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for all your help!

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rogueddie · 2 years

Text

"Something is really wrong with Steve," Robin says.

The party look up, startled. They wait for her to continue, but she starts pacing nervously. It immediately sets the kids on edge, glancing at each other uneasy.

"What do you mean?" Dustin eventually speaks up. "Is he... ill?"

"No, no, it's... his parents came home, right?"

"Yeah, we know," Max snorts. "Dustins mom had to ban him from the house because he wouldn't leave."

"He can't avoid them forever," Dustin points out. "I get that it's hard to talk to them when you have to lie all the time but they're, like, paying for all his shit."

"No they aren't!" Robins voice cracks. "They cut him off years ago! Dude, he hates them and now he's writing up a resignation letter so he can go work for his dad."

"Why is that a bad thing?" El asks, eyes a little wide.

"He'd have to train for a few months in New York for one."

"New York?!" All of them burst out. They all try to speak at once, loud and panicked. They're so loud that Hopper bursts out, confused and tired and panicked.

"What the hell is going on?" He snaps.

The kids all look a little guilty. El stands up so he looks at her. "We are worried about Steve."

"What? Jeez, that's what you're yelling about?"

"He's moving away!" Mike snaps. "To New York! For months!"

Hopper frowns at him like he's not making sense. "New York?"

"To work with his dad," Robin adds. "I didn't know if I should talk him out-"

"They're back?" Hopper asks. He's gone still, voice devoid of emotion and dangerously calm. "How long?"

"A month? Maybe more, it-"

"And they're home now? Do you know if Steve is there with them? It's not one of his shifts, is it? That'd make it easier."

"What? No, he's home. Make what easier?"

Hopper ignores the question, grabbing his coat and shoes. "Stay here, I won't be long."

He ignores the questions that grow frantic and panicked when he picks up his gun, stomping out the door at a fast pace. Robin is yelling from the door as he climbs into his car. She's too taken aback to even begin to think of how to answer to avalanche of questions the kids throw at her.

Hopper gets to the Harrington house in record time, having sped just a little to get there. Mrs Harrington is the one who opens the door and looks a little guilty when she sees him.

"Where is he?" Hopper asks.

She steps back, letting him in. "In his room."

Hopper pushes past her, taking the stairs two at a time. Steve is sat at his desk when he enters the room without knocking, head snapping up and looking startled. He looks a little ashamed when he realizes that it's Hopper.

"Hop," Steves voice is strained. He frowns when Hopper ignores him, pulling his closet open. "Uh, Hopper? What are you doing?"

"Taking you home," Hopper mutters. He pulls out the three bags he knows Steve has been keeping hidden, just in case. "Come on, pack up."

"I can't just-"

"Yes you can. Pack. Up."

Steve only hesitates for a moment. He slowly fills up one with his few sentimental things and some things he considers important (his scoops uniform, the drawings from Will). Hopper stuffs the other two with clothes. It doesn't take them long.

"I'll come back for the rest, if you want any of it," Hopper hands Steve his car keys, waving him toward the stairs. "Wait in the car. I'll be a minute."

Steve hesitates at the door, glancing between Hopper and his mom. He leaves though, doesn't say goodbye.

"Right, here's what's going to happen; I'm going to come back for the rest of his things. I've seen that room, I'll know if somethings missing. And that shit is his, don't try to bullshit me." Hopper eyes her with visible distaste. "He's an adult now. You can't take him back and if I hear that either of you've been trying to harass him again, I'll press charges."

She nods, which is enough of an answer for him. He throws the two bags in the back with the third before climbing in the drivers seat. The air is thick with tension as he pulls out the drive, starting the drive back to the cabin.

"Um... could you, uh, drop me off at the trailer park?" Steve asks, quiet and timid in a way that is horribly familiar to Hopper. "I, uh... I need to see Eddie."

Hopper grunts. He grits his teeth to stop himself snapping. It wouldn't be fair on Steve. So he drives him there, quiet and tense.

"Thanks," Steve mumbles.

But Hopper climbs out too, gently grabbing Steves jacket lapels to drag him over to the Munsons trailer. Hopper knocks.

"Oh," Waynes eyebrows raise. He looks Hopper up and down before turning his eyes on Steve, who he gives a soft smile. "Harrington, you doing alright?"

"No," Hopper answers for him. "Could we come in for a moment?"

"Sure?" Wayne shuffles out the way, shutting the door behind them. "Eddie's in his room, if you want me to get him?"

"You want your boy to see?" Hopper asks Steve.

Steve ducks his head, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. He mutters, "he probably will anyway."

"Ok. Do you want him here for this?"

"Here for what?" Eddie asks, hovering in the doorway, worried. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Steve tries to say. "It's... really, it's nothing."

"Steve," Hopper calmly says. Waits for Steve to look back at him, simply raises an eyebrow. "Where?"

"Hopper, it's fine, really."

"Where?"

Steve tries to stare him down, unsuccessfully. He huffs, annoyed, glancing at Wayne and Eddie who, understandably, look confused.

He slowly takes his jacket off, keeping his eyes on the floor. There's a sharp intake of breath when the dark, almost black, bruises on his arms are revealed. They litter the entirety of both arms, the ones around his left wrist and right bicep standing out the most- the ones shaped like hands.

"Steve," Eddie whispers, walking forward slowly. He's careful, brushing his fingers against his skin. "Oh, baby, who did this?"

"It's fine," Steve tries to insist.

Hopper clears his throat though. "Where else?"

Steve doesn't try to argue this time. He grabs the back of his collar, lifting his top off. His ribs have the worst of his bruises.

"Fuck," Eddie carefully, gently, pulls Steve into a hug. Presses gentle, ever so soft kisses to his neck. His hand is just as gentle when he rubs his back. Steve clings to him, grip looking almost painful, but Eddie doesn't complain.

Hopper turns to Wayne, who is also pointedly looking away so the two can have their moment. "His parents are gonna try to find him. Direct them to me if they try here."

"Don't worry about Steve," Wayne glances at the pair, still wrapped around each other, at the bruises. "Worry about them. If they try to come by here, they'll be leaving in a body bag. I'm sick of assholes treating my kids like this."

Hopper looks over at Eddie, who's pulling back so he can hold Steves face, eyes painfully understanding. He nods at Wayne, pats his shoulder. "I'm getting the rest of his stuff, he's got no reason to go back there. It's my cabin he's coming home to."

"I'll drive him there myself," Wayne glances at the pair, who think they're being subtle and sneaky as they giggle their way towards Eddies room. "Tomorrow."

Hopper chuckles, glancing towards the hall the two disappeared down. "Tomorrow."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #jim hopper #ficlet #angst #steves asshole parents #well #hopper and wayne are steves real parents now #hurtcomfort

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kookslastbutton · 9 months

Text

Baby Maker ༓ kth (m)

✑ Summary: You're pissed at your husband for being late to your weekly baby-making sessions.

Pairing: husband!taehyung x fem!reader

AU/genre: pwp, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 2,473

Warnings: light fighting, hard dom!taehyung, slight brat sub!reader, make up s*x, rough s*x, manhandling, bl*wjob, teasing, b**b groping, degradation (taehyung calls reader a sl*t), impreg k*nk, f*replay, penetration, r*ding, d*ggy, d*rty talk, d*ck slapping, taehyung refers to himself as daddy, mention of aftercare, trouble taking off lingerie bc yeah it be a whole process sometimes.

A/N: seeing Taehyung on esquire...you cannot tell me he doesn't look good omg 🙈 anyway this is filthy sooo I'm going to rock myself to sleep now bc i work on the moring, pls enjoy 💞

"Sweetheart, I didn't mean to be late. I'm sorry."

Taehyung stands in front of you with pleading eyes. He tries not to drop his gaze below your neck, seeing that you're more than pissed at him for getting home nearly an hour later than planned. He feels bad about it, he really does. But he can also easily see his favorite fiery red lingerie peeking out of your silky robe, making him all the more eager to show you how he can make it up to you.

"Well that's too bad Taehyung because I'm not in the mood anymore." You tighten your arms across your chest and stand your ground. If your husband didn't look like sex on legs all the time this would be a lot easier nevertheless, he will not be getting his dick sucked tonight.

"Are you kidding?" He gives you a 'really' look before reaching for one of your wrists. "You're always in the mood for baby making. Been in the mood for months. Come on sweetheart, how many times do I need to tell you I'm sorry? Let me make it up to you."

"No." You swiftly pull away from him. "I'm showering and then going to bed." You head over to your dresser to grab a pair of pajamas to change into. Are you being petty? Maybe. But you and Taehyung have been trying for a baby over the past two weeks. So him being late tonight just feels like he isn't taking any of it seriously.

"Don't even think about trying to come in here," you spit, moving to close the door of the master bathroom. Taehyung gives a small sigh before stopping the door with his hands. Your eyes avert to the motion immediately—damn his fingers for being so long and sleek.

"Baby I know I shouldn't have been late, and I know you're horny but aren't we being the tiniest bit stubborn here?"

"What the hell did you say?" You can't believe your ears. "You think this is me just being stubborn and horny? No, this is me-, you pause, scrambling for words. "I'm punishing you!" You point at him accusingly.

"Punishing me by withholding sex? From being an hour late tonight? I get it baby, I do but is that what you really want? To take a shower, then go to sleep." He pushes his way through the door and walks up to you until he's towering over you. His warm blonde locks drape over his eyes— you know how soft they feel in your hands. "Or," his deep honeyed voice teases near your ear as he tugs on one of your robe's straps. "Do you want to take off this useless piece of material and I'll show you how sorry I am?" He sets his hands on your hips, tracing down the fabric of your robe. "I'll let you ride me," he husks.

You bite the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to keep yourself from throwing yourself at him. It's not every night that you're allowed to top with a husband as alpha as Taehyung in the bed. And the way his hands are moving so sensually up and down your sides is making you shudder with arousal.

"Fuck you. Fuck you to the moon and back Taehyung."

"Great, let's start that tonight." Taehyung takes it as a go and you pound on his back with your fists when you feel your whole body being slung over his shoulder. He plops you on the bed within seconds and crawls up to you in a straddling position—thighs on either side of your waist. "I swear to god __, our baby better not inherent this stubborn streak of yours." He starts untying the knot of your robe and prys the material open to slip down your shoulders.

"What baby?" You sit up a little to let him remove it. "The only baby you seem to be making is with Park Jimin. You were at his house all day. Or was it Jungkook? Did you have a threesome with them?"

"For fucksake, no I wasn't having a threesome with those idiots who can't even get their dicks out of their pants." He tosses the robe to the side, cock swelling at the sight of you underneath him in lacey red lingerie and black lace garters—this he did not see before. "And I'm not into Jimin, he's too into his porno films. Now enough whining. I said I was sorry."

"You were watching porn with Jimin?!" Your eyes go large as saucers. Apparently, that's all you heard. Taehyung lets out a throaty growl, more than fed up with your attitude tonight.

"No I wasn't! Stop it. I wasn't fucking or watching people fuck." He holds your wrists down on the mattress to keep you from moving about. "You get so goddamn needy. I didn't realize you could get this horny."

"I told you its not about—"

"Shut up and let me kiss you." Taehyung presses his mouth against yours, biting your lower lip like a sin. You squirm underneath his hold but end up moaning when he slips his tongue into the small crease between your lips.

"Taehyung," you let out a breathy gasp when you feel his fully hardened cock brush against your center. Not much else gets to come out after that as Taehyung continues to lick every corner of your mouth, toying with your tongue at the same time.

It's when he finally breaks from your lips to trace wet kisses along the curve of your neck that you can catch your breath again. His firm hold on your wrists also loosen, but you know exactly where they're moving next.

"Did you really expect me to believe you'd put on my favorite lingerie with these godforsaken garters only to not have your brains completely fucked tonight?" He squeezes your breasts and rolls his thumbs around your nipples, feeling them harden with the friction.

You choose to remain silent this time, slightest smirk on your face which no doubt irritates your husband to no end.

"Don't want to say anything anymore Mrs. Kim?" He fiddles with the front of your bra, specifically the tiny hook that's holding the cups together. "Nothing at all? Just gonna lay there and stare at me with those beautiful lusty eyes?"

"You know I was feeling really guilty earlier," Taehyung rasps, leaning back to throw his shirt over his head. "I was afraid you were actually mad at me and at first I think you were. But..." He reaches to unbuckle his belt. "Now you're just acting like a brat to tick me off."

You bite down a whimper when his cock bounces free, practically throbbing to be inside something. You've taken Taehyung many times with tears streaming down your face, each round reminding you of his massive size.

"Fuck," he groans as he takes himself in his palm. "If you want to be treated like a brat so much then it's your lucky day." He straddles your sides again, the head of his cock falling proudly in front of your lips. "Open," he demands, but you bite your lip; feigning innocence.

Your husband is not impressed, however. "Quit acting like you've never seen cock before," he barks. "You're the furthest thing from a virgin so open up."

Rude, you think before slowly sticking your tongue out until it touches the slit of his cock. You know it'll piss him off but you decide it's fun to keep swirling around the sensitive area, collecting the pre-cum dripping out.

"Shit, don't." Your husband groans and screws his eyes shut to keep himself from coming early.

You should take this as a warning but you're far too pleased of yourself so you continue teasing him, making sure a few purposeful moans slip out as you lick around his tan tip.

"Fuck I'm gonna blow my load in ten seconds if you don't stop. Baby, stop."

You ignore your husband's pleas and wrap your lips around the head of his length, sucking it with determination. As if to counter the filthy action you sparkle your eyes up into his dark ones. You make them as big as you can. Anytime now and he'll-

"I said stop you fucking slut!" The words are barked at you without warning. Taehyung takes his cock from you and slaps it across your cheek. A very sticky substance smears on your face. "Now, get my dick wet or nothing's going into that slutty little cunt."

You widen your mouth to take him deeper at his threat but it's too slow—or Taehyung's too impatient. Either way, his thick length shoves to the back of your throat and starts running in and out of your mouth with a vengeance. You choke at the intensity of each thrust, vision blurring due to the tears building.

"Is it too much sweetheart?' He provokes, beads of sweat line his forehead and a vein threatens to pop from his neck any second. "Too big for your pretty mouth to handle?"

You feel yourself clench as the heavy weight of his length glides faster on your tongue. The anticipation of his release is killing you and though you can't speak, right now, you want your husband to make you look like such a messy whore that his come fills your mouth and spills down your tits. Then you want him to flip you over, prop your ass up, and fuck you until burning hot sensation courses through your body.

While in thought, Taehyung takes the opportunity to slip himself out of your mouth. A string of spit can't help but follow with it.

"But—"

"It's plenty wet now," Taehyung smirks at your obvious distress. He moves to take your panties and garter off next. "Fuck," he swears in frustration. "How do you get this off dammit?" You help him wiggle yourself out of the contraption (which ends up taking a good five or six minutes).

As soon as the lace fabric is discarded, you find yourself quickly being lifted on his hardened member. Taehyung makes sure you're well-supported before roughly thrusting up into your wet cunt. Your breasts bounce to the rhythm he sets, tempting him to go faster.

"I promised I'd let you ride me didn't I?"

"Not—what I—had in mind," you pant. "Fuck, Taehyung you're always so fucking big—ah!" You grip his shoulders when his cock perfectly hits your g-spot.

"Good to see you've found your voice again baby. I was beginning to think you were going to give me the silent treatment this whole night."

"Shut—ah shit—yes, Taehyung, right there! Faster, fuck!" You moan, too caught up in the way his cock is making you feel to care about talking back.

"What a filthy mouth on you Mrs. Kim. No one taught you any manners?" He darts his tongue out to gently graze across a nipple. At the action, you start moving with his thrusts; meeting them in sync.

"So good Taehyung." Your eyes flutter shut. "If this doesn't get me pregnant then—"

You squeal when you're suddenly thrown off his cock and turned on your stomach. With your ass positioned nice and high in the air, your husband can see every trace of your arousal.

"Don't worry about that sweetheart." His cock pushes back into your pussy, teeth nipping at your ear ever so gently but enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Daddy's definitely gonna make you a mommy tonight."

Taehyung caves over you to fully cover your back before picking up the same pace as before. "You want my cum baby?" He grunts. "Want me to fill you up and make you round with my child?"

"Yes-yes." You grip the sheets underneath you for leverage. "Want you to put a baby in me Taehyung."

"Fuck—say that again." He growls and continues snapping his hips. The sound of skin slapping on skin is so lewd but you and Taehyung can't be bothered by the noise when you're breathing so heavily in each other's ear.

"I want you to put a baby in me Tae."

"Louder."

"I want—," you struggle to repeat the words when you feel your walls tighten around his length. Your stomach churns too and the way his cock fucks in you gets seemingly harder to take.

"Close baby?"

"Mm." You barely respond, too focused on getting to your high.

"And to think you were simply going to shower and sleep tonight." He circles back to your earlier argument with the cockiest smirk on his face but it's wiped off as quick as it came when you start grinding your hips to meet his thrusts.

"That's it," Taehyung clenches his teeth. "Get yourself off—holy fuck you feel so goddamn tight around me."

"I'm—I'm coming!" Once the cord snaps in you, your eyes roll to the back of your head. Ropes of your cum drip over your husband's length, covering it completely, and down part of your inner thigh. Taehyung's cock twitches in response and his breaths turn into aggressive pants as he starts chasing after his own release.

"Shit baby, shit! I'm so fucking close. Gonna breed this pussy, tell me you want it one more time baby."

"Mm, yes, want it so bad," you let out a strained moan. "Come in me—ah daddy!" His length reaches a little further this time, making you yelp.

"Shit, you okay baby?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Keep moving. It just surprised me."

"If I go too hard, tell me okay?" You respond with the loudest 'mhm' you can.

After a few more broken groans and profanities your husband finally finishes with his cum painting your walls less than thirty seconds later.

A long sigh of relief leaves both your lips when you roll over on your backs—sweaty, sore, and satisfied.

"Wasn't expecting you to call me daddy in bed." Taehyung lazily hovers near your body and presses a kiss to your lips. You allow his tongue to slip in for a minute before shoving him off.

"Don't get used to it, mister. And don't ever slap me with your dick again. I'm all sticky."

"I'm sorry, do you want me to draw you a bath?"

"You best believe I do."

"Yes ma'am." Taehyung goes to get up but he falls back down. "Can you give me like ten minutes first? We went a little hard tonight, I can't really feel my dick."

"You sure about that?" You reach over to gently grip his length.

"Shit—hurts baby."

"Sorry." You grin, not sorry at all. "I'm sure it'll be fine in the morning."

Taehyung looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes. "Are you kidding? It'll be fine by the time I get you in the bath."

A/n: ...goodnight 😇

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung imagines #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts scenarios #fic:babymaker #kookslastbutton

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normal-thoughts-official · 10 days

Text

it always struck me as kind of hilarious that you have to pass a 30DC check to convince shadowheart not to kill dame aylin but if you're just like "sure do whatever lol" she chooses not to kill her anyway. tsundere ass fuck. killing is bad unless it's out of spite. i have morals unless you try to tell me what to do

but i just got to that scene in my new replay and it made me realize that that's not what's at stake at all

because the persuasion check isn't "don't do this". the persuasion check is, your life is whatever you make of it. you don't have to do something just because your goddess tells you to.

convincing shadowheart not to kill dame aylin is easy. she knows it's wrong, and she doesn't want to, not really. if given the choice, she is literally unable to go through with it even if she clearly wants to, or wants to want to so badly she can't tell the difference

the problem is convincing her she has an option in the first place

the problem is convincing her that her life is her own

shadowheart has never belonged to herself since she was captured. not in body, not in soul, not in mind, not even her memories. she quite literally doesn't know who she is in more ways than one. she doesn't know her past or her family, she doesn't know who her loved ones are (including the sharran loved ones, like nocturne), all she really knows about herself is a fear of wolves that's been implanted into her by lies and an attachment to a flower she can't remember the details of. and a mission. always a mission. the will of someone else she has to carry on, that is not for her to understand or question or think about. she can't even want to serve shar, because she isn't allowed to pursue her intention to become a dark justiciar. she is supposed to be well and truly nothing, empty as the sharran doctrine

(oh, and pain that she doesn't know the reason of. no matter what, she must bear the pain)

how can she see herself as more than her goddess, when she quite literally doesn't know anything about who she is other than her devotion to shar? how can she choose her own destiny, when she couldn't even choose how to devote and give herself over to her?

she can't, which is why, unless you have infinite rizz points and/or roll a nat20, shadowheart attacks you. not dame aylin. you. and she never argues about whether or not it's the right thing, because she knows. what she's rebelling against isn't the idea of letting dame aylin go. what she's rebelling against is the idea that she could leave her cage and belong to no one but herself. because the idea is scary and she quite literally doesn't know where to begin. which is why her obsession becomes to find her parents, even though she doesn't remember them at all. because maybe they can tell her who she's supposed to be, and she can have the comfort of having her path laid out before her again

(which is also why she has to kill them. not because of some hand hurty curse bullshit. but because she just wants them and selûne to become the new shar, and she has to let that go if she truly means to claim herself again)

and now im sad. because it's easier for shadowheart to do turn against shar and everything she's ever had on the grounds of saving someone else than on the grounds that she deserves better than to be a puppet. even if you do nothing, saving dame aylin, to her, is easy. saving herself is a wholly different matter, one she's not sure she has any right to, or wants to, even if it's what she really needs. accepting a selûnite's humanity is easier than accepting her own. losing everything is easier than gaining her own autonomy. and she will fight tooth and nail to be allowed to stay in her own, metaphorical soul cage

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #shadowheart #meta #overflowing trashcan

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teenytinyjimin · 17 days

Text

i miss you, i’m sorry (j. jungkook)

nothing happened in the way i wanted

every corner of this house is haunted

and i know you said that we’re not talking

but i miss you, i’m sorry.

summary: the first time seeing each other after the breakup is always the hardest. but seeing each other when you're still in love? an absolute nightmare

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2k

tags: angst, smoker!jk, brokenhearted!jk, equally as brokenhearted!reader, why did they even break up in the first place?, featuring reader’s bestfriend!jimin, also jimin is sexually ambiguous let's keep it that way please

warnings: none, alcohol/nic use but nothing too intense, kinda sad but it's a happy ending i promise

author’s note: idk why i keep making my fic names and stuff inspired by songs, i guess it just helps me beat writers block.

also i wrote this in second person, lmk if you guys prefer that over third. i personally find third person fics easier to write, but i'm sure second person is easier to read for some of you. enjoy my angels!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Bars weren't really your thing.

If you were going to be honest, they were miles better than nightclubs, but still not your thing. It was something about the air that just rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps it was all the creepy old men that turned you off of them, or just the fact that there's not much to do besides sit, drink, sit some more, maybe play some pool and... sit.

Jimin, on the other hand, loved bars. He loved being able to sit there, look pretty, and watch as absolutely anyone and everyone flocked over to him to start a conversation. It admittedly fueled his ego, and he loved the feeling of being the center of attention. However, he didn't love being at bars alone. Being so drop-dead gorgeous meant that about twenty times the amount of creeps bothered him than the average bar patron. Many of them figured that a pretty boy like him was sitting there waiting to be swooped up by a sugar daddy. Let's get one thing straight – that wasn't him. He had plenty of money. He just wanted to have a little conversation, give a little kiss here and there maybe, and dip at the end of the night with his bar companion by his side.

Unfortunately for you, that bar companion was usually you. It was certainly a compliment for Jimin to want to bring you along with him instead of any of his other gazillions of friends and other social connections, but it was quite exhausting for you to be in a bar pretty much every day of every weekend. He liked the attention, but you didn't. If it were an empty room with nothing but you and a bottle of rum, you'd have a blast. But what bar in Itaewon was going to be like that?

Alas, here you were, sat at the end of a bar with your friend sitting next to you. Something about the light in the building made him look extra beautiful tonight, his skin shimmering like the most precious of diamonds and his eyes deep and full of allure. At the moment he was making small talk with a lady on the other side of him, one who was definitely at least twenty years his senior but didn't look a day past thirty. Sighing, you drop your head down to look at your drink, a half-full martini glass that held a rather disappointing cosmopolitan (you weren't a vodka fan anyway, it wasn't the bartender's fault).

You wanted to be home. That was the only place you ever wanted to be these days. At home, cuddling your darling kitty in bed, and sleeping your days away. Maybe a year ago you would have loved being out and about, but now it feels more like a burden than a fun activity. And you know that Jimin doesn't mean any harm in doing what he does, but seeing him talk with so many people over the course of the night and being so happy is almost a bit gut-wrenching for you because you can't be as happy as him.

You began to feel the blood rush to your ears and your face get warm. Something was wrong, you could sense it. Everyone has those gut instincts when something isn't quite right, and this wasn't just an instinct, it was like a neon sign. A neon sign that read DANGER. Perhaps it was just you feeling rather anxious and overwhelmed, but either way you were craving the comfort of your home.

"Hey, 'Minnie, can we-" Just as you turned to Jimin to softly ask him if you could go home or at the very least switch bars, you felt a presence behind you. It wasn't just an I'm here to order a drink presence, but rather an I'm here for you one. Realizing that Jimin wasn't even listening anyway, you froze, waiting to see what would happen. And that's when you heard a familiar voice that you thought you'd never hear again.

"Hey."

You didn't want to turn around. You tried to stay as still as a statuette for as long as possible, however the more you thought about the man behind you the more you felt the urge to turn around and take a bite of the forbidden fruit. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned until you were face-to-face with your ex, Jungkook.

"Want to talk outside?" Not yet looking at him directly, you hesitantly nodded before quickly looking back to Jimin and then standing up. You left your purse there, figuring that your friend would grab it if he changed locations, and began trailing after the tall tattooed figure that navigated his way toward the door.

As the two of you stepped out into the cool autumn air, you crossed your arms and leaned against the building. Your heart was between your ears at this point, buzzing at what felt like 200 beats a minute. It was stupid for you to have even left Jimin's side, you thought, because now you were alone with your ex of all people and God knows what this boy has up his sleeve.

"You look good," Jungkook said gently as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. "And I know what you're going to say, you're so full of it Kook, but I mean it."

"Since when have you started smoking?" You asked, ignoring his previous two statements and gesturing toward the pack in his hand. He shrugged. "Couple weeks after I last saw you maybe? Not a big deal."

"You know that stuff's bad for you."

"I don't think sitting here third-wheeling with Jimin and his beau of the night is any better."

"You don't know Jimin, don't act like you do," You said, completely taken aback and offended by the words coming out of his mouth. "And I'm having a good time, thank you very much."

"Doesn't seem like it. Weren't you about to ask him if you guys could leave?"

"I was having- What?- Is there a reason you asked to talk to me out here?" You were struggling to form a complete sentence. This man always knew how to leave you speechless, but now it was just irritating. You watched as Jungkook leaned back onto the building with you and shook his head, giving you a toothy grin before lighting the cigarette in his mouth. "Nah. Just figured you'd have more fun out here talking to me and getting a break from it all."

"You know he's waiting for me, right? I should go back inside." You stand back up straight and begin walking back into the bar, however you feel a warm hand wrap gently around your wrist and tug you back. "Hey hey hey," Jungkook called. "He'll survive a few minutes without you. Just chill with me. I'm not asking you for anything, just a second of your time."

You turned to face your ex-lover, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time that night. Even after all this time of being apart, those beautiful doe eyes still yearned for you, and yours for him. With a shaky sigh, you brush his hand away and return to where you were standing. "Exes don't hang out like this, Jungkook."

"Woah, you're pulling out the full government name on me now?" The boy teased, puffing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Should I be offended?"

"I'm setting boundaries," You crossed your arms and kicked at the ground beneath you. "Nicknames are for friends or more than friends, which we aren't."

"We aren't strangers either though."

"That doesn't matter. Not friends."

"Alright, fine," Giving up, Jungkook looked down at his hand and flexed it awkwardly. "Just trying to be friendly."

"Friendly?!" You said frantically, finally having enough of his antics. "You don't need to be friendly. We broke up and that's the end of it. Exes aren't friends. They go their separate ways and when they see each other again – if they see each other – they ignore each other. I don't get why you're doing this psychological warfare bullshit on me."

"Exes can be friends," He breathed out in protest. "Can you even tell me why we broke up in the first place?"

You remained silent. The truth was that you didn't know why you broke up either. It had been almost a year since the whole ordeal went down, and you were still confused more than anything else, even more than you were hurt. All you can remember is that you guys went through some bullshit ‘mutual breakup’ that apparently neither of you wanted in the first place. The only reason you even agreed to it is because somewhere within you, you felt like perhaps you weren’t deserving of such a wonderful relationship. And the only reason Jungkook agreed to it is because he thought that it’s what you wanted.

"No, seriously. What went wrong? What did I do? I just want some closure..." His voice became increasingly softer as he kept speaking, which only meant one thing. You stared at the ground intensely, refusing to look up and see his teary eyes.

You felt his hand gently wrap around yours and tug on it as a plea for your attention. Jungkook was your weakness, the only person you'd willingly do anything for, and he really loved to take advantage of that without even realizing he was.

You peered up at him hesitantly, worried that you'd find yourself in tears the second you saw the ones pouring from his eyes. Sure enough, when the eye contact began, you were driving yourself forward into his strong arms and dampening his shirt with your tears.

Jungkook's embrace felt the same as it did the last time you felt it. It was still so warm, so inviting, so loving. Never once did you feel unsafe in his arms and this moment was not an exception. As you sobbed into his shirt you felt his hand move from around your waist to the top of your head, stroking your hair gently.

The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours, simply letting all emotion out while enjoying the company of one another. While Jungkook has been exceptionally transparent in expressing the fact that he's heartbroken about the situation between the two of you, it's safe to say that you feel equally as devastated. This man was once the love of your life and the only one you ever needed, but now everything about him except for his embrace feels foreign. This was someone you once saw yourself building a life with, but now it's shattering to think that he has a life after you.

You pulled away after a while, refusing to make eye contact as you wiped the tears from your eyes. This all felt entirely pointless. It was obvious that nothing went wrong in the relationship yet here you were, no longer in one. You couldn't begin to imagine what Jungkook had been going through since you guys broke up considering the fact that for you, your entire world turned upside down.

"I'm sorry," You managed to choke out before you felt Jungkook's hand gently guide your face up to look at his. You watched him stare at you for a moment, taking in your features, before his lips began to curl into a soft smile. "Mmm. Yeah. You're way too pretty to let slip through my fingers."

Feeling your face turn hot as a blush crept to your cheeks, you let out a soft giggle before you were cut off by a familiar pair of lips meeting yours.

"JUNGKOOK?" You heard a voice call out. The two of you pulled apart, eyes wide. Shit. You forgot about Jimin.

#teenytinyjimin #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fanfiction #bts fic #angst #bts jungkook #bts jk #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook angst #jk angst #jungkook x reader #jk x reader #fanfic #jk fanfic

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ftm-udders · 2 months

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(this one is too good i gotta keep it in my asks. also whoops my response got really long)

anonymous said:

You'd look so good getting tentacles fucked, multiple tentacles in each hole. The tentacles that are deep in your boycunt keep pushing deeper and deeper, until you feel them push past your cervix. They curl past it, pumping what feels like gallons of aphrodisiac slick deep in you. The tentacles on your chest squeeze your tits, sliding and moving like they're milking you. You feel a bump pushing at your cunt, you let out a muffled scream that turns into a moan. The eggs pushing into you feel almost impossibly big, each one feels bigger than your fist. The tentacles in your mouth moves your head down so you can see the eggs moving deep in you, watch the bumps through your skin as they push through your cervix. The tentacles on your chest get rougher as you watch yourself get pumped full with more and more eggs. You're so blissed out from the feeling of being so full, you almost miss the milk that starts streaming out of your tits. The tentacles notice, though, and start moving faster and faster until you cum. They don't stop, just keep milking you, filling you up more and more with aphrodisiac slick and eggs.

my boycunt is obscenely wet as all of my holes are violated by tentacles. slick gushing out between thrusts, dripping down my thighs and ass, lubricating it as well as my sloppy pussy. everything feels impossibly stretched, my body pushed further than i ever could have imagined, and yet i still feel the tentacles in my boycunt pushing deeper inside me with each thrust even as my walls clench around them. finally they hit my cervix, and i breathe a sigh of relief that they can't go any further, maybe i'll even be able to adjust to my situation, rather than each of my senses being alight with pleasure and new sensations.

my thoughts are interrupted as i feel something pushing against my cervix, and i scream in pleasure as the sensitive barrier is thrusted against again and again by the tentacles, until i feel it give way under their assault. quickly they shove themselves through the opening, reaching my womb, and all at once i can feel them pouring an obscene amount of their aphrodisiac inside of me. my belly was already bulging with the sheer mass of tentacles inside me, but now its swollen with their aphrodisiac, sloshing with every thrust that bounces my body. my tits bounce alongside it, though at least they're somewhat stopped by the tentacles that have now wrapped around them to grope and massage them. its a strange feeling, but the experience of getting every hole pounded makes it hard to think of anything but the pure pleasure i'm experiencing.

that is, until a hard bump presses against my cunt from the outside, pushing at it. i start to groan from the pressure, but then one of the tentacles nudges my g spot just right and i scream as slick squirts from my cunt and my greedy hole swallows up the bump. its huge. i have no idea how something like that could even fit inside me. but the way its stretching my walls out and rubbing against my insides feels so good, so right. i'm so caught up with the egg inside me that i almost miss the second egg pushing into me, finding its way inside slightly easier than the last one, but that doesn't stop me from screaming as it forces its way into my once-tight hole. not long after, yet another egg is forcing its way inside me, right as the first one is deposited in my womb, the intense pressure on my cervix followed by a heavy weight settling in me as it finds its place.

the tentacles angle me so i'd almost be in a sitting position if i wasn't suspended in the air, tilting my head down so i can perfectly see my stomach, the bumps of the tentacles thrusting inside me, and the even larger bumps of the eggs continuing to move up through my body. i can even see the exact spot where they meet my cervix before settling in my womb.

its almost hypnotic, watching the steady stream of eggs being pumped into me. my mouth hangs open in a silent scream of pleasure, too far gone to make any sort of noise. except when a huge bump, larger than all the previous eggs, presses against my hole. but even then all i can do is let out a low guttural moan as the tentacles ram themselves into me, loosening me up until it can finally get enough purchase to slip inside, stretching me wide open. its ascent into my womb is slower than its siblings, but it feels oh so good. i'm only drawn out of my stupor of watching my slowly growing belly bump when a stray droplet of milk lands on the bump of the egg. i lean my head back slightly, i don't even know when i leaned over to better observe the eggs, and see my tits, with countless tentacles squeezing and massaging them, as well as two tentacles clamped onto my nipples. they look like they've grown, somehow, though i don't care to understand why. i let out a contented sigh as i finally register the feeling of the tentacles sucking my nipples, and this seems to spur them on as they start thrusting even faster than before.

my entire body shakes with the force of my orgasm, right as the extra large egg manages to penetrate my womb. my entire body feels on fire, but the tentacles only return to their previous pace of fucking me. i lean over to admire my belly again, just in time to see another egg forcing its way through my hole. my mouth hangs open in a silent, perpetual moan of bliss as i move my hands to stroke the bumps of the eggs through my womb, not giving a single thought as to my future as the tentacles breeder, but very happy with my eggs and milk

#tentacles nsft #ovi #ovipos #eggpreg #ovi kink #monster breeding #monsterfucking nsft #lactating kink #lactation nsft #ftm nsft #ftm sub #nb nsft #nb sub #send dirty asks #send dirty dms #send dirty messages

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harmoonix · 4 months

Text

Chill astro notes

🔶 People need to stop blaming one specific sign when they get cheated/hurt/etc.. in love, let's use Sag Venus for this example, a lot of people blame Sagittarius Venus for being "cheaters" but truly that doesn't mean anything, because first you need to do a synastry chart instead of reading your partners chart. Synastry chart is at least 85% on the fault why some things don't work in a relationship astrologically talking.... Not the signs from their actual birth charts

🔶 - I personally love the dynamic of Venus in the 3rd/5th/7th/11th houses, because it shows how much love they hold for their freinds and how to share it together, for some of natives this aspect can also mean that you can have friends to lovers kind of thing or your lover can be your best friend

🔶 - I have a friend with Mars in the 6th house and he literally can't stay still. He always needs to do something, i guess the natives are full of energy and don't want to take a break..

🔶 - Capricorn Placements can end up to be workaholic, it's good to work if that gives you satisfaction, but most times a break is really needed because you're human after all

🔶 - I honestly believe that Saturn with Pisces Degrees 12°, 24° have it hard when it comes to sleeping time, they can either have problems with sleep either with not sleeping enough

🔶 - The time when you'll have your Saturn return, which happens at least 2 times in a human life, it happens to be your most challenging/transformative years of your life because it will be the year where you'll need a lot of patience to go over the test of Saturn

🔶 - I always think about how life must have been in the 1960's cus' Uranus was in Leo at that time (precisely in 1962), it must have been something totally taken out of control

🔶 - Neptune aspecting Juno asteroid (3) can end up to dream about their soulmate or future spouse, if you don't dream then probably you'll receive some signs from the universe that you'll met someone

🔶 - Moon in the 6th/8th/10th/12th house > In case no one told you, I hope you have it good and without any stress or bad thought, you'll win all your battles

🔶 - People with Lilith - Sun aspects could have been judged a lot in the past, but you need to stay like yourself no matter what because you don't have to change based on others opinion.

🔶 - On the other hand. Lilith harshly aspecting Moon don't give a single f about others opinion, you can say whatever they want and they would not care at all. Because they live for themselves

🔶 - Taurus Sun/Moon/Rising are actually very posesive, some of them can be more than Scorpios. But one thing about them is that they know how to hide it good enough so people don't observe that

🔶 - Aquarians claim to not get jealous easy, but you can see it on their face when they're jealous or possesive, or CLINGY they have it easier with their face expressions

🔶 - Nobody loves nature more than Earth suns, earth is their own heaven and special place, now you'll probably say "well they have the earth element!" It's actually because their love and humanitarian side to love the earth this much, makes them into this

🔶 - Aquarius Placements especially Sun/Moon/Rising they are not weird as people say, the thing is nowadays... it's popular to be like some celebrities so people forgot to be their true selves, Aquarius is the sign of difference, don't let people tell you otherwise

🔶 - If your 6th house ruler is badly aspected you can have complications with your health. For example if your 6H house ruler is Saturn or Pluto you can get sick easier than others

🔶 - I want to believe that Pluto - Moon aspects can learn a lot of things from their mother. To learn for her mistakes so they won't do the same thing again and again, which is a very good thing because less families will have generational curses to break, I mean... go girl break that curse

🔶 - Natives with South Node - Jupiter aspects may want to know more about their past. Because Jupiter wants to expand this curiosity about their past lives

🔶 - I feel like 4th house natives really really really like to give hugs to comfort others, and its truly something very sweet because nowadays the world turned into a dark stage and people forgot what kindness means

🔶 - All people get hurt when they're betrayed but for natives with the Sun or Moon in the 11th house may take it too deep and they cannot accept that they were betrayed.

🔶 - Pisces Sun/Moon/Rising/Venus love/like to watch a lot dramas with love, or is just me who saw that? I know so many people with those placements who like to watch love dramas

🔶 - 9th house is so less talked about and honestly is a very underrated house because is the house of luck and blessings.. yet people don't talk enough about it

🔶 - Neptune in the 8H/9H houses can get obsessed with crystals, and tarot too..they mostly adore witch things just like Neptune in those houses act like a little witch

🔶 - If you have placements/planets at 1° in your birth chart, you can change things on your own, because is the power of the magician tarot card who gives this energy

🔶 - Sag Placements love to hang out quite often, they're always for "let's go in this place" mostly because they're very curious souls who want to gain experience and memories

🔶 - If you have Vertex - Juno (3) in good aspects probably you're fated to met a good person who can change your life into better, it's actually sweet

🔶 - Gemini Rising/Gemini Sun/Gemini in the 5th house can get praised for their hands/ these natives are having really good looking hands and people appreciate that

🔶 - It's something I still study about but does it happen for Sun in Capricorn natives to have things like birth marks on their skin? Because Capricorn can rule over skin too and most people with Cap Sun that I know have marks on their skin (like a birth mark)

Check this out:

It shows what body parts all these signs rule over

🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°🔶°

With all the love and light, yours truly ❤️🔶❤️

Harmoonix ❤️

#astrology #astro observations #birth chart #astro notes #astrology observations #placements #astro community #horoscope #ascendant #venus #astrology fyp #chill #chill aesthetic #fyp2023 #tumblr fyp

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vasiktomis · 3 months

Text

Loophole (Zayne x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Zayne has an Evol flare-up while you’re visiting Snowcrest. You’re a good friend, so you help him out.

It doesn't mean anything if you don't move, right?

Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~6800. Tags/Warnings: Female Pronouns and Anatomy for Reader, Reader is MC, Caretaking, Friends to Lovers, Inappropriate Doctor/Patient Relationship, Childhood Friends, Bickering, Cock Warming, First Time, Vaginal Sex, Photography, Unsafe Sex, Porn with Feelings, Switching. Post-chapter 4 spoilers. Read it on Ao3 Here!

“Let’s get you inside.”

The cold weather poses something of a threat to Zayne, you've realised.

He'd never admit such a thing, of course, but if he hadn't wanted you to make such an observation, he shouldn't have made it his responsibility to impose such an unexpectedly strong presence in your life.

A year ago, you barely knew him. To say he kept you at arms' length was an understatement, but with everything that's occurred in recent months — with such a void left in your life from the loss of Caleb and Grandma — and the ugly mysteries eclipsing once-happy memories — your doctor, of all people, is the one dedicating almost every minute of his time outside of work to trying to fill that void. It's not like he talks your ear off — he's Zayne, after all — but he makes a noticeable effort to make himself accessible to you whenever he can.

He's been a good friend to you at the sacrifice of his own comfort.

In the seven months that have passed since the explosion, you've had more exposure to Zayne than you've had any of your other friends. He rarely strays from his quiet stoicism, but it's far easier to read him. These days, you can't believe you once thought him intimidating. The softer aspects of his personality aren't offered willingly, but accidentally. A slip of the tongue here, a too-long stare at a community cat there, a smile he doesn't think you notice. He masks his requests for you to visit him in his overtime hours as nagging reminders for you to water the plants. He never asks you to bring him dinner, but there's always an extra seat pulled up at his desk when you arrive with it unannounced.

You’re sure he likes it well enough; getting to know you after all these years. You’re just not sold on how fond he is of you knowing him.

It shows stark on his typically taciturn features. Streetlamp light bounces off fluffy snow at all angles in the little village laneway, illuminating the man with an almost healthy glow as he walks stiffly beside you, right hand clutched against his side and his left doing all it can to keep from crushing the bones in yours.

“I’m fine.” He insists while you lead him up to the cabin, grimacing at a sudden chill of wind passing over the porch. There's a certain tone he uses when he's putting on the bedside manner. As a patient, you'd be soothed. As a friend, your patience wanes. He's not fine.

”I’ll get a fire going.” You mutter, ushering him inside. He tries amidst obvious pain to be gentlemanly, waiting for you to enter first, but a scowl on your part has him conceding defeat and ambling through the door. “Get in the shower. Can you turn it on by yourself?”

There’s no more warm light from the street in here. Dr. Noah likely would have fallen asleep hours ago, shortly after you’d left for dinner. Still, even in the dark, you can sense the irritation in him.

“You act like I’m frozen solid.” He retorts on his way to the bathroom, knowing better than to stick around despite the attempt to uphold his pride.

”Get your butt in the shower before I throw you in there myself.”

The warmer months gave you no initial reason to suspect anything, but as the weather worsened and temperatures dropped, Zayne began to feel more on-edge. You’d bore witness to his attacks in the past, but he was no more willing to share his condition with you beyond the odd occasion of being unable to switch it off after a battle. You knew what it looked like when his Evol was acting up. It almost caused a fight, the first time you asked about it. Then, when it became clear you weren’t simply going to leave him to his own devices whenever he was displaying the signs, Zayne steadily, reluctantly, began to let you assist. He couldn’t stand it — he still can’t, you’re sure — not playing caretaker for once, but the two of you found a rhythm; keeping an eye on his temperature, steering clear of fluctuations, little remedies that help him bounce back quicker when his Evol gets the better of him. It became second nature to you, like carrying an Epipen for a loved one at risk of anaphylaxis.

You won’t lie, though. It pisses you off. He’s a constant nag when it comes to your health regarding your heart condition, but there was no allowable mention of his condition when he brought you to Dr. Noah. Not that your opinion counts for anything, apparently, but what idiot cashes out his annual leave for an extended stay in a tundra when he's so prone to such reactions?

It had shocked you even more when your friend declared he’d be staying back for the foreseeable future, conducting research for the old man on a solo expedition on Mt. Eternal. Your friend — the one who'd taken it upon himself to be a stand-in for your lost family — alone, in the worst possible place he could be in his condition.

It was unthinkable.

Four weeks was your breaking point after you’d returned home without him.

Sure, he responded to your texts within seconds. Reception wasn’t good enough for calls, but he made sure to give you no logical reason to worry about him. It didn’t help. Once your dreams started to take the shape of him disappearing into the mountains, you cut your losses and decided to visit for the weekend.

Just as well, considering he’d been massaging his wrist in your periphery for the entirety of your first day. Still, he'd insisted on showing you around Snowcrest, spending as much time away from Dr. Noah's cabin as possible. You knew his tells. He was bordering on a flare-up and hiding it from you. Had he mentioned it and agreed to stay in tonight, you might not of had to drag him home with frost seeping out of his clothes and a foul mood. Instead, he chose to be proud about it.

Idiot.

God knows what could have happened to him if he hadn't come down from the mountain to spend the weekend with you.

He’d never let you get away with such stupidity, and it’s hard not to hold it against him. You came here out of worry in the first place, and the visit isn’t doing a thing to set your mind at ease.

You tend to rekindling the dimming embers in the fireplace, content to mind your business once you hear the shower turn on. At least he’s doing what he’s told.

The living room heats up steadily. New flames settle into a longer-lived glow. You get yourself changed into more suitable bed wear; a commandeered hoodie from your doctor’s medical school era, large enough to reach halfway to your knees. The frayed cuffs have since lost their elasticity and there are a few choice stains, and most condemning, the drawstrings have been chewed to tassels — but god, if it isn’t comfy. Time stretches on, and while the worry gnaws at the back of your mind, you leave Zayne to his privacy. So long as you don’t hear a thump, you’re content to imagine he’s probably just in there being mad at himself over not being the sensible one for once.

Zayne keeps himself locked away for the better part of an hour, in the end. Even Pie pads out into the living room to investigate what you’re doing up alone in the middle of the night before a scritch sends the fox on its way back to bed.

You’ve slid most of the way off the couch by the time the man emerges from his room in fresh pajamas. With your back to the rug, you watch him approach stiffly, slowing to a halt upside-down. He’s still rubbing at that wrist, you note.

“You’re still up.” He mutters, brow knitted in discomfort.

There’s frost on his neck. His lips are blue. It wasn’t even this bad when you were outside. A pit forms in your stomach.

Then, his wake hits you. Cold air, chilling you to the bone, and you sit up in a flash.

“Zayne—“

He silences you with a little hand motion, stepping around you to seat himself as close as he can to the fireplace.

“You’re half-frozen.” You continue when he offers you nothing else. Crawling onto the couch beside him, you reach up to tug at the collar of his sweater, trying to inspect the severity of the attack. “God, you should have said something.”

“I thought you were asleep.” He replies quietly. “I’ve seen — how much it takes to wake you-“

Zayne flinches from your touch when your fingertip skims his neck. The most aggressive warning to stay back that he can risk without waking his mentor. You ignore him, of course. You always do. Sitting close, you press yourself to his side on the couch, guiding his right arm between your thighs. Your fingers lace between his from both sides, covering as much surface area as possible as you use your body to fend off the cold.

A moment is all it takes to see some of the tension in his face disappear. He breathes through the pain, eyes closed, and you shift your gaze to the fireplace to give him his privacy with it.

”You’re in so much trouble when this passes.”

A short, sharp chuckle slips through Zayne’s teeth. He nods once. “I know.”

You sit together like this for a long while, letting him sap the heat from your body to combat the flare-up. If not for the fire, you’d be shivering. It takes time, but eventually Zayne’s breathing evens out. His face relaxes, bit by bit. His half-frozen arm feels just a little cold to the touch.

Neither of you part. Not just yet. There’s too much left unsaid, and Zayne takes far too much solace in quiet to make the first move.

You let your temple drop to his shoulder. “Snow village dates are nice, but most girls would say yes to ‘Go Fish’ and hot cocoa if it means their date makes it through the night.”

After a second, Zayne rests his head against yours.

He inhales.

He pauses.

Then…

“I wanted you to have a nice time. I didn’t think it through.”

…God, he’s such a sweet man. It’s not wonder he’s got you wrapped around his finger.

There’s such a sense of finality to the way he says it. You suppose it’s not necessarily a wrong way to think of it, but it’s not his fault. Sure, it’s your last night together for what may amount to months, and he was stupid enough to think he could get away with poking the bear, but you’d rather have him come home alive and well. Not a victim to his own Evol.

It doesn’t sit right with you to let it end like this. The moment he’s recovered, he’s going to insist you both go to sleep. You’ll take the guest bed, and he’ll take the pull-out trundle, and he’ll remain there, soundless with his back to you. In the morning, you’ll say your goodbyes, and that will be that. The next time you see him will probably be for a check-up, and he’ll spend the entirety of the ECG acting like you’re mere acquaintances again.

No, you’re not losing momentum.

You’re not sure if it’s warmth in general, or if it’s a reaction specific to you — through trust, or the Aether core — there’s just no telling. Zayne keeps his cards too close to his chest for you to ever be sure, but you do know for certain that you hold the quickest remedy. If it’s just warmth, he never lets anyone but you get close enough to supply it. If it’s trust, likewise. The Aether core? You’re the only one.

“What are you—“

Zayne stiffens when you climb into his lap. He winces in discontentment; at such an intimidate proximity, at the physical danger he still poses, at the feeling of your thighs astride his. He doesn’t look pleased in the slightest, but still, his knees shift together, offering you a more comfortable perch on which to explain yourself.

You can feel the cold still radiating from him, fighting his body to keep from regulating its own temperature. It’s unpleasant, the way the chill claws at you, reaching across the expanse of your front. The joints in your hands already ache just from holding his arm to your chest. It’s imaginable, what it must be like to host such an Evol. What it must be like to have your own flesh freeze from the inside-out on a whim.

“Not done keeping you warm.” You answer simply, making a conscious effort to keep your teeth from chattering for his sake. He’s exercising enormous restraint not flinging you off of him already. You shouldn’t push your luck by sending him into any more of a panic.

“It’s not safe for you to be this close.” Zayne protests.

“Then I’m making you safe.”

This time, a growl escapes him. Pain cuts his patience with your impudence short. “You’re going to get yourself hurt—“

Zayne’s words die in his throat when you drape yourself over him, chest to chest, arms languidly curling over his shoulders. He goes completely silent.

“Aren’t you always telling me you can control it, anyway?” You muse, relaxing into him, moulding yourself to his body. The white frost that blooms beneath his skin begins to fade from his throat, unable to contend with the warmth of your breath. “If you didn’t want me doing this you shouldn’t have shown me how well it works.”

“That was after the aid of a hot shower.” Zayne argues. His logic might apply for that aborted attempt at an early-morning hike, but it falls flat tonight. “I was trying to warm up after the shower.”

Yeah, look how well that turned out. He’s as bad at lying as you are.

“So you’re saying I ought to have—“

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“If it’s not helping, Zayne, tell me.”

“…It’s helping.” He mutters.

You declare your victory with a hum, tucking your face into the collar of his sweater.

Even his scent is cold, somehow.

Beneath you, Zayne shifts, conceding defeat. You feel his lips ghost the side of your head. Considering — then retreating from a kiss — opting instead to rest his chin on you. His affected arm remains wedged between you, while his free hand comes to rest on your waist.

Minutes pass. Zayne’s breathing steadies to a resting rhythm. Eventually, the ice retreats into his flesh, disappearing with only a lingering chill. It shifts, marking the man’s return to normal, but he doesn’t announce anything. Instead, he tugs his arm out, only to wrap around you, surrendering to the moment.

“Do you have plans, while I’m away?” He asks.

“Tara’s been looking at the blank spots on my calendar, so I’ve probably got things on without knowing, yet.”

“Blank spots.”

”Yeah. Some of us have those.”

”Sounds like you don’t know what to do with yourself without me.”

“Please. I won’t have to worry about you bullying me. Maybe, y’know, I’ll do just fine without you.”

A chuckle escapes him. Tentatively, he toys with the fabric of your hoodie. “You’re not going to wash this at all, are you.”

Heat climbs up your neck at the suggestion. Of all the night clothes you had to bring, why did it have to be something you’d stolen from him?

You’re no coward. You rise to challenge. “Can’t miss you when it feels like I’ve got you with me.”

“I know you’ll miss me,” Zayne retorts, and wow, he’s really angling for a comeback after having you subject him to being taken care of, “But that’s no excuse for poor hygiene.”

“Poor hygiene—!”

You lean back to glower at the man, only to find him smirking up at you.

“I’ve half a mind to expect to find you asleep on the platform when the train pulls in, simply because you were too excited to wait at home for me to drop by.”

Your ears are positively scalding. You feel yourself shrinking, suddenly not so confident taking up as much space in the room. How does he have you so well figured out? Are you really that much of an open book? Compared to him, sure, but you’d hoped you carried a little more mystery about you than sitting on a station platform for a quasi-boyfriend-without-benefits like a dog.

Even if that is the case — does he really have to rub it in your face?

He can’t get away with this.

Speaking plainly, Zayne’s warmed up plenty. There’s no real reason for either of you to remain this close, and yet — despite lauding himself as the rational half of this friendship, his arms almost keep you from moving any further away.

His expression doesn’t falter with your silence, remaining ever-undisturbed. It unnerves you. His smiles never last more than a second, and you can count on one hand the amount of times he’s looked you in the eye with a pleasant face on. He’s on a power trip. If you don’t cut him down right this second he’ll go nuclear. He’ll leave you hanging with a ‘goodnight’ and a kiss on the forehead and you’ll both never speak of tonight again.

This is it. This is the last straw. Tonight, you leave him hanging.

“You want me to miss you so fucking bad, huh?” You accuse him, tapping a finger to your chin as you pretend to wonder. His eyebrow ticks. “Is that what you’re into? Man, you medical staff are all so power hungry.”

Zayne looks thoughtful for a moment. A thumb idly traces back and forth along your skin, barely tucked beneath your hoodie. It’s such a cautious touch. You wish he wasn’t just all talk. “Perhaps you’re easier to deal with when one considers you might actually like getting bossed around.”

There’s no hiding the erection that sits wedged between you. There’s no ignoring the heat that pools in your core every time it strains against your cunt, blocked only by his sweatpants and your underwear.

There’s no way he can’t feel your heart beat throbbing against him.

And yet — he pretends not to be taking part in any of it.

You think about it for a moment.

Then, you roll your hips forward, slowly, gently. Your nerves spark as your clit finds the pressure it needs against the underside of his cock.

It takes everything in your power to keep from doing it again.

A tiny shiver makes its way out of Zayne. Frustration, perhaps. You angle a knowing little smile at him, and his throat bobs. He knows he’s been caught.

Checkmate.

“Doctor Zayne, are you getting off on this?” You ask, and his face flushes scarlet. His eyes widen, caught off-guard by you finally crossing the threshold.

”I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He answers lamely, pointedly avoiding looking down.

“You are!”

“Not so loud. It’s n-… it’s nothing.” He insists in a hushed voice, shooting a look over your shoulder before he’s satisfied that the coast is clear of anyone who might be privy to what the two of you are doing. “Just a biological reaction to stimuli.”

“Which stimuli?” You ask, feigning curiosity. “The cuddling, or this?”

To stress your point, you do it again, biting back the swell of enjoyment at the way his lips part of their own accord. A little hum spills forth, and his own hips chase the motion, just for a second, before he halts.

“Please.” Zayne murmurs, moving to hold you still. Inching you back onto his thighs, condemning himself to reveal two little damp patches. One where the grey fleece of his sweatpants pulls most taut. The other a little lower, where you’ve been rubbing your cunt along his clothed shaft.

“You need to learn when you’ve teased enough.”

What — fall back? Now? When all your nerves are alight?

Your tongue wets your lips as you take in the sight of him. Well on his way to wrecked, but not quite there. His expression remains otherwise impassive, but his pupils are far too blown to help him maintain the facade.

“You’re one to talk. Can’t hack it when it’s not you in charge?” You challenge him. “You’re not usually one to shy away from uncharted territory.”

You can’t help but reach out, itching to touch him. Fingertips smooth along his length, feather-light from the bottom up. His cock twitches when you reach the tip, begging for more.

“Ah—“ Long fingers snatch at your wrist, holding you fast. “Try no man’s land.”

“It’s nothing.” You assure him. “You said it yourself.”

Nothing. No different to how he so often strays into treating you, with all his dates and touches. Nothing, midday naps and linking your pinky-fingers as you walk together. Nothing, like the spare clothes you both reserve a drawer for.

“Just warming you up. That’s all.”

Zayne’s chest expands. His gaze fixes on your fingertips curling insistently at his waistband despite his grip keeping you at bay. “That’s all.”

Disbelief? Determination? Disappointment? You’re not familiar enough with how each of these sound in his throat to properly identify it, but Zayne’s grip on your wrist releases nonetheless. He opts to help you make more comfortable work of his track pants, pushing them down just a little to allow you easier access. There’s no presence of approval at how greedy you are about it, pawing and snatching at your prize while he tries to remain nonchalant.

You do try to give him the dignity of privacy by not looking down when he settles and you finally wrap both hands around his cock. He’s already indignant as it is, and the rumble that vibrates deep in his chest as your fingers close around him isn’t helping.

Oh — maybe just a little tease.

“Hey.” You chide, grinning. His eyes crack open, just enough to narrow at you. “Don’t make it weird. I’m a professional.”

It earns you a scoff. Zayne’s fingers, settled on your thighs, give a retaliatory squeeze, thumbs pressing just hard enough into your adductors to skirt on discomfort. He watches you tense at the feeling, and sensing an opportunity to shift the attention back off himself, decides to squeeze harder.

You finally flinch with an “Ow!”, and the man smiles to himself. Mission accomplished. He lets go.

”You’re the professional? How many surgeries have you performed?”

”How many have you performed?”

”…A lot, genius.”

“Didn’t you tell me that some of your worst patients are doctors themselves?”

“Your point being?”

There’s no point — at least not in arguing with him. He’s only trying to distract you. You shift over him, and his attitude dissolves. He leans back, maintaining as much distance as he can — or perhaps to watch, as you tug your underwear to the side — line yourself up — and sink down onto his cock.

Zayne’s chest expands, but he makes no noise. His eyes close. His lips part. A minor crease forms between his eyebrows. It might as well be a sob. You’d use such a reaction against him if you weren’t more concerned with suppressing your own, lest he catch you out. Your cunt burns from the sudden, full intrusion, and his diverted attention gives you the moment you need to grow accustomed to it.

Once you’ve gotten over the initial shock of the feeling, you brush any intrusive thoughts aside. It doesn’t matter if he’s one of your oldest and closest friends. It doesn’t matter if he’s your doctor. You were already squarely planted in conflict-of-interest territory the moment he took you on as a patient.

You try to ignore your own desire. Your body catches up with your actions quickly, igniting touch-starved nerves that you’ve long-fantasised him satisfying. Heat builds inside you at a nervous system realising you’re finally giving it what it wants, and it only screams for more. Of course you’ve wanted Zayne. You adore him, but he’s not the kind of man who could balance a friendship with benefits; if anything, he finds a way to be the inverse of such a thing. He gives you everything in the way of a relationship except sex, and with him steering so clear of crossing that boundary with you, you have to tread carefully.

As much as you want to, this is delicate.

“My point is: zip it and let me take care of you.” You manage.

Besides, its not like you’re actually having sex with him. He’s continually pushing the boundaries of platonic with all his touches and hugs anyway. It’s not like he has a leg to stand on if he wants to protest what sitting on his cock might mean for your relationship. Hell, this isn’t even the first time he’s been hard when you’ve had his hips pinned down with your own.

If anything, you’re doing the guy a favour by taking the responsibility off him to go this far.

Zayne doesn’t bounce back as quickly as you do. His eyes remain scrunched shut, his core engaged beneath your palms as you brace your weight to settle into a more comfortable position in his lap. He looks worried. Apprehensive.

“Doctor Zayne?” Concern begins to creep in, just a little. “Okay, you can say something now.”

“Please,” He grits between his teeth, and relief floods your body as some semblance of calm returns to his expression, “Don’t call me that — like this.”

“Like what? I’m just warming you up, remember?” You offer a smile when he opens one eye, mood shifting to quizzical.

“You’re so immature. And for the record, this constitutes malpractice. You’re a terrible doctor.”

”Trust the process.”

”Fine. What’s the course of treatment?”

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but chuckle at such quiet outrage. It’s getting easier to read him. Relaxing against his front, you ignore a little gasp on his part to loop your arms around his neck again. Dishonest pretences be damned, this really is doing the trick. “All you need to do is stay still.”

Zayne weighs up his options for only a moment before giving in. His arms slip around your waist. His chin hooks over your shoulder, just barely nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He’s breathing in your scent, and the following exhale into your skin has you stifling a shiver.

Then, there’s a flex within you.

“Hey!” You choke, “I said stay still back there!”

“Quiet down. It was only a reflex.” Zayne defends, a little too cavalier to fly under the radar. “Besides, I’m not the one squirming.”

“I’m just getting comfortable. Your hips are pointy.”

Zayne’s hips slot up into yours, and the feel of him nudging just a little deeper has your eyes stinging. You fail to stifle a little squeak, and you’re shushed for it immediately.

“Just getting comfortable.” Zayne’s words lick at your ear, and the sound of him sends shivers through you, pooling between your legs, pleading with you to satisfy the ever-nagging want to start riding him. “You’re like a vice.”

He has to know how much of an effect he has on you. There’s no way he doesn’t.

You don’t respond to his attitude — however, the condemning, responding, constricting of your insides around his cock surely doesn’t go unnoticed, and with a hollow breath, he lifts you, just a little, enough to draw back and push back in. He’s slow about it; infuriatingly so, almost like if he inches in and out at enough of creeping pace you’ll either not bother to be strict with him, or you’ll simply abandon your own rules in favour of crossing the boundary he’s silently begging you to cross for him.

No. He’s not getting the upper hand here. Not when he gets to pretend all his little actions are forgettable. Platonic. Accidental. Misunderstood. There’s only so many times a guy can subtly grind on someone during a spooning session and claim ignorance when called out about it.

You lock your feet beneath his knees, and sink down onto him, hard. Pleasure blooms. Your cunt aches for more. A sharp breath escapes Zayne, threatening to blossom into an appreciative groan that would only serve to tempt you without your hand clapping over his mouth and a ‘shh!’.

“You can keep still, or this stops.” You announce in a whisper, and he watches you defiantly from behind your hand.

Zayne’s gaze eventually breaks away from yours. Conceding. For now, at least. You lower your hand from his mouth, and relax, reaching across the cushion to pluck your phone from the couch and check your messages.

Already, he’s bothered by your lack of undivided attention.

“You’re on your phone.” He huffs.

“I’m not rewarding your behaviour.” You reply simply.

“You’re not implying that behaving differently would warrant a reward, are you?”

That’s for him to figure out.

You shift your weight maybe just a little more than you need to, indulging in the feeling of his cock shift with you, within you, pressing insistently against that one spot that almost has your constitution coming apart at the seams. Zayne trembles momentarily beneath you, swallowing hard. He’s keeping his cool well enough, but as you settle into the new angle, no longer moving, his frustration makes itself known with another twitch inside you.

If he keeps doing that, you’re not sure you can hold out.

“You really think this is helping?” He asks, voice tight.

“You don’t believe me?” You pout, tapping your home screen and opening your camera app. “Fine, let the expert see for himself.”

Switching to selfie cam, you watch as the man glances at his image on the screen for half a second, before tearing his gaze away. Not a shocker, you reason. He’s probably never seen himself with a hair out of place. Flushed cheeks and dilated pupils? You might as well have shown him a traffic collision.

“Aw, come on. Look how much colour’s come back to your face.”

Zayne musters the courage to look up, but not at the phone. His eyes narrow at you. Accusatory. “I’m not interested in giving you blackmail material.”

“What? Get real. There’s nothing incriminating going on. Especially not when you angle it like this.” You switch on a filter and lean down into the man. “See?”

Curiosity gets the better of him, and his head tilts to get a better look at whatever scheme you’re cooking up. On the screen, both your flushed faces smooth out, blushing perfectly. Cat ears and whiskers. Cheek to cheek. Just another one of your countless selfies with completely platonic friends.

You take the shot. The shutter clicks.

“Cute.” Zayne mutters drily.

“You think so?”

“Only how much fun you seem to be having of it.”

Your brow knits. “Oh yeah? All right, stick in the mud, you take over.”

He gives too much away at that response. His long fingers immediately slip over your hips. He’s readying to flip you onto your back before he notices you’re holding the phone out to him. Then, knowing he’s shown his hand, he has no choice but to recover his pride.

Much to your chagrin, Zayne plucks the phone from your hand, aborting whatever miraculous step he’d been about to take. A corner of his mouth ticks, minutely. He angles your phone away from you, tapping and swiping. His own phone buzzes. Then, he casts the device at the other end of the couch, out of your reach. “I think it’s getting a bit late for screens.” He murmurs. Fingers smooth up and over the swell of your hips. His long arms uncoil from your waist, releasing you as he leans back. Leaving you with a lonesome chill. “And you ought to be going to bed.”

Is that…rejection? Has he just been humouring you up until this point?

You tilt your head. “I’m sorry. Is this not okay?”

“This is fine.”

He looks at the fireplace. Stoic as ever.

“Then what?” You frown.

He doesn’t respond.

Your throat runs dry. Dread creeps up through your heart.

“Hey. Talk to me.” You urge, smoothing your fingers along his jaw, and he leans into your palm.

Seconds pass. Zayne finally regards you again. There’s an acknowledging incline of his head — almost a polite bow. A pre-emptive apology for what he’s about to say.

“What happens after this?” He asks. “Do we part ways at the train station in the morning and the next time we see each other, it’ll be as doctor and patient?”

Oh.

“Is that what we are to you?” You ask, not entirely sure if you want to know.

He dodges the question the best way he knows how: with rationality. “I feel that if that scenario is what you want, we should say goodnight. My understanding of our relationship won’t change, I promise you, but if this goes further, at least one of us is going to feel differently. It would be better if there were no misunderstandings between us.”

Something tightens in your chest. Something dreadful and lovely all the same, anxiety and anticipation at the prospect of a tipping point, at least before saying goodbye. Trust Zayne, of course, to turn to smoke and mirrors when it comes to a confession of feelings, but you’ve known him long enough to see how far out of his comfort zone all of this is.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” You ask, aborting an attempt on his part to avert his gaze with a finger beneath his chin.

His expression remains inexplicable. Then, there’s that little tilt of his head. The quirk of an eyebrow. “Your assumption is correct.”

The apprehension that’s been building in the back of your mind disperses the moment he says it. Your resolve all but disappears. “My understanding,” You begin, reaching up to cup your hand over the other side of his face, “is that I’ve wanted you ever since I walked into that restaurant last year.”

Zayne doesn’t hesitate. His mouth finds yours in a heartbeat. Previously unsure hands pull you against him, locking you in his embrace. He’s so awfully gentle about it all despite your combined strength. Such a gentleman. It comes as no surprise that he shudders at the intrusion of your tongue past his lips — what does surprise you is how quickly he catches up to your pace. Inviting you in. Slipping an arm lower to brace your weight, and you feel yourself being pulled up off of his cock, just until only the head remains at your entrance.

The loss of him has you incensed. He keeps you from sinking back down, and your protesting whines are suffocated with another kiss. All he’s left you with to express yourself is your hands, and you seize the opportunity, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, just slightly at the roots.

He breaks away with a little noise. Not pained, but shocked. Another one of his spots, you reason, and he’s just as displeased that you’ve found it.

“You don’t know when to quit.” Zayne pants. His fringe dusts your forehead. “What — what were we saying about bad behaviour going unrewarded?”

You’re too mindless right now to play any games. There’s no more thrill of the build that you can handle. Not after this long.

You break, instantly.

“Please —“ You whimper, almost trembling in his grip, trying in vain to take him back in again. “Zayne, I need it — please—“

Zayne relents right away. He gives you what you want, lowering you, burying himself in you to the hilt. Then he lifts you again, building into a steady rhythm.

”You’re so — you’re so frustrating.” He manages between kisses. “Should’ve told me this is all it takes for you to do as you’re told.”

More. You need more. Heavenly as it is, it’s not enough, just having him in you. You push back, and Zayne takes the hint. He’s said his piece. He lets you take the lead again without a fight, admiring the view as you roll onto the balls of your feet, gripping the back of the couch to keep yourself stable. The new angle feels deeper, each stroke rolling drifting sharply over your nerves as he brushes that spot inside you. It takes a moment for Zayne to kick into gear, brain short-circuiting as he watches you squat on his cock, taking what you need from him. Then, he leaves you to support your own weight. Fingers wrench at the front of your hoodie, yanking it up to your sternum, and his tongue sweeps a nipple. In the time it takes for you to react, his other hand has snaked between you, between your legs. His thumb rolls over your clit just as he latches onto your nipple and sucks. The keen barely escapes your lips before Zayne’s hand claps over your mouth, continuing his assault.

It goes from too little to too much. It creeps up on you so fast, so suddenly, and there’s nothing you can do but ride through it. A muffled hum is all the warning you can give him. Your pace staggers as the burn in your thighs catches up to you, but Zayne only goes faster, rubbing merciless little circles into your nerves. His hips roll up into you, compensating as best he can for your loss of control. Finally, the band snaps, and you sob against his hand, spasming around him, tears pricking at your eyes with the intensity of it all. You go positively boneless, and Zayne breaks away just enough to let you collapse into his chest as he carries you through it, breaths quickening as the lingering spasms of your orgasm invoke his own.

“Fuck, I’m—“ He barely stammers, releasing you only to coil his arms around your torso again, readying to pull out.

“Not going anywhere.” You promise, clinging to him. Your fingers comb through his hair, tugging again, and a whimper dies in Zayne’s throat. He buries his face into the crook of your neck. His hips roll up into you once, twice, thrice more, and then he goes still. Buried in you to the hilt as he tips into oblivion.

He’s so subtle about it that you barely even realise he’s coming. Maybe it’s the effort not to wake Dr. Noah. Maybe it’s like this every time. Having him hold you with such desperate reverence while he does his best not to judder in stark contrast to to the feeling of him pulsing within you, you reason you’d like to find out. He hides his face from you throughout, only pulling his forehead from your clavicle when the aftershocks have come and gone.

Zayne looks lovelier than ever like this — coming out of a blissful haze, gazing up at you with cautious adoration. His focus flickers between your eyes and your lips. His chest expands and collapses like he’s like a 5-miler, but his breaths are smooth.

Even now, he’s trying to maintain a cool composure.

“Forgive me.” He mutters, not quite meeting your eye.

Your head tilts. Chasing him. “Huh? Why?”

“I exercised poor judgement. That was rotten of me. I should have known better, given I’ve never prescribed birth control to you.”

“You really think I’d come to you for birth control?” You snort.

Zayne’s brow creases. An incredulous look totally undermined by how positively wrecked he looks right now. “I am your physician. Or has your other doctor friend decided to become real after all?”

Your fingers comb through his hair again. Despite a pleasant sigh on his part at the sensation, his expression remains steeled.

“Hey.” You finally manage to capture his gaze, only for any tells to evaporate. “Could you tell me something?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Are you more jealous that I might have had sex with someone who wasn’t you, or that I might have gone to another doctor?”

Zayne considers his answer for a long moment. His head tilts in that particular way it does when he has to make a decision, eyeing you expectantly. Punishment for daring to push him out of his comfort zone.

He presses a hand to your forehead.

A thoughtful hum escapes him.

“Curious. Your temperature’s dropping. On second thought, you should stay another day so I can observe you.”

“You’re avoiding the question!”

“Here. I’ll keep you warm. You can install those camera filters on my phone to pass the time.”

#zayne love and deepspace #li shen #zayne x reader #love and deepspace fanfiction #vas fics

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appocalipse · 3 months

Note

Congrats! How huge! Can I shop?! 🛍️

There's an antique lock and key set and a pair of velvet gloves that look like they have my name written all over them (or a smutty friends to lovers with Steve Harrington where maybe we're partners in a game - drinking game at a rager, yard game at a bbq, board game on a game night, chicken at the pool party...I'm not picky - and celebrating our winning streak gets...a little out of hand 😉😉)

thank you, angel ♥ i got more than a little carried away with this one lol 6.4k words | cw: fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex 18+ only! mdni! literally the smuttiest smut that ever smutted

amy's flea market ♥

"Ready?" Steve asks.

No. Fuck, no.

“Yeah,” you respond. Steve smiles that almost evil smile of his and dives down so you can climb onto his shoulders. Again. You can't believe you're doing this again.

It's the third round of chicken fighting that you and Steve are participating in, and as you climb onto Steve's shoulders, you try not to think that you're climbing onto Steve's shoulders.

Steve. Your friend Steve. The guy you have the world's biggest crush on...no, fuck that. It's more. You know it's more, but you're afraid to admit the stronger word.

Because Steve is Steve. He's off limits.

Which doesn't make it any easier for you to try not to think about the way his big, warm hands are now on your thighs, holding on tight so you don't fall off his shoulders, where you're sitting in nothing but a bikini, his head between your legs...

"1, 2,3...go!" Robin yells, sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water. You raise your arms as the team in front of you advances, the girl's arms stretched in hopes of pushing you off Steve.

But you and Steve are, apparently, invincible today.

It happens faster this time; next thing you know, the girl's grip slips, and you are the one who ends up pushing her into the water, her partner also losing his balance in the process. They laugh and the crowd — including Robin — goes wild. The adrenaline surges through your veins as you realize you've won. Again. Steve keeps you up there for one more moment, just so you can throw your arms in the air, giggling, enjoying your third victory in a row. Then, he carefully lowers you down into the water.

When he emerges again, wet hair sticking to his forehead, he's grinning at you as he grabs your wrist, making you raise your arm one more for the crowd.

You giggle.

Steve sighs. It's that laugh of yours, the one that makes his heart skip a beat every time.

"I think that's enough for today," you say, lowering your arm and grinning up at him, a bit dizzy from the adrenaline of the victory and the heat of the sun on your skin.

Steve suddenly feels dizzy too, for a completely different reason.

He unsuspectingly watches as a fat drop of water travels down your lower lip, to your chin, your neck... and then you turn around, moving in the direction of the pool ladder. Against his better judgment, he follows.

Once out of the pool, you look around.

"D'you want me to grab a clean towel for you?" Steve offers, ever the gentleman.

"Towel, yeah, that would be great..." you murmur, feeling ten times more self-conscious now that the two of you are out of the water. You don't even know most of the people here… "Can I come with you?"

Steve coughs.

The pool party had started earlier that day. The only clean towels remaining in that house now are in his bathroom.

In his room.

And you're all wet.

For God's sake. That's the last place where he should be alone with you right now.

But, like an idiot, Steve nods, "Sure, let's go."

He leads you through the living room, past a group of people who are sitting on the floor, drinking and laughing, to the stairs, taking them two at a time. You're a little out of breath, but manage to keep up with his long strides until he reaches the top. The hallway up here is a lot dimmer, but you can still see the soft, warm sunlight coming from beneath his bedroom door. It's strange how you've never been in his room before. Countless times in his house, sure, but never his room.

Steve clears his throat and then opens the door, stepping aside to let you enter first.

It's... not what you expected. It's not messy like the stereotypical rich boy's room, but it's not pristine either. It's neat, orderly, but... lived in. There's a king-sized bed in the center of the room, covered with a duvet that looks like it's been slept in. A small nightstand on each side of the bed, with a lamp and a few framed photos on top — you're even in some of them with him and the kids. The walls are painted a soft, warm blue, and there's a big window next to the bed, letting in the bright sunlight.

The air smells like... like him. Like soap and hairspray.

Steve clears his throat, drawing your attention back to him. He's still shirtless, so it's not like that's hard to do. "Here, take this," he says, tossing a towel in your direction. You catch it reflexively, feeling the softness of the fabric against your bare skin.

"Thanks," you murmur, rubbing your hair with it.

The sound of laughter from downstairs seeps in through the partly open window. Steve is standing on the other side of the room, a towel loosely draped around his neck, and maybe it's that mysterious drink Robin offered you earlier making you imagine things, but there's a strange tension in the air and you're under the distinct impression that Steve is consciously avoiding you as you dry off.

You wonder what he's thinking.

Steve clears his throat again, seeming to steel himself for something. "Um... I'm gonna go grab a drink. You... you want one?" he asks, not quite meeting your eye.

"Sure. And...can you get my dress? I left it downstairs earlier."

Steve nods, turning away from you so fast you almost wonder if he's mad. He disappears into the hallway, and you hear the click of the door being closed behind him, followed by the distant sound of footsteps as he makes his way downstairs.

Left alone in his room, you wander over to the bed and sit down on the edge, now wrapped in your towel. The duvet is soft against your bare skin, and the pillows smell like him. You can't help but wonder what it would be like to curl up here with him, to feel his warmth surround you as you drift off to sleep.

Probably not the kind of thought you should have in your friend's room.

The door opens again, and Steve steps back in, two glasses of something clear and fizzy in his hand. "Here you go," he says, handing you one of them. You take the drink gratefully, sniffing at it before taking a sip. It's some kind of spritzer, sweet and tangy. "And here's your dress."

It's draped over the curve of his arm. Steve sets his own drink on the nightstand before sitting down on the bed beside you, extending his arm so you could take the dress.

You do take it, but make no move to put it on. "I didn't know you were that good at chicken fighting," you say, trying to make it sound light-hearted.

Steve smiles. "Pretty sure it was all you."

"Of course not," you playfully nudge him. "We're a team."

He looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he reaches for his drink and takes a generous sip. "Yeah, a team," he repeats softly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He studies you for a moment, taking another sip of his drink. The silence stretches between you. You wish you knew what was going through his mind, if he was feeling the same things you were.

"It is something," you quietly insist.

Steve looks at you, his eyes flickering uncertainly. "I don't know what you mean," he says finally, but there's a catch in his voice that betrays him, a hint of vulnerability that you've never heard before.

You stand up. He looks at you like you had just slapped him.

"I'm still wet," you explain. Then, way too quickly for your embarrassment to go unnoticed, you add, "from the pool, I mean! Not...I don't want to make a mess of your bed or anything, you know...I mean, by sitting there while I'm wearing a wet bikini and-"

Steve cuts you off with a laugh. "Hey, hey," he says, reaching out to take your hand. "It's okay. You're fine. You can sit here." He squeezes your hand gently, and there's a warmth in his touch that sends a shiver through you. "And if you did make a mess, I'd clean it up. No worries."

You sit down again. Better than awkwardly standing there.

"Very gentlemanly of you," you murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Steve shrugs, returning your smile. "I'm not that bad, am I?" he asks, his voice teasing.

"The worst. But you're a good partner in chicken fighting, though."

Steve swallows hard.

"Just that?"

There is a moment of silence, as you and Steve stare at each other. You know exactly what he means, what's behind that question, behind the look he's giving you right now, studying your face like it's the first time he's seeing it. At least...you think you know.

He puts his glass aside again. You open your mouth to say something, but he's faster.

"I need to go."

"Wait-"

He doesn't wait. Steve is on his feet in a second, almost at the door in two.

But you, somehow supernaturally faster…you grab his wrist. You grab his wrist with both hands and oh God, Steve's not quite sure what to do with you now. He doesn't respond, doesn't move. You tug at his arm, wanting him to turn around, look at you. He doesn't.

"Steve."

His name feels like a whisper on your lips. It's not loud, but it's urgent.

Steve is having a hard time remembering why he's supposed to keep his distance from you. He turns around to look at you, your hand slipping down to his, still not letting him go…and he realizes it was a bad idea.

The desperation in your eyes mirrors his own, and before he knows what he's doing, Steve is leaning in, hands grabbing your face, mouth finding yours, lips parting.

He's not gentle, not soft.

You moan into the kiss and Steve kicks the door closed without looking, his hands finding your waist as you cling to his neck, the towel falling at your feet. Your lips part and he slips inside, tasting you, feeling the warmth of your breath on his skin as you gasp, stumbling back as he pushes forward.

The bed is soft but cold beneath you as you land, Steve on top of you, pinning you down."God," he groans into your neck. "Sorry."

You giggle. "God, sorry?"

He groans in reply, lips moving against your neck as he continues to kiss his way down your collarbone. "I mean it," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. "I shouldn't be doing this."

"M' not...complaining."

Steve laughs roughly into your skin, pressing his lips to the dip between your breasts and finally looking up into your eyes. He pauses for a moment, searching for something there. You can see the uncertainty in his expression, the fear of losing control, of what will happen if he really lets go.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you say automatically.

He chuckles at your answer, a soft, low sound that vibrates through your chest. "You're sure?" he whispers, leaning in to kiss you again, this time softer, slower. "Because I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to take advantage of you."

"How could you possibly take advantage of me?" you ask, sounding almost annoyed.

Steve smiles. "I don't know. I just..." He trails off, pressing a quick kiss to your chin. "I just want this to be right."

You can feel his hesitation, his worry, but you don't want to push him away. You reach up, gently cupping his cheek, and look into his eyes. "I want to."

"You want to?"

"Yes."

There's a moment where the weight of what you've just said seems to press down on Steve, making him pause. He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or fear, but finds only the truth. He exhales shakily, looking like it takes every ounce of his self-control to do so. "Tell me you're not drunk."

You reach up, tracing his jawline with your fingers. "I'm not drunk."

"Fuck..." he mutters, trying to concentrate as you trail your fingers down his neck, over his collarbone. "Really? Don't lie to me."

You smile, shaking your head in disbelief. "I'm not drunk," you repeat. "I had like…two drinks. Are you drunk?"

Steve laughs, a choked-up sound. "I've had more than that," he admits. "But I'm…I'm okay." He looks at you for a long moment, like he's trying to commit your face to memory, just in case. Then he leans in, kissing you softly, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that belies his earlier urgency. "But even if I were drunk, you're welcome to take advantage of me anytime."

You smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'll keep that in mind," you whisper, feeling a rush of affection for him. Steve groans into the kiss, pressing your back against the mattress as his hips move between your legs. His skin feels hot against yours, his muscles tense, and with nothing but the thin fabric of your bikini bottom and his swim trunks between you, there's little left for the imagination.

"Steve," you breathe out as he kisses his way down your neck, nipping at your skin with his teeth. His name feels heavy in your mouth, like you've been holding it there for years and it's finally been given the chance to be spoken. "Steve…"

"You keep saying my name like that and I'm going to lose it."

You feel the wet heat of his mouth as he kisses his way back down your neck, over your collarbone. His fingers are patient, too patient as they trail up your sides, over your ribs, stopping just shy of your breasts like he's afraid he'll go too far, too fast, too soon.

"Can I-"

"Yes."

His laughter is soft as he pulls back to look at you, eyes half-lidded and mouth slightly parted. He brushes a strand of wet hair away from your face, tracing the line of your jaw with his thumb. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"What were you going to say?"

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Something about wanting you. About how I can't believe I'm finally here with you." His fingers drift lower, tracing the curve of your neck before one hooks playfully under the delicate string of your bikini top. "I was going to ask if I could touch you."

You nod, feeling the anticipation building inside you. "Yes," you breathe, arching into his touch. "Please."

His smile is slow, almost wicked. He lets go of the string and instead cups your breast, thumb tracing the hardening peak of your nipple through the thin fabric of your top. Your back arches further, and a soft moan escapes your lips as his fingers find purchase and squeeze. He pulls back slightly, watching as you close your eyes, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "Is this okay?" he whispers, tracing a circle around your nipple with his finger.

"Yes," you manage to choke out.

Steve hums in understanding, his touch growing more confident as he cups your breast in his hand, squeezing gently before circling your nipple with his thumb. The sensation is almost too much, making your hips twitch against his as you arch further into the touch.

He wonders for a moment if he should take it further, if he should untie the knot and push the bikini top down, revealing your breasts to his touch...would you be okay with that? Or should he keep going, teasing you until you beg? His eyes flicker down to your lips, watching as they part slightly with each shallow breath, how your tongue darts out to wet them.

You're so beautiful, he thinks, almost dizzy from the sight of you.

He can feel the warmth between his legs, the insistent pressure as his cock strains against the fabric of his trunks. You'll be the death of him, he's certain. He's already so fucking hard and you're not even naked yet.

He leans in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Can I?"

He kisses your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. And then his fingers slide lower, tracing the line of your stomach, pausing at your navel…

"Can I touch you here?"

The feel of his fingers tracing the line of your stomach, so close to where you ache for him to touch, is almost too much to bear. You chuckle as you arch your back, offering him more of your skin, more of yourself, then grabbing his wrist when he doesn't seem convinced, guiding his hand lower.

"Please," grinning, you run your fingers through his hair with your free hand, feeling the dampness there as it clings to the strands, "stop asking."

He smiles against your skin, his fingers finding the soft, warm skin of your inner thigh, tracing up and down, so close to where you're aching for him. "You're sure?" he whispers, his voice low and teasing. "You're sure you want this?"

"Steve Harrington, you-"

But you can't even finish the sentence before he's kissing you, his mouth warm and wet and demanding as his fingers finally slip between your legs, sliding beneath the thin scrap of fabric and you gasp into his mouth, arching into his touch, forgetting whatever insult you were going to say.

You feel the rough pad of his index finger against your clit, and then he's pressing, circling, teasing.

"Fuck."

"You're so wet," he breathes, watching your face. "So fucking wet for me, honey, God," His fingers move faster, his touch more demanding as he presses deeper, finding your entrance and circling, circling, wanting to push inside.

You grip the back of his head, your other hand clutching at the duvet beneath you, your hips arching off the bed as his fingers move in a blissful, insistent rhythm. It's been so long since anyone has touched you like this, since you've felt this kind of need and desire, but this…this is even better than you could have imagined. This is Steve, your Steve.

"I want you inside me," you pant before you can think twice about it, your words breathless and urgent. "Please."

Steve hums, his fingers still working their magic as he leans forward, kissing your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. "I want that too," he whispers, and then he's pushing the bikini bottoms aside, throwing them across the room, revealing your wet, aching folds to his gaze, moving to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, over your hip, and finally to the juncture of your thighs.

Shit. He parts your legs with his shoulders, bending his knees to kneel between them. "Let me make you come first."

With...his mouth?

You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at his face, more than a little self-conscious now. "Wait, but you...you're gonna...?"

He wraps his arms around your hips, holding you still as he leans in, his breath warm against your exposed skin. Curiously, he asks, "You don't want me to?"

You shake your head; no, of course you do. But the idea of him going down on you...it's so intimate. So much more than just having sex. "I just..."

He looks up at you, and there's something in his eyes that makes you forget whatever you were about to say. Something that makes you feel safe and wanted and desired. "You just...?" he whispers, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

It's hard to concentrate when he does that. You squirm a little, but his hold on you is surprisingly firm.

"I just..." You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. "I just haven't had anyone do that for me in a really long time." It's true; the last time you can remember was with a boyfriend years ago, and even then it was more of a "be polite" thing than anything else. But with Steve...it feels different. "Do you *really* want to? Because you don't have to if-"

You feel him smile against your skin as he continues to gently kiss his way up your thigh. "I want to," he whispers, and the way he says it, the sincerity in his voice, makes you believe him. "I really want to. But, um…only if you want it too."

You open your eyes, watching as he looks up at you, waiting for your answer. He looks so hopeful, so eager. If he wants this, if he wants to make you feel this good...how can you say no?

With a shaky breath, you nod, your fingers threading through his hair. "Okay," you whisper. "Okay."

Steve hums in satisfaction. You feel a shiver run down your spine as he slowly pulls your legs wider apart, resting his elbows on the bed as he leans in closer, his hot breath fanning across your folds. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he gazes up at you, watching your reaction, almost daring you to tell him to stop.

You watch, mesmerized, as he tilts his head, licking his lips before he leans in, pressing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the very center of you.

Boy... does he know what he's doing.

Your eyes flutter shut as he begins to lick and suck, his tongue dancing over your most sensitive skin, his fingers curling into the flesh of your hips, urging you to arch into his touch. You gasp, feeling your whole body tense, your hands tangled in his hair, your nails almost digging into his scalp. He moans, his breath hot against you, and you realize he's watching your reactions, taking cues from your body.

"Good?" he asks, as if you're not already on the verge of coming.

But you can't answer, can't form a coherent thought, let alone a word. So you nod. Frantically so, head thumping against the mattress. He smiles against your skin like he's won some sort of prize, and then you feel the slip of his fingers, two of them easily sliding inside you, tight but wet enough to be ready. You cry out, his name a desperate plea falling off your lips as he thrusts his fingers deeper, curling them up to find just the right spot.

"Oh, God..." you moan, your hips bucking up against his hand. "Steve..." Your fingernails dig into the duvet, your back arching as he expertly works his fingers inside you.

Steve seems to sense that you're getting close, the way your hips are moving erratically against his hand, the way your breath is coming in short, ragged gasps. He looks up at you for a moment as if to gauge your reaction, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He keeps his fingers exactly where they are while he leans up over your body to kiss you, propping himself up on one elbow.

"You taste so good," his voice is a whisper against your lips as they part beneath his. "So wet. God, I want to feel you around me."

"Yes, please."

Your enthusiasm makes Steve grin against your lips. "Please?" he muses. He's hard, of course he is hard in his swim trunks, cock straining against the fabric as it leans against your thigh. But he doesn't want to rush this. Not with you.

"Steve," you admonish, sliding your hands up his arms.

His fingers are still moving, but more slowly now, less urgent. It's almost as if he's teasing you, drawing this out. Your hips rock up against his hand, and you feel a surge of wetness between your legs as you arch your back, seeking more contact. His lips find yours again, tongue sliding against yours as he thrusts his fingers deeper, curling them to hit just the right spot. You moan into the kiss, your body trembling as the pleasure builds, your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Oh God," you say in a shaky voice. "Steve, please..."

He groans against your lips, curling his fingers deeper inside you, searching. "Please what?" he whispers as he kisses along your jaw, teasing, not mean, never mean, but drawing it out just a little bit more.

In lieu of an answer, you find yourself arching your back in a desperate manner. His fingers brush against something deep inside you, something that has you gasping and tightening around him, close too close. His fingers find the rhythm you've been craving, your orgasm building, building, building.

"That's it," he whispers against your neck, his own breath hot and uneven. "That's it, baby."

And you do. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before, a rush of pleasure so intense it makes your vision blur, your skin warm all over.

Steve, watching your expression as you come apart beneath his touch, feels the warmth of your release coat his fingers, the tightness of your body around them. God. It's a heady sensation, knowing that he can make you feel this way.

His fingers are slick with your wetness as he pulls them free and gently pushes you back onto the bed. You're lying flat on your back again, and he's grinning as he looks down at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You're...very good at this," your voice is a breathy whisper as you glance up at him, a flush rising in your cheeks. You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him down for a gentle kiss. Steve's skin is warm beneath your fingertips, his kiss featherlight soft against your lips. "Do you want-"

"Yes," he cuts you off with a husky laugh, leaning down to nip at your neck. "If you do," His hand finds the string of your bikini top, finger following along it all the way up to the bow. With a practiced flick, he undoes it but doesn't yet pull the fabric away, watching your eyes as he lets the knot slide free, half expecting you to tell him to stop. You don't, though. You watch him, your chest rising and falling with every breath, and something in his chest aches at the sight.

"You can take it off," you reassure, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It's just me."

You hope that comes across as playful and confident, but maybe you don't seem so convincing when you're still a little breathless, a little sensitive, so you decide to take matters into your own hands and reach up, fingers shaking only a little, to pull the cups of your bikini top down and away from your chest.

Steve watches you, his expression somewhere between adoration and awe as you reveal yourself to him like a fucking gift unwrapped.

"You're unreal," he breathes. "You're so..."

When he reaches out to touch, just the very tips of his fingers brushing against the sensitive flesh, you try to encourage him by arching into the contact.

"So fucking beautiful," he whispers, leaning down to kiss your collarbone. "I can't get enough of you."

His hands slide down your sides, over the smooth skin of your hips, and then lower still, cupping your ass. He pulls you closer, pressing your body against his, slowly grinding against you. "Do you want..." he tries, an urgent edge creeping into his voice. "Do you want me inside you?"

Steve looks like he's about to explode at the mere suggestion, his expression a mixture of raw desire and aching need. You're about to reply when he nips at your neck, his teeth grazing the skin there. You momentarily lose your words.

"You're killing me," he half groans, half laughs, his hips moving harder against yours as he pushes himself as close to you as he possibly can. You can feel him through the thin fabric of his swim trunks, hard and insistent, and you're sure it wouldn't take much more of this teasing before he loses control completely. "Just say the word," he whispers, kissing along the line of your jaw, "and I'll give you anything you want."

"Can I...can I touch you?"

You feel Steve stiffen at your request at first, his body tensing beneath your fingers. "Of course you can," he breathes, a shudder working its way through him. "You can do whatever you want, baby."

You reach down, fingers shaky in your eagerness to please. You grasp the hem of his trunk and tug gently, almost hesitant, but he's already cooperating, kicking them off and letting them fall to the floor without so much as a second thought.

"Oh," you breathe, eyes widening as you take in the sight of him, naked and perfect in front of you. Steve's cock is already hard, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip, and you can't help but reach out and touch it, tentatively at first, but then more confidently, wrapping your fingers around the base of him and waiting to gauge his reaction.

"Oh, fuck," he moans, closing his eyes as you stroke him. "That feels...that's so good."

Your fingers feel warm and soft around him, and with each gentle stroke, he feels himself growing harder and harder, unable to contain the pleasure building inside of him. He opens his eyes to look down at you, watching your expression as you touch him, your focus solely on the way your fingers slide up and down his length.

Before you can get too carried away, though, Steve's hands are grabbing yours, guiding them away from his cock rather urgently. "If you want me inside you," he pants, a strained smile tugging at his lips, "you're going to have to stop that." His voice is a little shaky, a little rough, and you can tell he's struggling to keep himself in check.

You grin up at him. "I...do want that."

Steve's answering smile is a little more confident now, and he leans forward, brushing the pad of his index finger across your lips, tracing the shape of your bottom lip as he does so. "I think you've had enough teasing today," he whispers, hand moving to cup your neck, his thumb rubbing gently over your pulse point. "You really want this?"

"Yes," you breathe, unable to keep the word from slipping past your lips. "Yeah, I do."

Steve's thumb continues to trace circles around your pulse point as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. His kiss starts gentle, a mere brush of his mouth against yours, "Yeah? Can I?" sliding his hand down your stomach, between your legs, he adds, "Fuck, yeah, you're...you're wet enough."

You gasp into his kiss as he brushes his fingers against you. "Yeah," you moan, arching your hips up into his touch, with a grin, "Yeah, I am, I...you're gonna make me beg or something, huh?"

"I'd never make you beg for anything, sweetheart."

His fingers move in a slow circle, spreading your wetness around your entrance, making sure you're as ready for him as you can be.

You reach up, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pull him closer as he begins to shift between your legs, his hand coming back up to gently guide himself towards your entrance, and then he looks down at you, searching your eyes for some sign, some reassurance, before he's pushing inside, slowly, gently, taking his time to ease his way into you.

You gasp at the feeling of being stretched, filled, but at the same time it's perfect, it's...right.

He leans forward, bracing himself on his arms, and watches as you arch your back, your lips parted in a silent moan. "More?" he whispers, his voice a rough rasp. "Should I...?"

"More," you breathe, meeting his eyes.

And Steve gives it to you. He slides deeper, pushing in farther, stretching you just enough to make you feel so full of him. You're tight and he's impatient, but he makes sure he doesn't rush, doesn't force it. You feel the muscles in his back and arms tensing as he fights against the urge to go harder, how much he wants to lose control and just fuck you into the mattress.

He takes you like he's been dreaming of it for years, like he's never going to get the chance to feel you like this again. Slowly.

"Steve," his name rolls off your tongue like a sigh the moment he's all the way inside you, your muscles clenching around him in an attempt to hold him close.

He tries to remember how to breathe, pressing his lips to your shoulder. He feels you squeeze around him and muffles a sound between a moan and a growl against your skin, "Can I move?"

"Yes, I...yes."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to adjust his angle, and then pushes back inside you. The sensation is almost too much, the way your body seems to fit so perfectly around him, the way your muscles clench and release, drawing him deeper still. Fuck. You're so wet that he can feel himself sliding easily in and out of you. The sounds of your skin slapping against his is a perfect counterpoint to the gasping, keening noises you're making into his shoulder.

He knows he won't last half as much as he'd like if you keep that up.

"God, that's it," he growls, the words lost in the movement of his hips against yours. "Tell me how it feels, sweetheart." One of his hands slides down between your bodies, cupping your aching clit, rubbing in a tight circle as he thrusts into you. The sensation is overwhelming, too much and not nearly enough all at once.

Your legs twist, one hooking behind his back for leverage, and you arch into his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders as you feel the tension building, the familiar tightness coiling in your core. "So good," you moan, thrusting your hips up to meet his, wanting more of that friction, more of his skin against yours. "Can you go...faster, please?"

He's lost to the sensation of your body moving against his, the feel of you slick and hot and tight. He's close, so close, but he doesn't want this to be over yet. He pulls back slightly, only to slam back in harder, the head of his cock hitting the spot inside you that makes you arch your back and gasp.

His hand moves faster on your clit, circling and pressing, and you're so close now, so close, you can feel it building, making you shiver and writhe underneath him. Steve leans down, lips finding the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping as he thrusts harder, deeper, faster.

"Yes," you moan, arching into his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Fuck, yes."

Steve lets his hand move from between your legs to the back of your knee, hooking it there, holding you open to him as his cock slides in and out of you with a harsh, wet sound. You feel so full of him, stretched and sore and aching in the best way possible.

He's so close now, the tension in his body almost painful as he fights against the urge to come before you do. Steve watches your face as you writhe beneath him, lips parted and flushed, eyes glazed over in pleasure like you can't quite focus. It's the most erotic thing he's ever seen. He doesn't want this to end. Being inside you like this, feeling the way you move against him...he doesn't think he'll ever get enough.

Your nails scrape down his back, leaving little red lines in their wake. Steve thinks he's going to lose it every time you do that.

"Fuck," he groans, the word caught in his throat as he thrusts harder into you. The sounds of your skin slapping against his makes it almost unbearable and he has to think of something else, anything else, to keep from coming. "Feels good, sweetheart?" he whispers, his hand moving between your legs again, this time finding your clit and rubbing in a steady, circular motion.

You arch into his touch, your hips moving in time with his thrusts. "So close," you moan, your voice shaking. "I...I..."

Steve feels the tension building inside you, knows that you're close. He watches your face, the way your eyes have almost rolled back in your head, the way your lips are parted and your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

He leans down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing as pushes inside to the hilt, holding you there, feeling your body trembling beneath him. You cry out then, your back arching off the bed, and Steve feels you tighten and pulse around him, gripping him like a fist as you come.

The sensation is almost too much, but he somehow manages to ask, "Can I come inside you?"

You nod, your eyes closed tightly, and he thrusts once, twice…then one last time, feeling himself spill inside you as he moans, body tensing and then relaxing, spent.

Steve collapses on top of you without pulling out, sweaty bodies sticking together. He somehow finds the energy to kiss your shoulder, your neck, your ear, nibbling and sucking until you laugh, shifting beneath him.

"You're heavy," you tease, but you don't really mind. It feels right to have him pressed against you like this, his heart thumping against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

He chuckles, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck. "Sorry," he mumbles, before pulling himself up enough to look down at you. You're beautiful, even with your hair tangled and your lips swollen from his kisses. "Do you want to get cleaned up?" he asks, running a hand through his sweaty hair.

"I think I love you."

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and for a moment, you're not sure if you should take them back. But then Steve's eyes widen, his lips part in surprise, and you know it's too late. You've said it.

"Sorry, I shouldn't...I mean, I-"

Steve cups your face in his hands, his eyes wide and serious. "I love you too," he says, his voice a little unsteady. "I have for a long time."

He leans in, pressing his lips to yours gently, then more firmly, as if he's making sure this is real, that you feel it too.

But you feel it too.

God, you feel it too.

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mayuichi · 2 months

Text

How your partner reacts when you're on your periods.

Include:

Genshin Impact [Heizou, Lyney, Wriothesley, Alhaitham]

Honkai: Star Rail [Veritas Ratio & Kafka]

Bungo Stray Dogs [Tetcho Suehiro & Jouno Saigiku]

Moriarty the Patriot [William James Moriarty]

Content warning: fem!reader (I'm not comfortable enough to include transgender, I don't know enough about it, sorry :(), blood, and just.. anything related to menstrual cycles, mention of past encounters [More into Ratio's part, slightly in Tetcho and Jouno's part, lots lots LOTS of petnames [especially in Kafka's part].

note: im on my periods, im literally dying if im not on some specific painkillers, so im fucking numb and it makes me sleepy but i wanted to do something extremely fluff for it. and i have lost my yellow...

Every art used are the official one (except the chibi of Jouno, Tetcho and William, credit to the rightful owners of which I don't have any name!), I've just poorly edited them!

You have agreed to join your boyfriend for lunch, and so now, you're in his office at the commission. But what you have not expected is that while chatting together, a sharp pain flood your stomach. You curl up, eyes wide from the sudden pain. Heizou stares at you, and chuckles. He grins, crossing his legs, “Is my darling in pain? How sad. Are you on your monthly?„

He isn't taking your pain seriously that's for sure. You give him a death glance that he ignores. He leans closer to nudge your elbow, giving a gentle kiss on your temple. But you pushed him away. Heizou's eyebrows raise, and when you wince in pain, he sighs and moves his chair next to yours. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing you against him.

“Baby, it'll be okay. Do you need anything?„ he stares at you. He knows he can't actually understand the pain you're into, but he doesn't want to just leave you like that. He carefully takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. His breath brushes against your ear, “I'm here. I know you can handle it. I'll go get some medicines and you stay here, alright?„

It isn't like you would go on a walk right now anyway. He feels bad for leaving you alone, even if for just a short time. He kisses your cheek one last time before hurrying out. You can't do much in the meantime, except bear with the pain.

But when he comes back in with some medicines, he praises you. He gives you a glass of water with it, and waits for you to take them. He is supposed to have work, but honestly... He knows even if he takes a day or two for you, he'll manage in time. Nothing escapes him after all.

All he wants right now is to ensure you're comfort... despite this time. He'll take some paperwork he needs to do anyway to work onto at home. Whenever you need help with something, you just need to call his name, even in the faintest voice possible, and you'll hear his footsteps coming closer.

You need help to stand up without falling? He'll support you. You want him to make your meals? He'll do it, no matter what you want. You need help to shower? He'll be there. You can stain your clothes or the sheets, it won't bother him. He'll change it and clean it.

Even if every month you have the right to see him joking around, if it gets as serious, he will take the time to make it easier. He loves you too dearly to let you go through this by yourself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ☽ ✧˖*°࿐ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lyney and Lynette's magic show. Despite what happened on their first show in the Opera House, they continued. And now, they can even do a second show there! Of course, as his beloved girlfriend, he asked if you could watch over their rehearsal. You couldn't leave him now, could you? So you accepted. And beside, a free show just for you, from your boyfriend and your sister-in-law. Who would refuse?

His piercing gaze is on you, all the time. Only flickering over Lynette from time to time. He wants to make you proud, to let you see how perfect he is in what he does. Well, you already know it, but he wants you to be sure of it. And like a child, you're amazed an every tricks, even the tiniest.

But that joy is soon replaced by a sudden discomfort. Luckily, it's right when they're done. So when you see him head backstage to check on some things, you curl up on your seat. You hoped it wouldn't start now, but sometimes life loves to annoy you. You whine quietly, feeling blood trickle down. It's an awful feeling, but right now you can't do a single thing about it.

Footsteps echo in the empty place, and suddenly nothing. You hesitantly look up, to see his figure towering you on the stage. His eyes are filled with worry. He hates to see you like that. Jumping off the stage, he closes the distance between the two of you and caresses your back carefully.

“Ma chérie, what's wrong? Why are you...„ he sighs. He kneels down before you. He leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “I'm here.„ it isn't much, but that's all you need. You breath out heavily, your cheeks flushed pink. It's embarrassing, but it isn't like it's not natural.

With his gentle strokes on your back, you see Lynette on the stage, staring at the both of you emotionlessly. She then crosses her arms and clears her throat. “... I get it. Wait here.„ you don't actually get what she means, but Lyney just tells you to dismiss it. He knows his sister well after all. She won't do anything bad to you. Plus, she grew rather fond of you too. As long as you don't hurt Lyney, she'll be glad he found the right person for him.

Several minutes after, she comes pack with a small package in hands and places it next to you. She gives you a discreet smile, and proceeds to pull Lyney's ear, which makes him wince in pain. “Come with me, let her some privacy for a minute or two.„ she brings him with her, allowing you to be alone in the Opera House. If we forget about the backstages, but they don't see you.

Opening the box, there's a few protections in it. You're glad she's willing to help you. After some moment alone, Lyney barges in again, and wraps you in his arms. Lynette did for sure tell him.. “I'll fetch you any medicine, anything you need. Just say so, darling. I'll be here.„

He's so loving, especially to his family. And well, aren't you a part of it now? His family is everything, and so are you. He's busy with his duty as a fatui of course, as well as his shows, but whenever he has the time, he checks on you. Either because you accompany him, or by coming home for a bit. But he knows while he's away, he can ensure you to Freminet or Arlecchino. Even if the latter can be dangerous... She has seen great things coming from Lyney ever since he's with you. So if taking care of you means having one of her children being even better, she would do it.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ . ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

The Duke. Someone to fear, to never question. He knows what he does. He may jokes around with some of the prisoners, but one wrong movement and he'll make them understand their place. But if there's one person that can make his heart melt at any of their words, it's his girlfriend. Oh, how much he loves her. She's his everything. The amount of time he mentions her to Sigewinne. It became clear to everyone. If they mess with her, they'll experience Wriothesley's wrath.

And once more, he finds himself thinking of you while doing some paperwork to give to Neuvillette. You're just so much more appealing than some papers.. But he has to do them, so he will. He sighs loudly, the only sound in his office is the paper he puts aside. But then, he hears the door downstairs being opened. At first, he just thinks it's Sigewinne once again, coming to give her report.

But instead, he sees you climbing up the stairs, tears threatening to spill. His mind fills with worry and anger at the thought of you being in pain. Is it because of him, or did someone hurt you? He stands up to meet you, a hand resting on your lower back for support. You cling on his shirt, as if your life depends on it.

He helps you sit down, before his voice reverberates through his office. “Dear, what is it? Did anything happened?„ the worry isn't even hidden in his voice. He just wants you to be okay, but you're currently not. You try your best to not whimper your pain, but it's seemingly impossible. He shushes you, his strong arms envelopping you in a warm embrace.

After some minutes, you manage to croak out your problem. It doesn't faze him. Of course, it isn't something he will ever fully comprehend, but he isn't bothered by it. You aren't the first one he gets with, but you'll be the last for sure. He lets out a relieved sigh. “It's only that? I'm reassured. Let me go find Sigewinne. She will know better than me.„

He kisses your forehead, leaving his office. The minutes seem endless, alone in there. But it's not long until their voices echo. Sigewinne carries some medicine and Wriothesley has a warm patch to press against your belly.

Needless to say, you spend the rest of the day in his arms while he works. He soothes you and goes to warm again the patch whenever you mention it's getting colder. He's careful to carry you back to your quarters when his work is over. He helps you in any way he can and that you need.

He looks tough and cold on the outside, but he's just a softie for you. He wants to give you the best care when you're unwell. And he will do just that for the rest of the week.

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹｡ₓ ू ₒ ु ˚ ‧̫‧ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

It's always weird to people. How can Alhaitham has been capable to get a girlfriend? And more specifically, someone like you? It's probably one of the reason why Alhaitham can still handle Kaveh. It's thanks to him he met you. You're Kaveh's best friend at first. And well, now... You're his girlfriend.

You don't actually live with the both of them, but you do spend a lot of time to their place, that much is true. Kaveh is locked in his room, working on his current project. In those moments, impossible to make him get out of his cavern. So you can't call him out for help. Your stomach, or more precisely, your womb is painful. The joy of being a woman one would say!

Yet, you're not sure Alhaitham would be the person the most... suitable to help you. You're in an incapacity to stand up without risking to fall. Your legs are too shaky from the pain. But he's the only one who could help. So you call his name.

Maybe he is too busy reading, or that he is once again wearing his soundproof earbuds. In any case, he just doesn't hear your calls. Whimpers fall from your lips as you support yourself, keeping your hand against the wall. It's painful, and you wish you didn't had to be all alone. You hardly manage to get to the living room.

Finding him reading, you get closer, falling in his lap, your head pressing against his torso. You take the book from his hand and throw it on the other side of the couch. He gives you a cold stare, sighing. “Go on, explain your behaviours.„ he's stern. He doesn't like the actions you just have done.

He waits for an answer, but all you can mutter is that it hurts. You look up at him, trying not to tear up from the pain. He tilts his head, a hint of worry in his eyes. “Mind if you start from the start?„ he wants to help you, but he can't if you don't spit out what troubles you, can he? You just whisper that it's that time of the month, and his eyes open a little wider.

He isn't embarrassed, this man knows. It isn't such topic that could cause him to lose his cool. He's just unsure of what to do. He has read about what could alleviate the pain, but never tried it for.. obvious reasons.

He carefully places you on the couch, so he can stand up and go to the kitchen. Heating some water, he fills some sort of bottle once he thinks it's hot enough. He sets it on the table, gently pushing you to lay down. He then lifts up a blanket, making sure you can't be cold.

After making sure you're comfortable, Alhaitham picks up the bottle once again, and let it settle over your stomach. After what, he pulls a chair to sit on, letting the couch to you only. He strokes your head with one hand, and with the other, he picks his book once again. He can't just leave you alone, knowing that no one would be here in the meantime. So he'll wait for Kaveh to come out of his room to request him to go find some medicines for you.

Even if he isn't one to be overly affectionate, he wouldn't leave you to rot there. He can even read to you if it can occupy you! Well, not that he has any books of your interest but... His voice is soothing enough to guide you to sleep to be sure you won't be in pain that way. And throuhough your nap, he'll be looking over you. Perhaps you've became his weakness, but he loves it. But don't dare try to make him admit it.

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒˚ ◌༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ⋆·˚ ༘ *︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚༊*·˚

Is it wise to have him as your boyfriend? Probably not. Especially when he wants to play a board game with you. The worst is probably chess. You know how to play it, but Veritas... He knows every move you're about to do. He can predict you in an instant. You're too easy to read for him.

But today, it's different. It isn't that he can't predict you but... You aren't even making sense. You seem lightheaded, unfocused. It isn't even fun to play with someone who isn't trying. He sighs and stares at you. It isn't amusing anymore, so he'll find his fun somewhere else.

A smirk spreads on his lips, and he leans in closer. “Oh, dear. Are you so lost now? Is it that you don't believe you will ever beat me?„ he enjoys it. He knows you'll never beat him on his own territory, after all. But you're just... Off. Even his words don't make you flinch. “Even ignoring me now. What will I do of you.„

And yet, you still don't react. That pain in your stomach, those cramps.. They make you incapable to register anything. But when he leans over the table to tower you and sliding two fingers under your chin, your few strength focus on his upcoming words. “Have I fucked you so good last night you're still on cloud nine?„

That grin. It makes you want to punch him so bad. It isn't about that, even if of course, he had done a great job. You let out a soft growl, pushing his hand away. You're tempted to yell at him, but he has nothing to do with your predicament. So you take a deep breath.

You crudely mention your periods, and the colours on his face fade away. As if life has left his body. He didn't saw it coming. He coughs slightly, clearing his throat. He may have forgotten that women like you have those. He straightens himself up, glancing away.

“Ahem... It seems my comments were... Unwelcomed. How could I help you, darling? Perhaps some... some medicines could help the pain?„ you have rarely seen the Veritas Ratio so.. nervous and unsettled. His confident trait disappeared in an instant. You can't help but smile at that.

But he is a man of intellect, he had to study those type of things before. He doesn't know much, but from what he knows, medicines can help, as well as some positions, or even hot water. He gathers some pillows for you, as well as a blanket. He pampers you, not only because he loves you, but certainly in an way to apologise for his inappropriate words.

He'll still have some work to do, but he'll check upon you, he'll make sure to be there if you call for him. And everytime, before leaving you, he makes sure to let you the TV remote, and to kiss your cheek. He may be arrogant, he wouldn't let you down.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ੈ✩‧₊˚ೃ⁀➷˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚.ೃ࿐

Dating a Stellaron Hunter? Are you actually crazy? Well, perhaps you are. But it isn't important now... Is it? Kafka hasn't seen you the whole day. You stayed in your shared bedroom! How impolite of you to not come and say hi. She knocks on the door, her seductive voice reaching your ears. “Sweetie, why don't you come out of your den? It isn't nice to not come greet everyone.„

She doesn't care. She just wants you with her when she's not on a mission. To your silence, she opens the door, clicking her tongue, her heels tapping over the floor. “Tsk tsk, darling. You shouldn't keep me... Oh.„ she sees you, curled up under the blanket, and a giggle escapes her lips. Her heels are the only sound in the room as she approaches the bed.

Kafka sits next to your laying form, her hand reaching out to caress your hair. “Is my baby struggling? How unfortunate. Well, I understand more why you didn't came yet. Come on, come here dolly.„ she slowly cradled you in her arms, kissing your forehead. Her arms wrapped around your waist, she sees the stained sheets and sighs.

“You should've called me. Now, sweetheart. Let's get you cleaned. I'll accompany you to the bathroom, and while you shower, I'll prepare everything, alright? Just think of yourself.„ she helps you stand up, opening the bathroom door and steadying you when you get in the bathtub. She then closes the door behind her, allowing you some privacy.

She knows a bath, even just a shower, can help a little with the pain and the dirty feeling. So while you wash yourself off, she takes off the sheets and casts it aside for now. Pulling on some new ones, she leaves the room to get to the kitchen and prepare a hot water bottle, wrapped in a silk cloth to prevent the heat from burning your poor skin. She also gathers different medicines, in different ways to take.

Once everything is settled on the nightstand, she makes the bed, preparing it in the way you love the most when you need comfort: like a little nest for you to hide in, and for her to join you.

Several minutes pass and you still don't come out, so she knocks on the bathroom door. “Princess, is everything alright ? Do you need help?„ her voice, it's so evident she can hypnotise anyone with it. It's what you love the most, with the way she treats you.

You tell her she can come in, and she sees you, waiting for her to help you stand up. Your feet are wet now, and with how unsteady you are, you could fall and hurt yourself. She can't allow her baby to get hurt now, can she?

Kafka tends to your every needs, helping you drying and dressing up, showing you the different medicines. Once you take it, she lets you get comfortable in your nest. She carefully places the hot bottle against your belly. Even if the medicine is supposed to ensure the cramps aren't as painful, she wants to make sure you won't be in pain.

She lets a water bottle on the nightstand in case you get thirsty, and also gathers books on it. As well as the TV remote. She won't let you get bored. She closes the curtains, letting you use the soft lights of the room to be all cozy.

She'll go back to Blade and Silver Wolf, but every now and then, she comes in. And if she doesn't and you need something, she warned you to use your phone. It's one of the rare time where she'll be at your services. She knows how painful it can be to some women, and she's glad she doesn't experience it that way. But she can't help the pity when she sees her beloved in pain every month. So all she wants is to pamper you until you're feeling better.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.✧☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was weird. To be seen outside with a Hunting Dog. But you got used to the stares eventually, and he did too. On his days off, if he even has some, he isn't a Hunting Dog but you're lover. But needless to say there is time you don't see him in a week. Those times.. They make you sad, or upset. But you can't just ask him to change that. He wishes to keep on going, and you just want to support him. So you will.

And whenever Tetcho comes back home, hearing the door slamming shut, you come to him like a happy puppy to its master. He loves it. It's so sweet of you. Most of the time, when he warns you beforehand of his arrival, you prepare a little something for it. Either being a gift, a snack, or even sometimes some more.. naughty things.

But today, he doesn't even see you at the doorstep! He calls out your name when his head pops from the living room's doorframe. And he sees you watching TV with a blanket over you. He smiles at the sight. It's so nice, to come home to his beloved. Even perhaps his future wife when the day will come!

He steps closer, sitting beside you and instantly wraps his arms around your waist. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your sweet scent. You usually wore either sweet scents like vanilla, chocolate, and such, or flowery ones. You look down at him with a faint smile.

He hasn't seen the pills over the table. Well, good for you, it avoids some unecessary questions. It's always so cute to see him wanting to spend some quality time with you once he's home. Under your confused gaze, he takes the remote and turns of the TV, before trying to carry you bridal style. But you're fast to ask him to stop.

And so he does. He places you back down on the sofa, and tilts his head. “... Is something wrong baby?„ he inquires in a low yet gentle tone. You look away in embarrassment. It isn't easy to actually mention anything relating your menstruation, but well.. You couldn't let him worry. In a whisper, barely audible, you admit the issue.

His cheeks take a soft pink tint. Tetcho hasn't seen that coming, but it doesn't change the fact he'll spend quality time there! He slowly reaches out to squeeze your hand in his, “Have you taken medicine for the pain? Do you need me to go get some? Or would you like some hot water?„

You shake your head vigorously. That man is so caring. You point the box of pills on the table, and he nods. Yet, he still checks how many remains. “There won't be enough for the week.. I'll get you some when you'll be napping.„ he smiles. He's glad the medicine works their magic on you. He gets you back under the blanket, to the only exception he's beside you now, under it too.

And instead of watching some sad and upsetting news, you just get on some random kids' shows to keep in the background while he cuddles you. He has too much love to share. He faces pain and death on a daily basis, he can't allow it upon you yet, not while he's here. He'll always do anything within his powers to make it more comfortable for you.

⌦ .｡.:*♡◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

How can someone like him be so... Upsetting ? It's incredible. You hate his guts, and yet, it made you fall for him. You fell for someone you didn't wanted to love. But you can't actually complain.. Jouno makes you happy, doesn't he? He isn't so often home, but whenever he's, he loves to piss you off.

Starting by the tiniest of it. He knows cooking isn't what you exceed in, so whenever he doesn't smell any food scent in particular, he mocks you for ordering. But today, the scent in the apartment... it makes him smirk.

He can scent it, your blood. He has bitten hard enough on you during those nights to recognise that scent. But if you would've been in danger, you would've called him, and no one could have bitten you so hard. So you could only have your monthly.

Coming in the bedroom without knocking, he leans against the doorframe and stares in your direction. If he could, he would bury you with his gaze. “My, my, what do we have here? Someone laying there like a little worm, doing nothing at all.„

“To say I'm almost getting killed while you lazily wander around, I've truly decided to have such a girlfriend. What a pity, isn't it?„ you know deep down he just messes with you. But you hate it. Right now, you wish he would just shut up and leave you alone.

“Come on, it doesn't hurt that much. Beside, I've had worst, didn't I? It's not like you're getting stabb-!„ he abruptly stops. It surprises him. He was too busy mocking you he hadn't seen the pillow coming to his face. His eyebrows raise, and he sighs. He can sense you, there, helplessly curling up. He knows you had taken some medicines that were just a little effective, but not enough to calm you down.

Jouno doesn't want to show his weaknesses, not to you, not to anyone. He has been weak enough before, he can't let himself be there again. But he can't let you suffer alone. So he takes some steps closer, sitting on the bed. And reluctantly, he opens his arms, “... Come on. Before I change my mind.„

Your eyes widen in surprise, but you wouldn't deny such an offer. You slowly crawl to him, sitting in his lap and nestling your head against his chest. His arms wrap around your frame, embracing you against him. His breath is softly brushing against your hair, and you could hear his heartbeat like that.

You're content, his left hand caressing your back in soothing motions, as he tries to shush your whimpers, and take your pain away. “There, there. You're not alone. I'm back home. It'll be alright. The medicine will eventually work. For now, take a nap. Once you're asleep, I will get you some more to try.„

His voice, it soothes you. He isn't bad deep down, it just takes time for him to let his guard down, even for you. But he loves you, oh so dearly. If his morals weren't there, he could kill for you. You're his only weakness, the only thing he'd get on his knees for.

As sleep embraced you, you could hear a faint murmur falling from his lips. “I love you too much to let you stay in that pain, darling.„

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The famous Lord of Crime. Throuhough London he is known, even feared, despite no one knowing his true nature. No one beside his associates and you, his fiancée. Well, he hasn't properly proposed to you yet, but you both have talken about your wishes and.. It's obvious he wants to marry you. You have caught his heart. And Louis is thankful for that! Better you than Sherlock apparently...

And in the morning, William has seen a stain on the sheets... Ah, that explains your groggy behaviour when you left for the bathroom. It makes him chuckle, he can't lie. But it pains him, truly! He has to attend to work today... So while waiting for the bathroom to be free, he goes to Louis, informing him of a “very important mission„ only he can take care of.

Louis rolls his eyes at the mention of your menstruation. But it made him laugh that William takes it so seriously. The latter goes and changes the sheets while waiting for you. He knows you'll take quite the time, so he borrows the second bathroom. Wearing his signature brown three piece suit.

When you emerge out of the bathroom, he comes to meet you half way, giving you a lingering kiss as he takes your hand. “You're quite aggressive this morning, aren't you?„ he chuckles sweetly. His laugh.. It's the sweetest thing you ever heard. He guides you to the library, letting you rest on a plush armchair. Louis comes behind him with a soft and fluffy blanket to put over you.

“Just rest for today, darling. I am sorry I have to let you, but you know how it is.. I can't do otherwise for now. But I'm sure Louis will be wonderful to take care of you while I'm away.„ he gives a slight nod to his younger brother, before leaning to kiss your forehead.

And so, Louis is the one to tend to your needs while your fiancé is away. He even asks Fred if he can't go find some things, so he could make a concoction that could help your pain. Even if he dislikes the idea of William getting away from him, Louis appreciates you. You aren't disrespectful, on the opposite. He even likes the way William is around you.

You're glad you're accepted in their little family, and even toward his associates and friends. You busy yourself reading books or chatting with Louis. He even gets you the perfect tea for you.

And by the time William gets home, you're fast asleep on the chair. You look so peaceful, he can't bring himself to wake you up. So he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, and presses a kiss on your cheek. Exceptionally, he spends his time in the library instead of his office, just to keep an eye over you.

Every chat he can have, he's cautious to not be too loud. And when you'll stir awake, he'll cautiously step closer to ask if you're feeling any better. The rest of the week goes on the same way, and every night, William carefully carries you to bed, and soothes you to sleep, caressing your belly.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚︵‿︵‿୨✧༺♥༻∞୧‿︵‿︵‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuchi's property. do not repost, copy or translate without permission.

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ephemeral--dreams · 1 year

Text

Making you cry during a fight (2) - Scaramouche, Yae, Kaeya

Okay guys here you go never ask me for anything ever again /j

(part 1)

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

Scaramouche

There's a sort of deep, instinctive fear that takes root inside the place where a heart would be, as he watches tears fall after a few too-harsh words.

He's hurt you. He's been careless, he's been too difficult, too much - and it's going to drive you away. You're going to abandon him because of this incident, surely. Why would you stay with someone who makes you cry?

It's… it's not a feeling he's dealt with for many years. The fear of being left. He has not allowed anyone to get close enough to him to have any concern over whether they're around or not. Scaramouche had learned his lesson about getting attached and having emotion, after all. He had spat out whatever bitter words he pleased and felt nothing when he upset anyone he spoke to.

But those days are past, and while that's a good thing in many ways, right now it feels anything but.

"I-"

"Sorry. I shouldn't be crying," the way you apologize as if you're the one in the wrong stabs right through him. You're the one crying, yet he is being wounded just as much. It's an awful thing, caring. "Just. Just give me a moment…"

Scaramouche hesitates. He's paralyzed, caught up in the idea that anything he does or says may make things worse. But what wins out is the idea of fixing it, fixing things before you give up on him—

"Stop it. You shouldn't be the one saying sorry here. I shouldn't have said that to you, alright? You should know better than to take everything I say so seriously, honestly, I-" he sighs, irritated with himself more than you, before pulling you into his embrace. You don't pull away. Good. Maybe he hasn't entirely fucked things up. "...I didn't mean it. Sorry."

Yae

Yae Miko is not the sort of person who yells during a fight. Or at any time, really. So that hadn't been at all what had happened during your little conflict.

Rather, her words were pointed to hit where it hurt, an attempt to shut down whatever silly human nonsense you thought was worth causing a riot over. Problems came and went, and most weren't nearly as important as they may seem in the moment. Living many years had led her to this conclusion. She was a busy woman who had little interest in wasting her time arguing.

...Calculating and perhaps dismissive she may be, but she isn't cold. Yae still very much has a heart, and it skips a beat when she realizes you're nowhere to be found at the usual time she would meet with you after finishing her shrine duties. Surely you weren't that upset over it all, right?

No, you couldn't be still lingering on the issue hours later…

Well, you could. Others were far more sensitive to these things, a fact she often forgot. Yae should know better. Isn't she used to highly emotional people, after all? At least your tantrums weren't going to practically destroy the nation…

She finds you at the foot of the mountain, sitting and idly staring into the distance. The tear tracks on your face are all too telling.

Yae is not above realizing when she has done something wrong. Though she's also not one to openly apologize. She doesn't do much of anything openly.

"You don't listen to me," you tell her.

"Well, I'll try to listen more, then. Is that satisfactory?" She offers a hand to you. You wait a moment before taking it, allowing her to pull you up. "Just remember to consider my side of things as well. We can work on it… But let's not linger on this too long. Time is fleeting for mortals like you, hm?"

Kaeya

Kaeya is excellent at one thing - avoidance. In fact, he's been successfully avoiding you ever since your fight a couple of days ago. It's easier to simply wait until you've both cooled off.

That's what he tells himself. It's certainly not that the fight made him feel anxious. He's not running away from his problems, of course not.

(He's lying to himself. One wrong word and you'll leave. He knows that. It's bad enough that you had an argument, archons forbid he confronts you and it's the last straw.)

So Kaeya carefully stays out of your way, doesn't speak to you, doesn't let you catch sight of him. He'll have to deal with things eventually, he knows, but… Until then, he's content to keep things this way. Four days in you finally seek him out yourself, looking exhausted and absolutely miserable.

"Can we- can we stop fighting? You're right, I'm wrong, all that-" He can only watch as you start breaking down in front of him, a cold, sinking feeling of guilt settling in. "...Just stop ignoring me, please?"

His life has been filled with bad decisions - it seems that he's made yet another, by avoiding you so long. Now Kaeya is faced with your tears as you practically beg for his attention. It's quite the opposite of what he intended. He reaches a careful hand to brush them away. "Shh, shh. No more, alright?"

You sniffle, looking up at him. "You're not mad at me?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. I never was. We can talk about it later, okay? Let me make you feel better."

#scaramouche x reader #yae miko x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #story unfolding

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dreamerinthemoonlight · 5 months

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Genshin Guys with an S/O Dealing with Sensory Overload (Wriothesley, Diluc, Alhaitham, Neuvillette)

Please note that this is all from my experience. Obviously not everyone is going to experience it like this. Basically this is me shamelessly self-inserting again. I mean, what's new?

I'm going to format this as kind of scenarios in bullet point form, rather than my usual

CW: hurt/comfort, neurodivergent reader

Wriothesly x gn!reader, Diluc x gn!reader, Alhaitham x gn!reader, Neuvillette x gn!reader

Requests and Ask Box is OPEN

Wriothesley

Sensory overload isn't really that uncommon around Wriothesly

And it's not because he's loud or anything, but the Fortress of Meropide isn't a quiet place. I imagine there's always a lot of little sounds even at night. Stuff like dripping pipes, hissing steam, little things

And even if you're not hanging out at Fortress, the city isn't even much quieter

Thankfully he's the perceptive, people-smart type so there's no way in hell sensory overload is getting past him

Tight fists, pinched eyebrows, flinching at loud noises, yeah, he ain't missin' that shit

When he notices you doing that he's quick to finish whatever conversation he's in and bringing you to a quieter location

He's either soundproofed his room or set aside some space in the fortress where you can be alone in the quiet. If you need music to avoid complete and total quiet he has some soft records for you to listen to

Diluc

Diluc has an easier time dealing with the sensory overload

When the day has left you worn out, overloaded, and on edge, wincing at even soft noises, you seek out Diluc

Of course, if you're helping/hanging out at the Angel's Share, chances are he's already at least noticed your reactions to the ambient chaos

If he can't get away from the bar, he hands you the keys to his room and tells you to go rest, that he'll be up when he's free

At the Winery, he's left instructions that even if he's not there, you should be brought to a quiet out of the way room (ehem, his room) and given whatever you need

In either location, as soon as he's free he's coming to make sure you're alright. He usually has something for your headache, knowing that you've probably got one

If you let him, he'll want to hold you, rubbing circles into your shoulder. But if you need space, he'll leave you be once

More than anything he's intent on making any of his spaces safe and comfortable for you

Alhaitham

Alhaitham is an asshole and doesn't people, but when it comes to sensory overload he's 100% sympathetic

I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it's something he deals with on the regular

It's also not something you can hide from him (in fact you might go to him because he's a quiet person who has no issues telling anyone who would bother you to go sit on it)

The first thing he does is kick whoever he's talking to out of the room. Unlike Wrio, he doesn't bother wrapping up the conversation, he just tells them to leave

If you're at his house, Kaveh gets told to find a different room to occupy and Kaveh actually listens (I mean, Kaveh is a nice guy who isn't going to be mean to you just to give his roommate the metaphorical middle finger. Really, neither of them are.)

Once he's gotten rid of any annoyances, he's handing over his headphones

He also helps darken the room your in (modifications Kaveh helped with--I feel like both of them are far more willing to accommodate you than each other, even if it means working together)

After that, he just leaves you alone. If you have a headache, he'll find something to help, but he just goes to read

If you're in a place where he can't just shoo people away and remove any offending sensations, he goes out of his way to comfort you (which took him forever to figure out how to do, but he likes you so it's worth the effort). Even if it's just lending you headphones while he takes you by the hand and leads you through the city

Neuvillette

Honestly, it takes Neuvie a while to get used to a S/O who is prone to Sensory Overload

He's not human and is very much accustomed to the chaos of the Opera Epiclese, Palais Mermonia, and Fontaine City in general

So when Sedene lets you in to Neuvie's office (he's left instructions that unless he's in a conversation you can't be privy to, you're just to be let in) and you're nearly in tears, he's very concerned

Anything he's doing is immediately set to the side so he can figure out what's wrong

When he figures out that your brain just can't process any more input without feeling like it's about to spontaneously combust, he's a little confused, but he focuses more on how to help you

First things first, he has you hydrate while he tells Sedene to not let anyone in unless it's an emergency and finishes up whatever he's doing. If you're not feeling well, he wants to be able to focus his attention on you

Then he takes you somewhere quieter and darker

Eventually, much like Diluc and Wrio, he sets aside a place for you to go. He makes sure you can keep it as dark and quiet as you want, while making sure any sensory things you gravitate to are easily accessed

On days where you decide to take a nap, it's not uncommon to see him wrapped around you, letting his naturally cool temperature soothe you

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wongyuuu · 9 months

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Willow | 02

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst, marriage of convenience word count: 5.2k summary: seungcheol always knew that he was going to marry you, but things only get harder once he does (or in which seungcheol is just really dumb and doesn't know how to show his feelings)

part one | part two | part three (final) | drabble

Seungcheol functioned like clockwork.

Every day he woke up at the exact same time, his alarm was obnoxiously loud — especially considering how much of a light sleeper he was —, showered, cocked the same breakfast, and left the apartment precisely at 7:45.

You don’t remember him being that punctual but your best guess was that grown-up Seungcheol took his life and responsibilities much more seriously than teenage him. And he probably had a lot on his plate too. He was set to take over the firm once his dad retired, something that wouldn’t happen any time soon, but it always felt like something he was being prepared for it.

And being honest, you couldn’t say that you knew this version of Seungcheol, not really. He was hot and cold with you, mostly cold, so it was hard to know where you stood in your relationship with him.

Truth was, that had a lot to do with you as well. You weren’t trying to make things easier for the two of you, if anything it felt like you were trying your best to make it as hard as possible — even if that wasn’t your intention at all.

While your husband was always perfectly on time, you were always running around late for every single appointment you could ever make. People from work already knew that if there was a student scheduled for 10:00h, you’d probably get there a little later. It really wasn’t on purpose, you tried your best to be on time, even tried to follow along with Seungcheol’s agenda. But it never worked out. So instead of being on time and having everything ready, all it did was make you nervous and even more late.

You also didn’t follow a schedule for your day. Every day, on your way home, you made a little detour, never failing in finding a new place to go or a different restaurant to try.

At the end of the day, you and Seungcheol lived separate lives, barely talking to each other, or even acknowledging each other. Most of it was just niceties because both of you felt the need to do so. It would have felt even more awkward to walk past each other in the hallway and don’t even say good morning. Anyone who looked at the two of you would think that you were just roommates, not actually married. Hell, not even friends.

If anything, the house arrangement contract you wrote made things even worse — if that was even possible.

After signing it, with a look of complete disbelief on his face, Seungcheol went to his room. His words “my own wife is telling me that she wants to date other men while saying that I should date other women” still rang in your head. You didn’t mean for it to sound like that, you didn’t want to push him to do anything at all. Your only thought was that since the marriage was fake, there was no love between you, there was no reason for you to be stuck to each other and live completely without happiness.

There wasn’t anything either of you could do in that regard, there was no way of canceling or ending the marriage, so all you wanted to do was give him a way to find something that could bring him a little bit of joy. If said joy came in the shape of another woman, then so be it.

After that, you never talked again. And he barely showed any emotion at all around you, no reaction. He didn’t complain or seemed fazed when you almost let the dirty water you used to clean your brushes fall on his desk and ruin, well, everything. He still followed the rules you created, almost religiously. Whenever he cooked, he made enough for you, if he was the one doing laundry he was careful not to damage any of your clothes.

Living like that felt oddly lonely.

You were used to being by yourself, having your own space. The last time you shared an apartment with someone, or more specifically, a room, was when you were still in college with Yeda. But the thought of living with someone else but never actually seeing them…

You thought that once you were married you would have someone to share your life with, even if that someone turned out to be Seungcheol. Naively, you figured that all of those years of your childhood spent together — even if those were also forced on both of you —, would play a part in making sure that cohabitation was a possibility.

We could still try to be friends, was what you told yourself.

Because your husband wasn't all that bad, to begin with. You might not see eye to eye on many things but you knew that he was a good person. You had hoped that, maybe, living in the same place, seeing each other every day, would change something about your relationship with him. And in a way, it did. It just wasn't what you expected. Instead of growing closer, you couldn’t be further apart.

You glanced at your phone again, the bright numbers seemed to be mocking you.

It was past 3 am and there was still no sign of Seungcheol. When 9 pm rolled around you assumed he had stayed at the office a little bit longer, finishing up whatever it was. Then 9 became midnight and staying in bed wasn’t something you could stand anymore so you moved to the living room, a book and a blanket in hand. But reading too was hard, the words were all floating around in your mind and none of it actually made any sense. Your mind was too focused on the fact that Seungcheol wasn't home yet to focus on the story.

Another hour went by and there was still no sign of him. The world outside the apartment was quiet and no car could be heard on the street.

The truth was that you were worried about him. There were little bells inside your mind telling you that something must have happened to him because that just wasn’t Seungcheol. It wasn’t him when he was young and it also wasn’t him as an adult. He wasn’t the kind of person who would disappear without telling anyone, so you were sure that there was someone who knew where he was.

The most obvious choice would be to call him and it would have been a great plan if you had his number at all.

The realization that you knew nothing at all about your husband made a sickening feeling slowly spread through your body.

It was so stupid to not have his number and it made absolutely no sense because he was your husband. Even if you were a fake wife, shouldn’t you at least be able to communicate with him if needed? Sometimes people have emergencies that couldn’t wait for their significant other to get home — or in your case never get home at all.

Option number two was to go through the things in his office. He should have at least a business card or something, anything at all, with a phone number. You thought about calling your parents or even his parents. How would you explain that even though you kept telling them that everything was fine, that things were finally falling into place, you didn’t have your husband's number? And never mind knowing someone who worked with him. Seokmin, what that his name? Seokmin probably knew where Seungcheol was but then again, there was no way to reach him either.

You stood up to cross the room, your blanket and book both forgotten on the couch when you heard the sound of keys being put in the lock and a second later the door was pushed open.

Seungcheol stood precariously on his legs, an arm over Seokmin’s shoulders, while the younger one tried his best to stop his friend from falling face-first on the floor.

“Cheol” you breathed in relief and rushed towards him, your hands reached for his cheeks, forcing him to look at you “Cheol…”

He opened his eyes for a second and a drunken smile, or at least an attempt at a smile.

“Ah, wife! Precisely who I wanted to see” his words were slurred, almost in sync with his body as it swayed from side to side.

Seungcheol stepped away from Seokmin and dropped all of his weight onto you. Your arms immediately circled his waist as you bent your knees a little, trying to hold him up.

"Sorry," Seokmin said as he tried to pull Seungcheol from you "I've never seen him get this drunk before, I didn't think it possible"

Neither did you, but then again there was a lot about Seungcheol that you didn't know.

"It's fine" you moved your feet back until you felt the couch behind your knees and with Seokmin's help you were able to get Seungcheol to sit "Thank you for bringing him home"

Seokmin smiled at you, tightly. He wanted to say more but he knew that if he did he would be butting in your relationship with Seungcheol and his friend would probably give him hell for it. Drunk Seungcheol was a problem — in the form of a cute lovesick oversized puppy, as he has recently discovered —, but sober Seungcheol would bite his head off without as much as a warning.

"I should have brought him home earlier, before he drank himself stupid"

You shook your head and pushed the hair out of Seungcheol’s forehead. You couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at him, not really. Before he got home you felt this pain in your stomach, telling you that there was something incredibly wrong, that he was in some kind of trouble. But the only real trouble was the fact he had, as Seokmin said, drank himself stupid.

"Honestly, it's okay. I'm just glad he's home safe. Again, thank you for that"

"I wish I could say it was no trouble" he laughed lightly "Do you need help with anything?"

You shook your head.

"I got it from here"

Seokmin opened the door and let himself out. He stopped for a second as if remembering something and reached for the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a business card. He didn't say anything as put it by your keyes.

You realized then that he knew. Seokmin knew about your relationship with Seungcheol, or lack of it. He just smiled and closed the door. You stayed frozen in place, looking at the door, as if somehow it would grant you answers.

Though you had told Yeda the true nature of your marriage, you never expected Seungcheol to do the same and to Seokmin, of all people. Not that you really knew him but just based on his interaction with Seungcheol on your wedding day, Seokmin was the last person you would expect to know the truth.

"y/n," Seungcheol said and you turned to him, "I think I want to throw up"

His warning was almost too late, there was no time to get him to the bathroom or for you to get him a bucket, but just enough for him to grab on the flower vase in front of the couch. You turned away from him, knowing that the smell of vomit wouldn't bother you, but seeing him throw up actually would.

"I'm really sorry"

It had been so long since you last heard him talk like that, almost childlike. The Seungcheol you knew liked to pose as this big, bad guy, but in reality, he was more of a softy that got things done. He could pout for days if he wanted.

Not only did he sound childlike, but he also looked like a child that messed up. His eyes were almost helpless as he looked at the floor, then his shoes, and finally his suit jacket.

"Don't worry about it" You reached a hand for him. His eyes focused on your hand, almost mesmerized, before his long fingers wrapped around yours "Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed"

You helped him off his jacket and held both of his hands as he allowed you to pull him up from the couch. He pushed his shoes off once you reached the hall leading up to his room. This time, instead of putting all of his weight on you, Seungcheol used the wall to steady himself, still his arm was around your shoulder and he leaned a little towards you.

You wanted to ask him what happened, what made him want to drink so much. More than anything you wanted to know why he didn't warn you in advance.

Over the four months that you lived together, though there was no real interaction between the two of you, Seungcheol always found ways to talk to you. At first, there was a yellow post-it stuck to your door. They were simple notes. I made breakfast, or dinner with your parents tonight, I'll pick you up at 7. And sometimes they were more caring, those, you came to realize, were always blue. Do you still hate spinach? just in case, i didn't add any or let me know if there's anything you want to eat and even i canceled dinner tonight with my mom, you looked tired last night, you should rest this weekend.

He always made sure to tell you if he was going to be late, always. So not knowing where he was… you hated it.

Seungcheol didn't complain when you pushed him down on the mattress and undid his tie, later moving on to his shirt and then using it to clean his mouth

You didn't realize but Seungcheol's eyes were on you the entire time. Despite the alcohol, his mind was hyper-aware of your finger touching his skin, on the way you kept biting your lips as if doing your best to hold back from cussing him out.

"Can you shower on your own?" Seuncheol made a noise that you could only translate as a no "Do you want to brush your teeth?"

You probably already knew the answer to that too but still had to ask. His eyes were almost closed and he stayed sitting by some sort of miracle.

"I don't think I should stand up again" You nodded at him and turned around, you could at least get him to use some mouthwash before he fell asleep and maybe get him to drink a glass of water, but he held your hand and lightly pulled you back — not in a forcible way, just to get your attention "I don't like it when you make that face"

His voice was so quiet, barely above a whisper.

"It's the same face you did on our wedding day, when you walked down the aisle. You looked so pretty but sad, and angry too. Why were you so angry?"

You looked at his eyes for a second before looking away. They were all too demanding, wanting more than you were willing to give him. Your wedding day, believe it or not, wasn't a day you thought about too often and when you did think about it felt like years had gone by. The night you decided to suggest the contract was the one you thought of more often, with much more sadness.

"I wasn't angry"

Your voice was quiet as pulled the duvet for him to get under. In silence, Seungcheol removed his pants and laid down. He let go of your hand for only a second before holding it again.

"I was scared and worried, like today. You were gone for a really long time and I didn't know where you were. I couldn't even call you"

Having those thoughts around your mind was so different from actually saying them out loud, saying them to Seungcheol. If the night taught you one thing was that you didn't know anything at all about your husband. Everything you thought you knew was wrong. But if you could make a guess, judging by the way his eyes seemed to be a little more focused and his words a little less slurred, it was probably okay to say that he was sobering up. Maybe throwing up was all he needed.

"Our marriage is just so weird. My wife told me to sleep with other people" he laughed and pulled his hand away, closing his eyes "It's almost like we're friends with benefits but without the friendship part nor the benefits. We're just a piece of paper. If you think about it, we're nothing really"

Tomorrow, you suddenly promised yourself, tomorrow will be different and we will start this all over again.

The second he said yes to drinking with Seokmin, Seungcheol knew that he would regret it. The first time he went to a bar with the younger one, Seuncheol told him all about his fake marriage. So, of course, the second time couldn't be much different. He regretted it for more reasons than he cared to admit.

The entire night he behaved like a pubescent thirteen year old complaining about the fact that his crush didn't like him back. He was stupid enough to tell Seokmin all about the contract you came up with, to which his friend laughed hysterically. Because you must be the shitties husband in the history of the world if your wife has already given up on you like this.

And if that was what you thought of him, if you saw him as the worst husband in the history of the world, could he blame you? On your wedding way, that is known to be a day that everyone remembers, he was a complete idiot to you. No excuse he could ever come up with would be good enough. Because, truth be told, his behavior then had been inexcusable. In your shoes, he would have probably done much worse. You had shown him mercy.

And kept showing him mercy, even after months of him being silent and barely being in the apartment. He used work as an excuse often to get him out of situations in his daily life. He never thought that he would use it as a way to stay clear of you.

Because Seungcheol did work a lot but he also knew how to take time off. His job was important and his clients too were important, but he learned that he should have time to himself. and now that he was married, he needed to have time for you too. Even if it was just to stay home with you. He should have done that but instead, he found ways to be at the office until later than he usually did, took clients that he normally wouldn’t, and did the most stupid thing of all: went to a bar with Seokmin.

And the worse part of it all was that he remembered every single thing that he did the night before. He wished he was one of those people who get drunk and just forget about all the embarrassing things they did. But he wasn’t.

Seungcheol remembered being carried home by Seokmin, who again was having too much fun laughing at him, he remembers throwing up, the way you held on to him. But more than anything he remembers the way you said his name, Cheol, ever so quietly, when he walked in, the way your eyes searched his face as if looking for anything that could be wrong with him — other than being drunk.

He hated that he talked about being friends with you while he was drunk. Hated that you didn’t get to hear him while he was sober because he had prepared a whole speech for you, almost as if he was going to court and needed to plead his case.

He had plans to talk to you and maybe that was why he went out with Seokmin, to get his friend to push in the direction he wanted to go. Because truth be told, Seungcheol was scared.

For over ten years of his life, he knew that he would marry you. So had time to think about it, and ponder on every possibility that could happen. Because he had been in love with you for longer than that, but not once he was allowed to act on his feelings. At first, it was because of your brother, then because of himself, and then finally when you closed a door on his face — metaphorically speaking.

And when he finally had a chance to do so, he fucked up. There was no other way to say it. The two of you were already married, so what was the worst thing that could happen? For you to reject him? That was already happening.

He hated that he lost the chance to charm you from the get-go. And then again for months. He couldn’t miss the chance yet again.

Seungcheol pushed himself up on his elbows, tentatively opening his eyes. He expected the room to be filled with light but he was surprised to see that the only source of it came from the half opened door. He never closed his blinds before going to bed, he never felt the need to as he usually got up as soon as the sun was up, and he certainly hadn’t closed them the night before going to bed.

However, no amount of darkness could make him look past you, sleeping in a weird position in the armchair in front of his bed.

Seungcheol, who was usually a light sleeper, had no idea that you came into his room a couple of times during the night until you finally convinced yourself that it was okay for you to sleep in there because you were too afraid that we would throw up during the night; he had no idea that you got up in the middle of the night to pull the duvet over his body.

He knew nothing about those things, yet he felt overwhelmed at the sight of you.

For a second he wanted nothing more than to stay sitting there and just watch you. As creepy as it might be, it was the first time he felt like the two of you were more than just two people who shared the same apartment.

He could only hope that the night before had changed something for you too, because now there was no way he would just let things go back to how they were.

You were worried about Seuncheol. Had been the entire day. You woke up to the sound of the shower running and the sight of his empty bed in front of you. You left as soon as you woke up, deciding that he was probably way too hungover to want to talk to you then.

So instead of staying at home, wondering when it would be a good time talk to talk to him, you went out. There was nothing for you to do, no place to go and Yeda already had plans with her boyfriend so she couldn’t meet you.

You indulged yourself, going to the mall and getting a few new brushes and paint — not that you needed anything, but a mind filled with weird thoughts and a credit card with more limit than necessary could be the ruin of someone. But going there was somewhat of a bad idea, considering how many couples there were around.

All of them looked in love, happy to be around each other. You couldn’t help but wonder if it could be the same for you and Seungcheol. If you had talked to him in the months leading up to the wedding, would things be different now? If he hadn’t been a complete idiot on your wedding day, would things be different?

There were many answers to those questions, but none of them would matter. There was no way to go back to the past, to redo things. So all you had was the present, as it was, and a chance to change everything.

On your wedding day, your dad told you that he didn’t love your mother when they got married. He said that the love he felt for her was built over the years they stayed together. And you wanted to try that.

Because you never really believe in love at first sight, the idea of it was just too irrational for you. You believed that curiosity, attraction, lust, and enchantment could all be feelings that are awoken in someone at first sight. But love? That was a complicated feeling, that no three seconds look ever give you.

Because you wanted a love that was constantly warm. Too hot or too cold would burn you all the same. You didn’t want a relationship that was all over the place, with too many ups and downs.

And maybe, Seungcheol could that someone for you.

You had been standing in front of Seungcheol’s room for the past five minutes, building up the courage no knock on his door, had already raised your hand twice but was yet to finally do it. Seungcheol’s drunker words mirrored your thoughts, so you had to talk to him.

You took a deep breath before you forced your fingers to tap lightly against his door. You didn’t wait for his answer and stuck your head inside.

He was sitting on his bed, a book open over his chest while he scrolled through his phone. That was a scene you had seen many times while you were a teenager. It was easy to remember an 18-year-old Seungcheol lying on the couch, in that exact position.

“Seungcheol?” he looked at you surprised, he hadn’t heard you knock on his door “Come out, let’s have dinner”.

Without a word, Seungcheol followed you to the kitchen. His surprised eyes were focused on the food on the table. He clearly remembered you telling him that you didn’t cook, your mom said the same thing too.

“You cooked?” he sounded a little nervous, as if unsure that he should be asking.

He looked cute, you decided then. There was this childish look in his eyes, half in wonder, half in expectancy.

Seungcheol was waiting for something to go wrong again. The last time you had gotten him dinner was the night everything went to shit. What if this time you told him that you wanted a divorce because of the shit he pulled the night before? He was honestly ready to beg you not to do that.

“No, I got it on the way home” you waved a hand and he laughed and you felt your cheeks get warm “Are you feeling better? I left before we could talk”

He smiled and nodded at you, looking at the food in front of him. There was nothing special about it, it was something that he could have cooked, but still, his heart did a little flip inside his chest.

“I’m sorry about last night. I swear I don’t drink like that all the time. Or at all” his own cheeks got hot “I’m sorry you had to clean up after me”

“It’s fine, really. Yeda was my roommate in college and I wish she would throw up in a vase. I think I cleaned that dorm more than anyone else that used it before or after us”

Yeda was a good friend, but she took the idea of being the life of the party a little too far sometimes. That alone was the reason you found yourself going back to your parents' house almost every weekend. You had convinced yourself that the two-hour drive was worth it, if it meant that you didn’t have to clean vomit again.

The two of you eat in silence as you tried to find a good way to start a conversation with him. Why was it so hard? You had no trouble talking with him when you were teenagers. Sure, there was a lot of bickering but that was still better than nothing at all.

“Is everything okay with you? You’re not eating” he said quietly. the food in front of him was almost gone while yours had barely been touched “You don’t like the food?”

You shook your head and set down your fork.

“I’m a little nervous, so it’s hard to eat” he didn’t need to ask to know what you were nervous about “Can we talk, please?”

In silence, the two of you put the dishes away and the food leftovers on the fridge. There was no way either of you would keep eating so it was better not to waste any time.

Seungcheol’s mind was running a thousand miles an hour. He was certain, 100%, that would you ask for a divorce. He knew that you couldn’t do it. The rational part of his brain told him that it wasn’t an option at all. But the irrational side? It didn’t care. All the worse possible scenarios were playing in his mind.

The first one, as he expected, would be for you to ask for a divorce; the second one would be you telling him that there was someone in your life, someone you were in love with.

That thought alone was enough to make his heart ache. You being in love with someone else was too much for him.

“Oh my god! Will you stop looking at me like that? I'm not going to bite your head off! I want to talk with my husband. Millions of people do that every day. I'm sure millions of people are probably doing that right now”

He smiled then. That was exactly how remembered you, that was the you he wanted to see the most on your wedding day, when he talked shit and you talked right back at him. Because there was no way that he would get to have the last word in a conversation like that.

And it was also the first time you addressed him as your husband, at least in front of him. The first time you said it out loud.

But in that moment you confused his feelings for fear when all that he felt was some sort of joy. How borderline pathetic was it that he felt happy over the simple fact that his wife acknowledged his existence?

“The things you said last night… I agree with them. Our marriage won't last very long, we won't last very long, if we continue this way. We will be broken beyond repair if we don't do something right now. So we have to change, we have to, at the very least, be friends but we will never get there if we keep going this way”

That wasn't exactly what you wanted to say but you hoped that Seungcheol would understand, wished that he would read into your sloppy and messy words. He was a lawyer, after all, it was what he did for a living. Right?

“Let's go out once a week then, sort of like a date? But not really” you shook your hand and covered your face, you felt like a teenager asking the guy you had a crush on a date “Just so we can get used to each other again, be friends and all that”

Seungcheol pressed his lips, trying his best to suppress the smiles that threatened to take over his entire face. With a short nod and shake of hands, you and Seungcheol settled down on another agreement.

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genshindsau · 2 months

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Summary: Scaramouche struggles to accommodate to his place in the harem. It isn't easier when some of the other members of the harem constantly try to talk to him or make him spend time with you. He tells himself he doesn't want to, that he is fine blending into the background and being easily forgotten (is he truly?). Concubine!Scaramouche. Empress!reader

CW: Reverse Harem, cursing, sexual implications, nsfw mentioned but not actually described, mentions of Scaramouche's past (as well as other characters), Scaramouche is rather rude in this and can be degrading to the other members, sexualization, literally just Scaramouche struggling with his feelings, non-sexual nudity.

AN: This wasn't exactly what I originally planned, I ended up including a lot about other characters rather than focusing just on Scaramouche and the readers... oh well. There are also a bit of time skips. Dialogue may be choppy as well, especially towards the end. If its to hard to follow please feel free to let me know.

"I'm just saying, when she does the thing with her fingers…" Childe, as he likes to be called, curled two of his fingers in front of Scaramouche's face. He was wearing a cheeky smile, his eyes glittering as he stared at Scaramouche.

Scaramouche clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together as his eyes narrowed at Childe.

Go away. Please. Go away. He kept repeating these words in his head.

"Oh," Childe leaned forward, his chin resting on his palm. "I suppose you wouldn't know."

His words held no malicious intent. There wasn't any pity either. Scaramouche knew that but he still wanted to scream. He also wanted to punch Childe right in his bright, smiling face. He was getting too much enjoyment out of bothering and annoying Scaramouche.

"There is nothing wrong with not defiling myself."

Childe snorted. "Is it really defiling? I mean," Childe shrugged his shoulders. "She is our wife."

"No, she isn't. Neither of us are legally married to her."

"Exactly," Childe snapped his fingers. "We're concubines; Her concubines. We get all the fun."

Fun? What part about being a concubine is fun? Childe is a mindless puppy who will go wherever you ask, do whatever you ask. Even kill whoever you want. He has had the unfortunate experience of seeing Childe covered in blood and a body at his feet. When you appeared, he expected the worse. Expected Childe to be whipped or scarred. Instead, you ruffled his blood-coated hair and said you deal with the clean up.

Why is he even listening to him?

"Look if you really don't want to spread your legs for her," Scaramouche cringed at Childe's words. He had a feeling Childe was making his words as crude as possible to get a reaction from Scaramouche.

He was succeeding.

"Then that’s fine. But you do a really shitty job at hiding the way your eyes linger on her."

"I - I do not!" Scaramouche balked at him, his cheeks heating up.

"Really?" Childe deadpanned.

"I would not consider it! She already has more than enough people who would let her use them. I will not be one of them."

Scaramouche felt like he needed to defend himself. Needed to make himself stand above the others and not be one of the men who succumbs to his position as a glorified body to use. He lasted this long - lasted through multiple masters without ever having to give them his body. He can't allow that to change.

You've never even touched him, his mind whispered to him. Aside from the time you disintegrated his previous collar, you've never laid a hand on him.

Childe quieted for a moment. It unnerved Scaramouche as Childe stared at him. He felt like he was looking into his soul and he almost wanted Childe to keep teasing him. He'd prefer that to how he was now looking at him.

"She's not like that." Childe voiced out. His voice almost stern.

"If you're really not interested, then whatever. That's fine. But don't assume things about her when you haven't even try to understand her. She may be cruel to her enemies but they deserve it. She would never force anyone - never force her concubines or consorts to do anything they didn't want. Whether that is in her bed or in their personal life."

Scaramouche's eyes wavered at the shift in Childe's tone. Childe sounded dangerous right now.

"Why," Scaramouche's voice cracked. "Why would I even want to know her - or understand her?"

"Our lives are dedicated to her. They belong to her, wouldn't you - "

Scaramouche cut him off " - And you're okay with that? Belonging to someone like her. Someone who is part of the Imperial Family?"

Childe cannot be that daft. Everyone knows about the Imperial Family. Knows that no one should trust them. Knows that they are cruel, tyrannical, and would do anything to be the empress. He doubts that you are any different. No, he knows that you are no different.

"Sure." Childe leaned back against his chair, his tone softening now. "She gives me whatever I want. Lets me have some control over my life. Lets me fight. But she also protects those who belong to her. She's stern and callous and can be this terrifying larger than life figure but that does not mean she is going to go down the same path as her family."

"… you can't be so sure of that."

"Just like you can't be so sure that she will turn out like her family. I believe in what I see. Maybe she puts on a certain façade in front of us but so what if she does? She still treats us better than anyone else would."

Scaramouche cant find it in himself to refute anything Childe says. He pointedly ignores the underlying truth in Childe's words. It doesn't matter if you've never laid a finger on him or even so much as spend time alone with him. You're royalty. You're part of the imperial family. That automatically makes you a terrible person in scaramouche's eyes.

Scaramouche was dragged out of his thoughts by the scraping of a chair against the floor as Childe stood up. He stretched his arm above his head before resting a palm on Scaramouche's shoulder, ignoring the flinch that came from Scaramouche.

"If you want to ask anything? Or If you want to try something? Anything? I'm sure she will listen if you ask. You just got to be brave enough to do it." Childe winked at him as walked out of the room, humming happily.

Scaramouche ignored the subtle blow to his character from Childe. He was fine the way he was now. He was fine staying in his room and being an easily forgettable presence (no, he wasn't). He was fine not getting close to you or the others in the harem. Keeping to himself is how he has survived everything he has been through, so he will do what he has always done.

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Scaramouche kept his eye trained on the plate, ignoring the simmering of anger and something else in his gut that he can't name. It was dinner. He dreaded dinner because he was forced to sit with everyone - with you, even though he is about seven seats away. You barely said a word. If it wasn't for the heaviness in the air he might have been able to ignore you and pretend but your presence always left an uncomfortable weight settling around his body - like your engulfing him; all around him no matter how far away he stands.

He wonders if the others feel it. If they do they don't care; or rather revel in the feeling. It just makes him overly conscious.

His hand clenches around the fork in his one hand, turning pale due to the strength as he has to listen to the incessant chattering of the others. It grates on his nerve, rubbing him raw as he has to listen to the happiness that flits from every voice he hears - yet he doesn't hear yours.

He startles as a hand clasps on his shoulders, a good portion of eyes also landing on him. He blinks a few times barely realize someone was calling him. His eyes land on Childe first because of course it does. He then looks to see Venti (fuck), Heizou (double fuck), and finally Itto (well now the world is just being cruel) sitting across from him.

Childe is leaning back in his chair, two of the legs lifting off the ground. "You really have no filter."

It took Scaramouche a moment to realize Childe wasn't talking to him but rather Itto who had an annoying innocent smile on his face. Venti looked somewhere between interested but closed off. His body curls into itself, his shoulders hunching in such a small move that Scaramouche is sure he is the only one who noticed. In the back of his mind, he wonders if these kind of talks drag up old memories for the other concubine - not that he cared enough to learn anything about the others, he just happened to hear about it in passing. Heizou on the other hand has a shit-eating grin on his lips, teeth bared in laughter.

"I - " Itto gawked for a moment. "It's a perfectly normal question."

Scaramouche tried to refocus, to remember what was said but he couldn't.

"Maybe so but asking at dinner, really?"

"Where else am I going to ask? He scurries off like a little mouse whenever he's spots anyone. It's natural to want to know more about each other." Itto is wonderfully dense at times it seems like both a blessing and curse. Scaramouche wants to curse him out but there is no malice in Itto's tone, just genuine curiosity and his words curl uncomfortably in his throat.

"And asking about the time he spent with y/n? That's getting to know him?" Though it may sound like Childe is admonishing Itto, the smile on his lips says the exact opposite. Childe could careless, he was just enjoying the way this would egg on Itto and annoy Scaramouche.

"Besides everyone know he hasn't spent the night with her - or even an evening with her." Heizou was the one who spoke this time.

"That is none of your business!" Scaramouche sputtered out, his ears turning red.

"Seriously?" Itto turned to Scaramouche with wide-eyes. "Why not?" It was an innocent enough question but Scaramouche wouldn't answer - much less at the dinner table where everyone is basically in love with you and not to mention the fact that you are only seven or so seats separated from him.

"It's no use," Childe shrugged. "I've already asked him about it."

"You didn't ask, you interrogated me." Scaramouche gritted back.

Childe just waved a dismissive hand.

"Why complain. As far as I see it, that means more time for us." Heizou spoke up.

"Well yeah," Itto agreed. "But still… you should be able to experience things with her. I mean, you haven't even spent any time with her? At all?" Itto seemed genuinely curious but all Scaramouche could do was grind his teeth as his eyes narrowed at the plate in front of him. He focus on ignoring the embarrassment that caused him to want to curl up in his seat and well just die. He thinks that would be preferable over what he is currently going through.

He's thankful that he is sat at the other end of the table. Maybe, just maybe there is a chance you didn't hear any of the conversations, the teasing aimed towards him. Yet he knows you did - that is if you decided it was important enough to listen to, you would.

Without meaning to his eyes flickered down to your end of the table. Your head was angled and he followed where he thinks your eyeline would be and landed on Aether and Tigh-nari who appear to be laughing together about something. You're face doesn't even twitch, your lips don't curve upwards but they don't frown either. It's completely neutral, just like it was when he first met you - when he still belonged to Ei - but it didn't feel nearly as oppressive.

He didn't understand why. Nothing's changed. Not for him.

"I don't want to." He kept his voice low. "And I do not see how it is any of your business or why you keep bringing it up," He glared specifically at Childe who stared back at him.

Itto gaped at him for a second before he shook his head. "We're not trying to make you uncomfortable or anything. I didn't mean to imply anything lewd. But… you don’t want to be involved in anything - whether it is with the harem or y/n. You're going to spend the rest of your life here, with her, with us - with all of us, even the people who seem to be the hardest to get to know want you to be comfortable and happy here. Closing yourself off, distancing yourself… maybe you had to do it in the past but the people here,” Itto shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “What I am trying to say is that no one here wants to hurt you or see you suffer."

The last thing Scaramouche needed is to be told this by Itto of all people. He wanted to scream. Wanted to rip his hair out. Most of all he wanted to rip out the longing that wracked through him at Itto's word. It felt like he was peering down into Scaramouche's soul and voicing out everything Scaramouche had pushed down. Tucked so deep inside of him that even he forgot.

When he was younger, that was all he wanted to hear. After he was taken the first time, he imagined faceless people who accepted him and loved him but as months passed, then years and then he was sold to Ei, he forced himself to get rid of that pathetic yearning. People just weren't like that. People were selfish and cruel.

Yet, he saw it around the harem building and in the palace countless times. Thoma baking treats for the rest of the harem members just because. Venti who stayed up playing the flute for the others who couldn't sleep. Even Ayato - who Scaramouche deemed the most selfish - would cover the other harem members up in a blanket if they feel asleep anywhere. Aether, who knitted blankets in the winter, not only for the harem members but also for servants and staff.

You… you who never raised your voice at your harem members. You who took in a unconventional men - Itto, Venti - and never made them feel less than because of their background. You who carried them to their beds when they fell asleep. You who…

It doesn't matter. None of it matters.

"You're sheltered. Naïve." Scaramouche forced out between his teeth. "We're not family. We're not brothers. We're all stuck under the whims of a women who could kill us with a thought." His voice increased in tone as he spoke. He wasn't shouting, but he was loud enough to draw attention to himself. "I will never think of myself as lowly as the rest of you do." He squeezed his eyes shut.

He was telling himself to shut up. Screaming at himself inside of his mind but he couldn't stop.

"I won't settle for debasing myself like the rest of you do. Especially for someone who doesn't even love you back."

There was a small cough and Scaramouche froze. It was silent - no one else at the table spoke and he could feel numerous eyes on him. The color drained from his skin as he hastily stood up, throwing the napkin on the table before quickly leaving the table. He didn't even care for protocol or for your dismissal.

As he fled down the halls, tears of anger and embarrassment burned behind his eyes but he didn't let them fall, even as they blurred his vision. The door slammed shut behind him and he collapsed against it, his head thumping against it as he cursed at himself. Cursed at the others for being so kind to him. Cursed at you for not being as horrible towards your harem as he wanted to believe you were.

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No one spoke to him the next day. Not that he made it easy. He hid in his room, ate his breakfast in his room, stared at the window in his room. He only ever saw the two servants assigned specifically for him. They even brought up dinner for him - telling him that you told them to do that. You probably didn't even want to see his face. He lashed out at the others concubines; concubines you cared about much more than you did him.

It still left an uncomfortable burning in his chest. He made himself vulnerable. He showed too much emotion, not just in front of one or two people but everyone in the harem and yourself. He might as well as starting weeping in front of all them as well.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He blinked, lifting his head from the pillow. He wondered who it was. Servants only knock out of politeness once before entering the room, other harem members just barge in at times. For a minutes he felt a tinge of fear thinking that it was you, but you wouldn't knock either - you had no reason to.

Scaramouche moved to open the door so only a sliver of light creeped through. The first thing he saw was the long red hair, pinned back and the red robe - It was Diluc.

"Can I come in?" He asked softly - like he was coaxing a wild animal. Scaramouche nodded and opened the door further to let him in.

Scaramouche bowed his head, his eyes lingering on the embroidered robe Diluc was wearing. His eyes trailed over the golden patchwork. There wasn't a single stand of hair out of place, everything was perfect. He was perfect.

Diluc's eyes glanced around the room but he said nothing. Scaramouche was expecting an admonishment, something about his bed being dirty or the left over plates on the bed but Diluc's eye's just skimmed right over them.

"I wasn't expecting company." It came out harsher than Scaramouche intended. He had never been alone with Diluc before; barely said a few words to him besides the first few days he was introduced into the harem. Diluc was either busy, bustling about the harem building or he was by your side.

"I suppose I should have sent a servant or someone to tell you beforehand. I'm sorry if this seems abrupt, I just wanted to… see how you are doing."

"You mean after my outburst." Scaramouche forced out, his voice tight.

Diluc let out a soft, sympathetic sigh. "Yes, I suppose so. Though, I wasn't thinking about it as an outburst."

Scaramouche didn't care. If Diluc was here - all he could assume was one thing.

"So you're here to deal a punishment?"

"A punishment?" Diluc tilted his head, confusion in his voice.

"I insulted the other concubines. I left before I was dismissed. It's your job isn't it? As the head consort - you deal out the punishments."

"You misunderstand." Diluc shook his head. "Can I sit?" He motioned towards a small couch that was placed in the room. Scaramouche nodded and Diluc sat down, his hands smoothing down his clothes.

"I am not here to give out a punishment. You are not the first to resort to insults or get angry at the others. It is natural that it happens when there are so many of us, and with such different personalities." Even as Diluc spoke, there was a small smile forming on his lips. He almost seems like he is reminiscing as he speaks of the harem members.

Scaramouche takes small steps until he is able to sit across from Diluc, keeping a good amount of distance between the two of them.

"So you decided to what? Come here out of the goodness of your heart." There was distain in his voice as he tried to figure out Diluc's true intentions. "Or are you here to defend the others? Defend y/n? If you are, you can leave. I don't want to hear it."

Diluc just gazed at him, no malice or annoyance in his eyes.

"I am not here to defend anyone. I am here because I wanted to check up on you. I know we haven't had a lot of chances to talk or even get to know each other - that's no ones fault - but, I would still like for you to be comfortable in the harem. Find some sort of enjoyment in the life you are now living."

Scaramouche stared at Diluc, scrutinizing him.

"Why are you all saying that?" He shook his head. "You, Itto, even Childe for fucks sake. All of you go around, stating that I should be happy and appreciate the life I am given." Scaramouche raised from his seat as he spoke. "But all of you - you guys have no idea about how awful this world truly is. How awful it can be. How things can change in a split second. How can you come in here and - and lecture me about life when you and all of the others are sheltered behind the whims of a cruel woman."

There was silence. Scaramouche words continued to float through both of their minds. If he wasn't getting punished, he definitely would now.

"You don't think we're not aware?" Diluc question is so simple and it sends a shiver down Scaramouche's body. There's no heat to his tone and Diluc doesn't appear to be angry. But the way he says it, the small almost pained smile that graces his face, it leaves Scaramouche stumbling over his words.

"I - I didn't mean - I mean…"

"It's okay." Diluc lifted a hand as if to placate him. Diluc's eyes shifted away, as if in thought, before looking back at Scaramouche. "I grew up in a family with three sisters. They were…. terrible. Terrible people. Terrible wives. I would see my brother in laws hiding bruising, hiding their pain. I would hear the comments my sisters directed towards their own husband - comments so degrading and humiliating that even as a young boy, I wanted to curl up and cry just from hearing their words. They would even let others say whatever they wanted. They never defended them. Never did nothing. In fact, sometimes my sisters would egg others on to say even worse."

Diluc remained poised as he talked but there was a shakiness in his tone that betrayed his feelings. Scaramouche's heart clenched in his chest - though, he is not sure why.

"For the first 18 years of my life I grew up around them. Grew up in a family that basically trained me to be a perfect husband, seeing me more as an investment to getting rich than an actual person." A sigh slipped past Diluc's lips. "What I am trying to say is: I know we have different experiences. Everyone in this harem has different experiences when it comes to our time before we entered the harem but try not to let it define how you are going to live the rest of your life. I can't tell you to trust me, or trust the others, or even trust Y/n, that’s a choice you have to decide whether you want to make or not."

Diluc stood up, his movements effortlessly beautiful. He stepped closer to Scaramouche but didn't touch him. "If you do decide to try, you can start with something small. I promise you that, as long it doesn't pose a threat to you or anyone in this palace, it will be fulfilled."

With a small bow of his head, Diluc moved passed him and towards the door. "I hope to see you at dinner tomorrow."

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

Start small. Start small. Scaramouche repeated those words inside of his head before letting out an annoyed, disgruntled sound.

His hands gripped at the strands of his hair, longer than he has ever been allowed to grow it out, as he paced around the room. The only light shining through is the moon and the stars - they are the only one's baring witness to his meltdown.

He doesn't want to. Actually, he does. He just doesn't want to admit it. Admitting it would mean allowing everything he pushed down into the small crevices inside of him would come spilling out. One at a time, slowly, over time until he can't stop it and he is overflowing with all the pain and loneliness that he thought he had moved on from.

He wants friends. He wants to be loved. He wants to be cared for. He wants to do things; explore, paint, learn to ride a horse. He wants it so bad that it makes him sick. He wants to be involved. He wants to believe that he is worth more than the shiny collar that used to be fastened around his neck - signifying that he is nothing more than a prize without a voice, without a say.

Not is, he tells himself. Was. He was nothing more than a prize. But, he doesn't have to be. Not if he decides to at least try what everyone else has been telling him.

But what if it goes wrong?

He can handle being dismissed and looked down on right now. He just stuffs the anger and despair down alongside everything else. But if he opens himself up; allows himself to possibly believe that maybe he can fit in and be accepted for himself, and it all turns to nothing… he isn't sure if he will be able to pick himself up again.

It is either do this one thing or don't do it. It's simple. The choice is simple. Pick one, ignore the other, that is all he has to do. It doesn't even have to be a lot of words, just go up, say what he needed to say then leave. If worse comes to worse, he could say the others encouraged him - that Diluc encouraged him. That would at least get you to think before you decided to lash out and punish him for interrupting you with nonsense.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," Scaramouche groaned as if he was in a lot of pain, a string of profanities leaving him, something he would never do in the presence of others.

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He stared at the bronze door in front of him, his eyes narrowed. He pointedly ignored the guards who stood at each end of the halls. He also ignored the looks sent his way when he entered the hall that led to your room. He wonders what is going through their mind when they look at him.

That he is desperate. Pitiful.

Maybe that he finally degraded himself enough to be used.

He raised a hand, his hands forming a fist as he prepared to knock on the door. He stilled right before he brought his fist down. What is he doing? What if you're not even in there? What if you just send him away without allowing him to say anything?

Nope. He's not going to allow that. He is not going to allow you to not listen to him when he had worked up the courage to come all the way up to your room - a place he spend his entire time in the harem ignoring.

Instead of rapping his knuckles against the door, his hand grabbed the two handles and pushed the door open.

It wasn't what he was expecting.

Well, he wasn't sure what he was expecting but not this.

You're room looked every part like it belonged to royalty but there was something else that left it looking almost cozy. In between all the furnished gold, there was tea placed on the table (two cups) and a half-eaten cake. There was a pale-blue silk robe thrown over the couch which he knew belonged to Ayato. There was cushions thrown on the floor along with a blanket. Leaning on the floor against one of the walls he saw numerous painting - some finished, some not - but none of them look like the ones seen hanging up in the halls of the palace.

He couldn't continue to look around the room before one of your personal servant's drew his attention. The servant startled at Scaramouche's unplanned and borderline inappropriate entrance into the room - a resort building on their lips but they quickly clamp their mouth shut as a voice - your voice - echoes from another room.

"Its fine. Leave us."

For a moment he thought you were talking to him but just as quickly the servant bowed to him, though their face screwed up. Their lips pursed like they were looking at some annoying pest. Since you were still in the adjacent room, Scaramouche felt brave enough to send a glare at the servant.

Concubine beats servant - even servants who work directly under you.

He can't lie, it felt nice to do that.

He was left alone in the room now. His feet were frozen to the floor as his eyes lingered on the open doorway, fluorescent light spilling out and into your bedroom. You were in there. You knew he had entered your room and you haven't told him to get out. Not yet at least.

"Are you just going to stand there? Or did you barge into my room without a reason? Unless you finally decided to give up the whole 'Don't talk to me. Don't touch me.' facade. I thought you'd hold out longer."

He flushed as you spoke. Both from anger and embarrassment at being called out. His feet carried him towards the entrance of the doorway, a resort building on his lips.

"I have in no way come here to spend time with you or be... touched."

"But you do want to talk." It wasn't a question. You seemed to already know why he had stormed into your room and now...

His eyes widened.

He had walked right into your bathroom and there you were. You were in a huge tub, naked but the water and suds covered you from the neck down. You still had your eye's covered as well.

His brain failed him. He couldn't form any words and a redness blossomed on the tip of his ears.

"You're leering."

"I am - I am not." He sputtered.

"Wanna join me?"

"Absolutely not."

You shrugged. "Then you're going to just stand there?"

"I - no I am not. I just came to -"

"To what?"

Scaramouche pursed his lips. His eyes flicker around the room, looking everywhere but at you.

"Diluc," he figured this would be the safest way to start. "Diluc said I should come and talk to you. The others did as well."

He trailed off awkwardly, expecting you to say something to him but you didn't. Instead you just leaned back against the tub.

"I wasn't going to."

You just hum.

"I thought it was a ridiculous idea but I just want to make things clear. I - I am not here to be one of your bodies to use. Or for you to assume that I am going to do whatever you ask me just because you're... you. I've spent enough of my life being surrounded by women who try to dictate everything about my life from what I eat to what I wear.

"I have no desire to understand you or get close to you. But I will apologize for the way I acted towards the others - your concubines and consorts, I mean. They - they are not you and just because I don't like you doesn't mean I should have been so... callous with the others and lashed out during dinner."

He let out a shuddering breath, a weight lifting from his chest as he said everything he wanted to say. He didn't realize just how nervous he actually was before coming into your room. His body feels limp.

You, however, didn't say anything for a short while.

In the back of his mind, he bet you enjoyed seeing him shift uncomfortably, a small sheen of sweat forming on his skin.

"Very well then."

He blinked at you.

"So that's it then." He stared at you, his eyebrows furrowing.

"That's it. Why? Where you expecting something else."

"Well no. I just - you're not angry. I mean at me insulting you earlier and then coming in here and basically saying I'll never," He trailed off, not sure why he was trying to explain anything to you - not when you don't seem to care.

You laugh softly. The sound ringing in his ears. "I was angry but not at what you said about me. You think you're words were insulting? They were the truth. Besides I've been called much worse." You shrug. "What I was angry at was your blatant disregard and disrespect for the others. But it appears that you've changed your mind and realize that you shouldn't blame them just because of your hate for me so no reason to linger in the past."

"You almost sound like you actually care about them." This slipped out before he even realized what he said. Perhaps after what he said earlier, after confronting you, he finds it harder to hold his tongue.

Your lips tighten but other than that you don't say anything. You don't agree or disagree with his statement.

"So you don't love them? Even though all of them seem like they are deeply in love with you."

You don't answer and Scaramouche thinks he screwed up.

"Does love have to be the only reason I take care of those under me? Can't there be any other reason?"

"Selfishness? Control? Pride?" Scaramouche spoke without thinking.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Scaramouche swears he see's your lips twitch. "I may not love them but they're mine. I protect what's mine."

So, he was right about some things.

"So it is pride and ego."

"…"

You shift in the tub, your head falling back against the marble. His eyes flicker down to your throat, watching as a bead of water travels down your skin before snapping his eyes back to your face.

"Most of them are innocent to the truth of the world." You broke the silence after a minute.

"They know men are deemed lesser in this society but they haven't experiences the harshness that the world can offer. Not like you have or Venti or Diluc."

He doesn't see how this answers his previous questions.

"Do I love them? No. I don't believe I am capable of loving anything. But, I care about them. About what they can do - both for me and for themselves. I don't want them to whither away in a society that takes everything from them and become a shell of who they are and what they want to be in the future."

Your fingers drum against the marble of the tub, a small sound echoing in the bathroom.

"You see me as a horrible, cruel person and in some ways, I would say its true. I don't care about the lives of people outside of this palace - not even the people I am meant to. I don't feel anything when I take the lives of others - whether they are enemies or just people fighting because they have to. Sometimes, I even enjoy it. That alone would have everyone labeling me as cruel and even sadistic and I would agree. However, I protect them, ensure they have a good life because I need to. I need their support. But… the people in this palace - they are my people. I want to keep them happy, keep them sheltered, keep them protected; and I'll do whatever that takes in order to guarantee that."

Your head lifts from where it was resting against the tub. He can't see your eyes, the cloth still covering them, but he can feel your gaze penetrating him. The sudden pressure around him is becoming a constant whenever you decide to gaze at him.

"Now, that includes you too. You were a war prize originally, that much is true. You were a means to insult Ei but now you are one of my people. You may just be a concubine but I don't want you clinging to your old life and your old ways of thinking that you need to isolate yourself to survive."

He hated the way you see through him. This is the most you've talked to him - ever; and yet you read him without a problem. It leaves him feeling naked and bared in front of you, even with all of his clothes still on.

"Think what you want about me. I don't care. But the others, they are good and pure and kind. At least open yourself up to them. Each of them will take you in with open arms and love and care about you in ways you may have forgotten."

Scaramouche wasn't sure how to reply to all that. You weren't being vulnerable or even truly opening up to him but there was something in your words that left him shifting on his feet.

"And if I don't want to?" His voice came out shakier than he wanted. His eyes glued to his feet rather than looking at you.

"Then don't. Spend the rest of your time in the harem alone and miserable." You waved a hand like it meant nothing to you.

"I can make sure your fed and healthy but other than that everything else is you're choice."

#genshin au #consort au #empress au #genshin impact #genshin x reader #c:empress #genshin impact x reader #c:scaramouche #scaramouche x reader

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