#I know I’m early but happy birthday angel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

diamonddaze01 · 5 days ago

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love you the mostest

pairing: ljh x reader genre: fluffy fluffy fluffy | wc: 2.2k warnings: none | rating: pg a/n: my love letter to lee jihoon - happy birthday <3 // also big thanks to @chanranghaeys for convincing me to write this all as one big fic i love u muah

summary: happy birthday, jihoon.

The room was still dark, save for the faintest sliver of light peeking through the edges of the curtains, hinting at the dawn breaking outside. The soft hum of the early morning and the rhythmic rise and fall of Jihoon’s breath were the only sounds, a quiet lullaby of intimacy.

You had woken up long before your alarm, the quiet stirrings of the city pulling you from sleep. Jihoon’s schedule was packed today, like it always was, and you wanted to steal this moment—when the world was still asleep and his mind hadn't yet been claimed by the chaos. He was so calm in the mornings, his body relaxed and at peace, the stillness of sleep wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

You shifted slightly under the covers, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, inviting you to stay close. His hand found yours, fingers threading together almost instinctively, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. His exhale tickled your skin as he pulled you in, his face burrowing into the crook of your neck. The familiar weight of him settled against you, grounding you in the moment.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering there for just a beat longer than usual. Pulling back, you brushed a strand of hair away from his face, his eyes barely open, still clouded with sleep. He blinked up at you, his hand tightening around yours as though to ensure you were real, his lips curving into a soft smile.

"Mm... so early," he mumbled, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his breath warm against your skin.

"Sorry, Hoonie," you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. "I couldn’t wait to tell you."

He stirred just a little, his arms pulling you closer, his lips grazing your jawline, a barely audible sound escaping his lips. "Tell me what?"

You grinned at how endearing he looked, his sleepy smile making your heart flutter. "Happy birthday," you whispered, your words soft but full of warmth, just for him, in the quiet stillness of the room.

His eyes fluttered open fully now, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him, and for a moment, it seemed like he didn’t quite understand. Then, a soft, surprised smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his voice, still rough from sleep, was filled with warmth. "It’s too early for that, you know?"

You laughed softly, your fingers threading through his messy hair. "I know. But I wanted to be the first to wish you."

His arms tightened around you, pulling you in closer, his lips brushing against your neck once more as he sighed. "You’re always the first," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "And the best part of my day, too."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel the sincerity in his words, even through the haze of sleep. The morning light, gentle now, cast a soft glow on his face, making him look even more angelic than usual.

"I’m glad," you murmured, your voice full of affection as you tightened your embrace. "You deserve everything, Jihoon. I hope this year brings you all the happiness you deserve."

He sighed contentedly, his eyes slipping shut, the exhaustion of his day lingering in the way he held you close. But then, his lips brushed your cheek, a soft kiss that lingered just long enough to make your heart beat a little faster. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—just gentle, an invitation to stay in this moment with him.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes as his lips hovered near your skin, warm and tender. A moment passed, and his mouth brushed the corner of your lips, so faint it almost felt like a dream. The kiss was lazy and slow, drawn out, as though he was savoring the sensation of being close to you.

His hand found its way to your arm, his fingers tracing up your skin with a light touch, sending a shiver down your spine. He tugged you in closer, his body pressing against yours, and the weight of him was both heavy and comforting. The space between you disappeared, leaving only the soft press of his lips and the gentle rhythm of your breath.

"Too far away," he murmured, his voice low and still thick with sleep, as if waking to the reality of the moment. His lips found yours again, this time with more intention, the kiss deepening as if he couldn’t quite pull away. It was slow, not desperate, but full of the kind of closeness that only two people who had shared so many quiet mornings could understand.

You melted into him, your heart fluttering with the familiarity of it all. His lips moved against yours in a rhythm only the two of you knew, a rhythm that spoke of years of being in sync with each other, of a bond forged in the most ordinary yet profound moments.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, both of you breathing softly, trying to slow the quickening beat of your hearts. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and you brushed your fingers through his hair, your heart full with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"You need to get some rest, Hoonie," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "You’ve got a long day ahead."

He groaned, a playful pout forming on his lips. "Just a little longer..."

You shook your head gently, kissing his forehead, lingering there for a moment before you tucked yourself closer to him. "No, you’ve got schedules today. You need to sleep."

Jihoon’s arms tightened around you for a second, and he sighed, his face nuzzling into your neck once more. "Fine," he muttered, though you could hear the smile in his voice. "But just a few more minutes."

You grinned, letting yourself relax into him, the warmth of his body and the steady sound of his breathing lulling you both back into the quiet comfort of the morning. The world outside could wait just a little longer.

It’s nearly 2 AM when Jihoon comes home, the faint jingle of his keys breaking the stillness of the apartment. The door creaks open, and the soft shuffle of his sneakers against the hardwood announces his presence. He stands in the entryway, shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. His eyes are heavy, his body aching from the endless hours spent in the studio.

But then he notices it—the living room.

The space is bathed in a soft, golden glow from the streetlights filtering through the curtains. Balloons in every color scatter across the floor like a rainbow had exploded inside. In the center of the coffee table, a small cake sits proudly, its frosting delicately swirled and an unlit candle standing tall in the middle. The sight alone eases the tight coil of tension in his chest, but it’s the figure on the couch that truly stops him.

It’s you.

You’re curled up, cheek pressed to a throw pillow, legs tucked underneath you. The faint rise and fall of your chest in sleep makes his heart twist. You look so peaceful, your hair slightly mussed and your face soft with dreams. Jihoon stands there for a moment, drinking you in, before a quiet laugh escapes him. How is it that even now, you manage to make him feel like the luckiest person alive?

“Baby?” he calls softly, his voice low and careful, barely above a whisper.

You stir at the sound, a groan escaping your lips as your eyes flutter open. Blinking blearily, you meet his gaze, your expression drowsy but warm.

“Jihoon?” you murmur, your voice laced with sleep.

He steps closer, the corners of his lips tugging upward. “Yeah, love,” he says, moving to the couch and gently lifting your legs to settle them on his lap. His hands are warm and careful as they touch you, and you sigh at the familiarity. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as if to reassure himself that you’re really here. “What’s all this?”

“Birthday surprise,” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep as you rub your eyes.

Jihoon chuckles, a low sound that rumbles deep in his chest. “It’s 2 AM. My birthday’s over, love.”

That wakes you a little more. You sit up abruptly, your mock-serious expression drawing a playful scoff from him. “I’d celebrate with you any day, any time, forever, love of my life,” you declare dramatically, throwing a hand over your heart.

He rolls his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze betrays him. “Alright then, troublemaker,” he teases, “let’s celebrate.”

Sliding off the couch, Jihoon pulls you with him, settling himself on the floor in front of the coffee table. He tugs at your hands until you’re seated sideways in his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist like they were made to anchor you there.

His gaze flickers to the candle. “Well?” he prompts, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Aren’t you going to light it?”

You reach for the lighter, flicking it until a tiny flame dances atop the wick. The room glows warmly, the light catching on Jihoon’s features—his sharp jawline, the soft curve of his lips, and the faint tiredness that lingers in his eyes. Your breath hitches. He’s always been beautiful, but in this moment, with his gaze fixed only on you, he’s breathtaking.

You hum a quiet, off-key rendition of Happy Birthday, and Jihoon sways you gently as you sing, his hands rubbing slow circles into your back. When you finish, he leans forward to blow out the candle, the flame flickering briefly before disappearing.

“Make a wish?” you ask softly.

His lips curve into a faint smile. “Don’t need to,” he murmurs, his voice like a secret meant only for you. “I already have everything I want.”

The words make your heart stutter. He leans back against the couch, and you press a kiss to his cheek, then another to his jawline, your lips brushing against his skin as softly as the light in the room.

Jihoon reaches for the cake with his fingers, tearing off a small piece and holding it out to you. “Forgot the plates, huh?” he teases, his lips twitching with amusement.

You laugh, taking the offered bite. The frosting melts on your tongue, sugary and sweet, but nothing compares to the warmth that blooms in your chest at the sound of his laughter.

“You know,” he muses, brushing a thumb over the corner of your lips to catch a stray crumb, “in Brazil, people give the first slice of their birthday cake to the person they love most.”

The simple, tender confession undoes you. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. It’s soft and deep, and he sighs against your lips, his hands tightening around your waist. He tastes like frosting and everything good in the world, and you think you could drown in him forever.

“Happy birthday, Jihoon,” you whisper when you finally pull back, your foreheads resting together. “I love you the most, too.”

His lips brush against your temple as he replies, “Thank you, my love.”

The two of you sit there for a while in comfortable silence, the hum of the city outside a faint backdrop to Jihoon’s voice as he softly hums a melody into your hair.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, love?” he answers, his tone low and warm.

“It’s not your birthday anymore.”

A faint smirk curves his lips. “Well done, troublemaker. Very astute observation.”

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you dip your finger into the frosting. “So that means I can do this!”

Before he can react, you swipe your frosting-covered hand across his cheek, leaving a trail of sprinkles and sugary chaos behind.

For a moment, he just stares at you, mouth agape in mock horror. Then his eyes narrow, and a grin overtakes his features.

“Why, you little—”

You’re on your feet in an instant, laughter spilling from your lips as you dart toward the bedroom. Jihoon’s laughter rings out as he chases you, catching you with ease and tackling you onto the bed.

“Got you now,” he declares, pinning your wrists to the mattress, his fingers digging mercilessly into your sides as you shriek with laughter.

“Jihoon, stop!” you gasp between giggles. “The sheets—they’re new!”

He pauses, his expression mock-serious. “Fine,” he relents, releasing your wrists. “Only because the sheets are white.”

“And because you love me?” you tease, still catching your breath.

“And because I love you,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads to the bathroom. “I love you the mostest. Thank you for the best birthday.”

Lying back on the bed, you let out a contented sigh, your heart full. There’s no one else you’d rather celebrate with—2 AM or not.

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perfectlyoongi · 3 months ago

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ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who bakes cakes with you in the early hours of the morning when the whole city is still asleep. three or four in the morning were sacred hours in your house as autumn approached. with matching aprons and wine glasses in hand, you and Jungkook followed instructions as disorganized as possible, hoping to find some cake batter or cookies in the midst of your laughter. the music played low, remaining completely silent when you and Jungkook exchanged jokes and visions, but always lulling you into a little dance that lasted the entire morning. at six in the morning you sat at the table tasting your creation before saying goodbye and falling asleep in your rooms. “today i want an orange cake. i know it’s late, but do you want to do one with me? i found two recipes that might be good. i’ll even let you have the first slice.”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who has a collection of photos and videos of you that you might consider embarrassing. Jungkook seemed to have a certain gift when it came to humiliating you: whenever you were distracted, or too involved in something, Jungkook made a point of saving everything on his phone, creating a folder in his gallery with just your photos. you could say it was a hobby of Jungkook’s that always made him happy, as it was in these more personal moments that your soul truly shined and oh, how he was in love with that light. “you are so done on your birthday. you’ll see, i’ll post the photos i took of you in the car yesterday. you were beautiful. the world needs to see your natural beauty.”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who always orders your favorite pizza when he doesn’t feel like cooking. you shared the household chores, it was an agreement that was quickly made by you as soon as you became housemates; but there were days when Jungkook came home more tired, or even after dinner, and there was no desire or patience to cook. as such, Jungkook would order your favorite pizza from your favorite pizzeria and, after paying for it, he would call you over for dinner while he went to bed. in a way, you were always Jungkook’s priority. “hi, the work ran a little late today, sorry. i already called for your favorite pizza and you have the money here. i hope you eat well. i’m really tired. good night, angel. good night.”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who buys letter magnets to communicate with you on the fridge when your are mismatched. there were times when you would get home when Jungkook had just left. there were times when Jungkook would go to sleep when you were preparing lunch. there were days when you didn’t even see each other. but as you shared a house, communication was essential to make that experience comforting. so Jungkook bought a large number of colorful magnets in the shapes of letters for you to use as a means of communication. they were only used for basic things, of course, but it was still a very tender gesture on Jungkook’s part. “buy bread. dinner 8pm. seal.”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who always gives you a ride in winter, even if it’s just to get bread. Jungkook was so warm and helpful. if you needed something he was there to make sure you didn’t miss anything. and, when the weather was more brutal, with snow and rain decorating the streets, Jungkook always made a point of taking you wherever you needed to go, secretly keeping in his heart all the streets shared with you, shouting the most popular songs in the radio. it could be mere minutes, but it was enough to leave Jungkook completely surrendered to you. “don’t be stupid. with this cold? you may get sick and then what? i don’t know how to take care of myself, let alone you! I’m looking out for your well-being, that’s all.”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who plays drunk uno with you on long summer nights. when the boredom was a lot and the nights were too hot, you and Jungkook decided to distract yourself with a simple game of cards. changing some of the rules, you and Jungkook agreed to play several games of uno until one of you was too happy to continue. there were screams and laughter, a lot of cheating and distortions, long nights enveloped in pure happiness and complicity. without there ever being a loser, but also without any winner, you and Jungkook repeated the game on the hottest and most boring nights, each of you needing the other’s presence to make that summer something unforgettable. “no, no! you can’t put a +4 after i told you to take 2! stop being a cheater and accept your defeat. no. put the card back into your deck!”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who declares himself to you when the storm stole all the light in your house. several candles were scattered around your living room in an attempt to bring some comfort in that darkness. sitting on the couch without having much to do, you and Jungkook watched time pass slowly. a long period of silence danced around the various flames, stealing all your comfort and offering Jungkook a small door for him to finally open up to you. and it was when you went to get water that Jungkook followed you to the kitchen and, very confused and nervous, finally confessed to you. “i don’t know if it’s the candles that are making me nostalgic or if it’s really your company, but i want to tell you something. i like you. a lot. i don’t think i should like you this much but i have no control over my feelings for you.”

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lilac-5ky · 1 year ago

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Father's Day (Toji xFem!Reader)

Summary: It's father's day and you forgot to get Toji his gift.

Tags: dilf Toji, babysitter reader, secret relationship, age gap (reader early 20s, Toji early 30s), daddy kink, breeding kink, lactation kink, spanking, mating press, mention of doggy style, cumplay, blowjob, gagging, deep throating, creampie, heavy usage of pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, slut, etc), soft!dom Toji being a condescending piece of shit, Megumi being an absolute angel, hope i'm not forgetting anything, pls don't murder me.

Word Count: 4.3k divided between fluff and smut.

“That’s it, Megs! You did so well today!” You smiled, giving the boy’s spikes a little affectionate ruffle. “I’m sure your dad will be so happy to see how hard you worked on his gift.”

“Liar.” Megumi put the glue stick face-down against the table. “It’s not as good as the ones you make, Y/N.”

“That’s because I’ve put years into it, you know? When you get older, I’m sure you’ll be the one teaching me.” You promised, holding his drawing toward the light.

The pasta on the paper depicted the face of a silly-looking man; chopped lasagna for his dark hair, spinach-flavored shells for his green eyes, penne for the jagged scar on his fusilli lips, and broken spaghetti to help frame the sharp edges of his chiseled jaw. The inscription “World’s Best Dad” was written at the bottom corner by yours truly, Megumi being too young to know the proper spelling.

Admittedly, it looked nothing like Toji, but even if you got the man himself to pose for your DIY project, you doubted you’d get any closer to capturing his charms. At least it resembled a human being, and that was the core difference between based on and loosely inspired by.

Megumi jumped from his stool and waved his hands before you, his fingers stuck together as if he were a duckling. You chuckled, meaning to settle the drawing on the table so you could escort him to the bathroom when you heard keys twisting in the door lock.

“Quick, go wash your hands and I’ll take care of your daddy, okay?”

Megumi nodded, dashing upstairs in seconds while you browsed the kitchen for a hiding spot, panicking as a couple of macaroni were chipped off. You grabbed the glue and hastily pieced them back in place, but it was too late. A pair of strong arms snaked around your waist, pressing you flush against an unmovable wall of muscle.

“T-Toji!”

Your yelp was silenced by his lips, hungry from having to spend an entire day filling forms and sorting mail at a work he despised with every inch of his being— some of those very inches poking against your ass as his hips bucked into yours almost possessively. Coming home to the cute little babysitter he’d made his girlfriend was everything he needed to recharge his batteries.

“Meg-gu…mi will see us,” you panted in between heated kisses, trying and mostly failing to defend your body from his greedy palms diving into your shorts.

He felt your skin flare up, so sensitive for him even after countless days of the same ritual. His index pried beneath your panties —the lacy ones he’d gotten you for your birthday— to meet with your pussy’s puffy lips, gliding across the gathering slick as if he meant to say “Hello”. His thumb rubbed a rough circle over your clit, giving the nub a few teasing flicks that were enough for you to arch your back against his chest, a hushed moan bitten into his neck. He chuckled to himself as he retracted his fingers and gingerly licked them one by one.

“Missed ya so much, angel,” Toji coed in a low voice. “Y’always taste sweeter when I’m not around, know that?”

You giggled against his mouth, his tongue eager to share your essence. “How would you know that if you’re away?”

“I just do,” he smiled, putting an end to the unforeseen display of affection with a gentle kiss on your cheek. “Where’s Megumi?” he searched through the space.

You moved in accordance with his eyes, swaying left and right to cover as much of the table as possible. “He’s in the bathroom. Washing his hands for dinner.”

Toji hummed, thumbing his tie loose around his neck. He could hate his job all he wanted, but nothing compared to the sight of seeing Fushiguro Toji in office attire. His sleeves were rolled around his elbows, toned biceps popping under the tight fabric of his white button-up. He paired straight black pants with a plain black belt— nothing impressive on its own until he bent over the lower cabinets to grab himself a glass, and you stole a quick peek at his rare and the impossible way the fabric hugged his—

In any case, you were convinced Toji had somehow missed Megumi’s drawing, his primary interest to fill and then refill his glass with fresh tap water. You seized the chance to transfer his gift to a safer location, though before you could take another step, he grabbed your wrist and forced your hand into play.

He studied his own face harder than your art professors evaluated your semester’s projects, his nose scrunching up at the finer details of his farfalle ears. “That why I pay your tuition for?” He snorted at you snatching the art piece from his hands.

“Better act excited when Megs comes here,” you straightened the creased edges and stored it in an empty drawer. “He’s already doubting his talent.”

“His what?”

He assured you he was just joking when you shot him a mean glare, your voice strict as you ushered him to follow his son’s example while you hurriedly collected the art supplies and replaced them with cutlery.

In no time, the three of you were seated around the table— Megumi on your lap while you cut his pork into bite-sized pieces, and Toji on the other side, wishing that their positions would switch. You swore this man got ten times handsier after you got together, seeking excuses to touch you even in front of his own kid. Megumi had just turned four but at this rate, it wouldn’t take long for such a bright kid to put two and two together.

The decision to keep it a secret was mutual (read: one vote for, and another against). There was no reason to disturb Megumi’s routine or throw him off balance. You’d grown fond of the little guy, and with his dad being away 2/3 of the day, you were each other’s only company. No matter how well things with Toji were going, if you suddenly fell apart, the one to hurt the most would be Megumi and you didn’t want that weight on your conscience. Being his number 1 nanny was good enough.

A certain type of silence familiar to the Fushiguro household shrouded dinnertime, with Toji trying to engage Megumi in small talk, and Megumi constantly glancing over his shoulder at you as if you were his designated spokesperson. “Yes, Megumi had a lot of fun today.” “Yes, Megumi ate all of his veggies at lunch, even the icky red peppers.” “No, Megumi knows nothing about the neighbor’s broken window.” The boy was relieved with every blatant lie you told his father, his knees gleefully flapping against your own.

By the time their plates were emptied, your food had gone completely cold, the oil in the curry sauce encasing the cutlet in a greasy coat. You gobbled it up as it was and stacked the plates into a pile that you placed in the sink, signaling for Megumi to come over. You handed him his drawing, encouraged him with two thumbs up, and sent him off to his “unsuspecting” father.

Your lips stretched into a smile as Megumi presented his drawing, mumbling a strained “Happy Father’s Day” under his breath as if he had a gun pointed at his head. So stubborn, though you could definitely see where he took it from, Toji’s reply being an equally stern “Thanks, kiddo”. You rolled your eyes and rushed to the scene, praising a blushing Megumi over his artwork and exaggerating his achievements to Toji who just wouldn’t take a hint. How these two managed to survive by themselves, was a wonder on its own.

Eventually, Toji gave his son a more fatherly rub on the back and hoisted the boy over his shoulders to lead him to his bedroom. Megumi squeaked, planting his tiny fingers into Toji’s hair, and clasped his legs tight around his neck. You remembered a meek confession from a few nights ago, muffled out by the covers and the plush toy over his mouth, as he let you in on how fun mounting his father was, feeling like a real mecha pilot atop his broad shoulders. He could be such a sweet kid when he wanted to. If only he was more vocal with Toji, too.

You watched the two disappear up the stairs and picked the drawing from the table, pinning it in the middle of the fridge for the world to see. You rinsed the pots with hot water and shoved them into the dishwater rack, figuring it’d be best to get as much work done as you could in Toji’s absence.

“This is the last one,” you said once the sound of feet thudding against the stairs became apparent.

You made quick work of the glass, rotating the sponge inside out, while the man leaned against the door frame without saying a thing, content with being a bystander to your impromptu clean-up session. Many a woman passed Toji’s threshold, some older, others younger, and yet you were the first to worry about the state of his bundle-bought glasses. He couldn’t pinpoint what made such a mundane sight endearing to behold, but maybe it was because of the very commonness and familiarity behind it that he hesitated to interrupt.

“Meg’s asleep?” You caught his reflection nodding through the glass, your following questions answered the same way.

“You got him in his pj’s? The blue, not the green ones, right? Got him to brush his teeth? Turned on the night light for him? Gave him his—”

A sigh echoed as he stepped into the space with his hands lost in his pockets. “How d’ya do that?”

“Do what?”

“The kid, the house,” he paused to measure his words, “me. How do you handle all that?”

Your lips pursed into an affectionate simper as you wiped your hands against the towel, looping it around the cabinet’s handle. You turned to face him and lifted your forefinger playfully. “One, the kid happens to have a very attractive father. Two, the house owner himself is sexy as hell, and you? I guess you are pretty easy on the eye.”

“Am I now?” His raspy tone was set on confirming every last impression you had of him, his tongue licking his slanted scar into a smile that was all but coy. “Which one you prefer then? The father, the house owner, or me?”

“Hmm, if I had to pick just one then,” your cheeks burned prior to your admission. “The version of you I get to call daddy.”

Satisfied with your answer, Toji pinched your chin between two fingers, admiring how eagerly your mouth popped open as the pad of his thumb swiped against your bottom lip, pushing slightly in. “Smart girl,” he cooed, feeling out the flat surface of your tongue, hot, warm, and oh-so-perfect when pressed against his cock.

“So what did you get me?” he smeared saliva over your lips, making them all nice and glossy. You stood still, faded eyes caught in the motion of his other palm shamelessly cupping your ass, his question barely registering.

“W-what?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.” His fingers dug into the fat of your cheek, a warning in his voice. “Where’s my gift?”

“S-sorry, Toji. Didn’t think I had to—” A light smack cut your sentence in half, the recoil forcing you to drop onto his chest.

“Mm? What is it that y’are sorry for, princess?” He mocked, squeezing your bum against the growing bulge in his pants. Your cunt fluttered in response, clit whining at the little friction he provided. You wanted more. Wanted to feel all of him. The weight of his cock dragging between your folds and soaking in your juices before being plunged inside, every ridge and every line you’d memorized finding their rightful place in a hole that was meant for him.

You bit your lip in brewing anticipation, mustering the courage to look into his hooded green eyes that shared the same lust yours did. “Sorry I didn’t get you a gift, Toji. Should’ve known better.”

His smile softened, head cocking to the side. “Don’t sweat it. My pretty baby knows how to make it up to me, doesn’t she?”

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “How about I gave you a second reason to celebrate today?”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you were being lifted into the air, both of Toji’s hands finding purchase in your plushy thighs, while his lips begged to hush whatever mention of Megumi before it was even conceived. He kicked his bedroom door open and shut it with his heel, tossing you against the covers of his made-up bed. (“Why bother if they gonna crinkle anyway?”)

He lost his shirt almost as quickly as he lost his tie, flinging both fabrics over his shoulder. No matter how many times you got to lay eyes on his naked body, you always managed to spot a new scar on his chest from his former lifestyle, the danger it packed serving as an additive to the wanton fantasy of having your guts rearranged by your boss.

Your legs spread quite the sight for him as he tugged off your shorts, your panties sporting a sizable wet spot right at the center. He forced the drenched fabric into your slit, drawing it taut around your hip bone. You moaned softly, mindful of the kid across the hall, while your hips rocked forward, chasing after the finger he pulled away.

“Taking care of my kid ain’t enough for you? Wanna be a real mommy now?” Toji sneered, yanking the belt off his pants.

“I want us to be a real family,” you confessed, bowing to help him with the rest of his clothes. You slid his pants down his briefs and let them drop to his knees, your cheek nuzzling to his clothed cock. You licked a strip over the fabric, thrilled to hear a breath hitch in Toji’s throat. “Let’s give Megs a sibling. One that is half me, and” you paused, wrapping your lips around the imprint of his balls, “half you.”

His cock sprung free the moment you lowered his underwear, the way his fat tip glistened with precum enough to make your mouth water. You wrapped a fist around his length, fingers barely closing around his hefty base, and gave him a languid, thorough pump. He watched intently, keeping all sounds to himself until your lips parted to fit his cock head, stretching around his thick girth.

“Fuck, baby—” Toji hissed, helping your hair out of the way while your throat molded back into his shape. You were taught how to take as much of him in as possible, yet no matter how diligent you were in your practice, you could never fit him whole. You bobbed your head up and down, hand stroking the parts you couldn’t swallow and tongue pitching in the action with sparse kitten licks along his shaft.

His fingers firmly gripped onto your hair, forcing your head to pick up speed as they traveled from your scalp to the back of your head. Your gag reflex protested with each thrust, hot tears gradually pooling in your eyes while you struggled to keep them open.

“Look so fucking good chocking on my dick.” His voice oozed sweetness that matched his stare, a look of utter adoration fluttering behind his pretty eyelashes.

If he thought you were the one to look good, then he should’ve seen himself; messy obsidian strands casting shadows over his darkened eyes, his pink lips agape more often than closed with all the unregulated profanities and praise that spilled out of them, turning up in volume the closer he got to his climax.

You felt him twitch in your mouth, the salty tang drooling down your jaw along with your saliva, though just when you thought he was about to cum, he pulled out, the string of fluids following after him. “Don’t want any of that going to waste, do we?” Toji smirked, pumping his length once or twice before letting go altogether.

He hunched over your body, his knees making the bed dip lower as his lips sought yours, jaw too slack to properly reciprocate. Rough palms slid below your top and ran over your sides, his fingers unhooking your bra with unmatched expertise. He broke the kiss to let you remove your shirt, his hands quick to wrap around your tits and fondle their way toward your nipples. He pinched at them, rolling the peaks between his thumbs until they stiffened.

“Can’t wait for them to get all round and full,” Toji mumbled as he lowered his head to suck a nipple into his mouth, suckling so hard that he just might draw milk. He wet it with his tongue, and then turned to the other, repeating the same motion. “Gonna get me addicted if the taste’s half as sweet as your pussy.”

Your fingers clenched into fists around the sheets, the sheer imagery of Toji feasting on your breasts enough to make your legs go weak. He was keen on sharing his fantasies with you, down to every last insignificant detail, but not as keen as he was on fulfilling every single one of them, and this one, was just a matter of time.

“T-Toji,” you said in a breathy voice.

A sexy smirk plastered on his scarred lips as he detached from your nipple with a soft pop. He left your call unanswered, instead spreading your legs further apart and settling in between. You saw him stroke his cock, and soon you felt the leaking head tap on your clothed clit. Only then did he bother to look up, taking stock of the little whines and pretty moans you selfishly withheld.

He couldn’t wait for his next leave to take you someplace nice and quiet, where the sounds of you crying his name at full volume would come in abundance.

“P-please,” you begged, fidgeting a lot more than before.

“Please what?” he played dumb, rubbing his hard cock along your entrance. “Use your words, sweetheart.

“Please f-fuck,” your voice cracked, too frail to handle his games. “Please, fuck me.”

“Aren’t ya forgetting something?” his thin eyebrow questioned.

“Please fuck me, daddy.”

Toji smiled slyly to himself, obliging enough to peel the panties away from your twitching cunt. “Don’t want a warm-up first? My girl big enough to take me without any prep?” he asked in a condescending tone, matching every beat of his voice with another slap against your clit. “Or is she that eager to be a mommy? That’s it, right?” he chuckled, your moan not going unregistered.

“You’ve gotten so greedy, Y/N,” he said after a series of little tsks. “Bet you also gonna ask to be my wife soon, huh?”

The air was knocked out of your lungs for a brief, albeit painful second as Toji aligned with your entrance and rammed his cock halfway in, his overwhelming size felt first as a sting in your walls and later as a tremor across your entire body. Even with how wet you were, it still hurt a lot more than your horny self thought it would— though it wouldn’t take long for the pain to melt into pleasure.

You didn’t realize you’d screamed until he hushed you, bending forward to press a sweet peck against your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze and gathered your wobbly knees onto his brawny shoulders, refraining to move until you stopped wincing and contorting. “Stay relaxed for me, okay?”

You shook your head and pulled him into a tight embrace, loving the contrast of his hard pecs against your squishy breasts. “Want you close, Toji. Please.”

And how could he possibly refuse when his baby begged him so well?

Your nails began raking at his back as he sunk himself deeper and deeper, the position he’d bent you into making it seem as if there were no limits to how deep his cock could reach before it was buried to the hilt. He stretched you so good, stuffing your pussy full of ecstasy and your mind full of dick as he started to thrust at a steady pace, never deviating from sealing the whimpers in your mouth with sloppy kisses.

“Doing such a good job, angel. Must really want that baby, hah— can feel ya really open up for me.” A calloused hand slid between your bodies and pressed against the tiny bulge in your stomach, appearing and disappearing with each slam of his hips. “Feel that? That’s how deep you’ve taken daddy.”

He dragged his cock out and pounded it back in, his heavy balls slapping hard against your jiggly ass. His hand lowered over your clit, flicking the nub in sync with his frantic thrusts until the coiling tension in your guts snapped, a shuddering orgasm washing over him as much as it washed over you.

“Love you s-so much, Toji,” your fingers slipped onto his neck, gradually hiking up to cup his cheek.

Specks of light glimmered in his eyes as they held your loving stare, the scarred corner of his lip curling into a cocky smirk as if to defy him. “Yeah? Is it me that you love or my cock? Came into my house so I can fuck you g-good, ah?” he stuttered along with his hips. “All that money I gave ya to watch my kid goin’ to that tight-ass pussy?”

“Answer my question, slut,” he insisted.

Your brain was going blank on answers, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock found all the right places, hitting every single spot that led into your fertile womb until you were back to writhing below him. “B-both, Toji, fuck love your cock so much ‘s fucking me so well.”

A hand moved over your dampened forehead, swiping your disheveled hair so he could plant a kiss. “Love you too, sweets.”

You felt yourself drowning in love as the squelching grew louder, the four-bedroom walls too thin to contain the sounds of hips snapping against hips and of his husky groans as he closed in on his high a second time. “Gonna fill ya up real good. Gonna—fuck, give my pretty baby all my babies,” Toji grunted, and you repeatedly nodded, cute little sobs severing the chants of his name.

Sharp teeth dug into your neck as Toji buried himself in the crook of your shoulder, his sultry moans reverberating against your skin until they hit their crescendo when his cock began to throb, painting your walls with thick ropes of his creamy load. He slowed down, luscious thrusts shoving his cum further in while you held him close, snaring your legs around his torso.

When he finally lifted his head, you’d both regained a sliver of composure, your pants falling back into rhythm.

“You’ll be such a good mama,” he murmured, his voice silky smooth over the shrewd ringing in your ears.

“Think so?” Your lips stretched into a faint smile that he was quick to kiss.

“You already are the better parent. Kid likes you most. Bust my balls when you have your tests and needa study.”

You chuckled, tracing the outline of his scar with your thumb. “Why do I get the feeling it’s the other way around, hmm?”

A tsk twisted his lips into a scoff as he bit onto your finger. “Ouch! What was that f—”

Your voice faltered as he spun you around; face shoved into the pillows and back forced into an arch while Toji positioned himself behind your ass and dragged his cock between your swollen red folds.

“Don’t tell me you thought we were done here.”

The next morning found all three of you at the starting point of last night’s exploits, Toji sipping on a cup of black coffee and scrolling on his phone, while Megumi quietly sat beside him on the kitchen table, awaiting his breakfast to be served. Your body felt sore all over while you grilled his salmon, sand in the corners of your eyes. Normally, you’d be trying to keep everyone entertained with idle chit-chat, but with how often you yawned, getting a word out demanded serious effort— effort you weren’t prepared to put in.

“Say, Megumi.” Toji took the reins, setting his phone down. “How would you feel about having a new mommy?”

The spatula almost fell into the pan, your objection stifled by Megumi’s voice. “I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” Toji cocked his head curiously, propping his chin onto his palm. “Then ya wouldn’t mind if it was someone you knew?”

“Mister Fushiguro, could you please help me with the fish a bit—” you pleaded through gritted teeth, only to be dismissed with a swift gesture as if you were a housefly.

“I don’t mind having a new mommy, but I don’t want to be a brother,” he declared, stomping his fork against the wood for emphasis. “Never!”

You glanced over your shoulder, first at Toji and then at Megumi, before serving the fish on a plate and kneeling in front of the child. “Why is that, Megs? Don’t you wanna be a big brother to a little sister or a little brother?”

His eyes stubbornly refused to meet with yours, all the while they shot daggers at his father. “Don’t want one if it hurts to make.”

You chuckled, tapping at his knee gently. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you cry last night,” Megumi admitted. “Dad hurt you, didn’t he?”

“That’s not what—”

Toji smirked as he spread his legs apart, preparing himself for the show. “Kinda late for that, buddy. And don’t worry about Y/N. Adults can cry from pleasure, too—”

“Toji!”

And thus, your little house of cards fell apart.

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lovebugism · 10 months ago

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hi hi hi!!! congratulations on one year!! you've accomplished so much and i'm so very happy for you! you deserve all the love and more 🫶🏻💞

as always, i have to leave a little dad!steve request, because who would i be if i didn't? lol. anyway, since you are celebrating your one year, i was hoping maybe we could get something like dad!steve and mom!reader celebrating their one year as parents, aka giving their lil girl her first birthday party? i can just imagine aunt robbie and uncle eddie spoiling steve's baby girl almost as much as he does 🥹

congrats again, bug! love you so so much 🫶🏻

- @honeysuckleharringtons 🍯💛

ty angel!! and ty for keeping dad!steve alive on this blog hahah — you and steve struggle to cope when your baby turns one year old (mom!reader, fluff, 1.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Steve rises that morning before you do. He couldn’t say he woke up, really, ‘cause he didn’t sleep at all. Maybe an hour or more, but that’s being generous. Between decorating the house after you put the baby down (his soon-to-be one-year-old, that is) and stressing all night about tomorrow, tomorrow finally came. Tomorrow is now, and his baby’s a whole year older.

He worried and worried and worried, and the time passed anyway.

You rouse with a cat-like stretch. You look at the clock first, 7:26 a.m., and then over at the boy beside you. He’s already looking at you, the creep. His features are gently swollen from the weight of his middling slumber — pretty pink smile soft and slightly crooked.

The attention makes you cower as your eyes squeeze shut again. No one should be looked at so fondly so early in the morning.

“Do you know what day it is?” Steve croons to you.

He props his wild head on his fist and smooths a free hand up your stomach, bare from where your shirt had risen. Your skin is as warm and as soft as it ever was, and his chest stings because Nellie used to be in there. He agonized nine months over for her arrival, and now she’s here — in the bedroom down the hall — and one year old already.

You scoff a faint laugh, weighed down with exhaustion. Of course, you know what day it is, but you humor him anyway. “No, Steve. What day is it?”

“We’ve been parents for a whole entire year,” he whispers, voice faraway with disbelief.

“Oh. How could I forget?” you joke, giggling into the kiss he gives you.

He pulls away with a gentle smack and smiles softly down at you. “Remember when we thought we wouldn’t make it?”

“That first night,” you answer with a sigh, heavy eyes fluttering shut again. “After we brought her home, and she just… wouldn’t stop crying…”

“Yeah, I know the one…” Steve hasn’t been able to forget it, really. He doesn’t think he ever will, or if he even wants to. It was the first day out of the hospital and the very first time he felt like a parent, when it was just him and you and a colicky baby. It felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

The stress of the long-gone moment still stings.

“I thought the world was gonna end,” you confess.

Steve’s wide hand gives your bare side a reassuring squeeze. “And look at you now. A total pro.”

“Hush.”

“You are.”

“Only ‘cause I’m copying you,” you argue, equal parts sincere and deflecting. Your wild head tilts against the pillow, and you bring a heavy hand to his jaw. Your palm settles along his stubble with a playful roughness. “I’m glad I shacked up with the best dad ever and not some other schmuck.”

Steve’s grin widens until his honey eyes crinkle at the edges.

“I’m blushin’, baby,” he teases lowly, then leans down to kiss you again.

It’s a mixture of subtle morning breath and the coffee he’d had an hour or more ago. It’s a chaste peck first, to gain your footing in the early morning, and then a more intentional second one. Then he kisses you a third time, a much more languid thing. His exhaled sigh brushes your cupid’s bow when he melts into you.

You pull back from him (as much as it hurts you) before he can give you a fourth.

“We need to start getting ready,” you tell him. “People will be here soon.”

His features scrunch together, just like Nellie’s does right before she cries. Steve buries his face into your shoulder with a whine that rivals your baby’s. “No— I don’t want people to be here soon.”

Your laugh matches the sunrise. “You planned the party, Steve.”

“Yeah, but when people come over, it means the party’s started,” he rambles, muffled into your neck. “And when the party’s started, it means Nellie’s officially a year old.”

Your hands smooth up and down the length of his pale, freckled back. “Well, technically, she won’t be a year old until later tonight, so… You’ve still got a couple hours with a baby.”

He sniffles, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“Steve, I’m just kidding,” you coo with a soft giggle. “She’s still a baby! She’s always gonna be our baby.”

“Yeah, except now she’s a baby that can walk,” he whines. “And eventually, she’ll be a baby that can talk— and then she’ll be in college, and then she’ll be married—”

“Well, at this rate, you should probably start preparing for her to move out,” you joke drily. He sniffles again. You cave. “Sorry…”’

—————

You languish in the grass a couple hours later, over an old quilt Steve pulled from the top of your closet.

Energy seems to seep from your pores, ebbing with the setting sun. You’ve spent the better part of your day running after Nellie and tending to guests. Now, all you really want is some peace and quiet, a shower, and a good cry.

Steve sits just beside you, leaning back on his arms while you lay on your stomach. Both of you keep a vigilant eye on your baby girl — watching while she gets all the attention she deserves and smiling to yourselves because she’s the most loved baby in the universe.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Steve asks after a few minutes of silence. Well, not silence, exactly. The radio’s playing distantly, and the chatter hasn’t stopped since Dustin arrived (first, of course, and a whole hour early).

“It’s stressing me out that there’s food on a blanket,” you murmur in response, chin bobbing against your folded arms.

Steve laughs through the chips in his mouth. “Well, that’s the point of a picnic, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh and get distracted again. “I can’t believe how popular our baby is.”

“Well, I mean, she is our daughter, so… It kinda checks out.”

“Shut up.”

“Look at Eddie— What an idiot.” Steve chuckles as he watches the wild-haired boy drive around the backyard in a bright pink Barbie Jeep. It was a present for Nellie, of course, but she can hardly walk, let alone drive the damn thing.

Eddie cruises around in it for her, lanky limbs barely fitting inside. It whirs as he drives it back and forth over the patio.

Nellie’s having more fun watching him than she would be driving it herself, you think. She squeals with delight in Joyce’s arms, smiling a big, toothless smile and clapping (as best she can with chubby baby hands) every time Eddie reappears from behind her.

“How’s our baby so pretty?” you wonder quietly to yourself. “Like, how did we do that?”

Steve ponders the question with a deep huff. He turns to lie next to you on his back, then grimaces when the ground does little to cushion his aching spine. A harsh reminder that he’s not sixteen anymore.

“Well… Her mom is the most beautiful woman on the planet, and her dad’s pretty alright, so… One plus one equals two, I guess.”

You squint. “Don’t flirt with me, Harrington.”

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs with a boyish, lopsided grin. “You’re too pretty. I have to love on you, or I’ll die.”

You start to make a joke then — about how Little Eleanor definitely got all her dramatics from her father. But then Steve leans in to kiss you, and you lose it. You can taste the birthday cake and Coca-Cola on his breath as he nears you. You forget how to form words in your mouth.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back before he can kiss you. You raise a hand to swipe away the crumbs sticking to the corner of his mouth. “Okay. Now you can kiss me.”

You never need to tell him twice. His lips meet the very corner of yours until he can realign himself for a more direct, proper peck to your mouth.

“Hey, hey, hey!” you hear Hopper scold from ahead of you.

The two of you pull away from each other with a soft smack and find the man walking towards you. He’s got crumbs in his mustache and a cheekful of the hotdog he holds in his hand. He’s got his work boots on, too, paired with a pink and green tropical button-up. The coolest shirt he owns, you figure, especially for Nellie.

His sharp features are screwed with disgust. “This is a kid’s party. Keep your hands to yourselves.”

You laugh because the only real kid here is Nellie. And she’s far too obsessed with Eddie to care about anything else.

“Sorry, Hop,” Steve mumbles even though he doesn’t really mean it. He’s just not in the business of smart-mouthing the chief.

You are, though. And it’s one of the million reasons why he loves you so damn much.

You peer up at Hopper, squinting one eye to shield your gaze from the golden sun. “You know we have a baby together, right?” you wonder in a monotone.

He takes another too big bit of the hotdog and shrugs. “Well, yeah. She’s, like, the best thing ever— Obviously, I know that.”

“So then you also know that we kinda made her by not keeping our hands to ourselves.”

Steve chokes back a laugh when Hopper gets so suddenly stern. His features harden as he points a firm finger your way. “Don’t,” he murmurs in a feeble warning, then decides to leave well enough alone. He walks back towards the bustling party, beelining for Joyce and Nellie because he’s in desperate need of a purer cleanse.

“Holy shit…” Steve sighs when his laughter dies down.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he hums to himself, a soft smile on his lips. “I just love you.”

Your nose scrunches. “Ew.”

“Like, I get to be in love with you forever. How cool is that?”

His boyish musing makes your chest sparkle. “I’m glad you’re coping well,” you tease with a sigh as you lean over to lay on him. Your head rests against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat there, slow and firm. You exhale again, with content this time. “‘Cause you’re stuck with me, Harrington. For life.”

You feel a chuckle rumble in his chest. “You make it sound like it’s prison.”

“It’s not?” you joke.

“No, baby. It’s heaven. It’s better than heaven,” he tells you, then gets immediately distracted. “Wait— Like that song— Ooh, baby do you know what that’s worth—”

“Steve!” you giggle at his offkey crooning.

“—We’ll make heaven a place on earth!”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: bug turns one

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sinnersweets · 9 months ago

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DogDay x Reader part 13

<-----part 12, part 14----->

“You have a lovely home Mrs. Y/N.” “Why thank you Mrs. Jackson.” I spoke while drinking some tea I made. It was the home inspection today and even though everything seemed to be going well I was a nervous wreck. “Everything seems to be in order as far as safety measures; remind me how old is Damian?” While setting down my teacup I said, “He is seven years old but will be eight tomorrow.” I couldn’t help but smile big. I plan on telling him for his birthday tomorrow. “Happy early birthday to him. Now comes the boring part; the questions. I’m going to go down my list and you just answer truthfully alright?” I nodded my head. “Good, now let us begin.”

At first, she just went through how the interviews went with my family which thankfully my mom was on her best behavior and didn’t give her crap about me. Next, she asked me when my birthday was to ensure I knew it and for my birth certificate to verify that I was twenty-one. “Now Mrs. Y/N, how long have you and your husband been together?” She asked me that while I was taking a sip of my tea which caused me to almost spit it out. I set down my cup and said, “I’m not married Mrs. Jackson.” She looked up at me before looking over to my wall where mine and DogDays picture was. Why do people keep assuming that me and DogDay are married by that one photo?! “Oh, I apologize Ms. Y/n. Normally it’s couples that adopt, not just one person.” “Technically me and him are a couple just not married.” “I see.” She scribbled down something on her clipboard before going on with the questions.

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

“Were the questions really that horrible Angel?” DogDay asked me. We were both by the duck pond watching our group play red light, green light. I sighed and said, “Maybe not horrible but long. She asked about my motivation for wanting to adopt, my fertility, childhood, family relationships, financial situation, criminal history, my history of residence, if I knew any other languages, my health, religion, if I knew how to discipline a child, understanding abuse and neglect. My god I should’ve just written a book about myself and had her read it!”

DogDay chuckled as I threw my hands up in the air. “It’ll all be worth it in the end Angel.” “Yeah, I know.” I looked over and saw Damian was now the one in charge of the game. “Have anything planned for Damian tomorrow?” DogDay shook his head no. “He doesn’t really like celebrating his birthday. The last time we celebrated it was when he was five. After that he asked if we could just pretend that his birthday doesn’t exist, but I always give him a card.” I frowned as I listened to DogDay speak. “Did he ever tell you why to stop celebrating it?” DogDay shrugged his shoulders and said, “My guess is because it’s a reminder that another year has passed and he’s still here.” I guess I could see where Damian was coming from.

I cleared my throat before saying, “Speaking about being here, do you ever wish you could leave?”DogDay chuckled and laid down on the grass looking up at the ceiling. I followed his actions and laid down as well. “All the time Angel. Now that I have you, more than ever.” He grabbed onto my hand and squeezed it. I turned my head, looked at him, and smiled. “Oh? And just what would you want to do if you could leave?” “Let’s see, well I’d like to take you on a date, go on car rides, run around at the park. Really do anything with you Angel. Oh, and play soccer with Damian, he loves soccer.”

I turned my head back up towards the ceiling. Now knowing that Damian liked soccer it gave me a theme to decorate his room. “If someone were to, I don’t know, buy you out from here how would you feel about that?” DogDay looked over to me with a surprised look before saying, “Are you saying you’d buy me out of Playtime Angel?” I sat up and leaned against my hands while saying, “Well I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t really know if I could, but it doesn’t hurt to ask right?” DogDay gave me a soft smile. It looked like he was going to say something but then a kid yelled out, “Miss DogDay!”

Mine and DogDays head turned toward the child. “We wanna play hide and seek!” I got up from the ground and walked over to Aaron, the little boy who called out to me. “We can play hide and seek after your guy's nap time, okay?” “Yay!” Aaron took off screaming in delight. I then felt a kiss on top of my head. “You’re gonna be a great mom Angel.” I looked up at him and smiled. "You think so?" "I know so. In fact you'll be a great mom to Damain and to our very own kid." "Thank you- wait what?!"

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

“Thank you for coming to see me Ms. Y/N.” I took a seat inside Stellas’ office, not sure why she called me in. “May I ask what this is about?” She reached in her desk and pulled out a file. While she handed me the file she said, “Please read this over and tell me what this is.” I slowly opened the file and started reading what was inside. I only read the first few words before realizing what this was. “This is the email I got when I was hired.” “Yes, it is. Oh, before I forget; congratulations. Damian is now legally yours.”

My eyes widened. “Really?! That’s wonderful!” Even though she just told me that Damian was now legally mine the atmosphere in the room was still off. “Is there something else Stella?” She took off her glasses and said, “Yes. Please flip through and read what I have highlighted.” I did what she told me, and I found where she had highlighted. As I started reading my eyes grew wide. I looked up at her and said, “I can’t work here anymore?!”

She nodded her head. She also looked sad from this. “I’m sorry Ms. Y/N, but that is company policy. If you adopt a child here while employed, that person must resign from here. I’m really sorry.”

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

I sat in my bed while looking at the file. I can’t believe that I had to quit! Don’t get me wrong, I’m still happy that I was able to get Damian, but now I have to leave my friends behind. And DogDay....

My phone started ringing and I saw that it was DogDay calling me. I answered the phone while wiping away some tears. “Hey Angel!” “Hi.” “You never told me what Ms. Stella wanted to see you about.” “Oh, she was just telling me that I can take Damian. He’s now legally mine.” “That’s amazing Angel!” I stayed quiet. I felt like if I talked, I would start crying even more. “Angel? What’s wrong?” A part of me wanted to tell him the other news that I got but I couldn’t. “Nothing, just a little tired from today.” I don’t know if he really believed me or not, but he didn’t question me any further. “Oh well then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel. Sleep well, I love you.” “I love you too.”

I ended the call and leaned my head back against my headboard. I didn’t want to lose DogDay, but I really wasn’t sure if he could be bought out. Suddenly an idea popped in my head. It was risky, heck even stupid, but it could work. I set an alarm on my phone for 2 a.m. and went on my laptop to see if there was any nearby land to buy.

A/N: What do you think Angel is going to do?

#sinnersweets #x reader #poppy playtime #dogday #dogday x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3

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itsharleystuff · 2 years ago

Text

↳ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joel Miller x afab!fem reader

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ellie finds an old chessboard somewhere in Jackson and asks you to teach her how to play. Joel joins and isn’t too happy about losing three times against you.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, Joel is early fifties), sex, p in v, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, use of whore (like once), pet names (darling, sweetheart, angel), multiple orgasms, they do it on the table, cum eating, bit of angst, insecure Joel, canon divergency, probably ooc Joel and Ellie, mentions of death and loss, alcohol consumption, confessing feelings. Let me know if I missed something!

a/n: this one’s a bit rushed but I wanted to post it before my birthday so I apologize if it isn’t great. Anyways, I’m writing a second Javi fic, so if you liked 𝐌Í𝐀 I’m certain you’re going to love the next one:)

no use of y/n

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

"You're cheating." Ellie rambles, standing up to get a better view of the board and analyze it from different angles. You can't help but giggle at her childish attitude, cause it truly brought a certain joy to the dynamic. "Hey! It's not funny."

"How could I cheat? You were watching my game the whole time." You defend you case, raising your hands in a sign of peace but gaining a glare from the girl.

"I don't know, you're the one who's teaching me." In that moment, you hear the crack of the front door opening, but none of you bother to stand and greet the main resident of the house, too busy in your own matters.

"Look, I'm playing fair. I am simply older and more experienced than you." Ellie grimaces and sits back on the chair, both arms crossed over her chest. "But try not to feel too bad. I've always been really good at chess."

Joel enters the dining room and walks right past you, going straight to the kitchen. You guess he's either going for a beer or to pour some whiskey into his favorite glass. Always the same routine every weekend: he would come home late with absolutely no explanations as to where he was, drink something strong and spend some time with both of you before heading to bed.

"You must be a really good strategist, then." She replies, amused. "I’ve heard this game is all about that. Strategies."

When you're about to respond, the man's heavy footsteps get closer as he comes to the room once again and leans back on the wall opposite to you, a glass of whiskey on his hand. His grayish hair is messy and his eyes seem to shine brighter under the warm light hanging over your heads when he looks at you intently. Often, he would appear exhausted after being off all day, but tonight it was different. Something about him was, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Ellie must've sensed a shift in the air, since she changed her approach in a second. "Joel, you're pretty ancient. I bet you know how to play."

You hold back your laughter at her mocking comment, reaching the board to rearrange the pieces. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, straightening his posture nonchalantly.

"I'm more of a poker man," he retorts with a distant air, diverting his gaze to Ellie.

"Poker?" You frown as he comes your way, but doesn't take a sit just yet. "I didn't take you for a gambler, Miller."

He sets the glass down on the table, leaning over the chair next to you with a smirk. "M'not. There’s many ways of playing other than betting your money, f’you know what I mean.”

Your eyes widen at his response, taken aback. So he meant like… The one were you end up naked. “Now, I would’ve expected that from Tommy, but you? That’s a surprise.”

He shrugs, faded smile still on his lips.

You remembered what Ellie once told you, ‘he does that whenever you’re around,’ she had said in a meditative tone, ‘smile, I mean. It’s kind of creepy cause… y’know, he never does.’ Perhaps that’s why she acted differently every time you three were together.

“Yeah, whatever.” The girl grumbles. “Can you play chess or not? I need someone to take revenge for me.”

Joel takes a seat beside you, slowly, glancing over the board before sipping from his drink again. He looks back at Ellie, whose eyes were sparkling with excitement. The man sighs in defeat, well aware that he just couldn’t say no to her. A dad reflex, maybe, but it worked out in her favor and she’d take advantage of it as much as she could.

“Fine. I call black.” You nod in agreement and the younger one leans on her elbows for a better view. “Either way, I know you like making the first moves. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Your first reaction was almost choking on your own saliva. Honestly, how dare he say something like that in front of Ellie? Did he suddenly forget that she was fourteen and terribly clever? Had he lost his mind? Also, he never called you by anything other than your name whenever she was around, so this whole situation felt like a personal attack.

“You okay over there?” Ellie asked, slightly concerned at your incessant coughing.

“Yeah…” you give him a dirty look and press a hand to your chest, making the first move with a white pawn. “Could you bring me some water? I think my soul might’ve left my body.”

“Sure.” She quickly answers, standing up. Joel doesn’t say anything else, his mind focused only on the game now.

It had all happened last weekend.

Thinking in retrospective, your relationship with him had always been ambiguous. You couldn’t quite recall when he actually started talking to you and not just ‘bear with your presence’, nor when his invitations to come over to his place started coming from him and not Ellie.

At first, it was simply you and her. Bonding was easy, despite her sharp character. She looked up to you, for whatever reason that might be, and that smoothed things. Joel was a completely different story. He acted like you didn’t exist, as if you were merely another bug roaming his house. Though when he saw how good your friendship with Ellie was, his brusque behavior started to fade, or at least settle down somehow.

Sooner than later you started coming over to make dinner, or teach the teenager how to bake some of the recipes your grandmother had thought you -more like you’d do everything while she chatted to keep you entertained-. But truth be told, it became more of an excuse to see him.

Honestly, you were doomed since the very beginning. There was undeniably no way you would’ve been able to escape Joel Miller’s silent charm. His presence became a constant need to you, and you’d often find yourself relating certain things to him. Smoke, denim, pills, booze, watches and boots, to mention a few. To you, he was all gray and blue, merging in the best way possible.

You didn’t expect him to thank you for taking care of them. Them. Not just Ellie, him too. Or that he’d suddenly show up to places you would frequent, which made you wonder, could he possibly feel the same way? Sure, it could’ve been a simple coincidence… If it weren’t for the stolen looks you’d often share. Though his face rarely reflected any interest in you, his piercing gaze would frequently burn your skin every time you were hanging out with other men.

Two weeks ago, Maria had been held back from patrol due to her pregnancy, and you were called to fill up her place. The thing is, you were supposed to leave with Tommy, but somehow ended up with his older brother, riding at dawn in utter silence and searching for a prey to hunt. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, yet it allowed you to watch him more attentively: his broad shoulders and sturdy back, the dark graying hair that, in some way, made him more attractive. And then your mind, went to some… Darker places.

How would his big, manly hands feel cupping your breasts? Flashy images of his rough, calloused fingers pinching your nipples meandered your mind. His face buried between your legs, his mustache tickling your…

“You ‘kay there, sweetheart?” He had asked, abruptly taking you out of your freakish daydreaming. “You seem distracted.”

Well, that was a way of putting it. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…” you babbled, “I hate the rifle.” Joel glanced back at you with a stiff, confused expression. “If I shoot this thing, I’ll feel the kickback on my shoulders and back for at least two weeks from now.”

The horses were stagnant, waiting by the trees while you took a stroll nearby, keeping an eye for any sort of animal that would serve for dinner.

“Show me.” He said, internally amused by your inquiring expression. “Show me how you hold it.”

“Oh…” You compeled, in spite of the anxiety his stern eyes brought upon you.

“You’re doin’ it wrong.” He grunted, coming to approach you, still holding the position.

You scowled, raising a brow to him but not daring to move a muscle. “Maybe you’re just making me nervous, did you think about that?”

Joel plants himself behind you, staying so close that you could feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of clothing. Your heartbeat races when his hand rearranges the rifle on your elbow, unintentionally wrapping his arms around you.

“You need to hold it like this.” His tone was low but still firm. “Keep it up.” You feel his chest pressed to your back and his face near yours, making it hard to breathe.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, cause if your head turns even a little, you fear the distance between you might as well disappear. His hand holds your wrist steady, the other one going from your elbow to your waist in a tight grip that makes you gasp.

“Do I make you nervous?” He questioned, without letting you go. Paying no mind to the way your nerves buzzed and ears rang at the proximity, you slowly nodded. “Are you afraid of me?”

His doubt made your heart jump and knit your brows together. “No. I trust you.” Joel’s breath hit your temple and it took all the self control in your body not to get rid of the distance.

“You shouldn’t.” Both his hands are on your waist in a firm grasp. He definitely noticed your flushed cheeks, the ragged breathing and constant desire to look at him. Like a damn teenager in love. You gulp, trying to regain composure.

“And why is that?” He didn’t answer, and every second that passed and his hands were still on you only made it worse. You needed to get closer or your lungs would crush under the weight of expectation. “Joel?”

You finally gave in, raising your head to face him. He was already looking down at you, eyes smitten and lost. A reflection of him you’d never seen before. Your gaze goes to his lips and inevitably lick your own before going up to his deep, brown eyes again.

Fucking hell, the man was mesmerizing.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you’re leaning forward, completely forgetting about the rifle and the whole world around you. Your noses touch and your lips merely brush against each other’s. Instinctively, you close your eyes in hopes that he’d go for it.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hand comes to arrange your posture again, murmuring a lazy ‘easy’ in your ear, that shared moment vanishing in thin air.

“When shooting a weapon this big, you gotta bring your strength from your torso and legs.” And then he acted like nothing happened; nevertheless, he was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you. “That way it won’t hurt after.”

Well shit. Now you had screwed up.

This man was like a father to Ellie and you were not only infatuated with him, but also add to the list that you had purposely tried to kiss him. You were embarrassed, to say the least. Specially since it appeared that whatever feelings you had were one-sided.

Or so you thought, up until last Saturday.

You hadn’t talked with him about it. In fact, you hadn’t even been alone with him ever since. It was probably for the best, though, that way you wouldn’t have to humiliate yourself in front of him any further. Every time you happened to cross paths, he seemed aloof, more indifferent than usual.

It was pretty late, probably past midnight and Joel hadn’t yet arrived. You had spent all day with Ellie and now you were just waiting for his return, but she was growing tired and you didn’t think it was fair for her to stay up for too long.

“Go to bed, okay? I’ll wait for him.” You told her with a smile.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’m not even…” whatever she was going to say got cut off by her yawn.

“Right. You were saying?” She rolled her eyes and snorted at your victorious air.

“Fine. But promise you won’t stay for too long. I’d hate to know you didn’t get any sleep because of me.” You agreed and said everything would be fine, that she had nothing to worry about.

So you waited there on his living room, reading old crappy magazines about celebrity gossip while facing the crackling fire that kept the house warm. It was easy to lose track of time this way, therefore, when the door opened at last, you had no idea how long you had been waiting around. You rushed to his encounter, but you were totally unprepared for what happened next.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. Are you- shit…” the man standing ahead was someone you knew, but could barely recognize. The side of his face was bleeding, a cut going from his temple to the cheekbone and there were bruises scattered around it. He was sweating and you could swear he was about to faint.

You closed the door behind him, tugging his shoulder to drag him inside, all the way to the kitchen. Despite his rumbles of protest, Joel allowed you to do it, putting up no resistance. His mind was screaming at him to tell you that you should leave and that he didn’t need any help. But he was too fucking exhausted and you were being so kind and warm… He just couldn’t bring himself to do it, ignoring the part of his brain that kept telling him ‘you’ll regret this later’. For once in a very long time, he was being irrational, letting another part of him take control; or rather lose it completely.

You sat him down on a chair and took a clean towel, wetting it with cold water to treat the wound. In addition, you also took the bottle of whiskey that he kept locked away where Ellie wouldn’t find it, pouring him a glass. He gulps it down straight away.

Joel observes your every move closely. Your steady hands going to his chin and raising his face to the light, the way your features drown in concern and your dazzling eyes examine the injury. His skin burnt there where you touched him and it was becoming hard for him to keep his mind focused, growing dizzier with pain and intoxicated by your perfume. He really shouldn’t be feeling this way, and it burdens him to know it. Your lovely, young self shouldn’t be an object of his desire; and the fact that you were what he wanted the most was killing him achingly slow.

Because, even if you did want him back, what good could it possibly come from the whole thing? He’d just hold you back. There were plenty of other men in Jackson that could offer you things he certainly couldn’t. Yeah, that was it. He was way too corrupted to be deserving of someone like you.

“Does it hurt too much?” You muttered while getting rid of the blood, careful not to be too harsh.

“S’okay, angel.” The name-calling wasn’t something you usually liked. It sounded condescending coming from other men, but when he did it, your stomach fluttered. “Were you waiting for me?”

You nod vaguely, “I was worried.” His eyes bore into yours and your heart skips a beat. “I mean we. We were worried.”

“Right…” He noticed how your fingers brushed the hair out of his face tenderly, his self-control threatening to crumble under your touch with every second that went by. His hand takes your wrist, preventing you from keeping up your work. For a moment, he says nothing, simply staring at you fixedly. “I think you should leave.” He blurts out, letting go of you.

Oh, there they were. Those mixed signs that you always seemed to misinterpret.

You groan in exasperation, leaving the bloody towel beside the bottle of alcohol. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Joel was being petty and his deliver managed to hurt a little. But you would not give him that much power, at least not without putting up a fight.

“It’s not about that and you know it.” You cross both arms over your chest and sit on the edge of the table, determined to get out of that agog that wouldn’t let you sleep. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He rubs a hand over his face, taking his time to retort and avoiding your eyes. “I can’t give you what you want.”

You laugh sardonically, challenging him. “And what is that?” His gaze is disdainful and rude, but you don’t let him intimidate you. “Are you afraid?”

If you were anyone else, you’d be shaking with fear. Joel was tough, to the point where some might call him cynical. But you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. His goal was to scare you off.

“Go. I don’t need you here.” You don’t move an inch, resolved to bring an end to whatever this was and ignoring his vicious glare.

“No,” you huffed.

“I told you to leave.” He was getting pissed, his voice trembling with anger and the cold words slicing the tense air.

“And I said no. I don’t take orders from you.” His lips were sealed in a fine line, eyes feisty. “Be honest with me and then I’ll see myself out.”

Silence again. A more prolonged one in which none of you had the bravery to come forward. Every second that went on and nothing happened was a torture you could not endure. That was it then, you’d made a fool of yourself yet again.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out unsteady from choking down the tears as you stand up straight, set on leaving all these feelings behind.

But right when you walk by his side, Joel’s hand grabs your arm softly. His grip wasn’t strong enough to hold you back if you really wanted to go, kind of like he was unsure about his own actions.

“Push me away.” He pleads. And it sounds desperate, as if the whole situation caused him agony. “Please, push me away.”

Your wet your lips, astonished by how guilty he appeared when practically begging you to stay away, “I can’t,” you respond, “I won’t.”

There was no turning back now. He had trapped himself on purpose and jeopardized everything the moment he laid his hand on you. The minute your eyes found each other’s, he realized he’d just lost all willpower that remained.

Joel pulled you closer and the sudden action almost made you trip, forcing you to place both hands on his chest to stay still. Something flicked in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite comprehend. But you took it as a sign to fully give in to your desires, as long as he’d permit it. You sit on his lap, solely enjoying the moment. His face, despite the beating, was ever so beautiful. It wasn’t fair. If he wanted you too, why did he have make it this difficult? Perhaps he was simply… Insecure.

“What have you done to me, sweetheart?” He asked, voice strained as he looks down at your lips. Your fingertips gently trace the edges of his face.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” One of his hands covers your thigh and the other rests on his knee.

“Do you like playin’ around with an old man like me?” You can’t help but laugh a bit, your thumb going across his bottom lip. “Is this what you want? A sweet thing like you can do so much better.”

“I don’t care for boys, or any other men for that matter.” His chest swells at your words. “I like you, Joel. Is that so hard to believe?” The man swears you can feel his heart thumping against his ribs when he whispers a barely audible ‘yes’. His honesty moved you and grew a weird feeling in your chest that impelled you to prove him wrong.

In response, you lastly get rid of that awful distance, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and feeling the unfamiliar tickle of his mustache. It was stubborn at first, but he caved in eventually, kissing you back slowly. He took his time to relish on your taste before deepening the kiss, manhandling you on top of him. Joel’s hands are on your lower back and the nape of your neck as his tongue explores your mouth in depth, letting go of himself. You moaned in between the kiss, drunken by every light stimulation, which only spurred him on and turned the situation hungrier, more desperate.

“Joel…” you pull back, laying your forehead against his. “I have to go.”

You feel him chuckle at your declaration. “Seriously? Now?” His tone was raspy and faint.

“I don’t want to.” You assure with a pout, “But I fear that if I stay, this won’t end in a simple kiss. And Ellie’s upstairs, remember?” He agreed it was for the best, but still couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, asking you to stay the night even if he had to sleep on the couch.

That was the night that started everything.

After that weekend, the way he acted changed radically. He remained with that grim, stoic exterior. Yet, he was brighter around you, more beaming. In public, he’d always find a way to touch you, even if it was merely a brief brush of skin. On bolder days, he’d pull you apart from a crown and take you somewhere darker to make out for as long as you could. Which wasn’t much, since everyone always appeared to have some sort of unresolved business with either of you.

Today, however, something was odd. Joel went off, as usual, and you stayed with Ellie, who had found an old, ragged chessboard somewhere in Jackson. A game that, as it turns out, you particularly loved.

That’s how you ended up here.

Three rounds afterwards, you keep winning and increasing his irritation.

“Checkmate.” You say for the fifth time tonight, giving him a triumphant smile, getting up from your seat to pour some whiskey into your glass.

“You’re cheating.” He barks, annoyed.

“See! I told you.” Ellie backed him up and the way they teamed up to bash you almost made you giggle.

“Suck it up, losers!” You shout from the kitchen, entertained by their resentment.

“Spill your secrets then, otherwise I will simply not be convinced.” She replies, glowering.

The drink nearly dissolves on your tongue and you leave the glass on the counter, coming to join them again. You rest both hands on her shoulders in a friendly gesture.

“My grandpa thought me when I was young. Before the outbreak, I mean.” Ellie turns her head to look at you in interest. “He got sick afterwards… Forgetful and amnesiac.” You explain, “Chess stimulated his brain and since I was his only family left, we would spend hours playing.” Joel’s chest feels heavy at the sight of your nostalgic smile. “We had a great time together. He… Passed away a couple years ago.” Ellie takes your hand on her own in a comforting manner, but you don’t feel particularly sad, simply emotional about the past. “Hey, kiddo. Didn’t you have a movie night with Dina today?”

“Shit!” Her eyes widen. “Thanks for the reminder, I totally lost track of time,” she gets up with an apologetic smile, “I’m gonna head out now.” She quickly takes a jacket and ties her hair up. “You guys can keep playing or… I don’t know, just don’t wait around for me.”

And just like that, you’re left alone.

After an entire week of sneaking around and behind everyone’s back, you’re finally alone.

There’s a shift in the air of the room and you narrow your eyes when you gape at him. “You think she knows something?”

He tilts his head to the side and finishes his whiskey. “Probably. Can’t know for sure.” The vague answer made you shrug, deciding to put a pin to it for later.

Now that no one was around, you were determined to have some fun, coming up with a plan that could escalate things between you. And he surely thought so too. It wouldn’t be difficult to get his attention, since he was constantly monitoring your every move. Being that way, you intentionally stand beside him when leaning to reorder the pieces, giving him a very good view of your ass.

“Another round?” You ask tauntingly, “Or are you already tired of getting defeated?”

He grunts, upset by the previous resolutions. “I’d like to play another game.” You turn around with a cheeky smile. “One that I won’t lose.”

“And what would that be?” He gives you a darkened, intense glance, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Joel Miller was a man of few words and he totally lived up to it. Instead of responding, he grabbed your hips and dragged your body to the side, so that you were now standing between his legs, lingering against the edge of the table. You swallow hard, meeting his heavy gaze from above him. It made your pulse raise and blood rush, igniting something that you haven’t quite felt with anyone else yet. He presses a kiss to your clothed abdomen, eyes never wandering from yours as he lowers his lips to your pelvis, lifting your shirt leisurely.

“Look at you, darlin’. All flustered and I’ve barely done anything.” Your chest rises and falls methodically, the atmosphere feeling dense despite the chilly air. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips when he starts laying open-mouthed kisses along your exposed belly, sending shivers through your whole body, “Off,” he motions at your clothes.

You do as told, getting rid of the shirt and tossing it to the floor. His big, warm hands strain your movements as he explores your skin, kissing all the way up to the valley of your breasts.

“Joel…” you take a fistful of his hair and pull at it mildly, just enough to yank his head backwards and bring your lips together, swallowing a whimper from him.

The kiss is ambitious, all teeth and tongue, as if you had been craving each other for long and had just barely given in. He swiftly stands up and sits you at the end of the table, spreading your knees to settle in between your thighs. He parts from your mouth and traces your jawline, neck and collarbones, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin, lightly scraping it with his facial hair. You were a mess at this point, panting and tugging at him as if you were about to collapse. But then he stops, breathing heavily against your chest and looking up to you with dark, lustful eyes.

“What- Did I do something wrong?” You stutter with uncertainty.

“Ain’t nothing wrong, angel.” His hand rests heavy on your thigh, a mischievous grin painted on his face. “But I told you we’d play a different game, didn’t I?”

This new side of him was exciting in many ways possible and whatever it was he wanted to do, you were certain it was going to be fun. And, possibly, a bit tortuous. You peer at him in expectation.

“Make your move.” He commanded, pointing the board with a succinct head movement. You obligue, choosing a random pawn and moving it with shaky hands while struggling to think straight. The man hums and decides to mirror your tactic. “Keep goin’.”

Next thing you know his fingers unhook your bra and you have to make a quick choice in spite of all the distractions. At the end, you go for a horse, barely capable of register anything other than his hands taking off the piece of clothing. After contemplating your scheme, he moves another pawn in return.

“Shit.” He hissed at the sight of your exposed tits, nipples hard from the cold air and arousal. “Focus.”

You weren’t sure if that last order was for him or for you, but either way the game kept going. He had enough attention span to grope your breasts and tweak your nipples between the pads of his calloused fingers, while also moving the chess pieces around. You couldn’t say the same for yourself; a louder moan escaping your lips when he replaced his fingers with his mouth.

The more ministrations he provided, the harder it became to make strategic moves. But you were determined not to let him win, regardless of the ache between your legs and the growing wetness in your panties that he refused to attend.

“Joel, I…” He takes away one of your rooks, his lips attached to your neck and hands caressing your inner thighs. “I need more.”

He huffs a laugh that vibrates through your lower body. “That right, angel? Tell me what you want.”

You take away his only bishop left and hear him growl at his approaching defeat. “Touch me, please.”

“Where?” His scent fogs your senses, so manly and distinctive of him, growing the need to feel him in any way possible. “Words, sweetheart.”

“I need your fingers in my cunt, Joel.” You spit out, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat and increasing his arousal with your lack of coyness. “Please.”

“Anything for my pretty girl.” He unbuttons your pants and slides one hand inside, palming your pussy over the underwear, altering your breathing pattern and moving the queen with his free hand. “Fuck, you’re drippin’.” You grind against his hand and his grip on your waist tightens to keep you still as he kneads circles on your clit over the thin fabric. “Your turn, darlin’.”

The game carries on at the same time as he moves your panties aside and slides two thick fingers inside your entrance, his thumb still fondling your nub slowly. You can’t keep your moans at low and the stimulation picks up when he curls his digits to hit your right spots. All that can be heard in the room is the cracking wood of the fireplace and the squelching sounds of your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, Joel…” you cry out his name, burying your face on the crook of his neck, grabbing the soft flannel in your fists and spilling all your whimpers into his ear, delighting yourself with the way he smelt. He groans at the feeling of your bare chest pressed to him, his cock throbbing painfully at every sound you’d make.

“You like that, darlin’? You like to fuck my fingers on top of this table like a needy little whore?” You clench around him and throw your head back, a new wave of slick coating all the way to his knuckles. “Ah, so you do like it.”

“Yes, Joel. I-” he speeds up his pace, greedily circling your clit in a way that makes your back arch, giving him a glorious view from his position.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Been wanting to do this for so fuckin’ long…” He admits, peppering kisses all over your breasts.

“Me too. Thought about you when I-” your voice gets lost at the sudden feeling of heat settling on your lower stomach, building up your crescendo. “When I was alone.” Your confession only manages to prompt him further and make his movements more effective. You squirm under his touch, a hand messing his hair while the other holds his belt to keep him close.

He groans a deep ‘fuck’ at the pathetic sound you made. All because of him. No; all of them for him.

“Joel, I’m- shit, I’m close,” there’s a hotness on the pit of your stomach that extends to your legs.

“I know, angel.” He coos, his free hand brushing the hair out of your face. “Go ahead, do it.” His words are all it takes for your orgasm to hit, shocking every nerve on your body. He helps you come down from it, tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin as your body quivers from elation.

“Joel…” you whisper, both your hands on his belt and going to unbuckle it, watching as he takes both fingers to his lips and licks them clean.

“Sweet” he kisses you again, deeply. You happily return it with the same energy, nibbling at his bottom lip while your palm slides inside his jeans to feel up his bulge over the underwear. He muffles a moan in your mouth, his hot, hard cock twitching under your grip.

Your hand drifts inside his boxers to feel him directly, your thumb rubbing over the tip to spread the surprising amount of precum that oozed there. Joel gasped into your mouth, the sound prompting you further.

“Checkmate.” You tell him, pulling back only when you needed to breathe, guiding your finger to your tongue in order to taste him. “I won.”

His eyes divert to the board in awe, and you admire his mesmerized expression when he confirms that you had, in fact, won again. Joel comes back to dote on your devilish grin, fueled up by a new thrill of excitement.

“Fuck this…” he mutters through gritted teeth, mindlessly tossing the board to the side and letting it fall off the table along with all the pieces, making an absolute mess. It appears like he doesn’t even register any of it, going straight back to kissing you, his hands sliding your pants down your legs.

“Shit, Joel…” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, encouraged by his sudden passion.

As your lips collide once again, you start to unbutton his shirt and he helps you out of your jeans, along with your very wet panties. He pushes your back against the wooden surface, holding you down with a hand around your neck.

“Winners that boast in their victory are only brats.” He snarls, taking his dick out for you to see. Your mouth waters at the sight of it: thick, bigger than you could’ve expected, the head swollen and glistening. “Brats need to be tamed.”

You whine when he parts your thighs even wider, teasing your slit with his tip, covering it in your slick and intentionally grazing your aching clit, urging you to grab his bicep for support.

“Can’t you just fuck me already?” You blurt out, the sensation only edging you more. “I might just cum again from all the teasing.”

His fingertip sweeps across your bottom lip, an eyebrow raised. “You really that sensitive, angel?” He questions, “Or is it just because of me?”

The inquiry nearly makes you crack up. Damn, the man was totally clueless. “Are you really that unaware of the effect you have on me?”

His stare reflects how pleased he is to hear that. “How many times did you beat me tonight, sweetheart?”

It takes an actual effort for you to recall and muster up an answer when he keeps toying with you so mercilessly. “Three, I presume.”

Joel’s hand slithers to your lower back, keeping you angled for him. “Then I’ll get you off three times.” Your heart jumps at the sentence and you look at him in disbelief. “Can you do that, angel?”

Three fucking times?

When your whole life men had only ever given you… None, practically. One at most, if you were lucky enough. And Joel mother-fucking Miller had the nerve to ask if you could handle three.

“Bet.” The answer is music to his ears, giving in once and for all as he enters you unhurriedly.

He’s so big and you feel him splitting you open exquisitely, the sensation fading any thoughts, beliefs or identities from your mind. Right now, all you know is him. It stings a little and it forces you to screw your eyes shut, letting out a small whine as he bottoms out, your nails digging on his arm.

“You’re doing s’good, baby.” He continues to say in midst of it, talking your way through it, “Taking me so well…” You think it’s somewhat unfair that he’s still fully clothed and you’re naked as the day you came; yet, at the moment your mind can’t even think of anything but his cock, buried deep inside you. “If something feels off or it becomes to much… Let me know and I’ll stop.” You nod, eagerness starting to scratch your insides.

“Yes. Now can you please, please start moving.” He holds back a chuckle, gazing at you from above, barely lifting your hips to feel more of him.

“Atta girl,” he obeys, thrusting his hips sharply and deep. “Look so pretty beggin’ to be fucked.” His big arm travels to the arch in your back, withdrawing and pushing in again, slowly losing his consciousness to pleasure.

“Fucking hell, you fill me up so good…” he moans gruffly at your comment, pulling you down on his cock as he picks up an unrelenting pace, hitting every right spot as if he knew them all by memory.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” Joel drags in an out, rejoicing himself in every high pitched moan you’d spill. Your legs wrap around his waist in an effort to keep him as close as you could.

The angle is very intimate, his whole body flushed against yours, warm and firm, while your hand snakes under his flannel to dig your nails on his bare shoulders, the other scratching his scalp delicately and Joel’s hot, erratic breaths hitting your face as you gape at him. It’s like everything else disappeared and it was all about the two of you and this moment of pure rapture. Unable to contain your urge, you search for his lips, kissing him one more time, the mixture of mint and alcohol in his mouth fogging your senses in the best way possible.

His tip nudges your g-spot relentlessly, the stretch his girth provided so satisfying that you clench around him as your second orgasm approaches, causing him to pull apart from the kiss and let out a sinful groan, deep from his throat, that sends a shudder up your spine. It all becomes too much; the friction of your delicate nipples with his shirt, his thick cock dragging against your walls and lastly, Joel’s teeth biting down the soft skin under your ear, his facial hair scraping deliciously. That is your cum button.

“That’s my girl, making a mess on my dick,” he fucks you through it, slowing down his pace and only pulling out when your legs tremble. “Say it darlin’, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Joel…” he basks in the view of your fucked out self, looking up at him in a delirious state, eyes low, heat soared across your cheeks and lips plumped. “Shit, Miller,” you sit up, arm still hanging around his broad shoulders while his hard, throbbing cock rested against your thigh. “You’re so fucking hot, did you know that? It drives me insane.”

He laughs huskily, his big hand caressing the side of your face in a caring manner. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, “I think I might’ve fucked you so hard I scrambled your brain.”

You actually crack up this time, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering an: “Idiot.” He grabs your thighs and methodically swirls your body, flushing your back against his chest. Without warning, he slams into you again, making you yelp at the sudden action.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” he pokes fun at you, “next time we’ll put it to use.” And the promise raises goosebumps on your skin.

This new position gave you the opportunity to feel him deeper, if that was even possible. His thighs and hips firm against yours, every single snap making you feel that delicious stretch he provided as your cunt envelopes him tightly. But you were already far too sensitive and every light touch added to his thrusts made your body feel weaker.

“Joel, I-” he holds you with an arm covering your waist, his fingers pinching your nipples. “Fuck, I won’t last…”

He becomes more vocal, his disjointed moans drifting from his lips right into your ear while the hand on your hip makes its way to rub your clit gloriously, in a way that makes you wonder just how the fuck does he know exactly what your body likes.

“Is my sweet girl gonna cum for me?” you nod, unable to form any words, only capable of reveling on the way his cock throbs inside you. “Speak, remember?”

But you can’t. Nothing comes out of your mouth besides his name, like a constant plea. When the third one finally came, it was simply euphoric; your whole body shudders and your vision goes white, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you start to feel lightheaded. Joel draws out with a grunt, a string of curses leaving his lips as you spin around to see him. Your hand wraps around his own when he fucks his fist and you take in the sight of him cumming all over your fingers, his forehead laying on your shoulder as you milk him. Inevitably, you lick your fingers to taste his salty load. A sight that would be engraved in his brain for the rest of his days and that could possibly haunt him in his time apart from you.

“Checkmate my ass,” he grits between shaky breaths, your hand stroking his hair as he comes down from his high.

“What a sore loser…” you joke. In fact, you plan to say something more, but you feel too tired for anything.

It didn’t really matter, though. Joel took good care of you. He bathed with you, cleaned up the whole mess and gave you one of his shirts for you to sleep with, eventually going to bed with your very passed out self.

Well, if Ellie didn’t know anything before, she surely will now.

#joel miller #joel the last of us #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #the last of us oneshot #the last of us hbo

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measuredingold · 1 year ago

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hi, angel <33 back with a request! also also no pressure at all ofc, if you’re not vibing with it just delete 🥰

just had a lil fluff idea, friends to lovers type beat. reader is on tour with the band, tagging along as a friend when she’s out late one night with the guys, gets a lil drunk/tipsy and ends up in the wrong bunk. (Noah’s.) he didn’t go out, he went to bed early. she doesn’t realize and she’s like “what are you doing in my bed?”

neither of them end up moving, and it doesn’t help that she’s a cuddly drunk. plus, he has a hard time saying no to you 🥺💗

anyway, do with that what you will 💖

just friends

authors note: thank you so much lovely anon for requesting this! i enjoyed writing this and kind of want to take it further, but i'm not sure? :) anyways, i hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy it <3 reminder that my requests are open! also, happy birthday noah :)

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 2.6k

cw/tags: fluff (like tooth-rotting fluff imo), friends to lovers, confessions/admission of feelings, drinking/reader is drunk, 18+ minors do not interact

"Easy there, girl."

You giggled as Nicholas helped you onto the bus, his hands pressed against the small of your back to keep you in place. You didn't even mean to drink this, usually not one to do so, but after Folio had challenged you to see how many shots you could take in under a minute you had to prove to him that it definitely was more than two. Now here you were, giggling obnoxiously to yourself as Nicholas guided you onto the bus, feet tripping over one another.

"Nick," You hum, eyes squinting around the bus. "Is the room spinning?"

"It very much is not. You," A finger pressed to your forehead, and you barely registered that Nicholas was now in front of you, a smile tugging at his lips, "are very much drunk, though. Come on, let's get you to bed. Go change and I'll get you some water and Tylenol for that headache that should be kicking in... now."

You go to retort, but there was already a dull pain in the back of your head causing you to wince. Your headaches came a lot earlier when you drank, not waiting until the morning to hit. You give him a grateful smile when he hands you your bag you kept above one of the seats up front, knowing your drunk ass could not get that even if you tried your hardest, and you pulled out a change of clothes and made your way back to the very small, and very tight bathroom.

You change, clumsily, and shuffle your way back to the front of the bus where Nicholas was waiting for you. You take the Tylenol and bottle of water gratefully, swallowing down the medicine in one go. You take a few more sips of water, realizing just how thirsty you were before deciding you were good to go, twisting the cap back on a tossing it onto the couch.

“Good?” You nod, giving Nicholas a thumbs up in response. He smiles. “Alright. I’m gonna meet back up with guys, but Noah’s still here.”

Your brows furrow for a moment before you remember that Noah is still on the bus, opting out of going out with you and the crew after tonight’s show. You give Nicholas another nod as your response.

“If you need anything, just wake Noah up. He’ll get you whatever you need.” He leans forward now, tipping his head down to press his lips to your forehead, and you smile brightly up at him when he pulls away. “And if he doesn’t, hit ‘em upside the head and then call me.”

You laugh, “I’m sure I’ll be fine if I need anything. I’m drunk, not injured.”

He rolls his eyes at you before you gently shove him away, pushing him towards the door. You say your goodbyes and watch the door shut behind Nicholas, leaving you to stand alone in the front of the bus all by yourself. You stay put for a second, the dizziness coming back before a yawn rips from you, and you decide to finally shuffle your way towards the bunks.

All you needed was your favorite blanket and your bunk, and that duck squishmallow Noah had gotten you a few months ago. It’s quiet and you think Noah’s probably asleep already, and you yawn again as you finally reach your bunch, pulling the curtain back. You stare quizzically, though, at the man curled up in your bunk, and he stares right back, brows raised and just as confused.

"What the hell are you doing in my bunk?"

Noah blinks at you before pulling his airpods out, a brow raised. "What?"

"I said," You let go of the curtain to place a hand on your hip. "What the hell are you doing in my bunk, Davis?"

He stares at you for a beat before his lips slowly start curling into a smile.

"How drunk are you?" Noah squints at you.

"Why does that matter?" You argue, words slurring slightly. "I'm drunk and you're in my bunk. Two very obvious and true things. Now answer my question."

Noah snorts out a laugh. "You're right about one thing, you definitely are drunk. This is my bunk, though."

If you were sober, you would realize that yes, he was right. This was definitely not your bunk, yours was right below his, but for some reason in your drunk and hazy mind you were sure that this was your bunk. It looked just like it - just like the rest of the damn bunks on this bus - so it had to be true. You purse your lips, arms crossing over your chest.

“Very funny, Noah. Now get out, I’m tired and want to go to sleep.”

“I’m not moving.” He says more firmly, eyes narrowing at you. “This is my bunk, yours is over there.”

You turn as he points to the bunk across from his, the curtains drawn, and you squint. You look back at him, then back at the other bunk, and a voice in the back of your head is telling you that he was right. That was your bunk, not the one Noah was currently occupying. None of your stuff is there, your pillow isn’t even there, but for some reason the drunk – and very stubborn – part of you was firm on your stance.

Noah was in your bunk.

You turn back to him, arms still crossed over your chest, and you square your shoulders. “I’m just gonna climb up if you’re not moving, dude. So, either get out or we’re cuddle buddies for the rest of the night.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment and you see the exact where Noah’s shoulders drop, realizing there’s no point in arguing with you because you are right (no, you’re not) and he sighs deeply, though you barely catch the slight curl of his lips.

“Whatever. Get in.”

You climb into the bunk beside Noah, slowly because you knew in your inebriated state that was a disaster waiting to happen, and the boy sighs to himself again, rolling onto his side and pressing his back against the wall to make room for you. You roll onto your side, back facing Noah, and press against him. It wasn't hard to do with how tight the space was, and you hummed to yourself when you finally got comfortable enough to relax, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Comfy?" You hear Noah murmur behind you.

You nod, "Very."

"Good."

You feel him shift behind you and if you had been sober, maybe the thought of being so close to him would have your skin blazing, but as your thoughts swirl, the only thing you can really think is how nice he feels pressed against you and how comfortable you are. His arm slings over your waist underneath the blanket and you swear he pulls you closer to him, if that was possible. A pleased sigh escapes him, the air fanning over the back of your neck. Now that has your body firing up, tiny goosebumps scattering across your skin. You melt against him.

"Why didn't you go out?" You ask through a yawn, eyes fluttering.

"Didn't want to."

"Why not? Everyone else did."

"Just wasn't in the mood," He mumbles behind you, his breath fanning against the back of your neck again. "Cold? You got goosebumps.”

You shake your head but feel Noah pull you closer anyways, sweatpant covered legs slipping in between yours. His limbs snake around yours and practically confines you, locking you against him. You're finding out that you like it way more than you probably should for a friend, but the drunken haze of your mind doesn't care too much about the technicalities of it all.

"Did you miss me?" You ask after another beat of silence, and you feel Noah's body tense behind you.

“…Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe."

You pause. "Is that why you're in my bunk right now? Because you missed me?"

Noah lets out a groan and you can't help but smirk, soft giggles escaping you. You feel his hand move down to your hip, pushing your shirt up slightly to pinch at your skin playfully and you squeal, squirming against him. You barely move because this six-three, giant man has you tight in his grasp, and you feel his chest move against your back with his laughter.

"Oh my fucking god," He grumbles into your hair, but you hear the smile in his voice. "Go to sleep. Please."

"I'm trying." You whine out, eyes slipping shut at the feeling of his hand now spreading out against your tummy, rubbing soothing circles there. "My head hurts too much."

"Did you take anything?"

"Mhm." You hum. "Nicholas gave me some Tylenol and water before he met back up with the guys."

"You drink all the water?"

You shrug. “Maybe like half?”

"Good enough for me." You feel the brush of his lips against the back of your neck and your eyes spring open, freezing in his hold. "You just need to relax. It should start kicking in soon."

You don't say anything, hyper-focused on the way his lips felt against your skin and the way you liked it too much. Even in your inebriated state you knew what that meant, and maybe you always had, but was just too scared to even think of the possibility. You and Noah were just friends... who sometimes teetered the line between friends and something else. It went unspoken for as long as you could remember, and you're not sure why you never said anything.

You don't know if it's the alcohol, or if you're finally sobering up, but your stomach turns at the thought. Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't he say anything? You feel dizzy again, and there's a voice in the back of your head trying to tell you to shut up and sleep but you've never been a good listener, even to yourself, and your lips move before you can think twice about it.

"Noah." Your voice is hushed and the feel of his fingers rubbing circles against your bare hip as your head spinning more than it probably should be right now.

"Hm?"

"You do realize friends don't do this, right?"

It takes him a moment to reply, "Do what?"

"This."

You feel more sober than you did five minutes prior. You're aware of everything - where you are, who you're with, who you're pressed against. Noah lets out a sigh and you feel him nose at your shoulder, a shiver running through your body at the feeling.

"You know we’ve never exactly been just friends."

You can't believe he had just said that as your eyes almost bulge right out of your head, and you try to turn in his arms so that you can face him.

"Noah-"

His grip only tightens on you, and you can't move, stuck where you are, and you hear him huff out a laugh before saying, "Nope. No way. We’re not having this talk right now when you’re drunk as shit, and we’re trapped in this glorified death box. Go to sleep.”

"But-"

"If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again." You feel his lips move against the back of your neck and you shiver again, squirming against him.

"I will." You finally whisper after two beats of silence, trying to settle back against his chest. "I'll ask you tomorrow."

He presses another kiss to the back of your neck and your entire body flushes, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Okay."

You both lay in silence and it's not long for sleep to find you, body finally relaxing after the long night.

…

You wake some hours later, groaning quietly as you lifted your head up from the pillow. You blink blearily around you before rubbing at your eyes, trying to rid them of sleep as last night’s shenanigans flooded your brain. With another groan you roll onto your back and stare up at the top of the bunk, picking a part your memories.

Going out with the guys, taking way too many shots with Folio, Nicholas having to walk you back to the bus, the Tylenol, Noah… Your mind pauses at the thought of the male, and you realize you’re in the bunk alone. You remember everything clearly, from arguing with him about how this was your bunk – it in fact very much was not – from climbing into said bunk and cuddling with him. You remember him saying that the two of you have never been just friends but refused to elaborate.

If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again.

The bus is quiet, the only sound you hear are Jolly’s snores coming from below you, and the soft sound of the bus’s engine running. You were most likely on your way to the next city. You’re sure Noah’s already up, probably in the front working away on his laptop, and you peel his blanket off your body and do your best to get down from his bunk.

You find him where you expected him, beanie on top his head and hoodie wrapped around his body, headphones on as he typed away at his laptop. You’d make a joke about him always working, but you’re only thinking of one thing right now.

You come stand in front of him and he notices you almost instantly, pushing his headphones off his head as he stares up at you.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

You blush, eyes dropping for a moment as your arms come to cross over your chest.

“What did you mean last night?” You blurt out.

Noah pauses but his eyes never leave you, and you watch as he slips his computer off his lap and into the seat next to him. He leans forward, elbows resting against his knees.

“Ask me again.”

“No, I’m not-“ You huff out a groan and brush your fingers through your hair, wincing a bit at the knots that caught between your hands. “I’m not playing that game, Noah. What did you mean we’ve never exactly been just friends?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” He leans back against the couch now, arms crossing over his chest. “And you know I’m right.”

Your heart hammers against your chest and all you can do is nod at his words, cheeks flushing with color. He was right. You two have never been just friends, too close, too touchy to be labeled as platonic. You’d be lying if you said last night was the first time you shared a bed together. But now what? You got the answer you were looking for, but for some reason you can’t even look at Noah, but his eyes are burning into you, watching your every move.

“Okay…” You start, sucking in a breath as you finally moved your gaze back to Noah, eyes locking with his. “If we’re not just friends, then what does that make us?”

He smiles. “People who like each other more than friends but are too scared to admit it?”

Damn. He got that spot on. You blush again, trying to find the right words, but come up short. Your brain is still playing catch up, sleep still very much in your veins, and Noah notices. He leans forward again and gestures you to come closer and you do, his hands reaching out to grab your own.

“We have the next two days off. Let me take you out. Dinner or something. A movie. Whatever you want.”

“And then what?”

He shrugs. “And then we see where this goes. I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

You can’t stop the smile that’s slipping onto your lips, your fingers curling around his as warmth spread throughout your chest.

“That sounds good to me.”

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #mine #request

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slut4sugu · 1 year ago

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— 𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋, 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐘 [𝙛𝙚��𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] 𝐄!𝟒𝟐 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬

Miles x Fem!Black reader

Including: miles scaring reader, comfort fluff, slight angst to fluff, bro I almost cried 3 times while writing this I can’t make this shit up bro

Genre: angst-fluff

🎸: 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬- 𝐋𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐭. 𝐙𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐚

It was the weekend and you were hoping that you would be able to see miles if you stayed up long enough, you knew he hated the fact that you would stay up to such an ungodly hour just to see him check up on you, but you couldn’t help it this time. You haven’t seen him since early this week and you really missed him, FaceTime calls and texts helped but you wanted him. You wanted to feel his touch or his weirdly comforting dark presence, you wanted to know if he was okay- wait what time was it? You looked at your clock digital white clock to see it was almost 2 am. You quickly sat up and searched for your phone underneath the bedsheets before finding it, unlocking it only to find no new text messages from miles. Your heart sank, what if he was hurt? What if he got shot? What if he never comes home?

So many what-ifs ran through your mind you didn’t even feel the the tears that blurred your vision and ran down your cheeks, you grabbed the plushie that Miles had gotten for you on your birthday and held it close too your chest. It still smelt like him, tears streamed down your face as you worried for your boyfriends safety. You heard your heartbeat in your ears, only wanting to hear his to calm you down- “Ma?” Your head quickly shot up and looked to your window, “Miles?” You froze, just staring at him in the dark making out every feature you could to verify it indeed was our boyfriend, who climbed into your apartment and walked towards your side of the bed. “Why are you cryin? Did someone threaten you mami?” His tone serious as he cupped your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. You slowly shook your head no, “I..I thought something happened to you. You didn’t text me it was late I thought-“ You couldn’t fathom the mere idea of miles being dead and broke down in tears. “Hey hey mami, I’m here. I got held up and had to take care of sum bullshit, but I’m sorry.” He sitting down on your bed, he lifted you into his lap. One arm going under your knees and the other one on your upper back, you instantly buried your face into the crook of his neck.

Your arms clinging onto him tight as your tears continued to fall, your body now leaning fully on him. The sight of you so broken and scared made miles rethink the idea of being the prowler, if it meant that there was a 50/50 chance of something like this happening again he wanted out. He hated seeing you like this. Miles’s hands now shifted one on your lower back, the other on the back of your head. “I’m sorry princesa,” He whispered into your ear, his tone soft as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. You looked up at him with happy and yet sad eyes before looking back down and nuzzling your head further into his neck. Then a hand that was gripping the collar loosened and went down to hug his torso, “Promise me something miles, please.” “Anything amor.” “Always keep me updated, I don’t want to assume th-that your-“ Your voice started to waver before miles shushed you and rubbed soothing circles into your waist with his thumb. “I promise, and that won’t ever fuckin happen ma.” You inhaled his scent, the smell of expensive cologne and rain making you feel safe. “Please stay the night.” You asked, your voice sounding small seeming as though you thought he would say he couldn’t “I will mi amor.” He pressed another kiss to your forehead and his grip on you tightened, “I won’t leave you alone.”

Miles knew he would get lectured for not reporting back to uncle Aron that night, but he didn’t care. At that moment at 2:23 am, all he could possibly care about is you. The angel he held in his arms.

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belovedhoon · 3 months ago

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things i wish you would have said

divider credit: @cafekitsune

paring: beomgyu x f! reader genre: angst, smut, fluff fandom: tomorrow x together wc: 2000+ contains: smut, angst, unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy)

happy birthday @hmusunoo here's your presents!! ily!!! taglist: @shypen , @st1llm0nster , @lonelybutterflytae , @ayatakami

synopsis: y/n and beomgyu used to date about a year ago but are now broken up due to a dumb fight. since they are still in the same friend group, they unfortunately have to still be around each other even if it still does sting to be around each other. how do they cope with this feeling? they argue and fight all the time of course! their mutual friends are having a little get-together party to celebrate the end of a semester. what y/n and beomgyu don’t expect is to be paired up for an innocent little game of truth or dare.

fic under the cut >>>>>

“Y/N!! Hi, welcome!!” Kai said opening the front door of the apartment and letting you in. He hugged you as soon as you stepped inside the spacious apartment, you hugging him back tightly.

“Kai, my angel! I missed you during exams!” You said excitedly acting as if you hadn’t seen him in years when in reality it’s been about a week. Kai smiled brightly at you before leading you to the rest of the group. Beomgyu scoffed as soon as he saw you.

“Oh great the princess is here.” Beomgyu said sarcastically. You just scoffed at the nickname you once loved and rolled your eyes. Leave it to Beomgyu to piss you off so early into the night. You decided to not entertain his comment and chose to ignore him by not replying. This seemed to annoy Beomgyu.

“What’s got your panties in a twist princess?” Beomgyu let out, smirking like he just said the funniest thing in the world. You rolled your eyes again at that statement.

“Shut the hell up Beomgyu, I really don’t wanna hear it tonight.” You said flatly. The rest of the guys sigh at the fact this happens every time you all get together.

“Alright…guys let’s just play some games so you two don’t kill each other so early in the night.” Yeonjun said laughing at his joke. You and Beomgyu looked over at him nodding slowly, agreeing to stop…for now.

You were all sat in a circle, a bottle in the middle of the circle. You were sat between Kai and Soobin. Beomgyu unfortunately directly in front of you. You all started laughing as Kai spun the bottle, it landing on Yeonjun who sighed heavily knowing that Kai was up to no good if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.

“Ooh Hyung…truth or dare?” Kai said to Yeonjun, everyone looking at Yeonjun to see what he would decide. Yeonjun stayed quiet for a second contemplating what he should decide. Finally going with a dare because ‘I’m not a loser’. Kai giggled mischievously at Yeonjun’s answer, Yeonjun sighing at Kai’s reaction.

“Wow, you’re brave hyung! I dare you to lick Soobin-Hyung's foot…with no sock on!” Kai let out laughing at Yeonjun’s disgusted face. Yeonjun stared at Kai with a glare before sighing and leaning towards Soobin, who had already taken the liberty of removing his sock and holding his foot out. Yeonjun got closer and hesitated before hurriedly licking the bottom of Soobin’s foot and flinging himself back quickly, overdramatically coughing. Yeonjun rushed to get water to rinse his mouth out, acting as if he had just ingested poison. When he got back and sat down, Kai was still laughing almost wheezing at this point. Yeonjun glared at him, telling him to just wait until it was his turn.

Yeonjun spun the bottle, the bottle seeming like it was never going to stop, before landing on Beomgyu. When Beomgyu saw that the bottle landed on him, one of his eyebrows rose surprised that it would land on him so quickly. Before Yeonjun could ask ‘truth or dare’ Beomgyu blurted out ‘dare’ so confidently. ‘Of course, Beomgyu wants to act so cool and cocky…’ You thought to yourself. You rolled your eyes at Beomgyu’s behavior, Beomgyu noticed you doing this and gave you a sneer.

“Alright, Mr. Confident, I dare you to go in a room with Y/N for 10 minutes, without killing each other.” Yeonjun said with an evil grin on his face. You whipped your head to Yeonjun real quick at his words, glaring at him. You began to protest but Yeonjun cut you off before you could get a word in.

“Ah ah ah Y/N! If you say no you also have to drink a shot…actually you both have to drink 3 shots.” Yours and Beomgyu’s eyes widened at that statement, not wanting to take 3 shots each when the game had only just begun. You and Beomgyu got up begrudgingly following Yeonjun to the bedroom. Yeonjun gestured you two into the room and you and Beomgyu walked into the room slowly. As soon as you two walked into the room, Yeonjun closed the door and you could hear him locking it and putting something against the door so you two couldn’t get out. Your eyes widened before you yelled out cursing at Yeonjun.

You turned around because Beomgyu was being suspiciously quiet. When you turned around you noticed Beomgyu already staring at you. You laughed humorously at the fact that Beomgyu still hasn’t said anything and was just staring you down. You felt goosebumps form at the intense stare he was giving you.

“Do you like what you see or something?” You asked smugly. Beomgyu smirked at that.

“Oh, I definitely do princess.” Beomgyu said just as smugly. You scoffed at that statement, kinda pissed off at what he said.

“Well if you weren’t such an asshole, I could say the same.” You said matter-of-factly. Beomgyu just laughed at that.

“So what you’re saying is that you think I’m attractive still?” Beomgyu said confidently. You glared at him annoyed. Beomgyu was just so infuriating.

“Beomgyu for the sake of my sanity, respectfully shut the hell up for once.” You let out, frustrated. This is why you couldn’t stand Beomgyu, he was always just so infuriating and cocky. It was one of the reasons you two broke up, he could never take things seriously and that was his downfall. You tried so hard to get him to see where you were coming from and he would just laugh it off, minimizing your feelings.

Beomgyu laughed at your words. Here he goes again not taking you seriously again. It stung just as much as it did the day you two broke up. It felt like he didn’t really care about your feelings and that hurt a lot.

“This is why we broke up Beomgyu! All you do is laugh and joke and never take things seriously…even when I pour out my feelings…” You said exasperated, tears of frustration starting to pool in your eyes.

“What? What do you mean by that?” Beomgyu asked with a look of confusion on his face. You sighed a deep sigh, the tears finally beginning to fall, so you turned away so he couldn’t see your hurt. Beomgyu let out another noise of confusion, wondering what was going on. He had always assumed you broke up because you were tired of him and had fallen out of love with him.

Beomgyu walked up to you, putting his hand on your shoulder and turning you around slowly, his face softening at the fact that you were crying. He stared at you for a second studying you, as your face was turned to the floor. Even crying, Beomgyu thought you were the most beautiful girl to ever exist. It broke his heart to see you crying like this.

“Y/N…what did you mean by not taking your emotions seriously? That’s the reason we broke up? I-I thought it was because you fell out of love with me…That’s why I acted that way, I was trying to protect myself…” Beomgyu said solemnly, his voice breaking at the end. He felt so stupid right now. You lifted your head and stared at him, you know being the one to study his face. You could see tears welling up in his eyes at the emotions he was feeling right now. Was this simply just a huge misunderstanding? You brought your hand up to his face, caressing it softly.

“Gyu…I could never not love you…you mean so much to me, even now. Even after all the fighting we have been through.” You said gently. Beomgyu closed his eyes, the tears finally falling freely down his face. Your heart breaking seeing Beomgyu cry…he never cried. Beomgyu opened his eyes again staring into your eyes, tears falling down both of your faces, the melancholy feeling in the room getting to you both. This was the most tender moment you two have shared in your whole time knowing each other.

You both continued to look into each other's eyes before you both started to lean in, your lips meeting in a soft kiss. You threw your arms around Gyu’s neck playing with his long hair, before softly grasping it in your hand pulling softly. Beomgyu let out a small moan at the feeling. You smiled into the kiss, he had always loved it when you would pull his hair. You took advantage of Beomgyu’s moan, slipping your tongue into his mouth, your tongues dancing around each other. Beomgyu brought his hands down to grip your waist tightly. You brought your hands down to his shirt and tugged on it, signally for him to take it off. He took the hint, breaking out of the kiss to pull his shirt off. You groaned at the sight of Beomgyu’s bare chest, dragging your nails up and down his chest. Beomgyu groaned at the feeling, you smirking at the guttural sound coming from deep within his chest.

You pushed Beomgyu down on the bed, climbing on top of him and straddling him. Beomgyu looked up at you with a lust-filled gaze, you smirking down at him. You began to grind your hips down onto Gyu’s, moaning out at the feeling of his bulge pressing into your core. You started to move your hips faster, the feeling could be described as euphoric.

“Y/N please…I need you…” Beomgyu let out, his voice whiney. You smiled down at him before you climbed off of him to pull your clothes off. As you were pulling off your clothes, Beomgyu eagerly pulled down his pants and boxers in one go, flinging them across the room. You chuckled at how excited he seemed. You climbed back on top of him, hovering over his erect member.

You grabbed his cock lining it with your entrance before sinking down slowly, you both groaning at the feeling. You began to move your hips back and forth, moans tumbling from your mouth uncontrollably. Beomgyu put his hands on your waist and began to help you bounce up and down on his cock at a rapid pace. Beomgyu groaned loudly at the feeling of you squeezing around him so tightly.

Suddenly Beomgyu sat up flipping you around and began to pound into you roughly, not being able to help himself, reveling in the feeling of your wet hot heat. You could feel your high fast approaching.

“Gyu! I’m gonna cum!” You gasped out feeling really close to the edge. Beomgyu nodded rapidly.

“Cum with me princess!” Beomgyu let out with a gasp. You nodded in agreement. Beomgyu brought his hand down to your clit rubbing it quickly, that was your downfall. You came instantly at the feeling, squeezing around Beomgyu tightly, Beomgyu following suit shooting his load into you, groaning loudly while doing so. Beomgyu pulled out, flopping down beside you pulling you to cuddle up into him.

“Beomgyu…how could you ever think that I don’t love you?” You asked him softly. Beomgyu sighed at the question. Contemplating how to word what he was going to say.

“I guess I just let my own insecurities get the best of me to protect myself from getting my heart broken. You mean the absolute world to me and I don’t think I could ever love anyone as much as I love you, the thought that you could find someone so much better than me was too much to handle, so I decided to behave the way I did. Which I know is not an excuse but I was immature.” Beomgyu told you honestly. You nodded understanding where he was coming from.

Before you could respond you heard the item in front of the door being moved. You and Gyu jumped up at the sound and then suddenly the door opened, light shining in through the hallway. Beomgyu hurried and pulled the covers up over you both to cover your naked bodies so that Yeonjun didn’t see you naked.

“Oh shit! Really?! In my bed?” Yeonjun let out exasperated. You both snickered at his tone. Yeonjun shook his head leaving the room cursing.

Things may have ended on a bad note a year ago, but maybe everything would end up being okay for Beomgyu finally said the words you wished he would say.

#txt smut #txt hard hours #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #txt scenarios #txt imagines #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop fic #kpop smut #txt #tomorrow x together smut #tomorrow x together

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bobluvbot · 7 months ago

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birthday blues

pairing: sirius black x f!reader summary: first time godfather sirius goes shopping to find the perfect first birthday gift (jily + baby harry ♥️) wc: 5k a/n: me tryna heal canon trauma ❤️ because in my world everyone lives happily ever after !!! my lil celebration piece for hitting 200 followers! thank u all <3 not proofread, english is not my first language so plz be nice heheh

“What’s the store called again, sweets?”

even as a young kid, one of your biggest pet peeves is repeating yourself for more than four times. three is pushing it. your parents told you its a bad habit to take to adulthood because you’re bound to meet people who just don’t get what you’re saying the first or second time around. But one Wednesday morning, when you asked from upstairs where your favorite periwinkle socks were and your parents downstairs said something that the loud dishwasher and vacuum covered up, you asked them to repeat it again (still can’t hear), and again when you moved closer to the staircase down (barely heard any), then you heard your father’s heavy footsteps up, personally shoving in your waiting hand the said pair of socks.. only damp. “Honey, I said three times already, that they were still in the dryer,” your dad had huffed before heading back downstairs. That’s when you knew it was genetic.

But, you love Sirius Black. It’s gotten to the point where in the honest, sensitive hours past midnight, while there was nothing much to do as you let sleep creep up from your tired limbs to your fluttering eyelids, but to watch peace settle on the raven-haired boy’s sharp features, ethereal and glowing like an angel even in the dark of the night; that you realize he may be the love of your life. It’s a scary thought, with fears of being too eager, too soon, too much—- so you tuck it in a little pocket and give it a nudge when you need a reminder of how big and true its growing with each second spent together.

You love him, so you breathe out the snarky irritation away in slow heavy puffs and inhale peace, choosing to exercise patience because you know Sirius is nervous.

“It’s Spintwitches Sporting Needs, love. ‘s right across Ollivanders if I’m not mistaken,” you say, taking his free hand in yours and rubbing small circles on his knuckles to calm some of his nerves down, while he drives through busy muggle London streets to park by the Leaky Cauldron. He throws you a soft smile and gives your hand a quick squeeze as thanks, grateful to the heavens that you’re here to keep him from going insane.

You know him enough that, while the day in question is not about him, or you, or your relationship, it meant a great deal to Sirius.

He had one chance (even if you’d argue otherwise) to make things right, do things the right way the first time around with Harry. James knew this fact by heart, which is why he and Lily agreed in a heartbeat that Sirius should be little Harry’s godfather, as it was meant to be. He would do anything, go beyond means, hell, even against Merlin himself just to ensure the safety and happiness of his godson.

No one, however, was expecting it to backfire and it caught you and Sirius off guard. Once the tears dried and elation diffused, the anxiety kicked in for Sirius, and in turn you. He knew what the opposite was, parents who robbed their own sons of happy childhoods and disowned him when he got brave enough to find happiness and protect it, he had lived it. And now that he has a chance to save an innocent soul from a similar fate, he was determined, but this fact scared him shitless.

He wanted everything to be perfect (who wouldn’t?) and gave everything he physically could to make James and Lily’s Harry’s life easy and happy. Seeing Sirius buy ‘How to Dad?’ books and pour over them at night or on his free time at work was undoubtedly an attractive and loving sight. In a span of a week, he knew which is the best formula to supplement with breastfeeding, toys to pick that stimulate early brain development, even clothes made with hypoallergenic materials that won’t irritate the sensitive newborn skin. It came to a point where James would ask him for advice when Lily’s at work, and Sirius would put on his trusty reading glasses and point at a specific passage of ‘How to Dad?’ that answers James’ question perfectly.

Eventually, you did have to put your foot down when you found Sirius writing a howler to a baby food company when rumors started going around that their baby snack puffs (which Harry was obsessed with) had harmful chemicals in it. In typical Sirius fashion, he wasn’t convinced that easily. You’d bet that what pushed him off the howler letter route (and in turn protect the statute of wizarding secrecy) was seeing you spend lots of time in the kitchen to perfect making banana and strawberry baby snack puffs from scratch until the recall was over and the food was deemed safe to be consumed again by experts and Sirius himself.

Hearing many iterations of how the newborn days and months go by so fast was difficult to believe at times, especially when you and Sirius were babysitting to let the exhausted parents get some sort of reprieve multiple times a month. It was almost always the same. Harry would sleep for four hours straight during the night, and almost hourly right after; and while you and sirius had gotten pretty good at dividing up the tasks like bottle feeding and nappy changes equally, the shrill cry of a hungry baby is difficult to ignore and sleep through.

So despite of Sirius’s best efforts to crawl out of bed and tip-toe to the bassinet quietly not to wake your sleeping form, he gets sad but unsurprised to see you pad towards him and the baby, yawning soundlessly as you squeeze yourself between the soft armrest and Sirius’s side, head resting on his shoulder. It was his idea to get a spacious, soft recliner in the bedroom and it came in handy for situations like these, where getting back to bed once Harry sleeps is too risky as the boy would just wake up with the slightest movement, so the next best option was to try getting rest wherever you ended up in. The cries that once overpowered Sirius’s hushed whispers and cooing finally quiets down. A sigh of relief leaves both your lips, basking in the comfortable silence and bodies finding solace in each other’s warmth.

You want to say so many things to your lovely boyfriend, things he just has to hear: that he’s doing such a great job, that you see him and all the extra steps he has to take to become and do better than what he was raised for, that you love him for every single bit of it— but the right words don’t come easy when sleep-deprived and exhausted at 4:25am in the morning. So you lift your lips up to meet his temple, the side of his mouth, then his lips; hoping it’d convey what words couldn’t at the moment.

But time is an experienced thief. It was a Saturday afternoon in the middle of May and it was warm enough for you to whip out the frilly spring dresses that had been pushed to the back of your closet by the thick woolen coats from colder months. The boys had gone on a day trip to help Peter move into his first solo apartment, assembling furniture and stocking up on necessities to ensure he could survive on his own. Without the booming voices and bumbling energy of his father and godfather, little Harry had no choice but to match the calm and peaceful ambiance that you and Lily curated inside the Potter house. While it’s certainly different from what his everyday looks like (living with the likes of James), he seems to enjoy it. Gentle breeze from the windows Lily left open while she baked carry the smell of lemons and vanilla throughout the entire house, making it smell heavenly. You’d been sat on the floor by the dining table, surrounded by toy trains and colorful blocks, watching the ten-month-old munch on a toy graphorn adoringly. Recently, he’s been on a phase where he has to run anything he could get his hands on with his mouth. Some secret test or screening must be up there or something because that’s how Harry decides which toys are deserving of his attention for the day.

You’d picked up a toy set of magical creatures after work yesterday, and it won the almost toddler’s attention for the whole day. James had to snatch the toy niffler away from Harry’s grasp so he could say goodbye to his son and ask for a kiss. Safe to say there were no kisses exchanged because the little boy was too busy wailing and screaming at his father’s face. Lily had to create physical distance between her two boys so the younger one can calm down while the older got mopey. Sirius had to whisk his best friend away from the scene of the crime so that they can get on with the day, but not without leaving you a kiss.

The said niffler had soon been replaced with the hippogriff, then now the graphorn, and it’s been sitting on your lap since. Harry suddenly pulls the toy graphorn out of his mouth with a resounding pop. You both share a second or two of shocked eye contact and silence, his bright green eyes wide with surprise, before triggering a belly flipping laughing fit. This child could shock himself with a sudden burp or an unexpected sound of hitting random things with a fork, and you’d laugh every single time like its the funniest cutest thing you’ve seen in your life. It’s likewise for the rest of the marauders. Being the first baby of the group had all the adults wrapped in his pudgy fingers and he has no idea.

Harry’s eyes drop from your smiling face to the Niffler on your lap, and makes grabby hands. You almost, almost give in, but you decide to encourage him to go get it himself. Maybe today’s the day he starts to walk. You move to him a bit closer, probably a good seven baby steps in between.

“You want the Niffler, bud? You have to go get it from me!” You make a show out of grabbing the toy from your lap multiple times, hoping it’d make sense to the little boy.

He whines something sounding like your name and does more impatient grabby hands. But you weren’t giving up without a fight. “C’mon, Haz! You can do it,” you say enthusiastically.

Harry did know how to stand and good thing you were both sat near the dining table chairs, so to alleviate some of your aunt guilt you tuck the niffler away and out of Harry’s reach, before helping him up to his feet and urging him to grab one of the chair legs for support.

He stays upright, eyes still on the toy that you place again on your lap as you return to your original spot, and you clap with glee. “Great job, buddy! Okay, only a few steps to me and you’ll get the toy!”

Lily, curious to see the commotion happening on her kitchen floor, leans against the counter for a better view. Harry sees this and does the same thing, he looks at her pleadingly while making grabby hands and pointing to the niffler on your lap. You can tell the redhead’s fighting the mom urge to make her child’s life easier, but thank the heavens when she gives your same answer. She even moves to kneel beside you, waving to get her son’s attention and pointing at the niffler on your lap.

“C’mon, my sweet boy,” Lily says. “Mama knows you can do it!”

Motivated by frustration as his aunt and own mother won’t just hand him his goddamn toy, Harry whines angrily but makes a sideways step closer, death grip still on one of the chair legs. You and Lily squeal and clap in delight, urging the boy to do it again.

He makes a move for another step, but realizes that there’s no more legs to grab onto. Reluctantly, his right hand lets go and in turn faces you and Lily. This results in another round of applause, which serves like a drug to these little babies.

An anxious expression fleetingly appears on his face as he looks to you both, but the encouragement and cooing seemed to scare those big feelings away. Determined, Harry makes an unsure step forward without support, which then makes both yours and Lily’s heartbeat jump. It all happened so quick, the fear of losing balance triggered Harry’s other leg catch him on impulse, then the same on the other leg, then the other. Harry’d made four successful steps on his own before his mom catches him in her embrace before he topples over to the floor.

You and Lily were a sobbing, exultant mess. Harry, clearly confused about the commotion, whines for the niffler while Lily kisses him all over his face. You hand it to his waiting palms like a trophy before ruffling his unruly hair. An attempt for words has been made, but all that came from your mouth are garbled phrases about the miracle that just happened. Lily nods in agreement and you hug them both back.

This ten-month old just walked. This is the same baby that kept you and Sirius up at night for his feedings. The same baby responsible for the drool and spit up marks on your shirts. The same baby that laughs and babbles with you like he understands when you tell him random stories. The same baby that squeals in delight when you blow raspberries on his belly.

It felt like he had just been born a few days ago, memories of changing hundreds of nappies and preparing bottles of milk still vivid in your mind. But it’s earth shattering to consider that he’s closer to being a one year old than to the little bundle handed to you by James in the hospital room.

Time is unrelenting, stealing mundane moments behind your back and when you realize the loss, poof! The newborn you held in your arms is now a walking toddler. Soon, he’ll be the one talking your ears off, going to Hogwarts, driving a car.. You shiver at the thought. He was growing up so fast that blinking felt like cheating, afraid that you’ll miss a precious moment that you’ll never get back.

His first birthday came in the same manner— too fast for both yours and Sirius’s liking, but the wistful feelings came with excitement as Harry being a toddler opened up lots more opportunities to play and discover the world around him. James and Lily had spent the whole month planning a big birthday bash to celebrate the kiddo’s life, inviting all their loved ones to share the special day with them. And with that, the pressure was on for Sirius, as the self-proclaimed best godfather to get the perfect first birthday gift.

It’s like the heavens knew it was a special day for you both that it made sure to put out the best shopping weather one could ever ask for—- not too warm or too cold. It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant the adults were kept in workplaces and children sent to Hogwarts or in homeschooling, leaving Diagon Alley nearly deserted, minus the occasional stray shoppers entering and leaving shops here and there. Clad in color coordinated couples outfits (that was your thing recently, Sirius more than happy to oblige) and hand in hand, you begin the mission to locate Spintwitches Sporting Needs.

Nostalgia always finds a way to seep into your bones whenever you find yourself in Diagon Alley. One blink and suddenly you’re ten again, both hands tucked in each parent’s as your mom pours over the list of school supplies you’ll need again for your first year at Hogwarts. You and Sirius see Ollivanders at a short distance and hear the entrance bell chime, the very same sound you heard when entering the shop for the first time, the shopkeeper taking one good look at you before immediately rummaging around the store, grabbing a specific box located on a random shelf four stories up. The look of confidence when he says it’s made just for you, a magical glow enveloping your tiny frame while opening the magenta box. That same magic guided you to a world where you truly belonged in, a castle that felt so much like home, and friends that soon became found family and lifelong partners. The thought of Harry soon experiencing these moments leaves a giddy feeling in your chest.

The smoky sweet scent of freshly roasted chestnuts catches your attention and you discreetly look for the source of your favorite warm snack. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sirius (hardly nothing ever does, even the things you wish he’d miss or forget), and he gives your hand a small tug. You try to be aloof as you return his waiting gaze, complete with a quirk of your eyebrow, to which he responds with an impish smirk towards your bad acting.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that look, sweets.” The amusement in his voice is palpable as he steers you away from the main walkway and towards the small chestnut stall tucked in an alleyway, almost hidden by the bigger shops surrounding it.

“But, the store’s right there, Siri,” you try to protest. He had been anxious and stressed out about this day in particular, you knew if you were in his shoes, you’d be beelining to the store as soon as you get off the car. But he just shakes his head like its the obvious choice and nods towards the cart. “Can’t have my girl hungry now.”

After a failed attempt of trying to pay for the warm brown bag (you were no match for Sirius’s lithe, agile fingers in basically everything), you accept it with a sigh, giving yourself a few seconds to sulk before starting on the chestnuts. You weren’t the best at accepting things from other people just because, it always felt like you had to do something in return for them just to deserve it. Maybe that’s why the universe conspired to have you meet and fall for Sirius, who is a very enthusiastic giver, teaching you hard lessons on the daily.

As you begin the journey back to the shop, you carefully crack open one and hold it up to Sirius’s mouth, to which he happily obliged. “Mm, somehow chestnuts taste better when you handfeed me, dove. Do it again.”

You roll your eyes in response, but you find your fingers starting to peel another. “You’re lucky you’re good looking, Black,” you mutter to save some face, that you weren’t head over heels for this man and he to you. That’s a conversation to be had in another, less stressful day.

The shop, painted electric blue and orange, wasn’t hard to miss. One step in and the welcoming aroma of broom polish, rubber, and smoky wood brings you right back to the Quidditch locker rooms; memories of frantically lacing up your boots a minute or two after James called you as backup for an injured beater, helping Marlene comb out the tail end to fix the broom alignment after practice, and getting pinned to the cool lockers during post-win celebratory makeout sessions with Sirius, replaying vividly in your head.

It looked deceivingly small on the outside; aside from the expansive selection of different broomstick models, they had books and magazines about Quidditch strategies and featured famous matches, repair and maintenance kits for maintaining broomstick qualities, complete Quidditch gear for all shapes and sizes, and tiny practice snitches flying around the room. Squint and it’ll just be like how each Hogwarts common room would be decorated when there’s a big Quidditch match between houses or international ones in the world cup: streamers and accessories like horns and banners representing each team, posters of Chudley Cannons and Holyhead Harpies (in opposing corners to prevent unsolicited fights) accompanied by autographs of famous players and collectibles littering almost every surface of the walls. It was Quidditch dreamland.

Still in awe admiring the displays as you both walk through aisles hand in hand, Sirius breaks the silence first. “What do you think Harry will play as in Quidditch?”

You hum in response and he continues, running his hands through the bat display they had for little kids. “I bet he’d be a beater like me. You remember how that punk hit me straight on the face last week?”

You nod in amusement. Sirius had played it cool as he gently laid Harry back in his playpen, still laughing and cooing, then as soon as little Harry turned his back on his uncle, Sirius ran to you for first aid and whined the whole time you were healing the already forming bruise. But not a few hours later, he’s bouncing the baby in his arms again as he gave him a tour of the backyard.

“Yeah, those little fists definitely pack a punch.”

“How about you, love?”

Sifting through a year’s worth of memories, it was surprisingly easy to find your answer. “I think he’ll follow James’s footsteps and be a seeker.”

Sirius’s pout becomes evident, making you giggle and tug on his arm in efforts to cheer him up. “Think about it. Ever since prongslet got those glasses, it’s harder to hide anything from him now because his eyes are so quick. Poor Crookshanks too, that cat can’t catch a break now when Haz wants to play because he tracks its movements.”

Sirius lets out a soft chuckle and slings his arm around your shoulders to hold you closer. “Good point, good point,” he repeats, seemingly deep in thought as his fingers run up and down the small of your arm. “We shall see, whatever he decides to play as, or if he even plays at all, I’ll be proud of him.”

You look up to him as he absentmindedly stares at the Quidditch gear sets for little kids, a light, wistful smile on his handsome features. He might not say it out loud, but the love he has for his godson reverberates through his being, and its a warming sight to see.

Before you confess your love for your boyfriend in the middle of a Quidditch store, you whisk him away and towards the toy broom display, the only thing you were both here for. Only the big bright signs directed you to the right place, which didn’t prepare you at all for the heart exploding sight.

You’re about to burst into tears seeing how cute and tiny the little toy brooms were, and how they came in complete with tiny versions of the headlights, seats, and bag compartments the usual adult broom comes with. Both you and Sirius stood with mouths agape for a solid minute as you took in the expansive display, before your lovely boyfriend proceeds to pick out the most expensive one with the most features on it from the batch.

Surprisingly, it was you who reminded him to grab a helmet before running off to purchase the toy broom, the giddiness and excitement spreading between the two of you. The cashier gives both of you a knowing look as you and Sirius both mellowed down from full giggles to bashful smiles, examines the broom to be purchased, and asks, “For your little one?”

Now, you were no stranger to conversations like these with former lovers in the past, and you could almost hear the typical response of denial that comes swiftly with the question. It used to hurt, even if you knew by heart that that person didn’t have the fifth date potential or that it just wouldn’t last. It’s that unexplainable feeling of shame and rejection when they’d realize that it won’t work with you before you would, or if they answer with a laugh, as if having a future with you is an appalling thought. You’ve gotten better with it throughout the years, but for some reason your skin crawls with the thought of Sirius saying the same things. Years of desensitization down the drain, you find yourself bearing your entire soul to the man beside you the entire relationship, and he can easily break you into two with his response. You cross your fingers that he won’t.

He was already looking when your gaze met his, a look of softness and tenderness from him so profound you wondered if you were deserving of it. The surge of butterflies in your belly was all consuming.

Sirius shifts uneasily and shakes his head, you prepare for the worst. “For our nephew, not for our own child..,” he pauses, glancing back at you for a quick second. “Yet. But if all goes according to my sneaky plan, we might be back sooner than she thinks.”

The cashier chuckles at your stunned reaction as you shift your focus between him and your boyfriend who was both furiously blushing and actively avoiding your stare. Did you just get a marriage proposal?

Taking advantage of your confusion, Sirius pays for everything including the gift wrapping, which you had previously argued about who was responsible paying (you won, not that that matters now). You let him tug your arm and guide you out of the store, saying a quick thank you to the amused cashier. The influx of butterflies were back, tickling your insides and spreading warmth in each crevice. Just seeing Sirius handle the rambunctious mini James with care and glee, makes it so easy for you to imagine a life with him, and eventually have a little bean that’s equal parts of you and him. You hope they’d get the best parts of both.

No one brings it up as you began your journey back to the car and you’re grateful. Gift bag swinging on your arm, you drag Sirius to go get ice cream to which he happily obliges.

A gentle quiet settles on accomplished shoulders like a warm blanket as you settle in the car. Strawberry and vanilla fudge ice cream sticky sweet on each other’s lips as you exchange cones every once in a while. It would be enough to lull you to sleep, if not for Sirius’s deep breaths and sighs, the thundering of his heart that he tries to quell by discreetly scratching a small part of the steering wheel where his thumb usually lay.

He breaks the silence first, an uneasy tone making his voice seem small. “Do you think he’ll like it, dove?”

“Yes, Siri. I know he’ll love it.” You try your best to enunciate the right words, but a conflicted expression marrs his handsome features, sending a twinge to your heart.

It comes to you before he speaks. This was something that had been plaguing Sirius’s mind for a while, occupying his dreams and thoughts, embedding itself to his mind and causing unwarranted amounts of stress. You resist the urge to fill in the blanks for him because it has to come from him and him only.

But after everything he’s been through, what seems easy for most sometimes is the hardest to muster. “Siri,” you pause, waiting until he looks up at you and you keep his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His gray orbs still before the dam breaks. “I’m sorry, love.” He chokes. “If I’m being so difficult, irky, irritated, anxious, everything.”

Hot tears run down his cheeks and it’s a painful watch. wanting nothing but to wipe it off and tuck him in your embrace and promise him he won’t be hurt as long as you’re there, but you can’t. The best thing you could do for him is to let it all out and finally feel.

He stares ahead on the city road with fingers trembling on the wheel. “I’m just so scared. So scared. James and Lily have been amazing parents, I can’t say same thing for myself but I try my best. Sometimes I still feel like he deserves someone better to be his godfather,” he sobs. “I just love him so much. I want only the best for him. I just want him to be happy and healthy all the time.”

After a while, you say with a bittersweet tone. “You know we can’t promise that, Siri,” you sigh. “Storms will come and will do damage and hurt and things that we can’t undo,” you pause, sniffling as you take your right hand to guide him to face you again, vulnerable gray eyes meeting yours. “But you know what?”

You give him an assuring smile, speaking the truth. “He’s gonna be alright because little as he is right now, he is so loved and adored by so many people, so loved by his parents. And so loved by his godfather.”

It wasn’t said aloud, it doesn’t need to. Loud as it could be, Sirius knows what you’re about to say; that his ability to love despite of everything he’s been through, despite of his own family ruthlessly trying to rob him of the ability to do so. That’s the type of love that Sirius gives, a love that withstands rain and abandonment; a love that stays after a rough storm, offering a home always open to go to when times are rough and feelings are still hurt; a love that tells the truth even when its hardest to hear.

You know all this as an easy fact because you’re at the receiving end. Even if you hadn’t heard it from his lips yet.

“Have I told you I love you?”

A watery smile spreads on your face as you shake your head. “No, but i feel it everyday.”

“I love you, Y/N.” It leaves his lips like breaths, naturally and easily.

It’s the same thing for you, too. “I love you too, Siri.”

And it ends with sticky kisses that taste of vanilla fudge and berries.

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kentocalls · 1 month ago

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gojo satoru | number one sfw. fluff. written for the wonderful @courtneedsleep happy birthday wonderful soul 🍰

It’s never a good idea indulging Satoru outside of the normal routine of class, cafeteria, cookies and sleep. Rinse and repeat, easy, simple, wonderful.

But today, today you are so disoriented when there’s a knock on your door and who other than the white haired blue eyed almost dragon plops down on your bed. Did your roommate let him in again?

The sun is barely bleeding through your drawn curtains. “Yoooo, awake yet?”

“It’s too early Satoru.” You grumble and hide under your pillow, maybe you’re imagining him and he’s not really here. But his laugh fills your room, that loud heheheheh, “Too early for what? Come on, we’ve got places to be.��

The way he lays his entire body on you, the way he’s making himself impossible to ignore.

“We?” Satoru maybe, you? You’re going to sleep. The round of exams is finally over, you deserve to not make an intelligent thought for at least 36 hours.

“Sleepyhead, let’s go.” He’s poking at your neck, trying to pull the pillow from your grip, and there’s one thing you’ve learned, giving into Satoru is easier than holding out. “Fine, ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes but not to snooze, chop chop, get ready.”

What’s got him so bossy? Sitting on your bed like that, acting like he’s at home, critiquing your choice of outfit but not telling you where exactly you’re going to be going. “It’s not even 7am Satoru, give me a hint.”

“Nope. Oh, wear that, I like that color.” Of course he adores the baby blue hoodie in your hand. But he’s rushing you and you don’t understand why, offers a “Well, someone has to be responsible.”

You have to laugh, it’s the only way to get through this morning.

🕶️

You step outside to find a giant SUV, you wonder how Satoru convinced Suguru to let him borrow his beloved vehicle. But hey, this means you can nap, “Our chariot awaits!”

“Y…you’re driving Satoru?”

He makes an exaggerated stab to his heart, “You wound me, you know that. I have not gotten us hurt in a vehicle for like months.”

“Right but you’re dangerous on a bicycle Satoru this is a mental death trap.”

He ignores you, opening the car like he were some butler, with a strict posture and a slight bow, “After you milady, sit back and relax.” He slides into the driver seat with a huge smile and confidence of a fifty year old, accident free, pays his insurance on time driver. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” The look he gives you as he pits his right arm around the passenger seat and leans to look back and reverse the SUV with one hand. You’re not blushing it’s just the rising sun heating up your cheeks. You try not to tense. He should not look this handsome reserving an SUV.

“No faith in me? I promise, I can drive this just fine.”

“Keep your eyes on the road Satoru.”

🕶️

He’s in a good mood for someone who shares your disdain of early mornings. It has you smiling and of course, even though his eyes are on the road, he notices. “Super duper excited about my awesome, spectacular. amazing surprise right?”

“It’s nice to see you smiling too Satoru.”

He hums, “Well it’s a special day, so I’m excited.”

A special day? The end of exams? “I planned this for a while you know, it’s going to be epic, it’s going to ruin all other days for you. Sorry not sorry.”

Do people really celebrate the end of exams? “Planned for a while?”

“You’ll see.”

“Can we get coffee?”

“Nope.”

“A bagel?”

“Nope, you’re fine.”

You last a whole ten minutes.

“Satoru, where are we going?”

“Wow, patience, patience..”

“Patience? And that too from Gojo Satoru’s lips? Wow. Did I pass out during my exams? Is this heaven?”

“It’s nice to know I would be in your version of Heaven, I’d be the best looking angel there.” You roll your eyes, decide to refrain from opening your mouth, least your best friends ego fill up the car and leave no room for anything else.

🕶️

In all the lushness California has to offer you, you’ve never been a forest girlie. You don’t do bugs. And this is exactly where Satoru brought you, to a forest? Bug central? “Umm…”

His eyes are shining bright, “Trust me, come on.”

He holds out his hand, drags you through winding trails and questionable dirt pathways. It is really really green in the forest, the air feels cooler, your eyes seem to relax in this space. There’s many places to look but then you hear water.

Is it possible? A waterfall in a forest?

Satoru looks at you with a huge grin, pulls out his phone, starts to walk backwards, “I wanna remember this.”

“You’re going to fall.”

“I’m willing to fall for you again, hey, eyes on me please.”

The pathway leads you to the most beautiful sight, a soft waterfall with shimmering water falling into a tranquil lake? Oasis? Some other term for calm body of water that escapes you because it’s still too early in the morning. Birds are singing, the air is crisp, there’s even a ray or two of the sunlight filtering through patches from the trees. It feels unreal.

“Satoru this is—“ he’s gone.

Oh my god, did he fall into the lake?

“Satoru?”

The silence and serenity that was peaceful before now feels too big and too scary. “Satoru!”

“Hey!” His stupid cute face and hand wave at you from behind a tree, you walk over ready to tell him it’s rude to leave you in a peaceful forest oasis when you spot….

“Is that my blanket?”

“Shh! Take in all of the sights please.”

It’s your blanket alright, the one you take when Satoru drags you to outdoor sports games. It’s surrounded by candles, some are hanging like in Harry Potter and you leave it to Satoru (the Architect) major ot figure out how to create such a magical ambience. There’s a picnic basket and two small stools, a bunch of wrapped gifts, those little black dustballs from the Ghibili movie you like and a birthday cake.

A birthday cake.

It’s your birthday. Oh shit, your birthday is today.

“Is…is this for us?”

“It’s for you, gosh are you still sleepy?” He tucks you under his arm and drags you over to the cozy nook he’s set up. “It’s perfect right?”

It is perfect. Private. Romantic.

“This is so sweet Satoru.”

“I told you today was a special day.” Has you sit down and puts on a party hat on himself and you.

“Happy birthday!”

“This is really, so sweet, Satoru—“

“It took me so long to set up, you’re happy like? You like it?”

“Satoru, it’s magical, I feel like a video game character.”

He chuckles, “Good. We’re also going to that beach board walk you wanna go to.” But isn’t that a two hour drive away?

“That’s so far, we don’t have to.”

“I want to, if you smile like this, I absolutely have to.” He…he can’t say stuff like that. This is Gojo Satoru, your best friend. The only person you’d share your fries with, the only person who always saves a seat for you, the only person you’d follow deep into the forest. He ca’t…

“Mmm, so worth it.” Why is he eating ice cream? Where did the ice cream come from. He follows your curious eyes and pulls a tub of your favorite flavor from the picnic basket. “Yesss, I love ice cream for breakfast.”

“Yeah, and seeing you smile like that, worth it.”

“Why thank you, dentists better hire me asap.”

“They should, best smile in the world, right here.”

Stop, it makes you blush so hard. “You’re in such a good mood on my birthday?”

“Can’t I be? You were born today, you breathed your first breath today, my best friend, my favorite person, alive today. It’s magical.”

“Your favorite person?”

“My absolute favorite.” He looks so serious, even with that goofy smile.

“I’d say you’re maybe…. one of my top five.”

“Hey!”

“Fine, for today, I’ll allow you to be my most favorite.”

“Oh you’ll allow it for one day? Then I’ll do everything to keep it this way.” How his hand finds yours and squeezes it, how you let him do that, who cares, it feels nice, his hand is warm. “Are candles in the forest okay?”

“They’re fake, I adore you but I won’t start a forest fire in your name. You’d lose your dentist modeling contract.”

“So considerate.”

“Aren’t I? Gosh, I’m such a catch.”

🕶️

“You really really don’t have to take me to the beach boardwalk, this is good enough.”

“Nah, I’m gonna spoil you today and you can’t stop me.”

It’s really the nicest thing someone has done for you, you two talk over exams and classes and eventually bicker about what the best ice cream flavor is. If it ends in you squishing Satoru’s cheeks until he gives in and declares vanilla the most basic flavor ever then so be it! Once back at the car you realize how high the sun has gotten, how quickly time passes when you’re with him.

“Hey come on, your day just started.” He reaches out to grab the picnic basket you stubbornly want to carry, he’s already holding the blanket and all the candles. “Let me, please. I’m going to be really nice to you today, okay? I gotta save my number one favorite person spot after all.”

“Hmm…Gojo Satoru not being annoying to me?” You make a dramatic gasp, “Are you an alien?” Your hands find his face as he leans into your touch, “Satoru? Satoru are you still in there?!”

He doesn’t roll his eyes as you expect, only shakes his slightly and looks at you like you’ve placed the first freshly baked chocolate croissant onto his plate. He looks at you not like a best friend should, or would. “Satoru?”

It’s a moment, you think there’s a moment where both of your breaths stop, eyes fall to each other’s lips and no one. Does. Anything.

🕶️

At the beach boardwalk you wish you’d gotten a leash for Satoru. Stupid long limbed handsome pole walk so fast, you latch onto his hand and don’t let go for the rest of the day. It’s fun. Satoru loves anything fast and you like how he screams when he gets scared. Such a fun day, if the stupid sun wasn’t blaring in your eyes, but Satoru has a solution for that too. He places his glasses on you, “I gotta be your number one favorite person after all.”

There’s a lot of junk food to be had. “I bet you can’t eat this pickle ice cream sandwich.”

“Bet I can.”

“Bet you can’t.”

“I bet I can and you’re going to have to do anything I say for a whole day Satoru.” He scoffs, he does what you say most of the time anyways. Only you haven’t noticed, or pretend not to. Satoru can’t tell anymore, doesn’t care, only interested in making your smile last the whole day.

The pickled ice cream sandwich is….an acquired taste. By the time you make it back from the line it’s melted and the bite you take is huge, if you can down it in three bites you win the bet but you pause after the first one. Satoru has such a sappy look on his face. You, green ice cream on the tip of your nose and corner of your lips.

His thumb reaches out before he can stop himself; he knows you have napkins in your hand but wipes at your bottom lip. “Mmm, it’s interesting.” As he licks at his thumb. You can almost imagine the slow motion and k-drama music playing in the background but chalk it up to, Satoru being….Satoru.

He wins at every game on the boardwalk, you have more than enough giant stuffed animals to carry and buckle up in the SUV. There are going to be fireworks at sunset, Satoru and you decide to watch from the parking lot.

You’re holding hands in that way couples do, interlaced and playful. Anyone walking by would consider you a couple, are you? Maybe? Or is he just being nice because it’s your birthday. But really, be honest with yourself.

Would Gojo Satoru wake up early for anyone else?

Would he create a magical forest breakfast for anyone else?

Would he drive two hours in California traffic for anyone else?

Are you really “just” a friend?

“Uh oh, hey, I wasn’t annoying at all today, why the frown?” Because you’re catching feels. He’s pulling at your hands and you let your body fall closer to his and this is simply a hug between friends. Nothing more. There’s no reason for your heart to beat as quickly as it does when he lays his head on top of yours. “Talk to me, was it the deep fried Oreo?”

“No.”

“Deep fried Poptart?”

“Deep fried ramen.” You shake your head, let your arms wrap around his waist and smell his stupid Wild Spice body spray. You hate how you know exactly which scent he buys.

“Nope.” You give him a squeeze.

“Deep fried Nutella?” He pulls you closer.

“Deep fried Twinkiees?”

“We should probably, really, eat a salad.” He only hums and you can feel the vibration in his chest.

“What if, and big if, what if I like you.”

He makes half a laugh, “Well, you should, I really like you too.”

🕶️

And ooh, do you do it? Do you pull back and look at him and tell him what exactly you mean by liking him. Because you like-like him, like wanna hold his hand all the time like him, like wanna always wear his hoodie and squish his face when he’s annoying like-like. Perhaps even kiss him silly when he has that beautiful smile on his face.

When you do poke your head up, when he does make space and looks down at you, a slight tilt to his head, eyes soft, curious, concerned. “Hi.” You squeak out.

“Well, hello.” He says back, softly. Eyes falling to your lips and back to your eyes. You could count his eyelashes up this close, but his lips look awfully pretty, awfully plush, awfully awfully soft.

“These are mine.” His hands toy with his sunglasses perched on the top of your head. He pulls them down over your eyes and back up, he does this a few times. He wants to see your eyes but you look so cute with his sunglasses on. Anything to distract himself from doing something stupid (like kissing you.)

“Nu uh, they’re mine now.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “Are they? I gave you so many other gifts.”

“I want them.”

“They’re one of a kind, no can do, they’re extra special, limited edition.” He’s teasing, half serious, his “stern” scowl twitching at the corners into a smile.

“I’m special, limited edition, one of a kind too. I think I need these for my dentist modeling career Satoru. Don’t you want me to be famous.”

“Hmmm….I rather keep you here, to myself.”

“I thought I was your favorite person, why don’t you want me to—“ He’s leaning in closer, so so so close. “to…”

“To what? Leave me? Why would I ever want that?”

“Why….why would I leave you?” Oh no, abort abort abort, you asked out loud. Abort, get away from his arms, get away from his face. It makes you stupid, but you can’t pull out of his hug. He grins, “Ohhh you like me."

“Shut up, I don’t.”

“Mmmm Hmmm, making me work extra hard to be your number one, but I’m already there.” Shush him, use your hands, shush him!

But Gojo Satoru licks the palm of your hand. Cackles at your shriek. “Oh you like me soooo much, how did I never notice?” He’s babbling, rambling, that ego is going to fill the entire parking lot.

You pull your hands away, naturally finding his cheeks, naturally the best way to shut him up would be with your own lips right?

Right?

#gojo satoru fic #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru fluff #sfw #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk fic #satoru is a wonderful handsome friend #it was love at first fight over a scantron ballet okay #he let you have the ballet but bought the last number 2 pencil #he was alone at YOUR library table so you had to sit next to him #he’s never left your side since #happy birthday court!!!#gojo satoru number one #april writes

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reverie-starlight · 8 months ago

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jk I watched one of my favourite keigo edits on insta and I got inspired. happy birthday 2 me 🫶🏻 (the main fic I was working on is still coming, but idk when exactly 🥹)

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. pure birthday fluff with tiny little minuscule amounts of angst sprinkled in bc. well. it’s a birthday. I’m sick for my 20th, so reader is too 😔

you wake up to the sound of squeaky bedroom door hinges and a quiet but still enthusiastic rendition of happy birthday.

barely awake but just alert enough to realize what’s going on, you smile and turn over on your side to face keigo. he walks in slowly with a large bag around his wrist and a cupcake with slightly squished frosting in his palms.

he sits on his designated side of the bed (the one closer to the door since he insists on being your hero at all hours of the day) and waits for you to sit up against the headboard before sticking a candle into the dessert and lighting it for you.

“make a wish, baby,” he says. with how dark the room still is in the early morning, his face is lit up from the soft glow of the flame. warmth settles in your stomach as you watch the flickering reflection in his eyes and you can only think of one thing worth wishing for.

please let this last forever. don’t let me mess it up.

you blow out the candle and he cheers, moving to sit right next to you against the headboard. you lean your head on his shoulder and he happily feeds you pieces of cupcake, feathers working overtime trying to catch all of the crumbs before they reach the bed.

when you finish chewing a piece, he says, “how are you feeling?”

you shrug. “okay today, I think. better than yesterday, for sure- I feel like I can breathe again.”

you don’t miss how he winces at your voice, definitely less congested than the last few days, but sounding even more rough from lack of use overnight. you try to clear your throat, but it turns into a coughing fit. “drink some water, angel, don’t strain yourself.”

the stream of water soothes the itch and you sigh in relief. keigo, not phased one bit by your sickness, kisses your cheek, your nose, and then your lips. “I’m sorry you’re sick on your birthday, sweet girl.”

you shrug and try to play off how his nicknames are affecting you so early in the morning. “it’s okay, keigo, it could be a lot worse. a cold on my birthday isn’t the end of the world.”

his eyes soften. “yeah, but I know you were feeling more hopeful about things this year… it’s not often you get like that about your birthday, so I just wish the universe was on the same wavelength as us about that.”

you look down at your lap and pick at a loose string on the comforter. he must see your lips wobbling, because he slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.

it’s quiet for a second, but soon enough you’re sniffling in his arms and he knows it’s not your cold acting up.

“it’s okay, sweetheart, let it out.”

he understands birthdays are hard for you. he’s never pried into it, but he has his suspicions.

he could push, but he knows that your issues with your own birthday are far too deep-rooted to unpack in one morning before work. he’ll save it for a later date. right now all he wants is to see you smile again, so he’ll have to distract you from your thoughts.

“baby, you deserve the whole world. you know that, right?”

you shake your head. “I don’t, though. I don’t do anything deserving of what I’ve gotten so far… I don’t work hard enough, I don’t always make the best decisions for myself, I guess I’m a good person, but I could do so much better… I’m just so average. I barely even deserve-“

you end your rant with a half-hearted gesture in no particular direction, but he gets the idea and he frowns in concern.

“me? you don’t think you deserve…me?”

guilt keeps you from meeting his gaze again and he sighs.

his angel, his baby, the love of his life. the one. he just wants to take it all away.

you take things to heart too easily sometimes, so this moment might just be things you’ve let bubble up more recently… but his instinct and familiarity both tell him that these aren’t new feelings.

“sweet girl, I think it’s the other way around. I don’t think I’m very deserving of someone as incredible as you.”

you blink and finally meet his eyes again. “but…”

he doesn’t let you continue. “I would give you anything you asked for just for existing, baby. you don’t have to do a damn thing for my love.”

reaching over to grab the bag he had around his wrist earlier, he presents it to you with a wide grin and an excited glint in his eyes. “but I’ll start with this.”

you take the bag and pull out what looks like a scrapbook. the cover is decorated with foam stickers that spell out both of your names and badly cut paper hearts that look to be taken from sparkly card-stock. the book itself is made from faux-leather in your favourite colour.

your eyes travel up from the photo album to keigo, curiously. he’s happy to see a small smile forming on your face and he wipes away the last of your tears with a feather. “keigo, did you-“

he chuckles a little nervously. “I know it’s not the best work you’ve ever seen, but I wanted to make something by hand for you. I, um, I’ve never really done arts and crafts before.”

he recognizes the sound that comes out of your mouth to be the same one you make when you see a stray animal. he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but the smile on your face as you examine each page (twenty pages total, all hand decorated with printed pictures of you both documenting significant moments over the course of your relationship) makes him think the latter.

“I have other gifts for you, of course, but I know you’ve been talking about having a physical photo album instead of a digital one for a while now, so I thought I’d try it. If you don’t like it, that’s totally okay we can-“

you cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. “keigo, shut up, this is the sweetest gift I’ve ever received. there are songs associated with every picture. you’re literally so cute, where did you even get the idea for that?”

he laughs against your lips when you say that and shakes his head. “you’re joking, right? you always have a song for every occasion, how could I pass up on the opportunity?”

you press your lips against his again and he melts into it, relived that you like his first (of many) gift.

he watches you flip through it a couple more times with a smile before taking it and placing it on the nightstand. “alright, birthday girl, you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

“you’re going to work?” you try to keep the disappointment out of your voice, but he hears it anyway and he’s so happy he planned for this.

“nope! I’m all yours today. I booked it off months ago, I just want you to rest up a bit more. you’re still sick, remember?”

he snickers when your hopeful smile drops at the mention of your cold. “ugh don’t remind me. but if I’m going back to sleep, you’re coming with me. you don’t have an excuse anymore and it’s my birthday, so I have some sway.”

“you always have sway, baby,” he says while getting under the covers with you.

“yeah, but I’m extra convincing today,” you argue, and he knows if he doesn’t curb the conversation right now, you’ll never fall back asleep.

“alright, alright, come here. just rest,” he tugs you down to lay on his chest and reaches under your shirt to caress your back.

“hey keigo?” you ask after a minute, voice once again riddled with sleep.

“mhm?”

“when you eventually get sick and I have to take care of you, can we add to the scrapbook some more?”

it’s a given that you would continue it together, but he doesn’t say that because he knows you’re too tired for the realization to hit you yet. so instead he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “of course, angel. that sounds great.”

you’re lulled to sleep a few minutes later to the sound of his voice whispering the sweetest of sweet nothings.

“happy birthday, baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

okay this is unedited bc it’s not even 7 am while I’m typing this and I don’t have time later to change anything, so I’M SORRY 😭

the other bday fic is coming I swear 🥹

#keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #hawks x reader fluff #keigo x reader fluff #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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riaki · 11 months ago

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a spritz of peppermint | megumi fushiguro x reader

pt.6 of christmas event! cw: petnames i think idk, not proofread, there’s probably other stuff i’m missing but wtv happy birthday the prettiest king pls come back the food is cold

today is a very special day.

megumi notices that you rise early— mostly because when he wakes up in the morning, rubbing his sleep-heavy eyes groggily with a groan, he notices you’re not there. he rolls over, and smacks his face into cold sheets, devoid of your heat.

it pisses him off. so he starts his special day out as a grouch.

when he eventually crawls out of bed and makes his way into the kitchen after pulling on some sweats, though— he stops just short of the threshold to that sweet smelling cozy haven you love to spend your time in. the scent of pine needles and fresh chocolate orange wafts across the space, warm and welcoming and awfully wintery. he’s impartial to the cold— but he likes seeing your nose get red, so he guesses that’s one point positive.

“megumi?” your soft voice drifts across the open space, and the frost around his grumpy heart melts just a little; a crack in the frozen surface of the lake.

he reluctantly emerges from the shadow of the hallway, past the bundle of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. the thought causes a memory to flash across his mind— your sweet smile and your prettier laugh; a distinct feeling of fuzzy warmth like a knitted sweater spreading across his cheeks when you pulled him close by the sleeve of his shirt and leaned in—

he shakes his head, trying to dash the stray thought. he’s supposed to be mad. it has no right to be there.

“why’d you get up so early?” he sighs heavily as he joins you at your side, scratching the back of his neck and running a hand through his unruly hair. you smiled sheepishly, turning to face him and you wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing lightly as a silent apology. he takes it with a grumble, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his face in your hair to bask in the scent of home before pulling away.

“it’s a secret.” you grinned, and he glares down at you, clicking his teeth in annoyance. you just laugh like the angel you are, leaving no room for guilt. you’re wearing one of his sweaters; you smell like him, and he supposes it makes up for the way you ditched him this morning.

“i expect compensation.” he grumbles, leaning against the counter as he watches you move about the kitchen, pale winter sunlight painting you like an ethereal dancer beneath the surface of misty lake water, crystal clear in your beauty. it’s mesmerizing.

you laughed, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip. “what, missed me? were you feeling lonely, gumi?” you smiled.

he just shoots you a piercing glare, the color of icicles in his eyes, but the warmth of your grin melts it away. you spend the next few moments in a comfortable silence, preparing a french toast topped with sweet berries and powdered sugar that looks so soft megumi could probably sink into it, until your lovely voice breaks the crisp morning silence.

“want black coffee?”

…

that’s weird. he never hesitates. and you know he takes his coffee black; of course you do. not because he wants to look cool, or look suave in another person’s eyes… well, except for you, of course. but not in the area of caffeine doses. and to be perfectly clear, all he needs is a dose of you to get him going.

he clears his throat. “can you make me hot chocolate?”

you pause, and he almost wants to bite his tongue off. why is he so embarrassed? but you just chuckle, like morning bird song across fresh dew on the grass.

“switching it up, huh? that’s cute.” you hum, and his face burns hot like embers in a brick fireplace. he coughs, throat scratchy like the pricks of a pinecone— but you make no note of it, simply going about your day.

he’s content to watch as you fish around in the rum-colored cabinets, pulling out a crinkly bag of cocoa powder. you put him on milk microwaving duty and he busies himself, lithe pale fingers unscrewing the carton of milk and pouring it into his favorite little painted dog mug. you were the one who’d made it; that silly little ceramics class you insisted on taking clearly didn’t help you too much in the way of smoothing down the bumps and blotches on the mug, but it holds your fingerprint, so he might as well memorize the shape of your hands when you’re not there.

megumi’s snapped back to reality when you grab a candy cane from the mini tree you decorated together sitting on the kitchen counter, smashing it up in the wrappings to mix the pepperminty dust with the cocoa powder. he eyes the pile of holiday drug warily as he brings the steaming mug over, placing it before you and leaning against the counter again to watch you work your mystery magic.

“that looks like brown cocai—”

“shh, megumi. keep your pretty mouth shut, please.”

he’s about to butt in again, lips parted before he presses them together irritatedly and resigns to sulk in silence.

you pour the hot chocolate mix into the milk, swishing it together as it forms a pretty spiral of cocoa; the color of dark chai and chocolate tart. he’s content to watch in silence, humming some christmas carol he’d overheard you listening to one gray afternoon— until he realizes you’re opening a bag of those sickeningly sweet and fluffy marshmallows he’d bought you on a whim. he only did it because his mentor told him they made the best gifts, but he’s beginning to realize it was the sweet tooth talking.

“hey— wait… are you going to put those in there, pretty?” he asks, putting a gentle hand on your wrist to stop you from vigorously emptying the bag into his poor victimized hot chocolate mug.

you glance up at him and flash a toothy grin, giving him one of those looks that makes his heart skip a beat. “trust me, gumi! you’re gonna love it.” you laughed, shrugging his hand off, and his lips curve downward. less because of the marshmallows that are toppling into his mug with a splash and more so because you freed yourself from his grasp.

obviously, you notice— your eyebrows knit together, a pinch of guilt weighing upon them like the snow on the streets outside. but it’s wiped away as quickly as it comes; before he knows it, you’re walking away with a bounce in your step, disappearing behind the counter before re-emerging with something behind your back.

“don’t look so sad, gumi. here,” you say, the cadence of your voice as soft and playful as he ever remembers it being when you pull a bunch of roses from behind your back. the bouquet is small and there’s dirt clinging to the stems— but his heart melts at the thought that you hand-picked them, prickly thorns and all, for him. “happy birthday,” you whispered, and his walls break.

“you’re not so different from them, you know.” you hummed, smiling as he takes them from you and gives you an inquisitive, quiet look. “you might be a little prickly on the outside, but you’re just as beautiful. you just have to look a little past the thorns.”

he feels his face flush; at this point, it’s probably as red as the stray candy cane shavings melting in his mug and the vibrant petals of the roses. he splutters and mumbles something annoyed under his breath, but he’s sure you can hear the undercurrent of fondness and affection weaves into each syllable like the beats of his heart, where you’re so close to. megumi thinks you might’ve just cut him open and made a home in his ribcage.

the bunch of handpicked roses for his special day sit on the marble counter dusted with cocoa powder and candy cane shavings, marshmallows bobbing at the surface of his hot chocolate like apples in a bucket as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in to press his lips insistently to yours, slow and tender like the way he always loves you. his hands curl around your sides, as if to ground you there; freeze the time in this bubble of warmth, forgetting the chill outside to warm his hands on your skin. you’re so little in his arms; he wants to hold you and never let you go, to keep you under his tree and have you make hot chocolate for him instead of black coffee every morning he wakes up, because it’s fine if you’re not there in bed— as long as you’re waiting for him with open arms elsewhere.

and when he kisses you, he realizes he might not need his hot cocoa to warm his stomach— your lips are as soft and pillowy sweet as the marshmallows melting in his mug, filled with steaming hot cocoa and all the love he could ever wrap his heart in this cozy winter; his christmas gift to you.

he’s grateful today is a special day, if only because of you and his sweet little painted dog mug filled with your heartwarming love.

stop this was so close to being late my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

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