#YOU WILL ALWAYS BE LOVED IN THIS HOUSEHOLD (and on this blog)

[antizenin]

𑁤 NO GOOD NIGHT'S REST ⋮ NANAMI KENTO

nanami can't have a good night's rest with a wife like you. you say it's for him, to take care of him & his needs, but he knows his wife so well and how much you love him sleeping nearly nude.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, nanami kento, sexually mature | minors, ageless and blank blogs: do not interact & 4.7k words !

➛ salaryman!nanami kento & housewife!reader (she/her), consensual somnophilia, rimjob, dry humping, premature cumming, handjob, blowjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, not proofread.

The moment that Nanami takes a step into the house, the khaki trench coat that was draped around his hand is thrown towards the coat rack on the left corner absentmindedly hanging up his keys in the process. The dark brown briefcase is dropped next to the door for you to move somewhere else. He kicks off his dark brown leather shoes, shoving them off into their allotted corner where you’ve begged him plenty of times to do before. Now, he listens, your voice playing in the back of his exhausted mind. 

He can smell the aroma of whatever dish you’ve made tonight still lingers despite the clock trickling closer to half past twelve. You’re not in his sights like you usually are— always waiting up for him in the wee hours of morning no matter what— as he’s making a beeline towards the wooden staircase and trudging up the steps. 

“Honey, where are you?” he calls out. His voice isn’t loud, but you surprisingly hear it all the way up there as you speak from outside your crafting room. You had finished all the household duties, managing to finish dinner just in time to allow yourself a period of leisure. This was the one place you allowed yourself to make a mess and care about it some other time. 

“I’m in here!” you call out, seeing his figure getting closer as he rises from up the stairs. You can see it evident in him. Work has surely drained him tonight, especially at a time like this. You’ve had yourself so transfixed on this crochet project that you didn’t even realize the time yourself, it only hitting you the moment you let out a loud yawn. Despite his own exhaustion, Nanami can’t help but be amused at you. How you’re always so adamant on waiting for him even with his protests not to. You still have whatever craft you have in hand, seeming to be making a sweater that’s surely taking up your time.

“Look at you,” he grabs your wrist, pulling you into his arms. “You’re tired.”

“Says you,” you poke into his chest, giggling softly before another yawn escapes you. “You’re the man working hard at work twenty-four-seven, leaving your dear wife alone all the time. You’re exhausted, baby.”

You come to cup his face, eyes widening as you pull off his green-tinted spectacles. You can see the purple eye bags underneath as you pout, your thumb running down his cheek as you frown. “Let me go run you a bath.”

“No,” he stops you from leaving, grabbing back at your wrist to pull you close into his chest again. “I’m gonna shower. Don’t want to fall asleep in the tub.”

His hands dip to fall on the small of your back before traversing to your ass, grabbing a handful of it as he smirks. “How about you—” he speaks low, his lips meeting that one spot on your neck, his blonde hair touching your skin. “—get yourself changed into that nightgown I like and I meet you in bed, hm?”

You giggle, nodding your head. You finally leave his hold, but not before planting a chaste kiss on his lips as he lets you lead the way to your shared bedroom. When you open the door, he lets out a deep sigh as he saunters into the bathroom, flickering on the bathroom lights as you do in the bedroom. The deep grumble of your drawers sound as you pull out a short nightgown, a skimpy little laced dress that does nothing to hide your body from your husband. You pull off your t-shirt, an old band tee that you got back in high school. It amazes you how you still manage to fit in at the age of thirty. You’ve gained a healthy amount of weight, where you’d think you would have to get rid of it by now. But then again, it was a baggy on you at seventeen, where it now hugs you. 

You kick off your shorts as well, feeling the breeze of the air conditioner hit your bare skin as you stand in near nude, your panties being the only thing to cover you. Pulling on the nightgown, the spaghetti straps have a habit of slipping off of you and revealing your cleavage. It stops down just below your ass, giving Nanami the perfect view of it whenever you move. It’s his favorite color on you, a sage green that always has his breath hitching and thinking how he’s such a lucky man to have you.

You remember why you always wait for Nanami with something in your hand to occupy you, because the moment you hit the bed, your exhaustion betrays you and you always manage to fall asleep before he can join you. This has happened plenty for you to learn your lesson, but you think this has always been his plan because the moment he comes out of the shower to see your slumbering body, he chuckles to himself. The sheets are barely covering your upper body, giving him the perfect view of your breasts and how they’re close to spilling out. 

His chest glistens as he steps out the bathroom, the steam escaping as it’s fogged up the mirrors inside. He continues drying off the excess water that he’s missed, taking careful steps as he shudders at the presence of the cold air. He reaches for the underwear drawer, opening it gently so it doesn’t disturb your sleep. He pulls out a pair of boxer briefs before disregarding his towel to be thrown down the back of a chair. Stepping inside of it, he goes to shut off the lights and crawl inside the bed next to you. 

He’s careful when pulling your sleeping body close to him, arms wrapping around your figure and holding you snug against his bare chest. Silently his hands wander, feeling the soft fats of your chest as they momentarily ghost around your nipple, the next hand wandering deep under your sexual sleepwear. He goes to cup your covered mound, something that he’s grown a habit of, the feeling of your heat providing a sense of comfort as you shuffle in his embrace. “Kento?”

“Shhh, my darling,” he hushes you and finally closes his eyes. “Go back to sleep.”

And you don’t argue with him, his words sending you right back into that place of darkness. Though, it feels more light now that you’re in his arms. You hum, “M’kay…”

—

You wake up in the next hour and a half, groggy but no longer in the warmth of Nanami’s arms. You think that maybe he left you, also waking up to whatever force that drove you out of your slumber, but when you push yourself up on the bed, he’s lying flat on his stomach, his face away from you. The covers aren’t around him, forced to take in the absolute freezing temperatures while you’ve hogged the sheets all to yourself. The moon from outside your window shines onto him, the expanse of his back glistening in its light. How his back muscles flex as his chest rises and falls, ever so slightly jumping from time to time due to whatever he’s dreaming about. 

His boxer briefs hug at his ass perfectly, his legs thrown across the bed so haphazardly, one bent upwards as the next is close to teetering off the edge. It gives you the perfect view of his covered bulge pressing into the dark sheets that cover the mattress, the navy blue crinkled under both of your weight. His hair dances messily under the air while yours is covered underneath your bonnet, his soft snores silently echoing inside the room. A heat escapes you, a pool of arousal that sticks to your panties as you push yourself up even more to sit straight. Absent-mindedly, your hand travels down his back, gently so as to not wake him up before they land on the hem of his underwear. Your next hand goes to cup your cunt, pressing your fingers into the heat as you clench around nothing, feeling the dampness that’s there and to come. But it’s just that, simply cupping yourself to move your hands to Nanami’s bulge, pressing your fingers down against his balls and feeling how he immediately reacts to you. An intake of a breath before he’s back to his regular slumber. You run your hands down the expanse of behind to his ankles and it’s as if though his body has grown accustomed to you, his body still laying down pliant on the bed fast asleep. Only when your hands are back against his balls does he respond.

He’s always been a heavy sleeper, sleeping through the midst of construction outside your bedroom window and the heavy, thundering rain. It makes it all so much fun to test the waters, to see when his body will respond and send a signal to his brain to wake up. To tell him, your wife is touching you again. 

You mess with the band of his underwear, something you’ve always struggled with. You tuck your index and middle finger underneath the band, tugging it down on your left side to reveal an inch more of skin. You do the same with the right before you feel Nanami move and shift. You pause as you watch him shuffle with pure adoration and love. You coo when he returns back to sleeping soundly and steadily, but because of his shifting, you’re right back at square one. And you find yourself cursing at the very man you were just cooing at. 

You hold a tight grip on the bands once more before doing your habitual shimmy of his underwear, this time around proving to be easier than the rest, it feels. You manage to get it down from the hardest part, where Nanami usually wakes when he feels the fabric of his underwear sliding down over his cock and being startled awake. How he’d chuckle softly before turning around to pull you on top of him and announce how you’re such a sneaky and devious little wife before helping you out and removing it all on his own. 

You feel triumphant finally, feeling his still body in his sleeping state as you drag down the boxer briefs to pool at his feet before disregarding it somewhere on the ground. Now in complete nude, his balls hang heavy as his cock springers underneath. A tinted shaft with a pink tip that’s slightly hard under your ministrations. 

You rut your hips down on the bed at how the tip of his cock glistens in the moonlight, a soft moan leaving you before you’re fixing yourself in between Nanami��s legs. You’re gentle when you push them open further before feeling the hard skin of his ass, giving them a nice massage before you’re spreading them apart. His asshole is all puckered and dry, ready for the taking when you bend to let your saliva pool inside your mouth and let it dribble down your tongue into the crevice of his ass. 

The string of spit landing with precision as a pebble still sticks to you unwavering. You lick the bottom of your lip, it flashing away as you play in your mess, two fingers that go to rub at his tight hole. A ceremonious moan leaving your lips as you hum in delight. And he feels it all within his sleep, it registering as a wet dream to him, what you’re doing to him. On this very same bed with you towering over him while he’s on his stomach, though he’s awake in it. It feels so real, the way your hand travels down his back and taking your sweet and precious time as you tell him just how much you love him and how you devote your very existence to him. How you coo how blessed you are to have such a husband like him that takes care of you and how you need to give back to him in the best way you can. Not with the cooking and cleaning, not with the gifts you make him on his birthday and holidays or just because. No, with having him underneath you and for the taking, focusing on solely his pleasure and his desires. 

Every action mimics the real world and his mind is telling him to wake up the closer your lips approach his puckered asshole, telling him that this is real. That it’s all real. But he wants to delve in his dreams a little longer just in case it’s not. His hips rutting into the bed just as he does in real life. He’s groaning out your name in his sleep as his cock hardens even more when your breasts press against them during your actions. They stimulate even further, feeling the skin to skin contact as your tongue makes his asshole shine. Long stripes that get swept away by the cold air only to be placed again once more. 

In his dreams, you’re wearing a long dress that closely mirrors your nightgown. The same sage green color that he absolutely adores on you. And somehow, it makes it all the hotter, making a mental note to himself to buy you one that closely replicates it once he wakes in the morning— if he doesn’t wake up sooner. Your hair is long, braids that drop to your waist and push out of your face as you devour him. Your eyes are glossy and bright, reflecting the love that they’re filled with. The bed lies in the middle of an uncharted beach, providing you privacy despite being outside in the open. The sun shines bright down on his back, beating it with its heat that would surely burn him if this was real.

Palm trees and clear sands while the waters are blue and vibrant in the color. He moans in his dream world as well as the real, letting you know that you’re accomplishing your goals. The more you salivate, the sloppier it gets, your tongue diving deep into his ass as it soon creates a wet sound. He rubs his cock into the sheets of the bed, soon feeling it twitch. Nanami croaks out a groan as he feels his cock about to empty itself into the sheets. However, you’re uncaring as your eyes are open and watching him from above and seeing how his face turns to the side twists and contorts. He shudders, a switch finally flickering inside and beckoning his eyes to open.

When they flutter open, he can feel it. Your fingers on his legs, nails digging into his flesh gently as your tongue is all lulled out. Even in his groggy state he can just envision you, laying down on your tummy as your hips roll into the bed, your pussy leaking your juices as you find pleasure in granting him his. However, it’s dark out and when he peeks out the window, the moon is full and bright against their window. His moan is deeper than it was before, louder as his groggy state soon dissipates at the pleasure that coincides. He feels a wet patch beneath him and atop, letting him know that this was all very real. 

You register that your husband’s awake when you feel movement of his leg, making you pull away as you watch him shuffle to his back. Eyes that are still heavy and evident with exhaustion, but riddled with lust. His cock comes to lean against his abdomen, his blonde happy trail providing a cushion as the excess of his cum dribbles down his shaft and inside his pubes. He’s impressed. To have made him cum without waking him up? It’s the best you’ve ever done, and quickly makes him envision the future. 

“You’ve gotten my underwear off,” his voice getting deeper than it usually is. “I must’ve been extremely tired.”

He motions you up, to come closer to his lips and you obey, smiling triumphantly as you crawl and hover over his body. You plant your hips down for your covered pussy to sit on his cock, hearing a guttural groan leave him before his lips are on yours. You kiss him, grinding your hips down on his open erection and mewl into his mouth. “Or, I must be getting better.”

Nanami smirks. “We’ll see next time.”

You’re about to travel back down to his length when Nanami’s hands find your hips, keeping you in place. His eyes hold a question, one that’s asking you for another kiss. And you’re so giving, so willing to give him what he wants, your soft and supple lips on your husband’s. He moans into it, loving the taste of him on you. His chest vibrates as he grounds you against his length and you know where this leads, playing this game too many times before. You push against his chest, whining out, “no.”

“Why not?” he frowns, eyebrows furrowing. “I want to be inside you.”

“And you get to be inside me,” you smile, your nose scrunching up cutely as you know what he means. He gives you a deadpanned look, fingering digging into your flesh to pull you flush against him. “You know what I want.”

“And you know what I want,” you whisper back, staring into his brown eyes as the two of you have a silent battle. Typically, you’re the one who relents, letting Nanami have his way with your body and battering away with your pussy. However, not tonight, your eyes plead with him unrelenting as you bat your eyelashes and adjust the bonnet on your head. Your eyes threaten to prickle with tears as you ground your hips further, a tremor in your voice as you feel a deep need inside of you. “Kento,” you breathe. “Pl–please…”

He breaks eye contact, letting go of you as you cheer at your victory. Nanami grunts as he watches you travel back in between his legs. “Don’t take it too far. You’ll get a slack jaw.”

“I know when enough’s enough,” you shoot him a glare. However, Nanami chortles, “Sure you do, love.”

You don’t bother arguing with him on that. You could threaten to leave him with blue balls, but that’ll leave you with a disadvantage as well as your pussy aches. Reaching for his cock, you grab it at the base, feeling how it’s hardened again all for you. You find yourself appeased that your husband finds his solace all in you, how you can still make him feel good despite the years that have gone by. That when he’s late at work, it’s exactly as he says. The two of you know friends that have succumbed to infidelity, not being able to handle the hours outside of each other and giving into the temptation and lust for someone else.

People have wished it upon the two of you before, saying that at some point Nanami doesn’t want to wait until he clocks out and will find a fine dime at a bar, and that you’ll get tired of waiting for him. And you don’t know if it’s the spite the two of you share when people dared to utter those words or if it's your combined love, but something remains stubborn within you two to make sure that doesn’t happen. 

Feeling your grip around his length tightening has his body tensing up as it fills with anticipation. You rub a consoling hand into his inner thighs so that you don’t have to utter a single word. Beautiful eyes that look up to him, silently asking if he's okay. With a simple nod, he watches as you continue. Nanami’s been your everything, your first love, your first kiss, the first man you’ve slept with and explored sex with. He’s your everything. 

You remember the moment of first feeling his cock in your hand, how it twitched and moved and how you squealed in pure amazement that he could move it. Your innocence was a beauty to behold in the palm of his hands. And while you weren’t his first, you made it feel like he was starting all over him. Like he had been baptized and born a new man within your presence. 

A string of saliva drips from your tongue once more to smear around his tip pebbling down as your hand moves up to lubricate his length further. The excess drops of cum get gathered in the fist you’ve made around him, your thumb pressing into his tip as you draw circles into it. Tantalizingly slow, you tease the man who watches you. You’re on your knees, ass in the air as your dress falls over to reveal your mound and the wet patch in your panties. You’re only getting wetter as your mouth waters. 

His cock always excites you, no matter where it’ll be. However, you always love to have him inside your mouth, feeling how you can fit all of him inside you and how it twitches when he gets close. And when he cums, the quick spurts that land in the back of your throat. How you used to gag and garble, but have come to swallow with ease as one stray tear leaves your right eye. Your hand moves languidly around his length. Up and down, up and down at a moderate pace as you’ve always taken your time. 

Your next hand would always find its way to his balls, cupping them and fondling them as though they were stress balls asking to be played with. Nanami’s forced himself to get it together whenever you find yourself in between his legs like this, always tensing up his body and throwing his head back at the vixen you’ve made yourself to be. You love to see his undoing, always saying to see how it’s a sight to behold and the gods would love to have his moment of bliss captured on a canvas. Your eyes would twinkle as it does now, watching how his how dick would get wet with precum and how the sounds would echo in the room.

He curses under his breath, calling out your name and nothing more. He never begs, but you know the utterance of your name is just enough to ask you. He does so now with you jerking him off. 

���(Y/N)...” Before a wanton moan falls from his lips. His eyes are shut as he feels his legs tense, head falling back into the pillows, his hands reach for your wrist, pulling you closer. His cock twitches in your hand, white spurts shooting out from his tip, landing to his chest and pooling between your thumb and index finger. A dragged out moan falls from him as he wants nothing more than to pull you right next to him. To spoon you as he fucks you from behind, but he knows you’ll have none of that.

He feels the heat of your body against his lower body as he catches his breath, eyes opening back up to see your tongue ready to clean him. Fuck, he curses as your tongue touches his belly, swiping up his seed with one lick. Your eyes flushed with lust as you looked back at him and shimmy down further. His cock still in your hand, and still messy with his release. But you’ve always been great at cleaning, licking at your hand, too, before planting a chaste kiss on his head. Your pink muscle swirling around the tiny slit, overstimulating your husband as it’s bound to grow sensitive. However, he’s still hard in your hand, wanting more.

You moan out, hand returning back to the base of his cock as you lick up a stripe. Sucking his balls into his mouth before letting them go with a pop. It’s enough to have him cream himself for the third time tonight. Your lips pucker up, wrapping around the base as your head’s turned to the side. Your hums send a vibration throughout his body and his legs tense and dare to kick out at you. His face heats up as he’s held his breath unconsciously for quite some time. Exhaling heavily, he exclaims, “My god, (Y/N)!”

You continue at that one spot before you’re right back around his tip, suck incessantly at it in a desperate need for him. Your mouth puckers into an ‘O’ as you watch your husband’s face twist and contort at your actions, hips bucking up into your face as his tip enters your mouth, needing to feel him entirely inside of it. Your hands rest on his thighs, running your hands up and down it as you bob your head shallowly around it. Cheeks hollowing out as you still for a moment, basking of the feeling of his tip pressed on the roof of your mouth. To think you were once an experienced girl that was once apprehensive about his size. It’s become a distant and vague memory in the back of Nanami’s mind, only brought up in these moments. 

How you salivate around his cock, growing extremely wet around him as if he were in your pussy. How your hips jut out in a visceral need for him, but your mouth refuses to leave his length. How you slurp and suck around his girth as he tries to hold himself together because you’re a fiend around him. How you have him so weak in the knees that he can only just take it, take what you give him. How your head bobs up and down his length so beautifully like a pro— like you’ve done this for years.

From that time period of growth, seeing how you’ve become so comfortable in your sexuality, unashamed to say just how good you make your man— your husband feel— Nanami never would’ve guessed that you were that same girl all those years ago. You always have his vision blurred when his orgasm hits him again, just like now. His legs weaken as he feels cock jolt inside of your mouth. Your heart rate picks up in delight as you bring yourself to suck just around the tip, cheeks hollowing even more just like a vacuum and pushing him over the edge. You’d press against his balls, a finishing move of yours that has him seeing white as he’d cum one last time for the night. 

He’d shoot out on your tongue, his release more translucent and less thick as you’d like, but that’s your fault for making him so spent. It takes Nanami some time to return to reality, to register your hands that’s landed in his hand and asking him if he’s alright. You’ve got him under a dizzy spell, his brown eyes searching for yours and for a moment you’re frightened. 

“Oh no,” you gasp. “Did I work you too much, Kento?”

He shakes his head, eyes shutting as a smile reaches the corner of his lips. “No, love. You never do.”

“Good,” you sigh, crawling under the sheets and draping them over Nanami’s naked figure. He chuckles, catching your attention as you snuggle into his chest. You quirk an eyebrow up in curiosity. “What?”

“Didn’t expect you to end it so soon,” he admits. “Thought I’d have to pry you off of me.”

“Not when you gave me quite the scare,” you push at his chest before your eyes light up, hands reaching to cup his softening length in hopes to make it hard again. “But, are you saying that you want to keep going?”

Nanami chuckles, reaching to kiss your temple. “What am I going to do with you— a wife who won’t let me get any good night’s rest?”

“But don’t they say—” you knit your eyebrows together in faux pondering before meeting your husband’s eyes “—good pussy puts a man to sleep?”

Before you know it, Nanami’s reaching for your waist and forcing you on your back. You squeal at the sudden change of position, giggling into his chest and rubbing the expanse of it. He hums in the crook of your neck, laughing at your question. “Not when he’s had none.”

[sofa-king-lame]

Snippet Saturday

Here's another snippet from my coda for 'On Purpose', tentatively named 'I Hold it All When I Hold You'. Currently at just over 3k words and almost done!

--

Eddie, becoming more of a fan of theatrics as he let go of the repressed parts of himself, simply dragged his left hand out of his lap and held it up in front of his face. 

“Oh,” is all his father says. In his peripheral vision Eddie can see Adriana grinning and Sophia tearing up a little. 

“You’re married?” Helena gawps.  

“Engaged,” Eddie corrects, unable to stop the bright smile taking over his face. “To Buck.” 

“Not this again Edmundo,” Ramon sighs and honestly, fuck him. 

“Yes this again, Dad,” Eddie hisses. “Always this. I’m gay. I know you don’t want to hear it but I don’t fucking care. I’m gay and deeply in love with my best friend. We got engaged a week ago, and if that’s going to be a problem for you then you are more than welcome to not attend the wedding.” 

“Eddie,” Helena sighs and Eddie thinks if one more person sighs, he’ll flip the fucking table. “I think...you’ve had a really rough year, I think maybe you’re just confused.” 

“He’s not confused, Mom,” Adriana snaps. “He’s finally accepted who he is despite your best efforts to shame it out of him.” 

“Adriana this has nothing to do with you,” Ramon grunts. 

“Well that’s just not true,” Sophia snorts. “You think he enjoyed growing up in a household where the only acceptable future was two point five kids and a spouse of the opposite sex? We were in that house too, it was fucking suffocating.” 

“Soph,” Eddie says softly, because as much as he loves having his sisters defend him there’s no reason for them to ruin their relationship with their parents over this. Eddie pretty quickly accepted that coming out to his parents would probably mean the end of their relationship. He also pointedly does not mention to Sophia that she has a husband and two kids (and a cat). 

--

As an Aussie writing "Mom" feels wrong but, you know. It's how they'd pronounce so I'm taking the hit.

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[childrenofcain-if]

Hello beautiful Author!! I hope u are doing well! So basically I am a religious follower of your blog and uuugghh!!! This story is so beautifully crafted like the script the writing style the plot even the characters seem larger than life. Honestly u have my tremendous respect and admiration.... Also I am totally in love with cedric!! angsty adorable and hot. So since today is my birthday I decided to treat myself to a snippet ... Can u please write a fluff scene where in the future after marriage yk after C achieved his dream how would M!C react to find out that F!MC is pregnant. What kind of dad would he be and how would he handle the news especially if it's a girl. (PS: I love you okay? U rock!!! ❤❤😘)

the morning started like most mornings did in your household. the sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your manhattan penthouse, muted by the heavy curtains cédric insisted on keeping drawn just enough to keep the room from feeling exposed.

he was already in the kitchen when you woke up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he frowned at his ipad.

it was a weekday, which meant cédric was doing what cédric did best: handling things.

the man could command a room full of board members or negotiate a multi-billion-dollar deal, but he always took his mornings slow, like it was his personal rebellion against the world which demanded his attention. the smell of coffee hung thick in the air, and you could hear him muttering under his breath—half in french, half in english—as he skimmed over some report.

he looked up when he heard your footsteps. the cold glint in his pale green eyes softened the way they always did when he saw you.

“good morning, mon amour,” he said, setting the ipad down as if the numbers and charts weren’t important anymore.

you smiled at him, but there was a nervous flutter in your chest that didn’t quite dissipate.

“good morning,” you greeted back, making your way to the counter. “we need to talk.”

his brow furrowed, just slightly, in that way that meant his mind was already cataloging possible scenarios. you wondered if he was running through a mental checklist: a problem at work, an overdue bill, a delayed package. he was always looking for answers before you even finished your question.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, voice low and calm, but his hand twitched where it rested on the counter.

you hesitated, suddenly unsure how to say it. for someone who had spent years speaking in boardrooms and drafting persuasive arguments, the words felt clumsy in your throat.

“there’s nothing wrong, per se,” you began, and you saw the tension in his shoulders ease—just a fraction. “it’s just... i’m pregnant.”

the silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. it was like the air had stilled, waiting for his reaction.

cédric blinked. once, twice. then he stepped back, leaning against the counter as if the weight of your words had hit him square in the chest. his mouth opened, then closed again. he looked—if you hadn’t known him better—younger. like a boy caught off guard, unsure of whether he was allowed to feel what he was feeling.

“you’re...?” he started, and then he stopped himself. his hand went to his hair, brushing the dark brown strands back, a nervous habit he’d never managed to shake. “you’re sure?”

you nodded, suddenly shy. “i took three tests. all positive. i was going to wait until we were both home later tonight, but—”

“no, no, now is perfect,” he interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended, like he was scolding you for even considering keeping it from him. he shook his head, and you could see the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “mon dieu.”

cédric laughed then, a sound so rare and so unguarded it made your chest ache. it was a laugh of disbelief, of joy, of sheer and unrestrained emotion. he crossed the kitchen in two long strides and pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly you could feel his heart pounding against your ribs.

“je t’aime,” he murmured into your hair. “je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime.”

you clung to him, laughing through the tears that had started spilling down your cheeks.

***

cédric’s reaction to the pregnancy didn’t end that morning. over the next few weeks, he threw himself into preparing for the baby with the same intensity he brought to his work. he was meticulous, obsessive even, researching everything from cribs to car seats. he vetoed three potential pediatricians before you’d even had a chance to meet them, insisting that only the best would do.

but it wasn’t just about the logistics. cédric was unexpectedly tender, in a way that made your heart twist. he read parenting books in bed at night, one hand on your growing belly as he absently stroked his thumb over the fabric of your pajamas. he brought you tea without being asked, stocked the pantry with your favorite snacks, and refused to let you carry anything heavier than a shopping bag.

when you found out the baby was a girl, it felt like the world completely shifted for him.

“it’s a girl,” you had informed him, holding the ultrasound picture out to him.

he took it from your hands carefully, as if it were made of glass, and stared at it for a long moment. his expression was unreadable, but you could see the way his fingers trembled, just slightly.

“a daughter,” he said, the words thick in his throat. “our daughter.”

you nodded with a small smile, watching him carefully. “how do you feel about that?”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he set the picture down on the table and turned to you, his eyes burning with an intensity that made you shiver.

“i’m going to protect her,” cédric said, his voice low and fierce. “from everything. from everyone. she’ll never have to wonder if she’s loved. she’ll never have to fight for what’s hers.”

“i can already see it,” you teased gently, trying to lighten the mood. “you’ll be the dad who scares off all her partners.”

“damn right i will,” he said, his smile returning. “she’s going to know her worth. and if anyone tries to undermine that—” he didn’t finish the sentence, but the murderous look in his eyes said enough.

you leaned forward, cupping his cheek and drawing him back to you. “she’ll know her worth because of you,” you said softly. “because of how much you’ll love her.”

“and her mother,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

he kissed you then, slow and lingering, and when he pulled back, his hands settled gently over your stomach.

you reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “she’s going to be so lucky to have you.”

cédric shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “no,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to your belly. “i’m the lucky one.”

***

as the months went on, cédric proved himself to be everything you’d hoped for and more. he was attentive to a fault, sometimes to the point of driving you mad with his insistence on helping you. ehen the baby kicked for the first time, he was right there, his hand pressed against your stomach, his eyes wide with wonder.

when your due date finally arrived, he was the calmest one in the delivery room. he held your hand through every contraction (even when you almost broke his bones), whispered words of encouragement in your ear, and refused to leave your side, even when the nurses told him to give you space.

and when your daughter was finally born, cédric was the first to hold her, much to your father’s exasperation. he cradled her tiny, wrinkled body in his arms, his expression soft and awestruck.

“she’s perfect,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

you smiled, exhausted but deliriously happy. “she has your eyes.”

“and a head full of your hair,” he said, his voice breaking.

in that moment, you knew without a doubt that he would be the kind of father who would move mountains for his daughter. he would be firm but fair, protective but not overbearing, and endlessly devoted to her happiness.

as he rocked her gently, humming a lullaby under his breath, you realized that this—your little family—was everything you’d ever wanted. and as much as you knew about how cédric wasn’t very good at expressing his emotions, it was clear as day right now that nothing would ever compare to the love he had for the two of you.

[vampstaubrey]

THE GIRLS ALOUD SHOW THE GIRLS ALOUD SHOW THE GIRLS ALOUD SHOW THE GIRLS ALOUD SHOW THE GIRLS ALOUD SHOW THE GIRLS ALOUD SHOWWWWHEKJSJCM I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM SO MUCH ID DO ANYTHING TO GO BACK THERE PLEASE CHAT I LOVE THEM ‼️‼️‼️‼️

I WAS THERE YOU GUYS I WAS THERE , IM GOING FERAL /VPOS

I NEED MORE GIRLS ALOUD STAN FRIENDS OMG THEYRE SINGING THE SHOW WAAHHHHH

[tteokdoroki]

˗ˏˋ 💎  JJK MEN AS OVERPROTECTIVE GIRL DADS gojo, sukuna & geto .ᐟ

⋆˙ ᯓ★  about ! “a little girl’s first love will always be her father." three scenarios in which the daughters of three jjk men introduce their boyfriends to their fathers. ( 5.7K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. video banner. not beta read. sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, no-curses!au, mentions of pregnancy, children and babies, the children have no names, some family issues, married life, domestic bliss, husband + father!jjk men, mother + fem!reader.

sonic says ! hello everyone !! i wanted to try my hand at some head canons and scenarios, i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so put a pause on working on kinktober to write it lol!! hope you enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ 

ᯓ★ SATORU GOJO:

before meeting you, satoru gojo had never been fond of a family dinner. 

in his childhood home — they were cold and quiet, pockets of clattering cutlery would cut through painstaking silence and distract from the loud emptiness of the seat at the head of the table where his own father was supposed to be. his mother, often solemn and sunken in the shoulders, never spoke. never cooked and slipped small bites to her son in between preparation or steps.

they had staff for that, they had staff for everything.

to keep the household clean and together. to keep him fed and breathing. to keep him alive. all requirements felt almost clinical, the environment in which he was raised almost like the white walls of a hospital — without a trace of love needed for a child like satoru gojo needed to thrive. 

even if he had all the money in the world, he hadn’t a drop of love. he wasn’t ever sure if he was capable of the warm and fuzzy emotion, didn’t know if it was something his heart could ever open up to — sealed in by layers of cool, cold concrete and cement. kept in a safe without a key. at least until you miraculously found it and melted the thick layers of ice blocking satoru’s veins. you brought back colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes, taking up the space in his heart where his family had left a swirling, black void. 

to satoru, you were a saving grace. his everything… and he swore he’d never be like his father; who left his wife unhappy and empty, like a abandoned shell. he promised; he’d do much better than his parents ever did. especially when you found out you were pregnant, even more so when your little girl came into the world with plentiful white curls and lashes, screaming at the top of her teeny tiny lungs. 

at the time, you were sure you’d never seen satoru gojo so in love ( and so teary eyed too ) — but you knew what becoming a parent meant to him. what it meant for the new life you now shared.

but now, having met you and married you and created life with you — satoru had found a new appreciation for family dinners. they were a sacred event, a special time for him to keep up with the lives of his children and let them know he was there. present. 

it wasn’t a time to be imposed on and certainly not by meddlesome boyfriends brought home by sixteen year old daughters.

“so kid, what’s your 401K look like?” 

satoru carries a look of disdain, his nostrils flared, blue eyes narrowed and perfect pink lips curled in an unhappy frown. 

the young boy opposite him, a little scrawny and awkward, shrinks underneath the white haired man’s intense gaze — if you squinted, you could probably see him shaking like a little leaf in the intense wind from across the table “um… i don’t know?”

“hear that little guy? no 401K… how’s he meant to take care of your sister. yeah, yeah.

you’re right, i’ll give him a chance,” he mutters to the baby boy snoozing happily in his arms under his breath, engaging in a one sided conversation before switching his focus back to his daughter’s…sorry excuse for a partner. “okay then… finances, clearly not. academics and common sense —“ pausing,  the white haired father of two clicks his tongue, pushing it into the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek as if to feel his next words out in his mouth. “do you even know what a bouquet of flowers is, kid? a corsage? gojo women don’t play about their flowers, yanno.” 

“sir—“

without giving the boy a chance to speak, gojo drops his intrusive gaze under the table and back up again — pointing an accusatory finger at his little girl’s partner. “your top button’s undone and your shoe laces are untied. you might wanna fix that! if you care about my daughter’s safety!” he turns his nose up all petulant like a picky toddler being forced to eat his veggies, he even sticks his tongue out for good measure. gojo’s eccentric movements nearly jostle his sleepy son in place. the baby whines and gurgles a little bit, only soothed by a pat to his back from dad — who repositions him to snooze over his shoulder.

in a silent, quieter gesture, satoru uses two fingers to point between his eyes and the boy’s. almost as if to say ‘i’m watching you.’

catching him in the act, the eldest gojo daughter bounces into the room carrying plates of steaming hot food, exhaling with worm down patience evident in her body language. “daddy please, you don’t act like this normally. stop messing around.” rolling her eyes, she sets the dishes down, freeing up her hand to smack the back of her dad’s clearly empty skull. just like her mother.

“well sooooorrry for being a good dad and caring about your wellbeing! who you’re dating! who you’re bringing into our bloodline!” gojo rebuttals with petish grunts, unable to cradle the back of his injured head like he does with his son.  

and as if by magic, you, his beautiful and loving and gorgeous wife appear with dinner plates in hand to double down on a scolding the white haired man. amused, you also swat at your husband’s head and tut down at him. “satoru? what are you doing?” there’s something about the way you tease and tell gojo off that always makes his heart race, even after all these years of marriage and raising his kids. he loves you, his family so much. he almost keens into your touch like a pathetic dog, until your daughter starts gagging at the sight — slipping into her set. you were supposed to be watching the baby. not interrogating the poor kid.” 

“we’re having a heart to heart, babe,” gojo swoons, clearing his throat as his head bobs in the direction of his daughter’s boyfriend. “jimbob here was just telling me about his 3.4% grade point average.”

“it’s hiro sir! and uh… 3.5% sir.” the boyfriend in question chirps shyly.

you know that your husband feels… almost threatened by another man entering your daughter’s life — they’ve been practically inseparable since the moment she first opened her eyes. to give up the duty of loving and protecting her and pass it onto someone else is probably what scares him the most. “that’s pretty good hun!” you comment absentmindedly, hoping to pull satoru away from the conversation.

“no it’s not! our daughter has a 4.0%.”

“s-she was failing in math, i was tutoring her.” the boyfriend hopefully interjects again, whispering next when the baby stirs at the dining table. “i hope that makes up for my 401K sir. i-i also work part time to save for college and—!” 

“haha — no i wasn’t!” the younger gojo girl tenses in place, elbowing her date in the ribs not so discretely from under the table. it’s this interaction that makes her father smile, only briefly, before you scowl his way.

“i thought you told them we met at a tutoring session.” 

“you were failing?” you raise a brow, taking your own seat beside her father. 

“see! this boy failure is a bad influence on our daughter!” a glare settles on the slopes of satoru’s angelic features, mirrored by your child’s unimpressed expression across the table. in his arms, your youngest fusses about as if he senses the mounting tension at the table — earning a bounce or two from daddy, who turns your way all matter-of-factly like. “see, this why he doesn’t have a 401K”

“why would a teenager have a 401k, satoru!” comes your exasperated sigh.

“i had one when i was his age.” satoru shoots back and the kid sinks nervously in his seat. the poor boy looks as though he wants to disappear, squirming in place like he’s no better than a worm on a bait hook — it’s torture being interrogated and inspected by someone so close to the person you love most, but even he knows how important satoru’s approval is to your daughter.

she wouldn’t say it now, not when she was all grown up and finding her way out in the world — but she idolised gojo, all of her fondest memories are painted in his colours. shades of sapphire and azure like his vivid eyes, snowy white from his hair that almost rivals the clouds in the sky — the backdrop to days spent riding her father’s shoulders through the big wide world, racing down grassy green hills and wasting the hours away. she wouldn’t admit it here, today, but she never wanted to leave those memories. leave her father behind in her youth — it was written on each dip and curve and highlight on her youthful face, she wanted her father to move into this next phase of life with her too.

“daddy, you were a trust fund baby with shit grades and no prospects until you met mum,” she huffs but her words hold no malice, even if the sass brims over the edge of her tone like an emotionally charged, overflowing glass of water. you’d chide her for cursing — but you know she means well, stubbornly expressing her desire for approval to her man child of a father. “a loser, if you will.” 

gojo slumps, the rosey petals of his plump lips pushing into an age old pout. “how could you say that about dear old dad?” he whines, as though he’s a wounded animal. 

“well she’s not wrong, baby. you were a loser satoru, you still are.” the words are fond and light hearted on your tongue, a similar state to the wisps of a smile that trace over your own lips. leaning in close, you tickle the nose of the gurgling baby boy in his arms, heart heavy with affection — grateful that the one interaction you had with your husband all those years ago ( when he was a scrapier and misunderstood ) led you both to the beautiful chaotic family you have together now. “a hot one at least.” 

“gross.” your daughter groans and buries her embarrassed gaze in the spread of food on the neatly laid table — grabbing a plate and piling it high to cope.

her boyfriend chuckles nervously, wanting nothing more but to eat and do the same. desperate to hide from gojo’s intimidating aura, but too afraid to cross another one of his ridiculous invisible lines. “i think that’s very sweet mrs gojo!”

the brief moment of peace in the war of dad v boyfriend is then interrupted by the white haired man’s temper tantrum, realising that his only daughter is still in the room. “don’t push it kid.” the father of your children all but wails and finds something else about the young couple to pick apart. “you’re sitting too close together! move apart!” 

“daddy—!”

“w-what?”

“i said move it or lose it kid, before i keel over and die of heartbreak.” “betrayal. my own daughter, leaving me for someone else.” 

the two separate, shifting their chairs away from one another despite never actually being too close. you share an empathetic look with your eldest, empathetic to your husband’s actions. you both knew he wouldn’t handle the meeting well, but this was beyond your whilst dreams. the young couple’s hands remain intertwined under the table cloth as the meal begins properly, and when satoru notices, he doesn’t comment — biting down hard on his unhappy tongue. he knows all too well what it’s like to love against the odds, his father in law hardly wanted him around you. it’s not like he wasn’t aware how bad he was for you, how your standards might have even dropped for the man to be with him. but you loved satoru with your entire being, wholly and against all of your own parent’s wishes. 

in a way, the dinner tonight reminds him of himself meeting your father for the first time — how he had to work for his approval too. prove that he was more than just a spoilt brat. too caught up in the memories, the odd sense of loss threaded between his every breath and the love he holds for his daughter settled in his lungs — gojo almost kissed the way you whisper to him adoringly, head drooping to rest on his shoulder mostly to look at your baby but partly to comfort him. “you’re being dramatic satoru. look at them, don’t you just love young love.” 

and he does, he looks, really looks — softly staring across the table and through the haze of his own judgement, noticing how happy his little girl looks all wrapped up with her boyfriend. all he’s ever wanted is to keep her smiling, give her a life that his parents couldn’t give him, he feels all of his resentment and fear or losing his daughter melt away like a plain sheet of paper dissolving in water. he loves her too much to not let her be happy, his baby. his little girl. 

“no, not at all,” satoru finally relents with a wobbling voice and silvery tears that dot his vision — shaking his head back and forth to stop them from dropping onto his sleeping son gathered in his arms. “w-why would you say that? god, is it allergy season? my eyes are killing me. they’re not cute at all, why would you say that i’m crying?” 

your teenage daughter glances over, relief evident in all of her identical gojo features. “no one mentioned you crying, daddy.” she coos softly in an attempt to console satoru.

it doesn’t work, he starts dry heaving and sobbing. which is new for her, he hasn’t cried this hard since her baby brother was born.

the kid scrambles into his pocket and damn near stumbles over the table in order to hand your white haired lover a tissue. “i don’t think you’re crying sir!” 

“shut up!” gojo sniffles dramatically, putting on his best theatre kid act and drapes himself ( and the baby ) all over you. “shit, is this cushioned tissue? three ply?” pale, deft fingers swipe at the blue pools of eyes which well with tears while the kid nods over enthusiastically — desperate to please his girlfriend’s guardian. “good stuff this is… but this doesn’t mean i approve of you for my daughter!”

“gojo!” 

“whaaaaat!? he doesn’t have a 401K!”

ᯓ★ RYOMEN SUKUNA:

if you’d told sukuna, almost a decade and a half ago, that he would end up with a life shrouded in domestic bliss — he would have laughed in your face. maybe even called you a cunt whilst telling you to fuck off. back then, when he was younger and the spirit of ambitious fire burned brightly in his veins as though he had petroleum for blood, the pink haired man never dreamed of settling down. buying a house. getting married. or having kids.

he was as untameable as a wild horse, with only one goal in mind. to open up his restaurant and get his family out of that shithole town by all and any means. he’d cross whatever rivers he had to, climb whatever mountains he needed to — push past societal hurdles that judged him for the pink in his hair and the thick ink on his body. ryomen sukuna did not care. not about anyone else, only about his goals.

at least, until he met you. 

in many ways, you were a blessing to the world where sukuna was a curse. his complete opposite, the day to his night. though the worlds and lives you came from were completely different — 

nowadays, the man is a little softer around the edges and weaker in the heart — they say that’s what true love does to you.

a set of keys jingle at the front door, followed by the dull thud of trainers on the shoe rack and footsteps on the mahogany wood floor. sukuna hardly looks up from the article he’s reading — something about the best recipes for autumnal vegetables. who would have thought, ryomen sukuna, reading up on gardening. he would tell anyone who asked it was for his restaurant, not because he actually enjoyed it. would make him look soft. 

“hey, i’m home!” the voice that calls to him is sweet and youthful, a dulcet symphony that tugs paternally at the pink haired man’s heart strings. “is ma here?” 

sukuna smiles to himself behind the newspaper, inhaling its fresh ink scent. “in the kitchen, workin’,” he replies absentmindedly, listening to his daughter skid down the hall after dropping her backpack. “oi squirt, you ain’t slick. you know what day it is, report card. now.” 

there’s a dramatic sigh that follows footsteps trailing back into the living room. sukuna’s daughter, his pride and joy clings onto the doorframe with a scowl that could very well rival his own, ruby red eyes twinkling with annoyance — she’s in a rush to chat with her mother after school, he knows, but he can’t help but to tease her just a bit. “s’in my bag, can i go now?” she whines impatiently but takes off at the first gentle nod from her father in reply. 

but the pink haired parent’s peaceful evening is quickly turned upside down at the discovery he makes in the bottom of his pride and joy’s bag. no matter how much time has passed, how many decades have gone by in which he’s been a father — nothing could prepare him for this new challenge, the new wave of emotions that come with having a tween daughter and swirl hotly in his chest.

“what the fuck is this?” he announces with a foul snarl, slipping into the kitchen where his girls chitchat idly over a test batch of cookies sukuna had made earlier in the day. for his restaurant of course. not because he’s a doting husband or loving father. he’s got an image to uphold and it’s not one of domestic bliss. 

his daughter chirps, not looking up from the sweet treat she picks apart and pops into her mouth — seated on the kitchen island while you work away on your laptop. “what’s what, daddy?” her innocent nonchalance about the older sukuna’s discovery almost makes him pop a vein. “also, ma told you to stop saying the f-word. so, swear jar.”

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink pokes his tongue into the soft epithelium of his cheek, his jaw ticks and a playful frustration tingles throughout all four of his limbs. the swear jar was something you’d brought into play as soon as [daughter name] had learned how to talk, afraid that your rough and rugged husband’s potty mouth would rub off on her young impressionable mind. every time a cursed word falls from between ryomen sukuna’s lips, a couple hundred yen is popped into the jar as punishment. the thing was practically full by your baby’s third birthday, so you’ve been putting it down as her college fund ever since.

paper rustles between deft and tattooed fingers as sukuna reveals not a report card, but a crinkled note like the kind passed back and forth between distracted kids in the middle of that one class before lunch. “don’t play dumb with me, squirt.” ryomen holds the note up to the light so that both of his girls can see, blood diamond eyes squinting so he can inspect it better. somebody get this guy his glasses. “‘do you want to go out with me? tick for yes, cross for no.’” he reads out loud, each word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, his frown so deep that lines of disapproval form on his well-aged face.

thoughts of the once all-important report card vanish into thin air, the relaxed aura in the room replaced with a palatable tension that not even your husband’s finest knives could cut. your precious baby girl shoots up from the counter to scramble with her dad over the note in hand. he holds her back with a large palm to the forehead.

“oh my god! you weren’t supposed to see that! daddy, give it here. please!”

“fat chance, squirt,” the tattooed man retorts. “you passin’ notes in class? that why you’re hidin’ your report card?” 

“you can have my report card, when you give that back!”

with the two standing side by side, the resemblance strikes you as clear as day. they share the same hair, same scowl and same rugged intonation to their voices. they’re both yours, your entire world under one roof. before they can blow said root off, you stand between the elder and younger sukuna — turning to your husband with hooded eyes and a gentle hand on the centre of his broad chest. “oh ryo,” you coo in flirtation, slowing his train of thought as you sneakily swipe the crushed paper from his grip. “shut up ‘n let me see that.”

your daughter gags behind you at the display of affection, contrasting with the amused smirk you share with your long time lover. after all this time, marriage and the perfect kid, you’re still able to make a fool out of him — make sukuna’s heart skip a beat and a heat he refuses to acknowledge crawl up the back of his neck. he’s gone soft, for you and his family. for now, for you, he relents on taunting his precious little girl. 

casting your gaze over the note, you grin at the pink-ink chicken scratch scribbled across the page. it’s sweet and endearing, reminding you of young love. “did atsushi finally ask you out?” you ask tenderly, handing the paper back to your daughter who cuddles it to her chest like the  physical version of a precious memory. 

a bashful expression lines the contours of her face, seeping into features you’d recognise from your husband on her. sukuna would argue that she has the shape of your eyes and your beauty too — but all you see is a culmination of love. “ma you were so totally right, playing hard to get really works!” 

she gushes dreamily over her crush like it’s puppy love, biting her lip and bouncing on the spot. 

“like a charm, every time.” comes your entertained response, much to your husband’s dismay.

“you weren’t playin’ hard to get with me…” sukuna questions rather than states, trying to piece together parts of the gossip that he’s missed. an anxiety corners the beat of his heart at the thought of his daughter dating, something in which the burly man never thought he would be afraid of. the world had been hard on sukuna; he only worries that it’s not as safe for his pride and joy as it were for him.   “never mind that; the brat asked you out with a piece of paper?  y’better not have said yes. we have standards here.” 

his words make you roll your eyes with the hint of a smile. ryomen almost reminding you of your own father around the time you’d met him.

your daughter scrunches her nose petulantly, gearing herself up for a witty reply. “well ma married you, so her standards can’t be that high.” she snaps, earning a stifled laugh from you and an unimpressed grunt from her hardheaded dad. “and no, i didn’t. told him he needed to ask me out  properly. face to face. with words. he said to meet him on the running track tomorrow at lunch for a surprise!”

pulling her into a hug, you kiss her round youthful cheek. “oh baby, i'm so happy for you!”

“well i ain’t! show me the damn kid, need to see what kind of pitiful brat wants to ask out my little girl,”  sukuna crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, black ink tattoos flexing menacingly as he does so. almost as if he’s preparing to threaten the kid before even meeting him. “whatever happened to askin’ for permission to court or whatever. he should have been on my doorstep asking for your hand.” 

“firstly you would have said no, and secondly this isn’t the olden days, dad. nobody does that anymore.” your cheeky daughter chides him loudly, her words slipping over her snarky little tongue. like father like daughter, the way they snip and snap at one another has an uncanny resemblance.

tilting your head upwards towards your fuming husband, you laugh breathlessly in a way that washes away his anger.“she’s right ryo; though my dad hardly approved of you either.” you say softly. even now, you make him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the mind, like he’s so anything for you. whoever dates his daughter should feel the same about her.

“i freakin’ earned it, didn’t i? 

“just barely.”

sukuna huffs but settles a hand on your waist from behind and his head atop yours. he needs to soothe himself somehow, his daughter is growing too fast. “stop ganging up on me and lemme see the damn kid.” 

“here, isn’t he cute.” 

lips downturned, sukuna craned his neck to look at your daughter’s phone from over your shoulder — scrutinising the instagram page that she’s opened now offering the kid his only child has taken an interest in like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. “brat looks like a noodle.” haughty laughter fills the kitchen, reverberating against the bones and organs in ryomen’s chest and buzzing right though your back. “you’re right i woulda said no as soon as he fuckin’ turned up!” 

two sets of scolding eyes similar in shape, belonging to the two girls he loves the most swivel around to face the pink haired man disapprovingly.

“ryomen sukuna!” 

“daddy!”

“yeah yeah, i know. swear jar.”

ᯓ★ SUGURU GETO:

“my love, were you aware that our little munchkin has a boyfriend?”

suguru looks up from the bubbling pot of child friendly pasta sauce on the stove. if it were just the two of you having dinner tonight, like it was merely three (nearly four) years ago — he would have planned for a more adventurous meal. perhaps sought out a bottle of fine aged wine for you both to enjoy on the balcony and even gotten a dessert to sweeten the date in. but now, you both had more than two hungry tummies to worry about, and bottles of wine could only be purchased when the little one was off with her uncle satoru.

“no, i wasnt. i don't believe that’s come up in discussion before,” your dark haired lover turns his narrow gaze to the giggly little girl swaddled in your arms — her chubby cheeks and dark, curious eyes just peeking out of the fluffy duck-themed towel you’ve wrapped her in. bath time is usually after bed, but someone got into the paint pots at nursery school and managed to get blotches of blue streaked through her hair and under her fingernails. “care to elaborate sweetheart?”

suguru taps the wooden sauce spoon against the side of the pot and swipes his hands on a nearby tea towel before allowing them to rest on his hips, look of faux irritation settling on the contours of his face and slopes of his features. thin brows draw together like closed gates in the middle of his forehead — the expression earning airy light and squealed laughter from your baby girl.

“nuh uhhh! not my boy-fend!” she babbles her way through the big girl word, missing a few syllables here and there, but geto still grins with pride — happily leaning forward to press enthusiastic kisses to his little angel’s damp forehead. “no boy-fend papa!

bouncing your daughter slightly, you cock your hip out to hold her weight and cheekily roll your eyes. “such a daddy’s girl, lying to him already? he’ll let you get away with anything if you keep that up,”  though you muster up a pout to rival the toddler’s, the uncanny resemblance warming the cockles or your husband’s heart, your tone is playful and adoring — it’s lilt full of love for the baby girl you made together. you pinch her chubby cheek, waggling it from side to side as more of her childlike laughter tangles with the scent of pasta in the air.  “we bumped into the fujioka boy and his mother at the gates this morning, he held her hand all the way up to the classroom. it was quite cute. you had to be there, love.” 

“i’m sure,” he responds, gentle mirth and protectiveness swirling in dark framed eyes.

you relay the information to your husband as though it’s hot gossip fresh from the press, whispering over your dark-haired daughter’s head not so secretly. even with the hair and eyes to match suguru’s, she’s still just as much your carbon copy as she is his — he tends to say all of her spirit comes from you, not to mention the way she laughs and smiles.

shaking her head between you, both — your baby chimes in brightly. “noooo mama!! boys are gross, i don’ hold hands with boys.”

this time suguru manoeuvres to pinch her other chubby cheek, clicking his tongue as he does so. “not even papa?” he pretends to pout, crouching down with his hands on his knees to coo into her sweet little face. 

“nuhhh, papa isn’t gross!! papa is my favourite boy!” she quickly tacks on with a dribbly smile.

“that’s right. i’ll be the only boy in your life always, just you and i princess,” your husband reaffirms with a firm shake of his head and presses a promise in the form of a kiss to your daughter’s nose. her chubby little hands, still wet from bath time, smack either side of suguru’s face and keep him close — close enough for her to plant a soggy smooch onto his forehead affectionately. a wet kiss only a father could love. “that settles it, i’m no longer sharing my kisses. papa says no boyfriends until you’re ninety.”

once your two loves are done sharing their candied affections, you seat your daughter on the edge of the kitchen table to allow geto the room to finish up with dinner. the comforting symphony of baby babbles and kitchen utensils clanking and food boiling fills the steamy air, it makes you smile. it feels like home. “oh come on suguru, they’re only three. don’t you think it’s the tiniest bit adorable?” you say with a sing-songy voice, entertaining both your little one and her father.“they even share their animal crackers during break time and crayons when it’s time to colour, one of the supervisors told me.”

with his back now to you as he stirs through the pasta sauce one final time, you hardly miss the way suguru’s shoulders tense at the mention of the little boy your girl has taken a liking to. he wouldn’t dare frown about it in front of her, what upsets daddy upsets baby too. that’s why he’s always smiling for her, and you find the man’s subtle jealousy endearing. it’s always supposed to be suguru and his princess, with no room for anyone else ( aside from you, of course ) 

“nope, no boyfriends. no amount of cuteness can convince me otherwise.” voice falling tight and flat, suguru reaches into the cupboards for plates and bowls to dish up his lovingly prepared home cooked meal, slamming them into place at the table with a little less patience than before. 

the idea of some… little boy chasing after his daughter’s heart? over his dead body.

“boy-fends are gross!” but your daughter is forever a daddy’s girl, furrowing her brow and crossing her tiny arms in an act of defiance — supporting her papa’s cause. boyfriends are bad! 

fuelling her excitement and even more support for papa — food is served shortly by your husband, who plates up as best as he can with toddler safe dinnerware. you adjust your little girl into her high chair at the table, giggling to yourself softly when she cranes her neck to keep an eye on suguru. “does that mean papa’s gross? he’s technically mama’s boyfriend.”

“husband, love, there’s a difference.” 

three plates of hot, aromatic spaghetti are organised in a table — each a domestic reminder of the family suguru geto has been blessed with. in that moment, he thinks he would be happy if he spent the rest of his life as just the three of you. briefly his mind wonders to setting a fourth place at the table in a decade or so’s time, once his daughter truly is old enough to date. the very thought makes him feel ill. 

round, doe eyes dart between you and suguru as you take your seats either side of your darling daughter at the table — she mimics you both with fumbling little fingers that reach for her baby fork and concentrates as she attempts to repeat your husband’s words. “can i have a husbsband-love?”

you laugh and kiss her cheek, helping her to gather a bite of pasta on the full end of her fork. “husband. just husband, my love. make sure you blow on your food please!” she follows your instructions with a comical air, cheeks puffing and breath huffing while you explain why her father is a second away from blowing his top. “good girl. husband’s aren’t for babies, baby. and i think papa might not like it if you got one now.”

“if you got one ever!” suguru interjects, eyes narrowing while he fights with his lips to avoid a scowl. “the answer is still no, princess. no husbands and no boyfriends until papa is old, cold and in the ground.” 

now that your hands are free, you grab the nearest tea towel and wind it up in your grip — launching its tail end at geto as though to swat at  him. he jumps in surprise and your daughter shrieks in amusement as she begins babbling again. “don worry, papa!. fujioka is  no my boy-fend!!” she says over food in her mouth and happy tummy. geto wipes over her face again. she’ll definitely need another bath later. “hasegawa is!!”

the pair of you share a look and this time, you really think suguru might just throw in the towel. 

how could he compete with pre-school love and paint pots shared over playtime gossip? 

“two boyfriends? oh god, love… i think need some air.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 4: The Deal (Warning: this chapter will feature violence. Read at your own risk)

A/N: had free time this week to produce this. Next week is chock full of tests and midterms, so this’ll probably be the last chapter for some time. Enjoy! Also, I’m sorry to those who asked to be added to the tag list and weren’t. I tried to add many of you, but Tumblr wasn’t able to find your blog for whatever reason.

When you open your eyes, darkness goes on forever in all directions, the only thing you can see is yourself. Where are you and how did you get here?

“Hello,” you call out, hoping someone is nearby to hear you, not caring who hears you just as long as someone comes to you. “Is there anyone here?”

Nothing, which you expected, but you had hoped against reality that someone was here… wherever here is. The cold air surges through your body and you shiver, your teeth chattering, echoing in the void.

“What happened,” you ask yourself. “How’d I get here?”

Just then, your memory kicks in and images and words assault your mind all at once: walking through the East End, the three thugs, the dirty shack in the middle of the woods you had been dragged to, and—

“Oh my god,” you say as the final memory flashes before your eyes. “They killed me.”

That’s right, the flash of the muzzle and the sound of the gunshot still rattling in your head. And if you think hard enough, you can vaguely remember falling to the floor after the bullet entered your head.

“Wait,” you say, realizing something very important. “If they shot me, then why am I here?”

Sure, you aren’t religious (all beliefs in a just and loving god died after you lost your Momma and was forced to live in an abusive and neglectful household for thirteen years), but this dark and neverending void is a far cry from the bright and golden imagery that’s always been associated with heaven. And this sure isn’t the fire and brimstone that comes to mind when you think of hell. So, is this purgatory? Or limbo? You never could keep the two straight.

Is this your fate? To spend the rest of your afterlife alone in this abyss? Why couldn’t you just cease altogether? Was it too much to ask that you just close your eyes and never wake from your eternal slumber?

You realize you’re crying and you’re amazed that after crying so much throughout your life, you still have plenty of tears to shed, even in the afterlife. But that’s been your lot in life since you lost Momma: to be the world’s punching bag.

“Such powerful emotions,” a familiar voice says.

You look up in shock and see your Momma, looking exactly the same as the day she was taken from you.

“Momma,” you exclaim, rushing to her and embracing her, squeezing her as hard as your arms will allow, afraid that if you let go, she’ll disappear.

“This form brings out such joy, sadness, and loss in you,” she says. “Feelings from someone alive are far more vibrant than from someone deceased.”

“What,” you asks, looking up at her in confusion, but when you do, it’s not your Momma you see looking down at you, but Bruce. You let go of the man as quick as you can and put a bit of distance between the two of you.

“What did you do to my Momma, you son of a bitch,” you shout in disgust.

“This form brings out such anger, pain, and hatred in you,” Bruce says, looking you up and down as if dissecting you like a damn lab experiment. “How interesting.”

“What the hell are you talking about? How’d you get here and what did you do to Momma?”

“And it’s not just this form.” You see movement all around you and in perfect unison, the other members of the Wayne Family appear from the void. “You hold these forms in equal amounts of hatred and contempt.”

“You deem this one a failure,” Bruce says.

“This one a hypocrite,” Dick says.

“This one a brute,” Jason says.

“This one a know-it-all,” Tim says.

“This one a stranger,” Barbara says.

“This one annoying,” Stephanie says, before turning to Cassandra. “And while you’ve never heard that one speak, you deem her a freak.”

“And you deem this one a monster,” Damian says. He gestures to Bruce. “You hate this form and that one in equal measure, far surpassing the others.”

You see another figure step out of the void and when you make out the face, it’s Alfred. You feel relief surge through your body, happy to see the butler; if there’s anyone who you can depend on, it’s him.

“While this one serves the others, you hold great respect for this form,” Alfred says. “Although, you hold a not insignificant amount of resentment towards him.”

Your heart skips a little at the accusation. No, you love the man, who took the place of a father when Bruce failed to fill the void left by your Momma’s death; sure, you’ve had the occasional thought that if the man was given a choice between you and them, he’d choose them over you since he’s always helping them, but he’s always been there for you since day one!

“No,” you say, pleading with the man. “Alfred, I don’t!”

“But you do,” the butler responds. “According to you, he is the true master of your prison, but instead of using his power to make them acknowledge your existence, he allows them to continue parading through Gotham, fighting criminals.”

“You also believe all these forms belong in Arkham,” Bruce adds. “And that you wish to be the one to subject them to electroshock therapy.”

You finally realize that something’s wrong here. All of them have never been in your presence long enough for you to say how you feel about them (not that they’d care, anyway) and you’ve never told Alfred how you often daydream of locking them away in Gotham, strapping them to metal chairs, and flipping the switch to send hundreds of volts through their skulls, hoping to shock them into being decent human beings. All this has been kept in your head for well over a decade.

So, how the hell did they know all this?

“You’re not them, are you?”

“No,” Not-Bruce answers. “We only took the forms of those you see before you.”

“Then who the fuck are you,” you growl. “And where the fuck am I?”

“We have no name,” Not-Alfred says.

“We are one, and yet we are many,” Not-Damian finishes.

“It is impossible to define a being such as us,” Not-Jason chimes in.

“Alright, that doesn’t answer my question,” you mutter to yourself, but say it loud enough for them to hear. “Then answer me this: where am I? The last thing I remember was being shot by three thugs.”

“Yes, we know of your attack,” Not-Stephanie says.

“As for your question, we are appearing to you in your mind,” Not-Bruce says.

“My mind,” you exclaim. “How?”

“When you appeared to us, we reached out and established a link with you,” Not-Tim explains. “It is from there that we were able to peer into your mind and see your memories.”

“My memories,” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Not-Damian responds. “Through your memories, we saw these forms and assumed them. We thought it would be more preferable for you to speak to us if we took the appearance of the people who have the most influence on your life.”

“If you looked through my memories, then you should know I want nothing to do with any of them,” you snap at them.

“We know now that we were in error,” Not-Bruce responds, a ghost of a smile gracing his face. “We owe you many thanks. Never before have we been put into a situation where have known the sensation of being incorrect. We will ponder this experience for years to come.”

“So, what do you really look like.”

All of them look at one another, unsure how to answer your question.

“We are not sure if you wish to see our true form,” Not-Alfred responds.

“While you are the first sentient being we’ve interacted with in our entire existence, we know that our true form is something many of your kind would consider… terrifying,” Not-Stephanie adds.

“I don’t care,” you snap. “I’m not talking to any of you while you look like this and I sure as hell don’t want you taking Momma’s form! And if we’re going to talk, we’re gonna do it face to face!”

“Very well,” Not-Bruce acquiesces.

And with that, everything fades to black and for a moment, you’re scared you’ll be left here in the dark by yourself again. Maybe you should’ve let them stay like that.

Just then, above you, you see an odd red glow. You look up and you feel your blood freeze, your heart stop, and the air catches in your lungs. Above you is a giant mass of red, bioluminescent flesh hanging from a cave ceiling, thick black tendrils extruding from it and digging deep into the surrounding rock, allowing it to remain suspended in the cavern. And if that didn’t freak you out enough, you can see the flesh obviously resembles the shape of a fetus in the fetal position. This thing looks like something out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say.

“We told you you would not approve of our true form,” it says, its voice beaming directly into your mind.

“What are you,” you ask, still awestruck at the sight before you.

“We are have no name,” it responds. “But, with the knowledge we have accumulated over the centuries, we suppose you can call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete?”

“Yes, we are a supercolony of sentient fungus that has existed for over four-hundred years.”

“Four-hundred years? That’s as long as Gotham’s been around.”

“We have existed as the city above. When its founders first arrived, we were nothing more than a collection of small, independent and unaware colonies of mold. Not long after the first buildings were built, an earthquake shook the area and revealed something we now know as a ‘Lazarus Pit,’ a pool of green, luminescent liquid that possesses remarkable restorative properties, and the colonies that would become us were plunged into it.”

“And this pit made you the way that you are?”

“The pit made us aware, but it did not give us our intelligence. With our enhanced capabilities, we were able to spread out our roots beyond the mountain. Not long after, we discovered the corpses of the first of Gotham’s citizens, buried after they drew their last breath; when our roots came into contact with their bodies, we found we had the ability to archive the knowledge, memories, and even DNA of the deceased. We became obsessed with growing our archive, so as Gotham grew over the years, so did our roots; overtime, we archived hundreds of its deceased, increasing our intelligence and knowledge of the outside world. Now, our roots touch every part of this city, becoming one with it, not only archiving the remains of its living, but seeing and hearing everything that goes on within its boundaries.”

“So,” you say, your mouth becoming dry at your newfound knowledge. “You’re like some fungal god?”

“While we know many of your kind may consider a being such as us god, we hold no illusion of being a divine entity. We think of ourselves as an immortal observer.”

As you attempt to process this information, your mind brings something to your attention and you feel your heart stop when you realize it. You really don’t want to know the answer, but there’s that damn stubborn part of you that has… no, it needs to know.

“So,” you begin, trying to summon the courage to ask your question. “Earlier, you said all of this is going on in my head, right?”

“Yes, our roots were able to establish a link with you and allow us to convene with you in your mind.”

“So, if we’re in my head right now, where’s me? I mean, my body?”

Although the Megamycete doesn’t have eyes, nor does it turn anything that resembles a head, you can feel it shift its awareness to the side, as if looking at something. You feel yourself break into a cold sweat as you slowly turn your head to the left, wondering what exactly you’re going to find.

And when you do, your greeted by a sight that makes you feel as if the world around you had crumbled away and you’ve been left behind to float in the void left behind: you, lying in a mess of tendrils composed of mold, broken, battered, and bloody; your limbs lying in directions they’re definitely not supposed to be in, your eyes glazed over, and a gaping bullet hole in your left temple.

“Oh my god,” you shout, utterly horrified at the sight before you. “Oh my god!”

“We saw the torture those three criminals subjected you to. Their leader was quite thorough in inflicting damage.”

“So that’s it, huh?” While this is all just some projection in your head, you feel like you’re hyperventilating. “This is how it ends: being eaten by some sentient mushroom and becoming a part of it? Doomed to spend the rest of eternity tethered to this damn city? I survive in a place where you’re likely to be killed by some trigger-happy murder clown and his psycho-ass whore while getting your mail and some two-bit thug is what does me in?”

“If you look closer, you will find that you are still alive.”

You practically snap your head to look back at your body and sure enough, you can see your chest moving up and down. It may not be much, but it’s there.

“I’m alive,” you ask, shocked at the sight of you breathing.

“You still live,” it answers back. “Your life force is low, but still there.”

“But how? He shot me in the head and then threw me down here! People don’t live after something like that!”

“While a gunshot to the head is normally fatal, our archive shows us two revelations: that the bullet did not go through your brain, but graze it and that the bullet used was of a lower caliber. While the wound was grievous, you still had a chance of surviving it. As for the fall into our chamber, your body was caught onto our roots as it fell, slowing it down and allowing it to land with diminished force.”

“But I’m still going to die, right?”

“Yes,” it answers, seemingly sympathetic. “If you were in a proper hospital, you could recover, but right now, your body is slowly shutting down. By the time anyone found you, you would long be deceased.”

So, you survive attempted murder, but you’ll still die in the end.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “Wasn’t the end I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind for your death,” the Megamycete asks.

“Shouldn’t you know what i had in mind for my death?”

“We do, but our knowledge shows us talking to the dying brings a form of comfort to them. Plus, this is the first time we have had the chance to interact with a living mortal. We wish to prolong the experience as much as possible.”

You chuckle at that. “I thought I would spend my final days back home in Goodsprings, sitting in the big recliner Momma bought for me. I use to spend Saturday mornings in it, eating cereal and watching cartoons.” You smile at the memory of the chair. “It was a damn good chair.”

“We see it, a brown cushioned seat, perfect for watching television or reading books.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Would’ve been perfect to spend my last days in.”

“Perhaps you still can.”

You look up at the Megamycete. “What?”

“We offer you a deal: we will repair your body and give you the strength to leave this chamber and rejoin the outside world.”

“And you’ll get what?”

“You become our host.”

“What,” you balk. “Host?”

“Yes, we will entangle ourselves with your very being, becoming as one.”

“And why the hell would I agree to that,” you exclaim. “You fix my body just to take it over? No deal!”

“You misunderstand. We will not override your control over your body. We will be nothing more than a spectator in your life, seeing but being powerless to intervene. In addition to being restored to your former glory, you will gain access not only to our vast archive of knowledge, but gain abilities many of your kind would consider supernatural.”

That certainly cools your temper. “So, you fix me up and give me superpowers, but all you get in return is front row seats to my life. Sounds like I’m the only one benefitting from this deal.”

“On the contrary, we stand to gain just as much as you do. For over four-hundred years, we could see the outside world, but not join it. With each new corpse we archived, we began to desire a way to interact with the world firsthand and not by mere memories. You are our solution to this dilemma. Through you, we will know what it means to feel the sun on our face, or to taste the finest meals, or to hear a symphony.”

The Megamycete’s words shock you to your core. You guess if you were stuck in this cavern for four centuries and only knew of a world beyond it through memories, you’d do anything to experience it, too.

“Please, Y/N, we beg you to accept our deal. We promise everything we are, from our archive to our longevity, will be at your disposal. You will be stronger, smarter, and better than those who thought less of you. In comparison to you, they will be nothing more than mere ants.”

You’ve thought about showing the Waynes up for years, to be able to pay Jason back for that black eye, to make Tim feel like a complete idiot, and especially to make Damian feel inferior in every way possible.

“We can do that for you. With us at your side, you’ll attain a level of perfection they could never dream of. All we want is to be able to witness this firsthand.”

“Alright,” you relent. “If all you want is to go outside in exchange for making me better than them, you have a deal.”

“We thank you, Y/N,” it says, sounding incredibly happy. Relieved, even.

And with that, your world fades to black once again and when you open your eyes, you find that you’re back in your body, feelings of pain overwhelming your senses, making it hard to concentrate on the Megamycete pressing its tendrils into you. You watch in total awe as the giant, fetus-like mass that is the Megamycete begin to shrink and when you look down where the tendrils are embedded in your skin, you can see a black substance being injected into under your skin. The more of the substance being pumped into your body, the smaller the Megamycete gets.

That’s when you feel weird all over, like every cell in your body is transforming into something else. While not painful, per se, it’s an incredibly odd sensation.

(Your body is becoming one with our mold,) you hear the Megamycete explain in your head. (Not only will it repair the damage that was done to you, you will find that you are far more durable than any mere mortal and have the ability to change your form into any that is stored in our archive, both man or beast.)

“Wait, you’re saying I can shapeshift?”

(If that is what you wish to call our mimetic abilities, then yes, you may “shapeshift.”)

When the last of the mold was transferred to you, you find your body stitching itself up and the incredible pain you were in fading fast, like it was never there. You see a puddle of water lying nearby and when you look in it, you see that all your injuries are gone, even the scar on your left check that Damian gave you three years ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it never happened at all.

And not only do you look better, you feel better! You wouldn’t say you were the healthiest person ever, but you tried to stay somewhere in between active and sedentary; sure you weren’t going to be running any marathons, but you were able to climb the many stairwells at school when the elevator took too long. Now, however, you felt like you could run and win a marathon, or climb up a mountain without climbing gear, or swim the English Channel during a hurricane! And you didn’t feel better physically, but intellectually as well! Gotham, for all it many flaws, has attracted the best artists, architects, doctors, engineers, musicians, scientists, and more; you feel your mind being rushed with the knowledge and memories of countless people throughout the ages, ranging from the city’s early days to now. Hell, you even have access to the memories and knowledge of some of Bruce’s greatest employees, giving you knowledge on much on Wayne Enterprises’ tech and projects that he’s spared no expense in keeping under wraps. Maybe you can get a pretty penny from Lex Corp in exchange for this information since everyone knows Bruce and Lex are bitter rivals and are constantly trying to one-up each other, with Bruce, unfortunately, often being the winner in their battles to develop the next technological development.

“I feel like I could run circles around Einstein,” you laugh, completely blown away with your newfound intellect. Right now, you feel like you could write a symphony that would make Beethoven feel inadequate while at the same time painting a masterpiece that would eclipse the Mona Lisa and designing a fusion reactor capable of powering the entire country. You look around the cavern, looking and not seeing a way out. “Now how do I get out of here?”

(There is a passage directly above you.) You look up to see a big hole in the chamber’s ceiling. (That is how you ended up here when those three threw you in here. Our archives have absorbed many of Gotham’s birds. Any one of them should give you the power to fly out of the chamber.)

The mention of the three thugs remind you of your stolen pen and Game Boy, which then fills you with rage. You’ve never liked thieves and the thought of your Momma’s treasured pen and your gift from your thoughtful boss in the hands of such lowlifes gives you even more of a reason to hate them. By now, they could be anywhere, maybe even outside of the city for fear of your disappearance being reported (mostly by Alfred, the only person left in Gotham who would give a damn).

(Remember our roots span all of Gotham,) the Megamycete says. (Through them, we have seen and heard all that occurs in this city. As our host, you now have access to them. All you have to do is reach out and think of who you wish to find.)

Following its advice, you reach out and feel the roots that entangle Gotham like a spider web. As soon as you do, you’re overwhelmed with sights and sounds from every corner of the city.

(Focus on the three,) it advises you. (If you concentrate on who exactly you want, the roots will do the rest.)

It takes some doing, but you manage to push aside the multitude of people that are in your mind’s eye and focus on the three kidnappers. You’re taken across the city, rushing past the many buildings and stopping at some seedy building in Coventry. Your newfound knowledge of Gotham tells you this is the My Alibi bar, a place for Gotham’s criminals to get together to eat, trade gossip, and find work.

With your destination known, you search through the Megamycete’s archives and something to get you out of here and find something that should do the job: crows. Your body manifests into a murder of crows and takes off in perfect unison, keeping in formation. It’s extremely weird to be a bunch of birds; you know that what was once your body is now numerous birds, but while you’re multiple birds, you’re still one person. You can see through all their eyes all at once and change their flight path and they actually do it like it’s nothing. In a matter of seconds, you’re on the surface, flying above the forest and looking down at the twinkling lights of Gotham’s buildings.

“You know, from above, that cesspit actually looks kinda pretty.”

(We thank you, Y/N. We never thought we would be able to experience such a sight firsthand, but here we are. Now, shall we retrieve your stolen property?)

The crows fly through the city, zipping past the buildings and as you do, you realize that you’ve just fulfilled a dream you’ve had since you were ten-years-old: to fly like a bird. When you realized that the Waynes were awful and all you wanted was to go back to Goodsprings— to take flight like a bird and leave this city and the Waynes behind. Now, you can turn into a flock of birds, or even grow a pair of wings, and fly all the way to Nevada!

Eventually, you reach the My Alibi club, which looks even worse in person than through the Megamycete’s roots. You land on a nearby building’s rooftop and see the only security for the entire building is a single bouncer. You command the birds to land near the bouncer and when they do, they come together and reform your body, but instead of revealing you, you command hardened black mold to cover your body, not wanting your face to be seen by anyone.

What’s going to happen here needs to not get back to you.

“What,” the bouncer stutters. “What the hell?”

“Leave,” is all you say.

The bouncer says nothing before he runs away.

(Are you ready,) the Megamycete asks as you near the door. (We highly doubt your three would-be murderers will take your return likely. Nor will they likely be in a hurry to return your property. You may have to resort to violence.)

“Good,” is all you say as you enter.

The noise coming from patrons’ conversations, drinking, and arguing comes to an end when you walk inside. A quick look around and you can tell this place lives up to its reputation of being for Gotham’s criminal element; everyone here looks like they’ve done time and will probably spend their last days in prison.

And in the back corner sit your targets, looking at you with their table filled with glasses and plates of food. The sight fills you with rage; they shot you in the head and threw you in a ditch and here they are, eating and drinking like they just got off work and wanted something to take the edge off. And what really pisses you off is seeing the one called Butch holding your Game Boy like it was his right!

“I’m here for them,” you say, pointing to your quarry. “The rest of you are free to go.”

“Up yours, freak,” some shithead shouts back, pulling out a revolver and fires it three times. The bullets hit the hardened mold and fall to the floor, looking like crushed tin cans rather than deadly projectiles. “What the hell?”

He goes to fire it again, but you raise your hand and a tendril emerges from it, piercing the man’s heart; he drops his gun and lets out a disgusting gurgle, blood dripping from it and pooling on the floor, before falling silent, dead.

While most of your mind is disturbed at the sight; you’ve just killed a man, his blood literally on your hands, but you can’t deny there’s a part of you that’s not saddened by your actions. After all, he did try to kill you and if he was in a place like this, chances are he was a piece of shit and Gotham’s a slightly better place for his passing.

For a moment, everyone is paralyzed at what just happened. The place is so quiet, a pin could drop and it would deafen everyone. Then, everyone breaks out of their stupor, practically all of them pulling out their guns and begin shooting at you, but just like their friend here found out, their bullets are useless against you. Numerous tendrils emerge from all over your body and rush at them; some of them empaling them, others wrap around their throats and crush them, while the rest just whip them with enough force to break them in two. One by one, they fall until it’s just you and your prey.

“Look, man,” you killer whimpers as you draw closer to him. “I don’t know what you want, but you can take what we have. Tom, hand him the bag.”

The other one throws a bag, which lands at your feet; you look down to see it’s your book bag. You pick it up and open it to find everything still inside, from your binder and notebooks to your phone and the gift box Mr. Chen gave you. You’re relieved to know that you’re not missing any of your school stuff and don’t have to go looking for anything or replace it. You are, however, missing all the money from your wallet, but a look on the table shows where it went to. But, you’re still missing the most important thing: your Momma’s pen.

“Here, take this, too.” The leader takes the Game boy from Butch and holds it out to you, which you snatch from him, reveling in the fear in his eyes as you did, and carefully place it inside.

That just leaves one last order of business. You extend two tendrils and wrap them around the leaders throat and hold him up from the floor, his legs kicking around, trying and failing to get him back on the ground; his arms pathetically wrap around the tendrils, trying to crate some room for him to breath, and his mouth is gaping like a fish out of water, trying to get any sort of air. His cohorts go to say something, but a quick glare from you shuts them up. You bring the man close to you until you can see your reflection in his eyes, which are wide and full of terror, and open your mold mask, revealing your identity to them and based off their expressions, all three men could probably crush coal into diamonds with their sphincters.

“Holy shit,” Butch whispers, his face showing his complete disbelief.

“It’s that kid,” Tom adds, his face mirroring his partner. “But, we killed him, right?”

“My pen,” you say, looking at this piece of human filth with complete contempt. “Where is it?”

You loosen your grip to allow him to speak.

“My pocket,” he says. “It’s in my pocket. All the pawn shops were closed, so I wasn’t able to sell it.”

While you’re happy that your beloved pen is not is some sleazy pawn shop’s display window, you’re utterly disgusted at the thought of this man’s audacity to think he had the right to sell your most treasured possession like its some worthless trinket. A small tendril emerges form your shoulder and searches the man’s pocket and pulls out that beautiful gold ink pen. You have it deliver it to your left hand, which is empty as your right hand is being used to hold the man in front of you, and hold onto it with a vice-like grip.

(Not even death could separate you from your Mother’s memento,) the Megamycete states. (We are impressed at your dedication to it.)

“Look, we’re sorry for what we did to you,” the man pathetically whimpers. “Really, we are.”

“Did you know this was my Momma’s pen,” you ask as if the man had not just said something. “I lost her on my sixth birthday and was forced to leave my home in Goodsprings to live here. This pen is the only thing of hers I was able to bring with me. And you had felt like you had the right to take something I treasure more than anything else in the world and pawn it off for some petty cash.”

“We didn’t know, man,” Butch responds, now realizing the depth of his mistakes. “We’re sorry.”

“We promise we won’t tell anyone about this,” Tom adds. “Just let us go and you’ll never see or hear from us ever again.”

“You’re right, we won’t see each other again, but wouldn’t you like to know who I was forced to live with?” The three of them pathetically nod in unison and you have to fight the urge to laugh. A few hours ago, these men were looking down at you, sure they could do anything they wanted, but now, here you are, far above them in the food chain. “I was forced to live with my father, Bruce Wayne.”

“But he said—“ the leader starts to say, but you cut him off.

“That bastard has ignored me since I moved in with him,” you shout, shutting him up. “I was his first biological son, but he’s completely forgotten about me!” You take a deep breath. Just the mention of him brings out the worst in you. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him. Just like you don’t need your lives.”

And with that, you rip the man’s head clean off his shoulders, not even giving him the chance to realize his fate before killing him. You release the body and both it and his head crumple to the floor in a heap of lifeless meat and to further invoke fear in them, you stomp on the head while looking at them, the thing making a wet splat sound. The other two shout, but you cut them down with ease, tendrils emerging from your back and wrapping around their heads and crush them with ease, showering the floor in their blood and grey matter. Their bodies fall to the floor and flail around for a while before finally stopping.

(Well done,) the Megamycete praises. (You cut down these criminals and made Gotham safer faster than any police officer we have known. Perhaps the local police should seek out your services?)

“Not gonna happen,” you laugh as you walk out of the bar with your backpack in hand. “I have no intention of staying in this place. Once I graduate, I’m going back home.”

(Yes, Goodsprings. A small town located in Nevada. We look forward to experiencing your return to your point of origin.)

And with that, you manifest a pair of black wings on your back and take flight, flying far above the city’s skyscrapers, so hopefully you’re safe from detection. In just a few minutes, you’ve flown from Burnley Island to Bristol, something that should’ve taken almost an hour by car. Thanks to the Megamycete’s roots, you can see the Bats still out and about throughout Gotham, so you don’t have to worry about running into any of them while hurrying into your room.

You land down the street to avoid being picked up by the security cameras (Bruce’s picture is the definition of paranoid based on the amount of cameras in both the estate and in the house itself) and walk the rest of the way there. Normally, walking down the marathon-length driveway to the manor when coming home from work, but his time, you cross the distance like it’s nothing; in fact, you feel like you can do this another dozen times and still feel energized.

But, while you’re physically invigorated, you’re mentally drained and all you want to do is curl up and bed and pass out; you enter Wayne Manor and hurry to your room, never more thankful for being far from the rest of the household than you are now. While you’ve been flying under the radar of Gotham’s vigilantes for years now, you’ll afraid that even they won’t be able to ignore you when they found out about your newly gained powers. During your stay here, you’ve listened to their conversations when they thought you weren’t around and you know that while they distrust everyone (even each other based on the fact that no one seems to be allowed to have secrets), they distrust those with superpowers the most. Two years you listened in on a conversation between Bruce and Superman, who offered to help him during a time when many of Arkham’s most dangerous patients escaped all at once, and Bruce said in a tone that felt like sandpaper being dragged across your face: “Gotham’s off limits to metas. You step one foot in my city and you’ll regret it.”

Honestly, you’re confident that Bruce is only on this planet to be the biggest asshole who ever lived. He treats his first biological son like shit, he raises his “true children” to be as paranoid and pessimistic as him, and he threatens anyone who offers his sorry ass any kind of help. It seems to you that the only one who should’ve died that night in Crime Alley is Bruce.

You shove the man’s image in your head aside. Before tonight, he wasn’t important to you, but now, he’s irrelevant. You never needed him before, but now, you really don’t. With the Megamycete, you have everything you need.

Just then, your phone rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. You fish out your phone and look on the screen to see Alfred’s caller ID staring back at you.

“Hello,” you answer.

“Master Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s over an hour since you should’ve called me since getting off work.” You wince when you peek at your phone and see you’re overdue your nightly call with the butler. “So, I ask again: are you alright?” Based off his tone, he’s not going to accept “I’m fine” as an answer.

“Yeah, I am.” You quickly think of anything that could explain your tardiness and realize something: the best lie is an obvious truth. You just need to modify it a bit. “I just stayed behind to tell Mr. Chen goodbye. Today was the last day for the store because his daughter said Gotham was too dangerous for him to stay by himself, so she brought him to her home today.”

“Oh, Master Y/N, I’m sorry.” His tone says he’s bought it and you actually feel bad lying to the man you’ve come to see as a father figure. “I know how much you loved working there. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I will be. I’m gonna miss him.”

“Of course you will, he was a good man and you were the best employee he could ask for. Can I do anything for you? I’m halfway through with my vacation, perhaps I should—“

“No,” you cut the man off. “You don’t have to come back early, Alfred.” With everything that’s happened today, you need some time to prepare yourself before facing Alfred in person again. It would be a disaster for you to expose yourself as some form of metahuman in front of him. Plus, he deserves to have all his allotted vacation time. “I’ll be fine, really.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, obviously wanting to say more, but doesn’t press the issue. “I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re tired and you need your rest. Please make sure you catch up on your sleep I’m sure you’ve missed this week during your spring break.”

“I will, Alfred, don’t worry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Very good, Master Y/N. Good night, my boy.”

“Good night.”

You hang up and let out a sigh of relief, glad he bought it.

(You say you trust the butler with your life, but keep the events of tonight a secret from him. Why?)

“Because Alfred’s highly protective and would most likely steal a boat and sail back to Gotham within an hour if I told him I was kidnapped. And if he knew about you, he’d probably drag me to a hospital and have every last trace of mold surgically removed.”

(We do not wish for that to happen.)

“Me neither, bud. You know, after tonight, I think we’re gonna do great things together.”

(We agree. Now, heed the words of your butler and rest. Tonight was very eventful for you. It would not do well for our host to shirk in his bodily needs.)

You chuckle and strip down to your boxers before climbing into bed. Not long after you get comfy, you feel yourself drift off to sleep. For the first time ever, you’re actually looking forward to waking up in Gotham.

Bruce hears Jason whistle at the sight, but says nothing in favor of studying the carnage inside the My Alibi bar. Bodies are scattered everywhere around the establishment, some are relatively intact while others look like they were ripped in half.

“Looks like someone had fun here,” Jim says as he approaches him, Jason, and Damian. “What do you think?”

“Looks like someone had a score to settle,” he responds to the police commissioner. He motions to the remains of three men crowded together in a corner of the bar with their heads missing; two of the heads are near the rest of their bodies while the third has been reduced to a fine red paste. “Especially these three. Based on how they were killed, I’d guess whoever did this was after them.”

“Doesn’t look like Joker’s handiwork,” Jim adds. “No one here’s smiling and the place is devoid of murderous gag toys.”

No, this is definitely not the clown’s MO. Neither does it match the MO of anyone currently missing from Arkham. The only one he could think of that could rip apart and crush some of the victims is Bane, but that doesn’t explain why the remaining victims are impaled; plus, the giant is still locked up in Arkham’s high-security ward. So, this can only mean one thing.

“This is definitely the work of someone new,” he says, bending down to study the squashed head. “And with this being the only scene we know of, this was their first time killing.”

Whoever did this is highly dangerous and needs to be stopped and fast before even more people get hurt. Looks like he and his family are going to have their hands full for the foreseeable future.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bundlofcigars @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper

[pedgito]

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘, 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 | BFD!Joel x Fem!Reader

summary | the rich father of your bestfriend, sarah — joel miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. [12k]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, bfd!joel, ceo!joel, mentions of reader growing up poor/absent parents (joel is ridiculously loaded, it's fic y'all let me live lol), sneaking around, age gap (not explicitly specified, but reader is in final year of college and joel is probs late 40s/50s), vacations, gift-giving, unprotected piv, come swallowing, daddy issues if you squint, one (1) pussy slap, oral (f receiving), semi-public fucking

author’s note | anyways, here’s this. big age gap, some power dynamic stuff but not really. if you don’t like, don’t read & all that jazz. love you babies. xo.

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic recs

There was no hiding who Joel Miller was to the town of Austin—a pioneer in the community for rebuilding and building upon the surrounding shopping areas and neighborhoods to save the town from complete gentrification. He owned three companies at this point—one manned by his brother Tommy who dealt with larger businesses, handled the biggest amount of workload when it came to dealing with customers. The other was handled by his wife Maria, more often communicating with smaller businesses in the area. Mom and Pop shops, family owned and locally sourced shops. And Joel dealt with the community directly, building houses at an affordable rate that kept his business booming and well above the surrounding competition.

He was so sought after that the idea of him felt like an enigma.

But, to you—he was just Sarah’s dad. For years you never had the pleasure of meeting him, with his constantly busy schedule he was often away when you came to visit Sarah on their massive—almost too comically large piece of land on the outskirts of Austin, Texas. 

A large two-story farmhouse that seemed like something right out of a storybook—pristine and in perfect condition, surrounded by what felt like miles of grassy land and fencing. Horses, chickens, goats, growing piglets that were taken care of by Sarah and Joel themselves.

You’ve known Sarah since you were fourteen, aware of her upbringing and the type of family she came from, but it never deterred her from being the kindest friend you’ve had. And your shared, similar interest led to an easy friendship that lasted well into college. Sarah was also aware of your…less than ideal family situation, living under the roof of a single parent household, given you were an only child it wasn’t horrible—but your father was a drunk and didn’t manage his money well and that often meant going without. It didn’t matter what, but there was always something lacking that you wish you didn’t have to make up for with your already overwhelming amount of college work and lingering debt.

You didn’t have anywhere to go, unfortunately. 

But, Sarah was always there.

And it isn’t until your final year of college that you find yourself finally meeting the once mysterious Joel Miller, remembering that Sarah told you something about how he was trying to take a step back, allowing more responsibility on his trusting employees to head the company while he took a step back and managed everything as a whole from a distance—less involved, more time at home around Sarah, it was a win win situation.

With both of you working toward similar degrees, it was helpful and convenient to share notes and study as often as you could, especially as your final term papers were nearing and looming like a dark cloud.

It’s an unsuspecting Thursday night when you and Sarah are pausing the heavy studying to cook a quick dinner when Joel walks into the kitchen, approaching the island and nearly tilting your entire existence on this earth on an axis. Your breath catches briefly, eyes dragging over his figure. You’ve seen pictures—family vacations that Sarah has shown you when they were flying across the country over summer breaks and you were stuck at home. 

But, nothing compared to the real thing.

His hair is grown out, curling around his ears. A warm, soft brown that is styled and shaped so perfectly it seems unreal—but the loose curl that falls over his forehead gives it away. There’s a deep cut in his silk-pressed shirt that hangs loosely on his frame, some abstract pattern that shouldn’t work as well as it does on him, but his tan skin compliments the deep tones and varying designs. The faint dusting of chest hair is obscured by the chains that hang in the space the silk-button up creates where he lacks the ability to fasten them, or rather chooses not to.

And you try not to let your gaze linger on the cut of his jeans as they cling snug to his legs, cuffed at the ankles and showcasing a pair of—what you can only suspect are new loafers. A dark chocolate brown accented with a gold metal piece along the center to complement his jewelry around his neck and the few rings placed meticulously on his fingers.

It’s no secret his ring finger sits untouched, lacking the heavy weight of a significant other's mark. Sarah mentioned her mom dying young, much like your own—maybe that’s why you two bonded so easily. 

“Got enough for your old man?” Joel questions curiously, tapping away at his phone meticulously before pocketing it, eyebrows raised in question.

“You hate boxed mac and cheese,” Sarah argues flippantly, flicking the empty box at her father across the counter, “so no, I don’t.”

“No, babygirl—I just hate the powder kind.” He flicks it back just as easily and you note how easy their relationship feels, like this is how things should be. 

Sarah laughs, scrunching her nose up in amusement. “Charming, isn’t he?”

Oh—she’s talking to you? You look at her for half a second, confused, before you’re quickly nodding in agreement without fully listening to what she had asked.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to lie.” She assures, stirring the noodles in the pot over the stove.

Your gaze lingers selfishly, catching the faint twitch of a smile on Joel’s face as he catches you looking. It’s nothing more than a friendly smile, comforting rather than disarming. 

“You know—Sarah never brings her friends around.” Joel starts begrudgingly, eyeing Sarah down before switching to you, “Seein’ as I’ve been hearing all about you for years now and I’m just now meetin’ you in the flesh.”

“Dad, stop scaring her.” Sarah gripes, searching around haphazardly for a couple of bowls, “seriously—just ignore him. He doesn’t know how to act now that he’s home more.”

Joel rolls his eyes dismissively, extending his hand in a kind gesture. You grab it hesitantly and he senses it, pointer finger dragging along the underside of your palm as he holds it delicately and bows his head.

“She’s just mad she can’t get rid of me now,” Joel tells you softly, nodding toward Sarah over your shoulder, “how’s the studying goin’?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand immediately and you don’t try to escape either, allowing the brief moment of lingering contact before you slip it away, shoving your hands into your back pockets.

“Fine.” Sarah’s response is clipped.

It’s stressful, if you’re being honest. But, you could see that Sarah didn’t want to relay that to her father, side-eyeing you wearily. 

It’s the first of many interactions that led to the tiny crush you began to have for Joel Miller. Your once a week studies eventually turn into two or three times a week, desperate to spend as much time away from your own home situation as possible.

Eventually, it’s nearly an everyday thing. You and Sarah would finish your day of classes and drive the short distance to her house and spend most of the night studying. Gradually, you were introduced into their own routine. At first, Joel would offer to buy dinner and leave things be, allowing you the space you needed. But, it eventually delves into weekly dinners and sitting down as if you were a part of this pseudo-family situation you’ve interjected yourself into.

Sarah knew you didn’t like it at home, so it was never a problem. Joel caught on after a few weeks—noticing how you avoided any questions about yourself, your family, anything that would allow him any glimpse into who you were outside what Sarah had told him, which wasn’t much at all. He’s trying to make you feel welcomed and you can appreciate that.

You’ve offered to help pay for meals on multiple occasions, but it never works. Quickly thwarted off by Joel’s extended hand as he shoves your cash away, assuring you that it wasn’t your responsibility. This was his house, his gesture, and he didn’t want you to think you owed him anything.

Yet, something in you yearned to do so. 

You wanted him to know just how grateful you were.

-

His curiosity about you comes to a head on a night after a few beers with friends, poker table trashed and the kitchen a mess. You were bringing down the trash from Sarah’s room, the shared dinner you two had had as a treat for your first day without studying—it was relaxing, mostly because your day had been spent here rather than home.

Joel gathers a few bottles in his large palm, slipping the lips of the bottle through spread fingers. “You two enjoyin’ yourselves?” He asks, looking at you casually. It was a question you’ve heard often, a simple conversation starter. And talking to Joel was much easier now.

You nod, lips pulled into a tight smile. “Yes, Mr. Miller.”

“C’mon now,” Joel jests, dropping the bottles into the trash, “none of that—it’s Joel. Shit makes me feel old, darlin’.”

The nickname wasn’t new either. He often called Sarah by her name or babygirl. 

Darlin’ though, it was all you.

He takes the dirty plates from your hands and places them in the sink, palm extended against the ledge of the counter while he rests his other hand against his hip.

“How are you doin’?” He asks, voice softer but still gruff. “Not that you have to tell me, I just want to make sure you’re feelin’ comfortable here.”

“I’m okay,” You say through an unsure smile that Joel notes but doesn’t press on, “it’s just easier to study here—I’m sorry if I spend too much time around here. Feels like you should be charging me rent by now.”

“Not a chance in hell, darlin’.” Joel grins, shiny white teeth showing behind his smile. The small bit of his shirt that was tucked in came loose by the rub of his fingers at his hip and drawing your eyes to the skin briefly, “you’re always welcome here.”

And you hate the way you crave even an inkling of physical contact from him. A pat on the shoulder, a hug, a fucking kiss on the forehead. You weren’t his daughter, you didn’t want to be. But, there was something about Joel that you couldn’t pull away from, trying your best to keep it at bay.

“You know what,” Joel says suddenly, pulling your lingering gaze back on his face, feeling guilty as you chewed on your bottom lip, “why don’t you come on vacation with Sarah and I next month?’

“Mr—Joel, that’s—” You’re quickly silenced by his hand actually pressing against your shoulder now—and fuck, when had he gotten so close?

“Sarah was thinkin’ about asking you anyways. We’re gonna take a trip to the Keys,” He rubs gently at the junction in your shoulder, the thick expanse of his thumb pressed against bare skin, “—just consider it, alright? Lord knows you both need a break as much as I do.”

The thing about Joel is that he was such a good father, something you haven’t been privy to in the couple decades and some few years you’ve been alive. You want to feel jealous and angry, spiteful that this was something you couldn’t have naturally. But, it feels nothing like that.

The crush you had on Joel was dangerous. But, that was all it was. A craving to be around Joel, to seek his approval and gain his trust. And bask in the care he provides. A simple case of daddy issues that you couldn’t admit to yourself was actually happening.

You shouldn’t entertain the idea.

 You shouldn’t even consider it. 

“Oh—okay. Yeah, as long as Sarah is alright with that.” You nod, a genuine, soft smile stretching across your face. Joel squeezes your shoulder tighter and you swear you feel it moving in closer, like he wants to hold you closer, cradle you in his hands. But, then the touch is gone and his fingers are running through his hair, curls separating through his fingertips.

“Alright then.” Joel says triumphantly, “You gonna be okay gettin’ home tonight?”

Sarah was driving you home soon, like usual. You nod.

“Good,” Joel nods, “Goodnight, darlin’.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” You say sweetly, patting your hand against the countertop softly, unable to spare a look his way as you walk in the opposite direction.

But, he can’t help his own fleeting and inappropriate thoughts, eyes dragging along your figure as you walk away, hands gripping the countertop like a vice, internally kicking himself how indecent he was allowing himself to think about you. Still, it didn’t stop the thoughts from flooding in and if he found himself spread out on his sheets that night, cock held tight in his hands as he fucked himself into his fist—well, he could repent for it some other time.

-

You touch down in the early morning on a Sunday, still riddled with anxiety from the plane ride. Joel had tried his best to accommodate, even buying first class tickets despite his usual tendency to go business. He didn’t care much for amenities but he wanted to treat Sarah and you, making you feel guilty with how quickly your face lit up at the sight. Spacious seats stocked with gifts and snacks, a tiny television molded into the area, it felt like too much. 

It was. But, Joel assured you it wasn’t.

There was little planned for the week you had to spend there and you had tried to scrounge up a little cash within the month you had to save, picking up a few extra shifts at your job and stowing it away for this—hoping you could treat yourself to something, anything. Even if it was just a stupid tourist shirt that cost an egregious amount of money.

Joel quickly snuffs out that idea, putting his foot down as he assured you that this trip was a treat. Not just for himself, but for all of you. You never asked how much money the Miller’s had, but it was clearly more than you could ever fathom to be imaginable. He yanks the black Amex from his wallet and hands it off to every waiting server and store owner you three come across.

It’s abundantly clear that they don’t worry about money in the sense that you do—it wasn’t unwelcomed, but it was an adjustment that took a couple days to get over, feeling shame for enjoying it. He’d paid for the plane fare, booked the hotels and the activities you had planned, made sure meals were paid for and then some, even allowing you and Sarah some spending money to go shopping for clothes or whatever you needed. 

He didn’t ask, it didn’t matter. He just wanted you to feel welcomed. Like family…or something.

The trip is fairly harmless fun, a few swimming activities that tire you all out and lend to an early turn in on a couple nights, dinners that lended you to learn a lot more about Joel. Still, as much as Joel tried, you weren’t as open. Vague answers, sidewaying the conversation. He didn’t try to pry, though. And you were thankful for that.

But, with fairly harmless came a few instances that didn’t feel so.

The first comes in the deep end of the ocean, floating on a shared longboard in the midst of the calm waves, humid heat sticking to your skin. Fingers fiddling with the loosening tie around the back of your neck as Sarah wades off to the shore for a brief minute to reapply sunscreen. And maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but you see the lingering look Joel gives you, fingers curling subtly against the edge of the board.

“Can you help me?” You ask, slowly edging around the board until you’re beside him, turning before he has the opportunity to answer. “It’s hard to get it tight on my own.”

Joel clears his throat and offers a smile, “‘Course, chin down for me?” And you follow his lead, feeling his fingers brush against your neck and guide your head down, untying the loose not completely and feeling your swim top go slack, covered by the safety of the water and your back turned to him, but it doesn’t stop the touch of his fingertips against your skin as he ties the knot and tugs slightly, assuring that it was secure to his liking. You lift your head slowly when you feel his palm press flat against your back, fingers curling around the point where your shoulder meets your neck.

“Thanks, Joel.” You turn your head over your shoulder to look back at him, earning a small nod as his touch lingers, only loosening when you rescue your grip on the longboard in front of you.

“Enjoyin’ yourself so far?” He asks, always able to ease into steady conversation without missing a beat. “Any complaints?”

“Definitely,” You smile wide, huffing soft laugh through your nose as you shake your head, “I guess I do have one complaint, actually.” You tell him honestly, a subtle nervousness to your voice. 

“Well, I’m all ears, darlin’.” He responds, leaning his elbow onto the board as it bobbed slightly.

“I just…you don’t have to pay for everything, Joel.” You find yourself rushing out the words, hoping that it wouldn’t cause an adverse reaction, but instead, Joel smiles wider.

“Look, I invited you on this trip,” Joel explains, “and that means you aren’t paying for a damn thing. Alright?”

You nod meekly, quieting down as Sarah waded back into the ocean toward you both.

With Joel, it was something you would have to learn to accept.

You try to ignore the lingering touch of his fingertips on your neck, but now it feels like a burn in your skin that would only get worse as time went on.

The second instance isn’t as much of a thing, rather than a moment.

Eyeing a sundress that resembled some of the similar outrageous patterning that Joel wore, shapes and blobs morphed around the material yet somehow managing to look chicer than anything you’ve ever come across, strappy and long and deep cut down the center. It wasn’t for modesty, you could assume that much. You run your fingers along the creases and stitching in the fabric, admiring it as you flipped the tag in your hand, immediately gawking at the price.

Joel had been lingering by, browsing the various knick knacks and souvenirs lining the shelves off the small store—all hand-made pieces that he could appreciate, but didn’t find any use for himself. And he’s watching you, has been for a while, noticing the way your eyes kept flicking back toward the dress despite your path around the store.

Joel casually follows the same path, taking a subtle peek at the tag. It was a few hundred dollars, but given the silkiness of the material and him being very familiar with the tone of pricing around the area, it wasn’t an outrageous ask. He slips the dress off the rack, careful as he removes it off the hanger and finds you separated from Sarah as you peruse down a wall of jewelry—some cheap and some not, looking around with no real want, just admiring.

He slips the dress into your hands, rough, overworked palms cupping your own as he makes you physically wrap your fingers around and claim the garment, chest to your back as he speaks, lips a hair's breadth away from your ear.

“It’s a pretty dress,” Joel says calmly, much calmer than your rapidly beating heart and the sudden uptick in your breathing, silk material spread out over your fingertips, “shame for it to go to waste, darlin’.”

“It’s expensive.” You argue, voice soft as he locks eyes with you in the mirror nestled in the nearest corner, “It’s nice to want things Joel, but I don’t need it.”

“I dunno,” He responds, unconvinced, “and—maybe I’m speaking out of turn but I think it’d look great on you.”

And you’ve never been more thankful of Sarah’s obliviousness to certain things, so wrapped up in her own shopping across the store that you two remained unsuspecting, eyes still locked on one another through the shared mirror.

He can see the way your body twitches at the comment, responds, but what he doesn’t understand is how it makes your cunt throb, solid body pressed against your back as he squeezes the backside of your hands with his palm. The willingness of contact was still fresh and new but it never made you feel unsafe—in fact, it had the opposite effect entirely.

Joel speaks again, directly to you in the mirror.

“I might just have to buy it for you, darlin’.” He says quietly, “You alright with that?”

You hesitate for a moment, but nod shakily. “Thank you, Joel.”

“Don’t need to keep thankin’ me.” Joel assures, “I know it’s implied.”

But, the instance that had you reeling for days after, still replaying it vividly in your mind, was a night near the end of your trip. Sarah had long gone to bed and you, riddled by insomnia, find yourself at the hallway vending machine, looking for a snack to cure your growing hunger.

Though, it seemed that Joel had the same idea—fork halfway into his mouth as he turned the corner, a sizable piece of chocolate cake inside of a small to-go tray, looking even guiltier as he caught sight of you, feeling like he really didn’t want to get caught like this. It makes you laugh into the palm of your hand. Joel is acting like the kid that got sneaking cookies in the middle of the night, still not hesitating to lick the fork clean as he tucked it away in the styrofoam box.

“Don’t tell Sarah,” He swears you to secrecy, “she’s already on my ass enough about my sugar intake.”

“You’ve got a sweet tooth,” You shrug, “nothing wrong with that.”

“What about you, huh?” Joel’s eyebrows raise in question, watching as you peruse the various snacks but not finding anything particularly appetizing. “Late night snack?” 

“Somethin’ like that.” You chew at your bottom lip, feeling that this was useless.

“Wanna share it?” Joel asks suddenly, pulling your attention to him immediately. “That way I feel a little less guilty about it.”

“Oh—and then bring me down with you?” You tease lightly, “Of course.”

It’s how you end up in Joel’s room that night, no other intentions than to share that stupid piece of cake, lacking a fork so you trade off for a few bites until it slowly delves into you both feeding each other as you talk, one of you hogging the fork more than the other. You curled up in one chair and Joel relaxed out in the other, styrofoam box held to his chest and forcing you to lean closer to assure you didn’t drop crumbs everywhere.

Maybe it should feel weird, but it doesn’t. 

“You know—if there’s anything you do need—” Joel begins after a while, meaningless conversation having died out.

“I know—Sarah tells me all the time. I just have to ask.” It feels pointless, rehashing things again. But, Joel feels the need to reassure and comfort. It didn’t help that he was finding himself, at his age, attracted to you in such a depraved way. “I will—if I do, I mean.”

It’s forbidden territory he couldn’t cross. But realistically, that only made him want you more. 

Joel feeds you a slow bite, lips catching over the fork but smearing a copious amount of chocolate frosting on your chin. Before you have the thought process to wipe it away Joel is already there, leaning forward in his chair as he uses his pointer finger to clean you up, eyes following his movements carefully after the first initiation of touch. 

Your breath catches in your throat, expecting him to use his own mouth to disallow wasting the frosting, but instead he raises it to your mouth in a split decision, his eyes dilating slightly under your shy gaze. Your lips press against the side of his finger in a gentle kiss that quickly spreads, taking the full length of his finger into your mouth as you lick away the excess frosting, feeling the pulse of desire in your belly as it grew, knowing that if Joel wanted to keep you there he could, locked under his gaze with his fingers stuffed into your mouth and you’d let him.

It was despicable. Inappropriate and wrong. But, you couldn’t help how badly your body wanted him, despite your brain telling all of this was a horrible decision.

You pull your mouth away with a soft pop, watching as Joel curl’s his hands into tight fists as he pulls them back to his side lazily, seeming more tense now.

“I should go.” You say softly, terrified to disturb this moment and the tension that blanketed it.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, darlin’.” Joel says reluctantly.

Things only get worse from then on—and maybe worse is a strong word. But, it soon turns into a game that neither of you can stop, waiting until one of you finally makes the wrong move.

-

A few weeks later and your laptop takes the shit on a random Tuesday, head buried in your hands as Sarah tries to console you, but it isn’t much use. You knew it was a stretch to think the laptop could last you through the entire semester, and with just a few short months left, it couldn’t be worse timing. 

Joel walks in at your inconvenience, keys jingling in his hands as he slips off his leather peacoat, glancing at Sarah who didn’t give him much to go off of. He folds the jacket over the back of an empty dining chair and rests his hands against the top of it, eyes scanning over the both of you at the table, one looking a little more distraught than the other.

“Everything alright?” He asks curiously, earning a subtle head shake from Sarah. He clears his throat, “Or—uh, well, how is the studying going? Feel like that’s all you two do.”

You rub a frustrated hand over your face and sigh, “I’m gonna see if I can get a ride home or something,” You tell Sarah, sliding your phone off of the table, “I’ll deal with this later.”

Joel and Sarah share a quick look of communication, her hand waving toward you sharply, forcing Joel to speak up before you make another rash decision and spend money on a long ride home when had the perfect opportunity standing right in front of you. 

“I can give you a ride home.” Joel offers, much to your surprise. 

You’ve been alone with Joel a lot now, though inadvertently.

Sarah would sneak away in her room for longer stretches of time just to call her boyfriend—which wasn’t a bad thing, but it felt odd when Joel would come home and there was no one to greet him but you. Still, you stretched your lips into a smile and welcomed him sweetly. 

Even if this was his home.

Or times when you just happened to cross each other's path, even in such a large space. Sometimes the front porch when you were taking a break to stretch your legs, his watchful gaze dragging along your figure as he sipped on a hot cup of coffee in the evening, foot stabilized on the deck as he rocked in the wooden swing he sat on, crickets chirping loudly as the sun set.

Or just a simple trip to the bathroom, his bedroom across the hall and a couple doors down, often shut, but there were moments when you opened the doors, nearly face to face, and neither of you could look away. Joel would clear his throat, excuse himself, and kindly gesture for you to walk first. It happened often, too often—but neither of you addressed it. Instead, the tension grew. And grew. Until it felt like poking a sleeping bear. So it hibernated in both of you quietly.

Part of you expected things to change, that the small moment shared in his hotel room would make things hard to navigate, but if anything—it’s easier.

“Okay.” You agree easily, not having the proper energy to fight him over it.

The ride is quiet for the most part and Joel doesn’t need the step by step directions as he knows this town like the back of his hand, but he makes a wrong turn somewhere between his house and yours and you don’t feel like something is wrong, but it definitely feels off.

“Joel, you missed the last left.” You speak up as he continues down the road, glancing around leisurely as you soon delve onto a main street, lined with several shops. “Joel—”

“I’m gonna make a quick stop,” Joel attempts to ease your worries, fingers tapping against the gear shift positioned in the center console, “if you don’t mind.”

The moment he pulls into the parking lot of the electronic store, you know. You can see it in his eyes as he squints, checking that the store is still open and pulls into a parking spot near the front of the store.

“Joel, no—” You grab his wrist suddenly, his free hand reaching for the door handle and he looks down, eyes connecting where your skin touched before slowly flicking up to you, “look—just, I don’t need you to buy me a new fuckin’ laptop. I can handle it.”

Joel’s shoulders shrug in his obnoxiously patterned shirt, like he’s working out a kink in his neck as he repositions himself in the seat but doesn’t pull away from you. In fact, his hand gradually pulls toward your knee, fingers squeezing around your kneecap comfortingly.

“Considering it a loan then?” Joel tries to bargain, “Let me help you out now so you won’t have to worry about it and you can pay me back as you get the money? I see how often Sarah uses her laptop, it doesn't make sense for you to go without when I can help.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, staring intensely back at him. You could put your foot down and deny his offer, but the idea of suffering through the rest of the semster without your sole life line to surviving through college—well, that was actually torture.

“I’m paying back every single penny.” You tell him forthright, waiting until he nods in agreement.

“Sounds like a deal to me.” Joel responds.

Joel spares no expense, which doesn’t come as a surprise. He buys you the highest, top notch laptop they have to offer—and even as you stare daggers into the side of his face, there’s an inkling in your mind that tells you he isn’t going to allow you to hold up your end of the deal.

-

Joel liked to party too—not giant parties that felt overwhelming and unwelcoming. But, he did have a close group of older male friends that he liked to play poker with on the back deck of the Miller household.

Sarah learned to block it out early on, knowing that at some point things would get just a little too loud and not as easy to ignore. But, Joel never made you feel out of place within any of these instances. You were welcome here all the time and Joel was clear about that.

He’s showered you with gifts and accommodation and you hate the way it makes you feel special, wanted—beyond the night in his hotel room it was only innocent glances. It felt like you were misreading things, making something out of nothing.

Things aren’t great at home and you like it here—love it, even. And you feel your mind nagging away to make a stupid, spur of the moment decision. You could ignore it, but then your eyes catch Joel’s through the slight crack in the door, trapping you in his gaze like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

He squints slightly, lips curling around his beet bottle as he takes a long swig, fist uncurling against his jeans as he rubs out his palm and smiles—he has you hooked in so fucking easy it feels pathetic.

This is wrong. You inhale a shaky breath and turn away, busying yourself with literally anything else—a scuff on the table, the chipped nail polish on your fingernails, something.

Eventually his friends filter out—and Sarah had invited you to stay over the night barring that it was the weekend and she enjoyed your presence just as much as you did hers—if only she could understand the now huge, harboring crush you had on her father. It was harmless, but it felt like a betrayal. 

And the feeling only increased as the night creeped along, your burdening insomnia keeping you awake, shifting and turning in the sheets beside her as you tried and failed miserably to fall asleep.

It was quiet out here, less commotion from the city. It was eerie, in a way. 

You slip out of the bed quietly, walking barefoot on the hardwood as you tiptoed until you were outside of her room, closing the door behind you. You weren’t hungry, so you didn’t bother with the kitchen, rather heading toward the front door that was already halfway open.

Part of you expected Joel to be sitting on the porch, no real rhyme or reason. But, even he is out of sight. The soft, well-kept grass welcomes the press of your feet as you wander outside slowly, the hug of the warm spring air on your skin even this late at night. You catch one of the Miller’s horses hanging out around the edge of their enclosure, wondering if they managed to nudge their way out of their stable. You approach slowly, still not as accustomed to them as you’d like to be. 

But, they were friendly. So, you raised a careful hand and rubbed gently at the horse’s mane, smiling at the soft huff it offered in return, leaning its snout over the fence more.

“Sunshine is always friendly,” Joel says from somewhere you don’t see, startling you out of your body as you jump, whipping your head around to look for him, eventually landing on his approaching form as he left the barn that held the stables, “—sneaky little gal, though.”

You laugh softly, finding it hard to believe that such a sweet horse was capable of escaping.

Joel whistles softly, beckoning her toward him. “Come on.” He nods, silently asking you to join him. You follow eagerly, watching as he unlocks the entrance to the fence for you to slip through, locking it behind you as you pass the threshold, catching up with Joel in a few steps.

“Don’t sleep well, do you?” He asks, heading turned over his shoulder briefly to look at you. You nod quietly, leisurely approaching Sunshine’s stable and watching as Joel locks her back up, rattling the gate for safety this time, ensuring it was secure. “Seems we have a few things in common.”

Joel stays quiet for a moment—in his own head, a deep moment of contemplation, carrying and safeguarding these thoughts he knows he shouldn’t have, wondering how your skin would feel against his palm, how the pulse of your heart would feel as he pressed his hand to the center of your chest and kissed you, full tongue and consumed your essence, this unignorable aura you had around you.

He feels sick, distraught. But, he can’t force himself to avoid you either.

“There’s somethin’ that usually helps me,” Joel tells you, hand pressed wordlessly against the center of your back as he guides you out of the barn and locks it up as well, “just goin’ somewhere quiet—lot of the time it’s just my thoughts keepin’ me awake.”

God, if only he knew.

He did, but that wasn’t the point.

Joel quiets for a moment, stuffing the ring of keys into his pocket as he glances over at the house briefly.

“You wanna go for a quick drive?” Joel asks suddenly, forcing it out before he can find a reason to stop himself.

“As long as it doesn’t end with you buying me another laptop, sure.” You chide deviously, watching the smirk grown on Joel’s face, knowing he still hasn’t taken a dollar from you.

And vehemently refuses every time you offer.

Joel drives you the path further into the land of property he owns, most of it still unexplored by you, eventually finding a clearing near the east edge, right on the edge of a body of water and a dock nestled near the shore. There’s a small boat tied to a post, big enough for a few people.

Under this light, as you exit the truck, Joel looks different.

He’s free of the weight of jewelry he wore, comfortable in his worn shirt and soft cotton shorts. For a while, Joel had been such an enigma that you weren’t sure what to make of him. Sure, he was just Sarah’s dad—but he was also Joel Miller, backbone of the town. His face was plastered everywhere. There wasn’t a single street you could traverse down that didn’t have him nestled away somewhere.

He spots a small mud puddle under your feet as he rounds the truck and quickly catches you before your feet get stuck, hands locked in yours as you jump over the small patch of wet dirt.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you look up at him, silently thanking him with your eyes.

“Can you swim?” He asks casually.

“Yeah…” You respond hesitantly, eyes locked onto the boat several feet away.

Joel releases your hands, but it doesn't matter. His touch still lingered painfully and you want nothing more than to pull him back in. But, now Joel is asking to go on a midnight boat ride with you and—really, how could you turn that down?

-

Joel rows you toward the center of the lake, your eyes locked onto the mesmerizing sight of the stars in the sky, so much clearer out here and away from the city.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Joel asks, not bothering to look his way.

You smile slightly, leaning back onto the palms of your hands.

“Yeah, it really is.” You miss the way Joel’s gaze lingers, admiring you.

“Now—sometimes I just come out here and talk to nothin’,” Joel explains when the boat comes to a full stop and he rests the oars inside the boat, knees spread as he resting his elbows on them, “then other times I just sit and enjoy the quiet.”

Your choice—that’s what he’s implying. 

You clear your throat softly, finally changing a glance his way.

“I just—I don’t wanna say I’m jealous of what you have here,” You say quietly, “but, it really is a bitter reminder of without Sarah or you, I’d have next to nothing.”

Joel stays quiet, allowing you to marinate in thought and figure out how to convey how you were feeling.

“And—I don’t know. Selfishly, I like it.” Liked him. “But, I don’t want to rely on it and you make that a little impossible. I do have money, Joel. I can pay for things. I just don’t want you feeling like you have to do any of this out of necessity.”

“I’m not,” Joel admits, “Now—what makes you think that, darlin’?”

“I just—I don’t want anyone thinking I need to be fixed, I don’t.” You tell him, “I don’t need charity, either.”

Joel waves his fingers in a come closer motion, taking your slowly extending hands in his own, thumbs rubbing over soft skin tenderly, boring his eyes into your own.

“I’m gonna tell you this once and I need you to listen,” Joel says softly, but his voice feels so loud in the silence of the night, breeze hitting your skin and sending a sharp chill up your spine—but, you’re not how much of mother nature is responsible for that, “really listen, alright?”

You nod slowly, blinking a few times as you feel yourself shrink under his gaze.

“What I give you isn’t charity,” Joel tells you seriously, “and—maybe this is crossing a boundary I shouldn’t but, you’re somethin’ close to family. I take care of people I care about.”

Not family—he couldn’t conitate that with the feelings and thoughts he was having toward you.

“Close to family?” He was praying you wouldn’t harp on it, but you needed to confirm the underlying layer of tension that lingered between you two all the time. It was driving you insane, keeping you late into the night—he was the reason for your insomnia.

Joel smirks slightly, covering it with a quiet chuckle. His hand gradually cradles your face, rubbing along your cheek with a delicate touch, “I think you know, darlin’.”

God, he hoped you did. His thumb dragging along your plush bottom lip, eyes lingering for a brief moment before he pulls away, immediately missing his touch as he reigns himself to the idea that he may have crossed a line, quietly rowing the way back toward the dock.

Neither of you get much sleep that night anyways.

-

More time passes, lingering touches grow, and Joel is terrible at hiding his affinity for you now. Finding that those few words burned all regards he had toward keeping himself restrained around you. He had enough of a mind to keep it private—but there were comments, sweet little words that he’d whisper as you walked by or he caught you alone.

Nothing scandalizing, but just enough that it had your heart fluttering in your chest.

 Until there is a small slip up, helping the Miller’s with dinner one night as Sarah escapes to the bathroom for a brief moment, your arms outstretched into the cabinet to grab for something just out of reach.

“Use the stool, darlin’,” Joel sees your struggle, “safer that way.”

You look around observantly before you find a folded up stool tucked into the only open corner in the kitchen, taking it back to your spot and unfolding it.

“Good girl.” Joel comments quietly, catching the startled look on your face as your head snaps back toward him. And he has the nerve to smile, noticing the hitch in your breath.

And it only grows in intensity until you can’t stand it anymore, cornering him in the kitchen on a night where Sarah is already upstairs gathering herself for bed, thinking you had come down for a couple bottles of water.

Joel is nursing a small glass of whiskey and he’s silent, but his gaze tracks your movement. You move toward him.

There is a belief in you, fully realized, that something is up here.

"Joel," You lick your lips hesitantly, squaring yourself up against the counter, standing straight, trying not to seem like you were teetering near a dangerous edge of delirium, wondering if you were imagining all of this, "can I ask you something?"

There's a severe lack of distance between you two, knees knocking against each other gently from where you both stand, eyes searching out cautiously even though you know there's nothing to worry about. You were alone, something that has happened far too many times over the past few months. Lingering moments of wandering gazes, eyes connecting from across the room even if Joel was surrounded by people, partying with friends while you're tucked away in the corner while Sarah talks to you about the boys at school that you can't be bothered to give the time of day.

Because of Joel. Because your mind is so tainted by the idea of him.

His palm is flattened out against the counter, adorned with a couple golden rings that clack against the marble, gold chains to match that sat perfectly against his chest, framing the small patch of hair that peeked out over his unbuttoned shirt, silk-pressed and adorned in a silly design that somehow always managed to work perfectly with whatever Joel paired it with.

"Course," He assures you, "You need somethin'? 'Cause you know if things aren't alright at home you're welcome to stay with us."

He’s not amiss to notice just how much time you spend here and no one bothers to come around and check on you. Given you were an adult, it was still glaringly obvious you escaped here for a reason.

Joel reaches out to touch your cheek, the warmth of his skin melding with your own as your breath catches in your throat.

Touch wasn't new, but it never got old. Like a brand against your skin that screamed out for more. You look down briefly, mouth opening slightly to say something, but quickly resigns back to its previous position, lips pursed under a soft scowl.

"I can take care of you," Joel reminds, like you could ever fucking forget it, written all over your features and the outfits you wore now, the dainty gold chain that he'd leant to you as a gift when you pointed out how much you liked it—he'd bought it for himself but there was no resistance in offering over it over to you, bright smile stretching across your face in the moment that Joel felt a sickening addiction to, "—if that's what you need, sweetheart."

You nod instinctively, though you’re not sure what you’re answering too.

“We’ve got a spare room,” Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, the huskiness to his voice shouldn’t feel intimate speaking such meaningless words, “plenty of room for you, alright?”

“Mhm,” You answer weakly, feeling the distance start to close as Joel tries—really fucking tries to fight it, but he can’t help the way his eyes track the way your body responds to his teach, lip trembling when you release it from it’s hold between your teeth, “thank you, Joel.”

“For?” Your heart is racing, terrified of being caught but also enticed by how openly Joel is admiring you, eyes wide with adoration and curiousness, something undiscovered and new to him.

“Taking care of me.” You echo his words, but you’re both quickly retching away at the sound of a door creaking upstairs, separating in an instant.

This was all you had—fleeting moments that would never be.

-

The logistics are complicated to figure out at first, but finishing up the last few weeks of schooling away from the stress of being at home and somewhere where you could actually focus outside of school made the most sense. You pack a big enough bag to last you through the month, clothes and personal belongings you care about, and make the small guest room your new home.

At least, as much as you could.

Luckily, your final classes are a breeze—thankful that most of your discipline with studying had paid off, you and Sarah would graduate in another couple weeks and allow yourself a real break over the summer before deciding how you both wanted to continue. More schooling or not, you would handle that later—for now, you let your mind rest.

And Sarah, well, she escapes the first chance she gets—the first official day free of responsibilities she’s running off for a weekend vacation with her boyfriend, assuring she didn’t mind you tagging along if you wanted to come, but you could see it on her face—she wanted privacy.

So, you had no problem staying back.

A weekend alone—with Joel? Who could barely keep his eyes off of you know that you were around constantly, even in the early mornings when he’d walk through the kitchen shirtless and fumbling with the old coffee pot he refused to get rid of. It was a side to him you hadn’t seen much of and it was slowly etching itself into your memory.

Everything implodes the first night that Sarah is gone, unknowingly yet not unwelcome. But, it’s a turning point neither of you can come back from.

It’s undeniable the amount of boiling sexual tension that has stirred between you both between Joel’s heated gaze and scandalizing comments, stuff that he tries to hold in but fails when he sees how easily of an effect it has on you.

So, as luck would have it, your restless minds meet again.

Joel stops between his open bedroom door and the wall, watching as you approach quietly, smiling kindly as you reach for the door to the guest room, bidding him a soft goodnight.

He could spend his night writhing in bed, hand around his cock as he jerked himself to the thought of you a few feet over, nestled under your sheets—unbeknownst to him, relieving yourself in a similar way and yearning for the stretch of him rather than your measly fingers. It used to relieve the ache and help you sleep, but now it made things impossibly worse.

His fingers encircle your wrist quick, but carefully, silence your ultimate downfall as you stare over at him curiously, his eyes pleading something so desperate it roots itself into your own mind. Like an invisible string tethered to your bodies, it pulls you both together instinctively.

He doesn’t hesitate with touch now, slowly barricading his hands against the side of your neck, gradually working to cradle your head, tipping your head back as he leaned in, not willing himself to cross that line unless you allowed it. He knew the second you stepped over he was done for, similarly, you knew that to be true for yourself.

“Tell me to stop,” Joel begs, “—tell me and I’ll give this up.”

You double down, pressing your face against his own, nose pressing against each other, speaking against his lips in a venomous tone that seeps into his bloodstream.

“No,” You tell him, steadfast and unwavering, “I don’t think I will.”

Joel breathes in sharply before his reverence is breaking, pressing you up against the solidness of the guest room door and crashing his lips against your own, his grip bruising as he palms at your thighs, hooking a leg around his hip as he grinds into you, the feeling dulled out by layers of fabric but you can still feel him. He’s hard and straining against the soft fabric and making no attempt to hide how much you affected him.

“We’re makin’ a big mistake,” Joel says into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth to prove his point, pulling a sharp moan from your chest at the slight sting, “you realize that?”

You find your courage and part from him briefly, open palm rubbing against the line of his cock, slowly trailing up and under his shirt, blunt nails clawing into the stomach, the muscle tensing under your skin, “I’m well aware—are you gonna stand here and have a moral dilemma about it or are you going to fuck me, Mr. Miller?”

It ignites a fury behind his eyes, ravenous and wild. He grips your face tightly, tilting your head up at a slightly uncomfortable angle, pussy clenching around absolutely nothing from the show of dominance, the grin spreading across your face all Joel needed to confirm his suspicions about you.

You enjoyed this—him, the little game you’ve allowed him to play over the past few weeks. And just as he’d said before, he wanted to take care of you—in as many ways possible.

“Say it again,” He warns, squeezing your cheeks together between his tight grip on your face, “—fuckin’ say it.”

“Mr. Miller,” You drone sweetly, best you can through his sturdy grip, “—hm, is that what you want to hear? Is that what gets off at night?”

Joel’s eyes squint slightly, attempting to read your expression. How would you know?

“Always want me to call you Joel because Mr. Miller is just too much, right?” You tease, “I guess you could lie to me, but the look on your face says otherwise.”

The back of your head drops softly against the door, nowhere to go as Joel has you crowded, hand tight on the doorknob and unmoving. You’re trapped and you can’t be bothered to care. 

His hand trails to your neck gradually and squeezes, eyes rolling into the back of your head briefly as his jaw clenches, teeth gritting together as he bares them and speaks, “Should’ve guessed you’d like it like this, huh?”

You feign cluelessness, eyes half-lidded and staring back defiantly, swallowing against the solid hand he held against your neck. 

“Tell me you want it,” Joel presses, feeling how mutely you attempt to press against hold and fail, “need to hear you say it first.”

“What? That I want you cock, Joel?” You say vivaciously, grinning at how his mouth twitches at your words, cooing out a soft, “Because I do.”

And that’s all the confession Joel needs before he’s breaking the barrier and shoving you inside the guest room, slamming the door closed behind him with a foot as he tracks and approaches you, hauling you from the back of your thighs as your ass hits the bed, scooting back slightly and spreading your legs to allow him to slot perfectly between them. 

The fabric of your shirt bunches in his hands as pushes it up and away, lips pressing hotly against your stomach, mouthing at the skin greedily, quickly forcing the shirt up your shoulders until you get the idea and rip the shirt over your head, bare breasts bouncing against the jostling of your body. Joel has half the mind to gawk before he’s latching his mouth around your nipple, biting gently at the flesh despite his choice to be more aggressive than you expected. It’s the right amount of too soft and too much, your fingers curling into his hair at the root and pulling, earning a soft groan in response.

His curls fall freely over his eyes from where he’s looking up at you, lips lingering against your breast tantalizingly, “Let me taste you.” He tells you, his fingers dancing along the hem of your bottoms, his body descending as you find yourself nodding absently, helping him in the impatient push and pull until he has you naked and bare before him, his cock straining prominently against the thin material of his pants, rubbing himself through the fabric as he uses his free hand to spread you wide, marveling at the sight of your slick over the lips of your cunt.

Joel settles against the sheets, broad shoulders supporting your thighs as he adjusts them over him and hovers closely of your cunt, waiting for your eyes to connect in a brief moment of confirmation

You wanted this. And so did he.

He remains wide-eyed as his lips connecting with your cunt, straight for your aching clit as he sucks, flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot with a precision that has you falling slack against the sheets, mouth open in a blissful agony as Joel works away at your pussy like he’s had a million years to study it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you continue to pull and twist at his hair, selfishly grinding yourself against his face. 

He never breaks his gaze on your face, even when you find yourself with your head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling mindlessly, admiring the hurried rise and fall of your chest as you moan out something intelligible, slowly beginning to make sense in his hazy mind, “Oh—right—right there, Joel. Fuck, please—” You beg sweetly, feeling weightless as he lowers his mouth to your neglected hole and licks inside, his nose pressing perfectly against your clit.

“C’mon, baby,” He murmurs against your pussy, “keep talkin’, let me hear you.”

You sigh in exasperation, feeling the burgeoning ache of your impending climax, “Faster—” Joel is an astute listener, never missing a beat as he picks up his pace and adds more pressure, “–shit, I’m gonna—”

Joel silences you with his eagerness to make you come, words falling flat as he assales your clit with a determination to have you coming against his mouth, feeling the muscles spasm as you crying out his name in desperation, orgasming over his greedy tongue as he laps you up synonymously, forcing your body into overstimulation until you have to physically force him away.

Joel doesn’t have half the mind to speak, eyes darkened to near black as he rises to remove his shirt, pants and underwear following quickly after, undressing under your hazy gaze as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart before he’s fisting himself tightly, tip of his cock rubbing against the line of your pussy and catching your entrance, using the last bit of restraint he had left.

He should be courteous and ask about protection—but there’s a heat behind your eyes when you see his thoughts wandering, quickly snuffing out any worries. You reach gently for the hand not fisting his cock, cradling your knee gently, “We’re safe.” You assure him, the first moment of deep, unsettling reality as he realizes the weight of his choices before him—he’s already committed a few atrocities he knows he can’t come back from, so, what was a few more?

And he couldn’t say no to you, not with you staring up at him so wantonly, eyes pleading something desperate and meek, curious if this was all just a heat of the moment thing. Partly, it was—but this was months upon months of built up tension finally spilling into reality.

Joel isn’t sweet either, as he presses inside you. It shouldn’t surprise you, his impatient nature as he pulls you in close, hands gripping under your thighs and manhandling you until your folded nearly in half, hips pistoning sharp and rough, his gaze locked on the sight of himself disappearing inside of you, the sheen of your slick over his cock as you suck him in greedily.

“Come on, baby,” He grunts roughly, “keep showin’ me how good I make you feel. Show me how grateful you are.”

As if it wasn’t already obvious, obscene noises, feeling the quiet air as you sob out, feeling the angle change as he shifts his knee by your ass, angling your hips up slightly.

“Thank—thank you,” You say softly, broken as he snaps his hips roughly, hitting something sensitive inside of you, the coiling heat in your stomach rebuilding quickly, “thankyouthankyouthankyou,” You ramble mindlessly.

Mesmerized, you watch his curls bounce freely over his forehead, overgrown hair sticking to his skin from the soft sheen of sweat, the muscles in his broad shoulders straining as he holds your legs prisoner in his grips, hips aching dully from the unusual angle but you ignore it. He’s locked onto your pussy for a long stretch of time, entranced until he hears your soft moans, realizing you’ve been admiring him this whole time, eyes locking on you in a moment of vulnerability as he speaks directly to you, hips slowing to a manageable, but still slightly overwhelming pace.

“Always—know how to appreciate things, isn’t that right?” Joel asks, the redundancy not lost on you, “Take everything I give you and never ask. Never greedy—just lettin’ me spoil you.”

“Joel—” You whine, his hand slowly trailing the path to your joined bodies, thumb circling slowly over your clit briefly, “—harder, fuck me—harder.”

“But, look at you now—so fuckin’ greedy for my cock,” He’s speaking through a slight groan, releasing the straining hold on your thighs as he falls, spreading his legs out and using his arms for support as he holds himself over you, hands fisting into the sheets beside your head, “gonna make me cum, baby.”

You find yourself desperate for touch now, wrapping your arms around his neck until he’s nearly chest to chest, forehead resting against your own as you whimper into his open mouth, “I want it.”

Joel makes a small noise of question, “Want what, baby?”

“Your cum,” You reply softly, watching the way his pupils dilate at your words, “—please?”

Joel groans involuntarily, feeling the dignified squeeze of your walls around his cock.

“Where?” He asks slightly breathless, panting into your mouth.

You reach blindly for his hand, using his pointer and middle finger to breach your lips, pressing flat against your tongue, “Right here.” You mumble around the thick digits.

It’s the first thing you’ve ever explicitly asked for and who was Joel to deny that.

Joel pulls out quickly, rising on his knees as you push up to rest on your palms, his head hung back as he fucks himself into his hand harshly, a few short pumps and he’s pressing the aching tip of his cock over your tongue, spilling into your mouth with a deep growl, forced through clenched teeth, working himself through the aftershock as he squeezes out the last bit of cum he has to offer into your waiting mouth, forcing your mouth closed with his opposite hand and watching as you tilted your neck up and swallowed, tongue peeking out playfully as you show him your empty mouth.

You have half the mind to think he’s finished, but instead he’s swatting your thigh as he maneuvers your hips until you realize he’s silently asking you to turn over, quickly situating your ass in the air with his strong, domineering grip—burying his face into your cunt without a moment of hesitation, a gasp ripping from your throat. Your hips pull away instinctively out of shock, earning a sharp slap by Joel’s hand against your oversensitive cunt.

“Stay still.” Joel demands.

You answer softly, a pathetic acknowledgement and nod, obeying his order.

“Good girl,” He coos, muffled against your cunt, “Come for me, baby—you’re right there, I can feel it.”

There’s little resistance as his tongue swipes over your clit, sending you into a shorter but immensely more consuming second orgasm, feeling yourself lose consciousness for a brief moment as you sob into the sheets.

“Fuck.” Joel sighs as he rests back on his calves, cock softening between his thighs as you roll onto your back gingerly, thighs shaking from strain, feeling Joel’s comforting touch on the aching muscles as you close your eyes, letting the reality of the situation set in. 

You laugh giddily, “Yeah, fuck.”

Neither of you address the glaring issue of what just took place and somehow, that feels like the biggest atrocity to be committed. 

-

Secrets weren’t something you used to harbor, but it seemed like that was all you had now.

Sneaking off with Joel, lying to Sarah—it was the last thing you wanted to do. But, you and Joel had each other in an equally debilitating grip that neither of you could loosen up on.

And with secrets came gifts, more and more outrageous as time went on—big ticket items that had you fearing that, at some point, Joel would drop something like a new car on you—and that, for what it was worth, would help you. But, it was nothing you wanted. 

Sex started to feel transactional after a few more weeks, graduation creeping on you.

Joel never lacked in care and attentiveness, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of your mind, like you were this unattainable prize he was paying for and you were eating right out of the palm of his hand.

But, then graduation day approaches and Joel is acting odd.

So odd that it unsettles you. He’s there, along with his brother and his small family, cheering as loud for you as he does for Sarah, the obvious absence from your own family never lost on you or him. Then, night approaches.

He’d decided that throwing a party for the both of you in celebration was a good idea, just a small party with very few friends and he swore—swore that there was nothing else up his sleeve until he’s pulling you and Sarah off together, away from the party and there is a pair of matching, new cars parked in the driveway.

Sarah, given she already has everything she wants, is still thankful. It’s the one thing she had been trying to save up for herself, without the help of her dad. So, while she could be upset, she isn’t. She knows Joel’s intentions are good and that he’s just trying to be a good father—which is all he’s ever been for her.

But, for you, it stings. 

You linger, settled a few feet away against his beater of a truck, staring at the car like it was an eyesore.

She doesn’t like it. She hates it, Joel thinks. 

You thanked him regardless, but refused the keys. Joel had stuffed them into his pocket and allowed you the space you wanted, eyes pleading quietly. Sarah had hugged you gently, kind words left in your ear before she departed back inside.

“You’re like family,” She says with genuine love, “and he has more money than he knows what to do with—so honestly, just take it. You deserve it more than anyone.”

And that hurts worse, knowing that you’ve been lying to her for months. 

You weren’t family. Not to Joel. You were something much more convoluted and dangerous.

A drug. A trap. Something he couldn’t rid himself of, not that he desired to. But, he knew—once you were embedded into his life, it would be nearly impossible to get you out.

–

Joel finds you a while later, away from the party and beyond eyesight from the house, curled up against the front end of the truck and picking away at some of the ripped denim of your jeans, counting the frayed pieces. He takes a similar position, sitting next to you silently.

“You don’t have to take it,” He tells you, “but, it is paid for—”

“Joel, please—”

“What?” Joel asks suddenly, his own annoyance getting the better of him, “What am I doing wrong?”

“Joel—we have sex, you buy me something ridiculous. Or, you buy me something ridiculous without my knowledge and then we end up having sex, how does that look to you?”

“Now, I’m not doing that because of sex—”

“But, you see how it looks? How it makes me feel?” You argue with him, “Joel, I can’t help how I feel about you, like—it feels physically impossible, but the constant gifts makes this seem transactional. I don’t want that. I’m already a secret, I don’t need to be bought either.”

Joel shakes his head in silent disbelief, “You really think that’s how I view you? That’s it?”

“You haven’t tried very hard to make me think otherwise, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “I don’t need you showering me with cars and clothes and shit that I don’t need—and if that’s what you feel like you need to do, I don’t want to do…whatever this is anymore.”

Fucking him, sneaking around in secret. You weren’t dating, but it sure fucking felt like it. One intimate moment from a love confession that would seal the deal on your perception of him.

Joel kicks at the gravel as he rises to his feet, pulling you up by your forearm, an immediate look of both confusion and frustration crossing your features as he turns you and presses your chest against the front of his truck, shadowed by the cover of night. His belt clanks together loudly as he undoes his jeans behind you, tucking them far down enough he can pull his cock from the confines of his underwear, lifting up the hem of your dress and yanking your own underwear down your legs and off, and you should stop him—but you don’t want to.

This was the problem. You couldn’t get enough of Joel. 

He slips inside of you with ease, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest that he stifles with his hand, clasped over your mouth, fucking into you with a reverance that was new.

“Joel—we’refuck—we can’t here,” You try to say, yanking his hand away from your mouth, “we’ll get caught.”

Joel grips the base of your neck roughly, fingers curling around the sides as he tilts your head back and looks into your eyes, other hand coming around the bottom of your chin until you’re forced to look up and back at him, not a single speck of warm brown in sight. He looked angry.

But, it didn’t feel like it was directed toward you. Regardless, he fucked you like he was.

“I’ll return the fuckin’ car,” He starts to ramble, “I’ll return everything if that makes you think differently. God—” He snaps his hips harshly, earning a broken sob from you as you reach behind you blindly for something to anchor yourself on, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, “—never want you to think this is transactional, baby. It never—never was.”

Never would be, you want him to say.

“Whaddya want me to say?” Joel asks before you can speak, “That I care about you—baby, I fuckin’ do. I thought that was obvious. Know—know I shouldn’t, that it’s wrong, but I knew—”

You gasp raggedly, his hand leaving your chin to find your clit, just the right amount of pressure to have your hands clawing at his skin, head resting back against his shoulder as he fucked into you.

“And I’ll keep this a secret if—if it means I can have you but this isn’t transactional,” He continues to speak, despite your inability, tipping over the edge of your orgasm as his hips stutter slightly, “it never will be.”

That—that was what you needed to hear. Pulling him taut against you as he buried his mouth into the junction of your neck and nipped, biting at the skin roughly but not enough to break skin.

“Come inside me,” You gasp, chest rising and falling quickly, “please—Joel, please?”

“You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” Joel teases, “Never ask for anything but my cum—greedy girl,” You moan at his words, spurring him even further, “tell me baby, tell me how much you want it.”

“So bad,” You whine, “Joel, please give it to me—fuck—all of it, please?”

Joel snaps his hips a few more times before his hand is releasing your neck, crossing over your chest and squeezing tightly at your breast as he pulses inside of you, pumping his hips and filling you full of his spend.

Joel kisses at the exposed skin of your shoulder, pulling out with a soft grunt, the slow jingle of metal sounding behind you as you reached for the underwear he offered you, slipping it back up your legs and into place, despite how Joel’s cum dripped out of you, something he makes point of as his fingers drag along the material, causing you gasp softy at his touch, swatting his hand away. He chuckles lowly at the annoyed glare you shoot his way.

Joel shifts your hips until you turn in his grip, back pressing against cool metal. He crowds you in again, leaving you feeling breathless as he grips your face, but his touch is surprisingly tender.

“What do we say?” He says softly, lips pressing against your own.

“Thank you,” You retort sarcastically, capturing his lips in a quick, bruising kiss as you card your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck, pulling gently, “this doesn’t change anything—I don’t want the car.”

“You don’t have to take it,” Joel settles, “but it’ll be here if you need it.”

You pull away further, looking at him endearingly, watching as his eyes flick briefly toward the house.

“What do we do–about this?” You ask quietly, afraid someone might be listening in despite being alone, “About…whatever this is.”

“Hey,” Joel assures gently, “don’t worry about that—not tonight.”

“Joel—” You plead, eyes searching desperately into his own.

“I care about you, that’s all you need to worry about.” Joel speaks truthfully, his thumb rubbing along the line of your jaw as you swallow, muscles tense under his touch.

And you’re wondering if he’s just saying what you want to her—that maybe this was still a game to him and he was letting you feed into it, nodding to his confession. Joel is all in, offering you his metaphorical hand.

You sigh shakily, “Okay—I trust you.” So please, don’t let me down.

And you know things will eventually implode, but you intend to hold on the brief moment of hope you have now, safe under his gaze as he leads you back to the house, everyone blissfully unaware of the moments you’ve shared, leaving you resigned to appreciate the greedy looks his shares with you across the room.

It was a dangerous game, but you were willing to take the risks.

[stayteezdreams]

Mingi + Subtle ways he shows he loves you

Scenarios: Mingi and the subtle ways he shows he loves you.

Pairing: Song Mingi x Gn!Reader

Requested by Anon during my Milestone Event

Warnings: N/A

Words: ~340

Giving you his jackets when it's cold (if you are a lot smaller than him, he adores the way his clothes engulf you).

When you are walking he will hold your hand and shove it into his pocket to keep warm.

Bringing you random desserts or snacks he thinks you might like.

Always sharing his food or drinks with you.

Sending you cute or funny memes and videos throughout the day to make sure you laugh or think of him.

Has you as his phone background, and updates it to different photos a lot (because he has so many favorites).

Playlist of songs that remind him of you.

Has photo albums for each date you go on.

Matching plushies, one he always takes with him when he travels.

Cute notes he leaves around your house for you to find.

Tracing patterns into your skin as you are cuddling together.

Opening doors for you, holding things for you, cleaning up messes at your house when you are busy.

Wears a chain with a pendant or ring you got him, never takes it off.

Eventually gets you a matching one.

References you in one of or multiple of his song, and you are the only one who picks up on it.

Hooks his pink around your fingers when you are walking together.

Hair ruffles as he walks past.

Writes or draws on your hand when he is bored.

Jokes you should get one tattooed and then you can draw one on him (don't because he WILL do it)

Winks, and blowing kisses when he sees you from across the room.

Does various household chores around your house just so you don't have to worry about them.

Will make you food or prepare snacks whenever you want, or if you tell him you haven't eaten.

Put's tiny braids in your hair while you are cuddling.

Will listen to you talk for hours uninterrupted about whatever you want. Often while gazing lovingly at you (and usually not hearing some of it, but he does try).

xx

(Yunho Version)

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson,

@pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop,  

@shymexican, @stillwjk-channie-lixie, @luckypaintertyphoon

Ateez Taglist: @soso59love-blog, @hongjoongsprincess, @tunaasan, @thedistractedwriter, @dear-dreamie,

@thunderous-wolf, @briqnne, @hyukssunflower, @dinossaurz, @skz1-4-3,

@staytiny2000, @demonlineslut, @vnessalau,  @dancinglikebutterflywings, @tunafishyfishylike

Mingi: @ye0nvibezzn

[fleur-bbyy]

MOTH TO A FLAME

✰summary: kiri is staying at bakugo and his girlfriend’s house when he catches them having sex through the crack of their bedroom door. kiri discovers he’s into voyeurism.

✰ warnings: all characters aged up 21+, SEX (minors and ageless blogs dni!!!!), non-con voyeurism (is that a thing?), kink-discoveryish?, spitting, some degrading, creampie, female reader, oral (f receiving), bi panic for kiri, squirting, bkg is bigger than reader, belly bulge

✰wc: 2.5k

heavily inspired by “private affairs” by @lady-lauren (amazing writer and very kind person!!) might continue this, who knows!!

he knows he shouldn’t be watching.

he’s a guest in his best friend’s house. graciously being able to stay in the guest room while his house is being fumigated. they’ve been nothing but accommodating. feeding him, insisting he not do any household chores, ensuring his comfort during his stay in the house.

how does he repay this kindness?

by watching his bakugo and his loving girlfriend go at it in their bedroom.

eijiro didn’t do it on purpose. he’d never go out of his way to watch his closest friend get to know his girl in the biblical sense. he was simply just trying to go get a glass of water from the kitchen, having to pass their room to do so. he kept his steps quiet, practically tip-toeing down the hall to not wake them if they were asleep. kirishima noticed the door was slightly cracked open as he was about to descend the stairs, but stopped mid-step when he heard the first noise.

he turned his head to look into the room when he heard the slight moans and whimpers that escaped through the crack of the door. it wasn’t opened enough to see everything, but he did see the way your legs were spread and glistened with a light sheen of sweat. your breast were bare, exposed to the gentle glow of the light you always kept on. your head thrown back as more of those sweet moans left your lips. he then noticed the large, calloused hands holding a grip hard enough to bruise on the plush skin of your thighs. strong arms wrapped around them to hold you in place. the blond was between your legs eating you like a man starved and covering your most private of areas with his head. the sight was enough to bring his dick to life and for him to drop his knees to the hardwoods with a soft thud. he hid in the shadows and mentally thanking whatever force compelled them to not fully shut their door.

“fuck kats. i’ve missed you so much. i need you.”

eijiro admired the way you sounded when you were overtaken to the waves of pleasure your boyfriend was drowning you in. he’d never admit it out loud, but he’d always thought you to be beautiful. always gentle, like a ray of sunshine that had fallen to the earth. i’m some ways, you were just like him. a stark contrast to katsuki, eijiro’s other schoolboy crush.

he let his mind drift to wonder about how you’d would taste on his tongue. you’d probably be the sweetest he’s ever had and he’d drink it up with fervor until you’d beg him to stop. he also wonders what’d it be like to have katsuki’s tongue running along the veins of his thick shaft. he accidentally lets a small moan slip, thankfully, it was covered by an even louder one from you as you released on katsuki’s face. thighs clenching and your manicured fingers digging into his blond hair. your hair swished as you threw your head back against the bed in pleasure, mouth forming the classic ‘o’ shape.

he decided to forego the glass of water when katsuki removed his mouth from your pussy to remove his cock from the grey sweats that hung lowly on his hips. he was built beautifully. rippling muscles that covered his entire body and a beautiful adonis belt that led straight to his dick. eijiro wondered if it was weird to call a dick pretty, but it was the only word that could describe katsuki. long and thick, but not as thick as the redhead that was spying in. a beautiful blue vein running along the erect shaft and his tip was a perfect shade of pink.

he pumped himself a few times to prepare to take you. eijiro doing the same. preparing to watch the love-making and passion between two very attractive individuals. just touching himself lightly enough to relieve the ache. ghosting his large fingers over the head and smearing some of his own pre down the length.

he knows it’s wrong

he knows he shouldn’t do it.

but he was too far gone to stop.

he was drawn to the scene unfolding before him like a moth to a flame. watching and admiring bakugo’s cock intently as he toyed with your entrance. rubbing the head up and down your wet slit until you were practically in tears begging him to push in. a loud moan leaving you when he finally does push all the way in. katsuki having to clamp his hand down on your mouth to try and keep you quiet as he began to rut into you. his hands gripping the curve where your waist and hips meet and low groans of his own escaping his mouth.

kirishima kept up with bakugo’s pace. fisting his cock to the rhythm he created as his hips snapped against yours. eijiro wished it was his name rolling off your pink tongue as he fucked you. watching your tits bounce with every thrust given and wishing his could just reach out and touch you.

he also wished to be under katsuki. he wanted to be the person katsuki was sweetly praising and hatefully degrading. wanted to know what it felt like when he wrapped a thick hand around his throat like bakugo had just done to you.

“‘m so fuckin’ addicted to you. pussy’s a drug, baby.”

he shuddered at the sound of katsuki’s voice. stern tone lacing the words that left his lips and made kirishima wish he was on his knees before him. his cock practically jumped in his hand every time bakugo spoke filth down to you.

“‘m gonna fuck you into the shape of my cock.”

“you’re just a desperate fucking slut, so greedy f’me.”

“roll those fuckin’ hips on me, princess.”

having to choke back his own whimpers to remain unnoticed. eijiro relished at the hot tears that ran down your cheeks that katsuki had so kindly wiped away for you before harshly tapping your cheek.

“open up, baby.” you obeyed his every command as a string on spit fell from his tongue and into your mouth. swallowing it without much of a second thought. eijiro’s eyes rolled back as he continued to beat his cock to the sliver of a view he had of the pair of you.

you whined when katsuki abruptly pulled out. he flipped you over and bent you over your shared bed before burying himself back in your wet heat.

“‘s too much baby!” you whined as he pistoned his hips into you at a faster, rougher pace.

“shut the fuck up and take this cock.”

eijiro was getting closer with every stroke of his fist. having to use one of his own hands to help him choke back and muffle the sounds threatening to spill from him. the fire burning in his abdomen only growing every time your ass jiggled from the rough pace katsuki had set. more of his pre leaking out of his slit and quickly being used as lube to keep himself going.

eijiro intently listened as your moans became louder and of a higher pitch. endless strings of slurred and babbling words coming from your mouth as you warned your boyfriend of another incoming release.

“fuck… fuck gonna cum, kats, gonnafuckingcum.”

“that’s it, princess, cum all over my cock. wanna feel you clench around me.”

if kirishima could see your face, he’d bet your eyes would be rolling to the back of your head as bakugo hit that sweet, spongy spot inside of you. he was about to let himself go until katsuki spoke up again.

“i know you’ve got another one in you-“

getting so horny for this was disgusting.

“-so be a good girl for me, yeah?”

but he was willing to be a called-out pervert if that meant he could continue watching.

he slowed the hand that jerked his cock, bound and determined to finish when you cum again. eijiro loved watching you be used as a cocksleeve. loved watching your beautiful cunt grip your boyfriend’s cock and suck it into your body.

and bakugo looked like a dictionary picture of power. he looked so domineering over you. a behemoth compared to your shorter frame. he’s always been strong and just simply better at everything because he wanted to be. nobody ever holding him back from something he wanted. eijiro imagines him to be the best fuck he could ever dream of having, somewhat envying you for being the one that gets to experience it.

“you’re so fucking deep in me.” a another bead of pre-cum rolls out of his slit when he notices the bulge in your belly every time katsuki pushes all the way in. he wishes it was his cock. he wishes it was his stomach. he’s never seen someone look so pretty taking a pounding like this before. bakugo’s hips speeding up as he tries to bring you over the edge before he falls victim to his own release. maneuvering a hand down to toy with your sensitive clit, causing your whines to grow louder and more needy. your cunt squelches with every thrust he gives and you take it all with grace.

“y’gonna come f’me again baby? gonna cum with me?”

he’s so close.

“fuck, kats, please.”

so goddamn close.

your words slur and become airy as if bakugo is knocking all the breath from your lungs. eijiro hopes that his best friend is going to fill your sweet pussy so he can imagine it’s his cum dripping out of you. his balls feel tighter and with every moan or groan he hears spill from your mouths, he finds the coil in his stomach to be twisting tighter. just a few more strokes and he’ll be done for.

“right there, kats! fuck.. please! i’m gonna cum.. i’m cumming! i’m cumming!”

“fuck yes baby, take this shit. cum on my fat cock. cum with me, princess.” eijiro loses himself at the piercing whine that leaves you when you squirt on your boyfriend. watching the clear liquid gush from your tight and stuffed hole sends him and katsuki over the edge at the same time. eijiro biting his hand and drawing blood as he tucks his dick back into his sweats to catch the load of cum that erupts from him. he watched bakugo’s every reaction as he came. head thrown back and brow furrowed as he continued to snap his hips into yours. grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you towards him. he watched the way the warm glow of light illuminated the sweat on your bodies and it made him feel as if he could jerk off again.

he payed extra close attention when katsuki slowly pulled himself from you. your hole gaping from being stretched by the massive man and dribbles of his white hot cum running out of your pussy. he intently watched once more as bakugo scooped up the cum and pushed it back in to you.

“not wasting a drop, baby.”

he had to close his eyes before he got riled up again, but he couldn’t bask in the post-nut clarity either. as quickly as possible getting off of his knees and trying to quietly walk on wobbly legs down to the kitchen to get himself the water that he actually needs now. somberly thinking of what he’d done.

eijiro kirishima is not a pervert. he didn’t do shit like that, but here he was. standing in the kitchen of his best friend’s house after busting a nut to them having sex with the wet patch on the inside of his sweats to prove it.

he stared at a dust bunny that had gathered where the countertop and wall met. he felt as dirty as that spot as guilt overtook his body. weighing down his muscular shoulders. the air felt thick and almost suffocating as he tried to take a few deep breaths to ease the shame that had settled in.

carefully making his way back up the stairs, he hoped to just walk on by. hoped that this would be a thing to only weigh down on him and him only. hoped he could put the disgusting, perverted, and voyeuristic act behind him.

you can only hope for so much when you’re guilty.

“eijiro.” he heard the booming voice of katsuki right as he passed the doorway. it was quiet enough for him to question if he was dreaming or not. he stopped in his tracks, glass in hand, to try and hear movement in the bedroom and see if anyone was awake.

“i know you’re out there, ei.” shit. he wasn’t dreaming. he felt the weight on his shoulders double as he tried to find his voice to respond back.

“yeah?” it was all he could muster. ashamed, embarrassed. there’s no way they didn’t know about what he did. he’d been caught.

“come here.” the two words were confusing to kiri, but his legs moved to enter the room anyways. was he going to get his ass beat? kicked out? murdered? he wasn’t sure. but he did know his eyes weren’t deceiving at what was laid out before him.

you were still on the bed, but had flipped over on your back and propped up on your elbows, completely naked. he got a good look at your still hardened nipples and glistening cunt from the fuck you’d had 10 minutes prior. katsuki was also still naked. standing at the side of the bed in all his glory, cock still half hard. eijiro’s eyes widened at the sight.

“i know you were watching us.” is all katsuki can say before streams of ‘sorry’s’ and ‘I swear it was a one time thing’ leaving his mouth before he could even think about what he was saying.

“there’s no need to be a fuckin’ baby about it,” bakugo cut his apologies off, “princess here loved it, didn’t you?” the two men look over at you as you smiled and nodded your pretty little head.

“y’know, we’ve both never came so hard before, so we thought we could reward you a bit.” your voice was sickeningly sweet. you could ask eijiro to do anything for you and he’d do it, no questions ask if you continued to lure him in with your seductive voice. your eyes were half-lidded as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. taking in the bashful expression on his face.

“reward.. me?” kirishima felt weak in the knees again as his cock stirred to life once more at the thought of either of you giving him a little something.

“yeah, yeah. you want it?” katsuki spoke, looking unbothered, bored even. eijiro nodded his head without a sliver of hesitation. his excitement resembled a puppy wagging when a treat is held in front of its face. his entire body felt like it was jumping in anticipation and the pressure holding his shoulders down had lifted. it felt like he’d gotten one hundred times lighter. like he was floating

he gasped when bakugo grabbed a fistful of his red hair and pushed him to his knees, facing your pretty pussy. his tongue darted out to lick his lips before katsuki spoke again.

“you want us? eat my fuckin’ cum outta her cunt.”

eijiro didn’t pay any mind to the dull ache that spread across his scalp. nothing would cause him to hesitate at the opportunity to taste the two of you.

[lovverletters]

Yandere! Husband

Note that this is a reupload from my previous blog @hyerinrose

T/W : Obsessive behaviour, protective behaviour, etc

•┈••✦ 🎀✦••┈•💌•┈••✦ 🎀 ✦••┈•

💌Yandere! Husband who were overjoyed on the day of your wedding. He have finally married the love of his life, you! The feelings was mutual though as you were also happy to be married to him <3

🎀Yandere! Husband who is the perfect spouse anyone could've asked for! He cooks and clean for the both of you despite you insisting that its a shared chore between you two.

💌Yandere! Husband who is a total sweetheart towards you, always tending to your needs and buying you gifts everytime he came back from work. You must be tired from your work, dear! Here's a gift for your hardwork :)

🎀Yandere! Husband who were the total opposite when he's at work. Coworkers describe him as a strict and terrifiying boss, a total menace. Their jaw dropped to the floor when they saw how he act towards you when you brought him his lunch.

"Only you can see this side of me, dear"

💌Yandere! Husband who 100% would become a househusband if you wanted to. If you rather be the breadwinner of the household, he's support your decision throughly. He'd make cute bento lunches for you everyday, ironing your clothes and prepare dinner for when you return.

"It has always been my dream to care for you, love"

🎀Yandere! Husband who would get rid of anyone who's bothering you at work. Your coworkers that have been making unwanted advances to you? Gone. Your old boss who won't stop bitching at you? Turned up in a coffin the next day.

💌Yandere! Husband who prepared a surprise for you at the end of every weekday. He'll help you let off stress from work wether it's candlelit dinner, watching movie together or something else.

🎀 "Welcome home honey! I just got done preparing dinner. Do you want to eat first, take a bath or ..me?"

Im sorry I had to

•┈••✦ 🎀✦••┈•💌•┈••✦ 🎀 ✦••┈•

[folkwhoredoll]

library affections - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: there are two things that you love in this world; rafe and books

word count: 0.9k

warnings/tags: none, just fluff with sweet boyfriend!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever thank you all enough for your support in all of my works :< tbh i did not expect to gain so much interaction because this blog is still relatively new but here you all are and i appreciate each and every one of you <3 this fic is another fluff boyfriend!rafe fic (is it obvious that i like fluff so much lmao) and i've written this a while ago. i hope you'll like this one! if you have a request or prompt in mind, feel free to send me a message. happy reading!

masterlist

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Being a regular visitor at the Camerons' estate has familiarized you with every corner of the house. Now, you have memorized every room and decoration, immediately spotting whatever is newly added. The Camerons didn't mind your presence, with your family being a close friend of theirs. Thus, it was no surprise that you ended up dating the one and only son of Ward Cameron.

With his father and stepmother often occupied and his sisters frequently out with friends, you and Rafe usually find yourselves with the house to yourselves, save for the occasional presence of the household staff. Yet, you've never minded.

Today follows a similar pattern. Ward left for a morning meeting, Wheezie went to school, and Sarah departed at noon to join John B's group. Surprisingly, even Rafe isn't home, having agreed to a golf outing with Topper and Kelce. Although he initially invited you to join, you declined, preferring to avoid the "boy talk" and the scorching sun. Thus, you find yourself waiting for Rafe in the living room, idly scrolling through your phone.

It's been around two in the afternoon when you got bored, sighing and deciding to stand up to walk around the house. Your feet already know where you're going when you face the familiar entrance to the Camerons' Library.

This room is your most loved spot in the whole estate, apart from Rafe's room. The vast shelves of bright book covers from different times always amaze you. If you could, you'd live in this room. Rafe has found you exploring this library countless times; even his sisters know it's the first place to check when you're not around the house.

Quickly scanning the shelves for a book, you settled upon a fantasy fiction novel, clutching the book as you made your way to a couch by the window. The first few chapters had you hooked immediately, eyes rapidly passing through every word as you moved chapter by chapter. The book was so good that it blanked your other senses, making you jump when you suddenly heard Rafe's voice.

"I knew you'd be here." He smirked, still in his golfing outfit, as he stood over you.

"Hi, Rafe." You smiled up at him, putting the book down on your lap. "How's golfing?"

Rafe plopped beside you, stretching his legs and putting an arm around your shoulder. "It was good. I got bored with Top's whining about his break-up with Sarah, so I left."

You chuckled when you saw his eyes roll, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. "They were together for a long time. You can't blame him."

"I guess." He shrugged before flashing you a flirty grin. "But I also want to spend time with my girl."

You snorted. "Yeah, okay."

"What? I do! I feel guilty about leaving you here alone." He defended.

"I don't mind, Rafe." You spoke.

"Hm. I bet you don't. But still."

You raised your brows, silently urging him to explain what he meant.

"I just mean that you were too distracted by that book, baby. I could've been an intruder, but you wouldn't even know. What is that about anyway?"

Your eyes lit up at his question; you've always loved speaking about the books you've read. And Rafe loved hearing you talk, even if he's mostly confused.

"I just started reading it, so I don't really know what it's about yet, but there's this girl, and she has electricity powers!" You started excitedly.

Rafe listened intently. He couldn't help but feel affection for you, marveling at how your eyes sparkled with passion for the story. Despite the chaotic world outside, at this moment, it was just the two of you, surrounded by the tranquility of the library.

As you continued to talk, Rafe's mind wandered, reflecting on how much you meant to him. You were the one person who could effortlessly penetrate his tough exterior, revealing the softer, more vulnerable side of him that he often kept hidden from the world. He felt at ease with you, free to be himself without fear of judgment or ridicule.

Lost in his thoughts, Rafe reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You paused mid-sentence, startled by the sudden touch, before leaning into his hand, relishing the warmth of his touch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, concern lacing your voice as you noticed the distant look in his eyes.

Rafe shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing, I'm just... happy. Happy to be here with you."

A soft blush colored your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. At that moment, surrounded by the scent of old books and the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the window, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Leaning in, Rafe pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion as you returned his affectionate gaze.

With a contented sigh, Rafe settled back against the couch, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his side. Together, you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company.

At that moment, surrounded by the familiar comforts of the library, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had each other, everything would be okay.

[seekingflowers]

Future Husband Pick a Card (1-3)

I'm sure you all know how it works! Just relax and let your intuition guide you to choose your pile 🌕. Take what resonates and leave the rest. I am very honest and will not sugar coat what I see. Please don't hesitate to tell me what resonated with you! I welcome all to interact 🤝

Hello everyone! Welcome to my tarot blog. This is my first post ever, and a pick a card reading (1, 2, 3- cards) 🥰😍🥀

Pile 1:

Page of Wands

- First and foremost, it COULD indicate he's younger- if not, he may seem younger with his demeanor. More than likely, he may have approached you first. He'll be the first you one hear when you walk into a room.

In the beginning stages, this person will feel like a breath of fresh air. They are lively and outgoing. Always inviting you to join them on outings with friends or see and experience new places.

They are very social and ready to be on the go-go go. If you're not, it doesn't matter. They'll go because they're ready. Decisive and quick. However, it may not always be thought out. This person tends to be optimistic and may seem naive, but do not berate them. Sharp and witty, they stand their ground. They do not like to be held back and smothered. They seek fun and spontaneity, keep them on their toes. At times, you may feel like this man flakes out on you because he is so quick to do other things or entertain himself with others. He may forget things easily, such as planned dates or activities, anniversaries, or make sudden changes.

Their curiosity and openess will show you how to appreciate the moment and accept changes. It's okay to experience new things. If something is wrong, they will confront you, and they will expect the same from you. Be open and honest, and communicate with patience. They're not afraid to voice their opinion and say it how they see it. Friends and family love and adore their presence, which brings warmth and laughs all around.

Please remember, we all change with time, and some things may remain, but nothing lasts forever. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

Pile 2:

King of Wands Reversed.

- He's definitely the one to approach you. Could be someone older or someone in an authority position.

This man may appear aggressive, often displaying signs of frustration or impatience. Can be very controlling and dominant overall. He has natural charisma and a fiery intellect, making it difficult to get a word in with him. Stubborn and hot-headed, he will likely dislike opposing views or opinions. People's views of him are black and white. Few understand him. There could be a problem with respecting those above him or taking consideration from others in general. There are few to maybe none that he cares for, but if he does care, he is fiercely protective over them and will come to their side to defend them. Even blindly.

About action, he's the one to get it done and have a go get it now attitude. Either do it or don't. Prone to impulsiveness and hypocrisy, his actions may bring upon consequences he isn't ready to handle and will break down in a tantrum.

Not afraid to approach others, he is relentless with his pursuits. On the good days, his humor and smiles are a sight to see and hear. Captivating and charming, people are drawn to him or are intimidated by him. His humor isn't everyone's cup of tea. It may be crude.

Highly competitive, spats between him and others are frequent. He hates losing and hates being wrong.

To be with this man, thick skin is needed along with groundedness. With you, he can be very loving, but ill tempered and stubborn.

He's very likely a traditional man who wants a traditional wife and family with him as head of the household. Although earlier in life, he may have had a desire of the opposite for the short term.

Please note that the future is not set in stone. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

Pile 3:

Ace of Cups

- This man off the bat is an emotionally intuitive man. More likely to be reserved with his words, but expressive with his love and affections. Expressive eyes with intent prying into your soul. He enjoys private moments with you and goes out of his way to get you alone. It may seem unintentional, but it's not. It may be a love at first sight, or rather, when they fall in love- they fall hard.

There could be this feeling of a deep connection between the two of you that feels familiar yet so foreign. However, do not drown with the feeling. Learn to swim with it, or it will create false imaginations of the other person. You open up this person's inner world, and they want to pour into your cup endlessly. Sometimes, feelings can become intense, and a struggle to sort through emotions with each other can be difficult. Therefore, there can be spurts of emotional outbursts. Clear communication is very important with this man.

Being one to love deeply, he can hold a grudge and keep score of what wrong he thinks you've done to him. He might think he loves you more than you love him. This man wants you to be open with your love and reciprocate his feelings with the same intensity. When you are in an emotional frenzy from work or a bad day, he's the one to comfort and feel you. He'd go out of his way to make you feel better. If he can't, he will beat himself up for it. People close to him are few, even if it seems like there is a whole crowd around him. He's the go-to therapist or listener for folks, and it may get to him from time to time, so please allow him some space when needed.

Some days, he may seem hot and cold, but that's just likely because he isn't feeling anything that particular day or hour. Or he is in his head thinking about anything. As all humans do.

Love each other truly and not just love itself. It is easy to get lost in love and forget the person. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

Please remember, take what resonates, and leave the rest. One card does not describe everything about a person, and it is not the end all be all. Nothing is set in stone. People change - we all change.

Once again, please let me know what resonates and tell me what'd you like to see from me. 💫

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Stitched Hearts [Teaser]

Pairing: dressmaker!Hongjoong x noblewoman!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Summary: Throughout his entire career, Hongjoong has received nothing but praise for his work. Never once had anyone suggested his dresses were anything short of perfection. That is, until he met the youngest daughter of the Baek household—the family's black sheep, an enigmatic spinster whom he found utterly confounding.

A/N: Special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for coming up with the title of our captain's spinoff.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 1

"Well, what do you think?" inquired the dressmaker, proudly unveiling his newest masterpiece to his latest customer.

Eyeing the elegantly colourful hanbok, which was a departure from your usual plain white ones, your gaze remained impassive. After what seemed like an eternity, you responded with a slight furrow of your brows, "It uhh... it looks nice, I suppose."

As you watched Hongjoong's reaction falter momentarily, it appeared as though he was experiencing a million emotions per second before settling on a deeply offended expression. With an audible scoff, he clenched his jaw, "Nice, you say? Just... nice? You suppose? Miss Baek, that is utterly outrageous! Throughout my career, I've only ever been praised for delivering perfection."

You stayed silent as he continued to extol his successes, boasting about being the best dressmaker in all of Joseon and citing his most illustrious achievements, such as the wedding dress he crafted for Lady Park, which even impressed Their Majesties. It dawned on you that your simple response had deeply wounded him.

"I-I mean... it's not bad," you interjected, hoping to fix the damage, but your heart sank as he only glared at you, "Not bad...? I'm sorry, was that supposed to console me?" he chuckled incredulously, "You know what? Now I understand why you're still single. At this rate, you'll never find a husband."

Ouch.

The way Hongjoong's spinoff wasn't even meant to be next, but y'all were so hyped for his, I had to change up the sequence HAHA as always, I'd love to hear all your thoughts on the concept! <3

Tag list (1/4): @itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline @green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive @vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho @vic0921 @foxinnie8 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid @sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @pay13 @kpop17 @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings @chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories @anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @kamabokogonpachro @chngbnwf @dollce-exe @jan-l @lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim @scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa @ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143 @naps-over-degree

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[callsign-dexter]

Saving Grace 18+

Major Trigger Warning: Domestic and Child Abuse

Request: Ok, I blame your blog for my growing desire on Kelly Severide 😭😭😭 and your smut was soo goood! I'm in Love with your writing !

Sooooo I kindly want to ask you for a little bday (it's Sunday but it's fine if you don't have time) present with angsty Kelly, cause I'm sure we'll love some fluff too 🤗🙊 maybe a little something where they are a couple and she's a paramedic and he's always cute around her and wants her to be save on every call. But one time they're all get called to a gang fight and as she's treating a victim she gets attacked with a knife which nearly kills her and Kelly's world stops when she's in his arms full of blood and barely hanging on. He never leaves her side when she's taken to Med and even there he's by her side begging her to come back to him. Just cute and fluffy Kelly cause daaaaaamn he's so great 🥹 oh and ofc it's a Happy Ending with them 🤗❤️

Pairings: Kelly Severide x Fiancée!Paramedic!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, hospitals, stabbing, knife, blood, inaccurate medical talk, smut

Masterlist

A/N: Happy belated birthday to the anon that sent this in!

A/N 2: Yes even though this is fluff with angst there is smut so @imagine-all-the-fandoms and @talesofreading please prepare yourselves!

You had known Kelly Severide ever since you were both kids, considering you were next door neighbors. You didn't have the best childhood and needed a friend and you found that in Kelly. You two had grown up and had been there for each other through thick and thin. Through bad breakups with shitty boyfriends and girlfriends. You shut down all the rumors going around about Kelly even though you probably knew they were true especially with him being a womanizer, but you had to defend your friend and crush. 

——————————————————————

Middle school hit and your friendship was stronger than ever and you two had stayed thick as thieves no matter how popular he had become. When his girlfriend, and also the captain of the soccer team, tried to get him to stop hanging around you because she didn't like you, he immediately broke up with her. One particular night they yelling and the fighting got so bad at your house that it became physical and your father had hit you and then threw a plate against the wall, breaking it and some of it cut you. Your mother tried to stop it but your father turned on her and she looked at you with a particular look and you ran, you ran to Kelly. When he saw you and the shape you were in, he grew furious but he took you up to your room and cleaned you up and held you that night.  

——————————————————————

When high school came around your friendship and crush were still going strong. It became normal around the school to see each other with each other, so normal that his friends started becoming your friends and vice versa. Around sophomore year a particularly bad night occurred over at the Y/L/N Household. Your mother had just passed away due to some complications from the abuse your father had laid on her, the next day your father started to drink heavily starting in the morning and didn't end at all. You had just come home from school to find your father sitting at the kitchen table drinking. “About time you came home.” He said with a bite in his tone.

“I was at school.” You said slightly trembling. Your father looked up at you in rage.

“From now on you're not going to school. You're staying here.” He said not really in the right mental state.

“Dad, I can't do that. I need to go to school.” You said you wanted Kelly.

“Not anymore. Now make dinner.” He said harshly. 

“No, Dad. I have homework to do and I promised Kelly I would meet up with him to help him.” You said and the anger flashed through your father’s face.

“You're always with him. Kelly this, Kelly that. I bet you've probably fucked him you slut.” He said and that brought tears to your eyes. 

“No, I haven't.” You said “I'm not with him.” You added and your dad scoffed. 

“Whatever. Now, get to cleaning this place is dirty and cooking. I'm hungry.” He spoke 

“No, I need to do homework and then meet Kelly. I've told you this.” You said something must've snapped in him because he was suddenly picking up his glass and throwing it at you. It grazed you and hit the wall exploding in a million pieces and most of those cut you and you ducked for cover. Your dad stalked over to you and grabbed you by the hair and slammed you up against the wall he was yelling and threatening you. Tears were coming out fast. 

“Stop you're crying.” He said and punched you in the face and you cradled your face and that just made him grow angrier. He slammed your head into the wall and then threw you down onto the ground. He kicked you twice in the ribs, breaking some, and several in the stomach. There were plates on a shelf next to you and he reached over and pulled that down over you, they broke all over you and cut you. You were sure you were bloody and not a very good sight to look at. You were close to passing out and you just wanted Kelly. 

“Kelly.” You mumbled and your dad rolled his eyes.

“There you go saying his name. He can't save you now.” Your dad said and then brought his boot cover foot and it connected it with your head and that brought stars to your vision. Kelly, you wanted Kelly and now. Your dad finally stopped his attack on you and then stormed away, grabbed his keys and left considering you heard his truck start up. He left the door standing wide open.

Kelly had just gotten home from his baseball practice when he noticed your car in the driveway but not your dad's. He also noticed the door left wide open and that made his stomach drop. He quickly pulled into your driveway and got out and rushed in and the scene before his eyes made his blood boil. You were laid there in a pool of your own blood and semi-conscious. “Son of a bitch.” He said to himself he made it very clear that he didn't like your dad early on. “Hey, Angel. Wake up for me. Please.” Kelly said while stroking your cheek but nothing had worked. “You’re really scaring me.” He said. You heard a voice and it sounded like Kelly’s.

“Kel?” You asked, slurring your words and eyes cracking open. You saw him crouching down in front of you.

“Yea, it's me.” He said 

“Dad-” You began but he shushed you.

“I know, Angel. I know.” He said smiling sadly and then pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna call 911. Just hang tight.” He said and you just stared at him everything sounded underwater. You could hear him talking but couldn’t pay attention. Your eyes started to close “Hey, hey, hey. Keep those eyes open for me.” He said but they were already shutting “Y/N-” he said and the last thing you heard before you let the darkness win.

The next thing you remember was waking up in the hospital with Kelly asleep by your side. You hurt all over and you vowed to yourself that you would become a paramedic to help people in need. You tried sitting up and groaned and that is what woke him up. “Woah. Hey. It’s ok, Angel.” He said and got up helped you lay back down.

“Dad?” You asked and he smiled sadly.

“He was found with his truck wrapped around a tree, he survived and when he gets healthy enough, he is going to prison.” He said and you nodded and then your eyes were closing. “Go to sleep, Angel. I’ll be right here.” He said and you let your eyes slip closed. 

“I love you, Kel. More than a friend.” You said and he smiled.

“I love you too. More than a friend.” He repeated and you smiled and then fell asleep. When you woke up again, he brought up what you said and told him it was true and he smiled and told you that he felt the same way. From that day you two started to date. 

——————————————————————

When you both graduated high school you decided to follow Kelly everywhere and owed him your life because he saved your life. You ended up going with him to the fire academy and excelling through it and had graduated as a paramedic and him as a firefighter. After graduation he had proposed to you and it was an immediate yes. 

Considering that you both had gotten engaged you both followed each other through the different firehouses and both ended up at Firehouse 51. When you got the position for a paramedic on Ambulance 61, he got his position on Rescue Squad 3 and you both were so happy. It was exciting and both were so happy.

Kelly and you had talked about kids and decided not to wait until you both were married and when it happened then it happened. You loved the thought of getting married but were happy to be engaged with the love of your life. Getting with you and getting engaged changed Kelly for the good, he stopped being a womanizer and he devoted himself to you and only you. 

——————————————————————

You both had been sleeping soundly in your own bed at your house after being off for 3 days and having a lot of fun in the bedroom trying but not really trying for a child. Your alarm had gone off at 6:30 AM and you jolted awake. When you turned over and saw the time you groaned and shut the alarm off. “Is it time already?” Kelly asked with a gravely and sleep ridden voice and you smiled and rolled over looking at him. You didn’t have to go in until 8:00 AM.

“Sadly yes.” You said and kissed him and he returned the kiss. “But hey, we'll be with each other for the next 2 days.” You said and he smiled.

“That we will, Angel.” Kelly said and kissed you rolling over to where he was pinning you underneath him. The kissing got more intense and you were planning on letting it go further but you needed to get to work before Boden had both of your heads.

“As much as I want to continue this. We really need to get to work.” You said and he bowed his head and sighed in defeat. He knew you right. 

“You’re always right.” He said and you smiled and kissed him again but he continued his attack on you. 

“Kel.” You warned but he just continued his attack on your neck and then he was inching his way down your body until he got to the hem of his shirt that you stole from him. “Baby.” You moaned out and he smirked and went lower to your underwear cover pussy. He pushed your legs open and began kissing the inside of your thighs as he slid your underwear down your legs and threw them somewhere. Then he dove straight in and your head was thrown back “Kelly!” You shouted but turned into a moan. Your hands went to his head he licked a broad stripe up your folds as his hands kept your thighs spread. He swirled his tongue around your entrance and then bit your clit gently and that had you letting out a pornographic moan. Your back arched pleasure and that rubber band feeling was creeping up a tall tale sign you were about to cum. “I’m gonna cum.” You warned and he quickened his pace and when he sucked on your clit and gently bit it again for the second time had you coming undone. “I'm cumming!” You moaned out and that rubber band snapped and you saw stars. You came all over his face and he was licking it up like it was his last meal. When you came down from your high, he was sitting up and lying next to you. You laid there for a few minutes catching your breath “That was amazing.” You said and he smiled and leaned over and kissed you, you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“Have to take care of my girl.” He said after he broke the kiss and you smiled.

“Now we have to get ready.” You said and got up. He laid there watching you. Once you had disappeared into the bathroom, he and when he heard the shower running, he got up and smirked. He stripped off his sweats and underwear leaving him nude. He walked into the bathroom and when you heard the shower door open you smiled.

“Just couldn’t stand it could you?” You asked and he smirked.

“How can? Especially knowing my sexy fiancée is in here all alone and may need some assistance.” He said and you laughed as he started to finish what you had started and then it was your turn to help him. As you were soaping him up and rinsing him off you got down to his very erect and noticeable hard on, you smirked.

“Want me to help you with that?” You asked and he smirked.

“I would never say no to you.” He said and you smiled and he helped you ease your way down once he knew what you were doing. All soap was gone and both of you were clean but you always did enjoy standing there under the hot water. Your hand traveled down to his cock and pumped it while you kissed the tip and kitten licked it and that had him moaning. “Oh, Angel. That feels so good.” He said and you smirked and took the tip into your mouth and swirled it with your tongue and then you started moving your head up and down. Kelly’s head was thrown back in pleasure. One hand went to your head and the other braced himself on the shower wall. “Angel.” He moaned out. You kept changing your speed and then you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper until he hit the back of your throat. You breathed through your nose “I’m close, Y/N/N.” He said and you knew it was true especially when your other hand that wasn’t on his cock went to his balls you felt them tightening up. What did him in was when you squeezed his cock and his balls at the same time “I’m cumming, Angel.” He moaned out and then his thick load shot into the back of your throat and you swallowed it all. When he was done you slowly drug your mouth off his cock and released him with a pop. He helped you stand up and kissed you tasting himself. You smiled at him “Thank you, Angel.” He said and tucked a piece of wet hair behind your ear.

“Anytime babe.” You said and then you both were getting out and getting ready. Once everything was ready to go you looked at your phone 7:20 AM it read and your eyes bugged out of your head. 

“What is it, Angel?” He asked when he noticed your expression.

“We’re gonna be late.” You said and he smirked. 

“Then let me drive.” He said and you groaned but agreed. You both walked out to his Jeep and he booked it to the firehouse. 7:50 AM, you had cut it close but now you felt nauseous.

“Never letting you drive again.” You said as you grabbed your bag.

“Oh, come on. I got us here on time.” He said and you just shook your head and the both of you headed in. Both of you put your bags in the locker room and went to hear the reports and once that was over your 2-day shift started. 

6 hours into your shift nothing really exciting happened, just a few small calls that didn’t require everyone to go out. You were grateful for the silent morning and not much happening because that meant you could spend time with Kelly and plan your wedding with your bridesmaids, Sylvie Brett and Grabriela Dawson and maid of honor, Stella Kidd. “So, have you picked a color yet?” Sylvie asked.

“I have 2 picked out navy blue and sage green.” You said and she nodded.

“Oh, navy blue would look so pretty.” Stella said and you smiled as you flipped through some magazines. You were mid flip when Kelly walked into the room you looked up when you saw him coming over and kissed you.

“How is my beautiful fiancée doing?” He asked and you smiled and you could hear the girls aweing at you both and you rolled your eyes at them.

“Oh hush. I’m doing well. A little bit achy from the rambunctious patient we had last call.” You said and he gave you a look “Kel, I’m fine nothing major happened and we handled it.” You said and he eased up.

“You know I want you to be safe on every call.” He said and you nodded and watched him walk over to the fridge and grab two bottles of water and something to snack on and brought it to you. You gladly accepted them.

“You two are so adorable.” Gabby said and you chuckled and made room for Kelly to sit down and then you leaned into him and started flipping through the magazine again as he fed you some of his snack. “So, you have a cake picked out?” She asked and you nodded.

“We do. It’s a chocolate strawberry cake.” Kelly said “It’s her favorite and I want her to be happy on her special day.” He said and kissed your temple. You smiled and played with your engagement ring.

“Hey it’s your day too.” You argued and looked at him.

“Yes, but to me it’s going to be all about you and celebrating you being with me.” He said and again the girls awed at the both of you and again you rolled your eyes but smiled. The wedding talk continues and Kelly put his input in. When the urge to go to the bathroom was needed you got up and he whined. “Where are you going?” He asked pouting and you turned to him.

“I have to go to the bathroom, Babe. Unless you want to join.” You said as a joke and he started to get up but you stopped him “I was joking. I’ll be back soon.” You said and he pouted again.

“Fine. I’ll miss you.” He said and you laughed.

“I’ll be right back.” You said and the girls all laughed. You went to the bathroom and as you were washing your hands the bells rang signaling for Rescue Squad 3, Truck 81, Ambulance 61, and Engine 51. It must be serious if they were sending everyone out. You quickly rushed the ambulance and he stopped you before you got in and he kissed you hard and you returned the kiss. “I love you.” You said as you hopped into the vehicle.

“I love you too.” He said and then you both got in your vehicles and then you were off to the call. The call was made by a bystander that had witnessed a gang fight had taken place and there were some casualties but also some that needed medical attention as well as a fire that had broken out due to a bullet hitting a gas tank of a car. Intelligence was also called since it was their case they were working on. You were quick to jump out when the ambulance had stopped. Boden gave orders and everyone got to work. You, Sylvie, and Gabby along with Herrmann, Otis, Kelly, Brian and Peter moved people that needed serious attention to one place and the ones that didn't move to another then the deceased to another with sheets laying over them. Intelligence and other police officers were booking left and right. You had just finished with one patient when Jay grabbed your attention. 

“Hey, Y/N! I need you over here!” He said and you rushed over with your bag. When you got there a man in his mid-20s was lying unconscious on the ground but breathing. You knelt down next to him and Jay. Jay was waiting to do anything to help.

“Sir, can you hear me?” You asked while taking a listen to him and everything sounded normal. You still hadn't gotten a response so you made your hand into a fist and rubbed his sternum. That definitely got a reaction out of him because before Jay could stop him, he had grabbed a knife that was in his back pocket and drove it first into your stomach. At first you didn't feel it and Jay was just shocked. You Felt it when the knife pulled out and found its way into your ribs. Jay took action and was quick to apprehend the person and cuff him. He called for someone to get the person off the ground and once they were gone Jay turned his direction to you. 

“Hey it's ok. You're going to be ok.” Jay said as he started putting pressure on your wounds.

“Kelly. Want Kelly.” You mumbled out and Jay nodded and looked up looking for your fiancé and when he found him, he shouted his name.

“Kelly!” Jay shouted and that caused Kelly to look up and his face drained of color when he saw you on the ground with blood and Jay trying to help. He was rushing over to get to you. 

“What the hell happened?” Kelly asked when he arrived and took over for Jay but Jay stayed close wanting to help his friends. 

“I found a guy on the ground unconscious and called her over since she was available. She was checking on him and trying to wake him up and he woke up startled and took out a knife we both didn't see and stabbed her before I could do anything. He was quick and got a second stab in.” Jay said and Kelly nodded, not mad at anyone this could happen to anyone. He knew moving someone without knowing their injuries could end up making it worse for them. 

“Kel?” You asked and he looked down and saw you staring at him with wild unfocused eyes. You looked so scared.

“I'm here, Angel. I'm here.” He said and pressed harder on your wounds. Blood was starting to seep out between his fingers. “Jay, go and get Sylvie and Gabby. Tell them it's Y/N. Tell them to bring the gurney and hurry.” He said and Jay nodded and went to find them.

“I'm sorry.” You said and Kelly looked at you confused.

“Why are you sorry?” He asked

“I didn't see the knife.” You said and he shook his head.

“Nobody could've seen it. You and Jay did the right thing in not moving him.” He said and you nodded and then you started coughing which brought blood and it was getting harder to breathe. “Hey hey, don't you give up on me yet.” He said and grabbed your gloved hand and he could feel your ring through it. He decided he needed to be skin to skin with you so he ripped the gloves off and your diamond ring was out on display for everyone to see.  “We have so many plans, Angel. Don't leave me.” He added you so desperately tried to keep your eyes open and you were winning the fight but barely. 

“Oh my god.” Sylvie gasped and both her and Gabby got to work. The commotion caught the attention of a few others and they were quick to come over. “Hey, Y/N/N. Can you hear me?” Sylvie asked and you nodded your head and looked over at her.

“Kel?” You asked, losing a lot of blood.

“I'm right here, Y/N. I'm right here.” He said and your head lolled over to look at him. Then your eyes closed and your breathing stopped. “Y/N! No no no no.” Kelly said and removed his hands and started chest compression and that kicked everyone into gear. Gabby put a pulse ox on you and connected leads to you and it showed a flatline and tears came to Kelly's, well everyone's, eyes. “Come on. Come on.” He said and continued CPR. About 2 minutes later your heart started beating again and he sighed in relief. Gabby started an IV and Kelly’s hands went to the puncture wounds again.

Everyone started talking and then you felt yourself being lifted up and onto the gurney by several people. You were moving and it felt like you were floating. Nothing was in focus and every sound was underwater. You were loaded into the back of the ambulance and then you were speeding away. Kelly never once left your side and nobody argued with him.

Getting to Med felt like forever but it was only a short 3 minutes but in those 3 minutes Kelly's world stopped again. Your heart was beating strong and then all of a sudden it just stopped. Gabby was quick to start CPR again. “If we don't get her back soon, her chances to survive are low.” She said and just as soon as the ambulance pulled up to Med your heart started again. When the doors opened there was Connor and a few nurses standing there and as soon as the gurney was off the ambulance you were being wheeled away. Talking was heard but you couldn't focus on it. Your eyes were closed. 

“Kelly, you know you can't go back with us.” Connor said

“I know. Just take care of her. Angel, I'll be here when you're done. Keep fighting.” Kelly said, bending down and kissing your forehead and then your ring. “I love you.” Kelly added as tears ran down his face and you were wheeled behind the door. Kelly just stood there not knowing what to do until Otis came behind him and grabbed his shoulders and led him to the waiting room. Before they wheeled you behind the doors, they had taken your engagement ring off and gave it to him. He looked up and saw most of everyone there but nobody said a word. He looked down at your engagement ring and just started to let tears escape. He needed you.

——————————————————————

“Alright I want a quick x-ray and an ultrasound then I want her prepped and quickly.” Conner said and everybody let him know that they understood and then they were on it. An x-ray was taken and the tech froze.

“Uh, Conner. I might want to come and take a look at this.” He said and Connor rushed over.

“She’s pregnant.” He confirmed “Someone call Dr. Manning. Tell her it is an emergency.” He said 

“On it!” A nurse said and was quick to get her on the phone. In no time Natalie was rushing into the OR, she was getting the ultrasound up and running and was quick to get it on you.

“It looks like she is 9 weeks pregnant and it looks like the knife didn’t even touch the placenta but it looks like it caught her kidney.” She said “I’ll stay and monitor the baby.” She said and Connor nodded and started giving directions out. The surgery was stressful but it was coming along great. “The baby's heart rate and breathing are great.” Natalie said just about the time your heart rate was beginning to drop.

“Heart is dropping and her breathing is labored.” The surgical nurse said and that concerned both of the doctors. Then your heart monitor flatlined. 

“Starting CPR!” Connor said and he started the chest compressions. “Come on, Y/N/N. You got a fiancé that is worried sick about you and a baby to grow and raise” he said and you must be listening because after about 3 minutes of CPR your heart started to beat again. “Ok, she’s back! Let’s hurry this and get her into recovery.” He said calmly and they finished quickly. They had to fix your lung and remove one of your kidneys but you were going to survive.

——————————————————————

4 hours is how long everyone had to wait. Your team members, who were your family, weren’t going to go anywhere especially not when one of their own was fighting for her life. Kelly was a nervous wreck and he hadn’t even said a word since he arrived, nobody was going to push him to talk. Boden had declared him off since it was his fiancée in there and that considered him family. Nobody had come out and whenever someone had come out it wasn’t Connor and his heart sank a little more each time. The plans that you two had made and planned on making were running through his head. He thought about starting a family with you and the wedding you two were going to have. As he was thinking about it all, he remembered your diamond ring in his hand, it shouldn’t be in his hand, it should be on your finger. He took one last look at it and then took his chain off around his neck and unclasped it and slid on it, he then put the chain back around his neck.

Finally, Connor came out and he stood there for a minute until he saw Kelly and the crew. He walked over to them and when Kelly heard footsteps he looked up and quickly stood up. “Connor?” Kelly asked Connor, looked at him and smiled.

“They’re both going to be just fine.” He said and Kelly looked at him shocked.

“Both?” Kelly questioned 

“Yes, Y/N is 9 weeks pregnant. I take it neither of you knew.” He said, reading the expression on Kelly’s face.

“No. We’ve been trying but not really trying.” He said and Connor smiled. “How is Y/N?” He asked

“We lost her once but got her back quickly. The knife got her kidney so we had to remove that and we fixed her lung. I’m suggesting a few weeks to a month off from work but she can do very light duty.” Connor said and everyone nodded, mostly Boden. “I can take you to her now.” He said.

“Please.” Kelly said and Connor smiled and nodded. He led Kelly the way and while he was walking past his crew, they gave him a chorus of ‘Congratulations’. They weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Kelly and Connor arrived at your room and he walked in and sat down on the chair. “If something happens, please grab one of the nurses and they’ll either page me or Natalie or both of us will be here.” He said and Kelly nodded “Oh and Kelly?” He added and Kelly looked up at him. “Congratulations.” He said and Kelly smiled and Connor was off. He was left there sitting with you and letting tears fall.

“You scared me, Angel. When I saw you lying there with Jay putting pressure on your wounds, my world stopped. Then when you stopped breathing and your heart stopped twice on the way here, it scared the shit out of me. We’re going to be parents, Angel. I don’t know if you can hear me but you, I’m so glad you chose to stay with me. I would be so lost without you. I love you so much.” He said and kissed your forehead. 

Nurses were in and out checking on you and the baby and the crew came and saw you but couldn’t stay long and Kelly understood and he knew you would understand too. Kelly wasn’t going to leave your side for nothing and nobody was going to make him and Boden understood. He wanted to put your ring back on but refrained against it because he didn’t want them taking it off again.

2 days had passed and you still hadn’t woken up but that was to be understood it helped your body heal. They kept IVs running to keep you and the baby hydrated and it had some nutrients in it to keep you both nourished from the lack of food being eaten. It was during the night when you woke up and you looked around the room taking in the noise and where you were at. Then you looked over to your right and saw Kelly sleeping. You reached a hand over and stroked his cheek which woke him up and then when he saw you were awake, he was up with a start. About that time Connor and Natalie had come and smiled. “Nice to see you awake.” Connor said and you smiled and then grimaced in pain when you tried to move. 

“Take it easy. You just had some major surgery. We also don’t want to stress the baby out.” Natalie said and you pulled a confused face.

“Baby?” You asked voice scratchy and Kelly was quick to grab the cup of water and bring the straw to your lips and you drank some and pushed it away.

“Yes, we did an x-ray to see where the knife had hit and when the baby popped up, I was called in and I did an ultrasound to confirm that you are 9 weeks pregnant. I take it you didn’t know.” Natalie said and you shook your head but smiled “Congratulations.” She said with a small smile and you smiled back.

“Thank you. We were trying for a kid but haven’t been trying very hard.” You said and she smiled.

“The knife punctured your kidney and your lung. We removed your kidney and repaired your lung. I want you to take it very easy for a few weeks and if you go back to work then it’s going to have to be very light duty.” Connor said and you nodded. He and Natalie went over a few things with you and then left. They wanted you to stay in the hospital for at least a week to make sure everything was ok and no complications and you agreed along with Kelly. 

“We’re going to be parents.” You said and he smiled and nodded then you looked down at your bare hand “Where is my ring?” You asked almost panicked and he smiled and pulled it out on his chain.

“Right here baby.” He said and pulled it off and took it off and put it back on your hand where it belonged. You let out a yawn and he chuckled. “Go back to sleep baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He said and leaned up and kissed your forehead again. 

As you fell back asleep you smiled and thought about your baby. The two of you were going to be parents and you couldn’t wait. All you could think about is how good of a father Kelly was going to make and you couldn’t wait. You couldn’t wait to marry him and raise his kid with him. The three of you were going to be one happy family and that was something worth staying for.

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[viking-raider]

Syverson Family War

Summary-> You've just gotten off a 12-hour shift at the hospital, only to return home and get swept up into a Syverson Family War, between your husband and three children.

Pairing-> Austin "Sy" Syverson/Reader

Word Count-> 3.2k

Warnings-> PG: FLUFF, Cotton Candy Fluff, Light Teasing, Soft!Sy, SAHD!Sy, Nurse!Reader

Inspiration-> This Instagram Video (If this isn't Sy vibes, idk who Sy is!)

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction!

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

You were more than excited to be home after a nearly twelve hour shift at the hospital. Your back throbbed and your feet were screaming at the top of their arches from running up and down the ER department. You didn’t even bother gathering up your tote of stuff, as you got out of your car, since you had the next two days off. So, they would wait until a two hour long bubble bath and a nap with eternity.

But upon entering your modest, two story Ranch house, you were bombarded by silence. Your eyes narrowed as they scanned the dining room to your left and living room to your right, ears pricking up for the slightest movement from the bedrooms upstairs.

Something was clearly off. It was almost never this quiet in the Syverson household.

There was always some sort of ruckus or chaos in motion. Your husband blasting music in the garage, where he had set up a small work-out area or telling off whatever game was playing on the enormous tv in the living room. If it wasn’t Sy, it was a combination of your three kids. Your two boys wrestling each other over a toy or giggles, or your daughter discovering a new, little critter from the backyard and bringing it in, before promptly losing it. Or all three kids getting into mischief with each other somehow.

But when it was silent, you knew there were real shenanigans afoot.

You drew in a deep breath, mustering what energy you had left inside yourself, for Syverson Madness. “Guys! I’m home!” You called out, swinging the front door shut with a little more strength than usual, as you moved a step deeper into the powderkeg. “What are you nuts up to?” You mumbled to yourself, moving towards the living room, still trying to keep yourself alert for any kind of trap or scare.

Little good it did, as a strong hand suddenly grabbed your elbow and yanked you backwards into the dark portal of the laundry room door, with a yelp. The hand shifted to your mouth and the door closed with a soft click.

“Ssshh.” Sy cooed at you, moving his hand away. “Gotta keep quiet, Sugar Butt.” He chuckled at you.

You could hear the smirk on his bearded face, before he clicked on the tactical flashlight he was carrying. You looked him over in the dim light, discovering him in his full Army tactical gear, minus his bare feet. He even sported his night vision goggles clipped to his helmet.

“What in the he-” You were about to demand, scanning him again, but spotted one of your son’s Nerf Rifles strapped to his back. “Give me that!” You huffed, gobsmacked, as you took the light and started checking him and the laundry room out. “Good Lord, Almighty!” You laughed, shaking your head.

He had a Nerf pistol in his thigh holster, a pump gun on the dryer, a blaster beside that, and copious amounts of ammo on the washer, with pop grenades. Which you knew were filled with either baby powder or flour from the last time a Syverson War had been declared on the house.

You looked up at your husband, bottom lip trapped between your teeth for a moment. “How long has World War Syverson Seven been going?” You asked, completely amused by how lost Sy got into playing with your kids, and how much they loved it when he did.

Sy looked at his watch. “Since just after breakfast. Myles chose violence and shot Ada in the back, while she was trying to color a picture. Tears ensued, which caused Colt to declare revenge on Myles, in Ada’s name.”

“You got roped into this, how?”

“Ada got in on it, insisting she didn’t need a man to defend her honor…”

“That’s my girl.” You chuckled, smirking.

“It is.” Sy laughed back. “But, in defending her own honor, she shot me in the leg, while I was trying to get them to chill out.”

You nodded your head, seeing all the pieces fall into place. “Which, obviously, by the Syverson Code, requires you to defend your own honor.”

“Obviously, Angel!” Sy answered, faking outrage. “You should know that, after fifteen years!”

“Fifteen years, and I’m still jotting things down in the Syverson Code of Conduct booklet!” You laughed, shaking your head, there were a lot of things Sy lived and would die by.

They were many of the things that made your heart swell with love for the burly, ex-Army vet.

“So, how do I configure into this madness?”

“You just got home from a super long shift, Sugar.” He answered, brow pinching. “You’re an innocent bystander. I just had to save you before one of those hellions out there shot you.”

“My savior.” You cooed, pushing up on your toes and kissing him. “My back and arches appreciate you.”

“The Lair is off limits, per usual.” He informed you. “We just have to make it out of here and upstairs.”

“Quite the way.” You commented, mentally mapping your and Sy’s route out of the laundry room, through the living room and entryway, then finally up the stairs and home free to the master bedroom, which was referred to as the Lair, where you could rest without having to worry about the family war.

“All right, Captain, what’s the plan?”

He gave you the Syverson wink and reached over your head, there was a sharp click and from outside the laundry room, you heard the kids’ screech. Sy had thrown the power switch to the house, plunging it into the darkness. You chuckled, smirking, understanding his tactic now.

“Stay close.” He whispered to you, clicking his ammo to his vest on, before moving to the door. “The enemy is sneaky and uncivilized.” He said, pressing his body against it, listening carefully to the other side.

“Like their father.” You mumbled under your breath with a snort, huddling yourself against his back.

“I’d say more like their mama.” Sy commented back, reaching back to pop you on the bum, then slowly cracked open the door.

You shuffled out after him, casting glances over your shoulder every few seconds. It was easy going, getting through the living room. Sy had defended it mightily throughout the day, so the kids had become shy about entering their father’s domain. You trusted Sy to protect you, from everything, your kids included. Silly as that was to think.

“We have movement at 12!” Sy called out, catching your nine year old, Myles, through his night vision in his fort, consisting of the dining table and chairs that he was hunkered down underneath, belly crawling from one end towards the other, closing the gap between himself and the entryway. “He’s under the table. A sneaky little sniper boy.” He snickered, shouldering the Nerf-AR resting against his side.

You scrunched yourself up behind Sy’s wide and muscular back as Nerf Darts started whizzing by, striking the scuffed wood floor or sticking to the walls. Both Sy and Myles laughed maniacally as they shot at each other; tossing weak insults on top of it.

“Milk drinker!” Myles shouted, hustling to reload.

“Lizard eater!” Sy shot back, smirking.

“Now, boys!” You scolded weakly, snorting.

They continued their assault, Sy guiding you towards a pocket the bottom stairs provided coming down into the foyer, allowing you to take cover and him to shoot through the bars of the steps.

“Are you hit?” You asked, playing along with the game.

“Nothing I’ll die from.” He answered, reloading his weapons. “But, you can be a good nurse and kiss them all better.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“That’s cheating!” Myles yelled out.

“Well, If I was over there, I’d do the same thing to you, Bud!” You called back, planting a kiss on Sy’s cheek, his well-groomed beard tickling your skin.

“An aid relief truce then?” Myles suggested, poking his head out from under the table.

“Certainly not!” Sy barked back, popping a Nerf dart off over his son’s head, sending him scurrying back into his fort. “She’s my nurse! I found her out wandering the battlefield, unprotected. If you wanted her to be your nurse, you should have found her first, yourself!”

“I almost did! Before you kidnapped her!” Myles huffed, hotly. “You’re holding her hostage!” He suddenly insisted. “Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll rescue you!”

“Oh my, a hostage situation.” You sighed, licking your lips. “I appreciate your devotion, son.”

“Ha.” Sy scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, boy. I’m escorting this lovely lady to the Lair.”

As Sy and Myles argued over who was going to have the pleasure of accompanying you upstairs, you caught a slight movement behind you and Sy, lurking in the darkness of the living room; moving slowly. It vanished behind the couch, and for a moment you thought it was just Aika, but when something popped up over the back of the couch, then quickly ducked down again, you were then positive it wasn’t the old girl. But your Daddy’s girl, Ada. Of all the children, six year old Ada was the most like her father. She’d been attached to Sy’s hip from the moment she left your womb. Hanging on Sy’s every word, movement and action, that sometimes it spooked you.

So, watching her stealth around in the dark of the living room was both impressive, amusing and a tad terrifying. Especially since you knew the little hellion was coming for revenge on her father and brother. There were no alliances between them during a Syverson war. You were the only ally allowed to go between the four of them. Mending wounds, mostly pretend ones, but sometimes there were real ones. Sometimes, you’d team up with one of them, to take on the other three.

“On your six! In the living room, babe!” You warned, snagging the Nerf pistol from Sy’s thigh holster as he reacted, purely by instinct, removing one of his baby powder pop grenades, tossing it behind him without looking, trusting your instruction.

Ada startled, surprised that you had noticed her, followed by a cloud of baby powder obscuring her view. She came to a halt, upon hurdling the back of the couch, in an attempt to overtake you and Sy. You took aim and fired, the Nerf dart hitting her square in the chest.

“Nice shot, hon.” Sy nodded, patting your leg, then called out to his daughter. “Sorry, Cricket, but that’s a kill shot.” He told her, his voice soft, but uncompromising.

Ada huffed, pressing her lips together. “Not fair, Mama isn’t supposed to shoot us! She doesn’t have anything to avenge!” She protested, crossing her arms.

Sy chuckled, cocking his head at her. “Mama has her own special rules in our Wars, you know that, Cricket.”

“I’ll come kiss it better, but you know Daddy’s five minute rule.” You chimed in, feeling bad about it, you honestly hadn’t meant to hit her, it was just a lucky shot.

But rules were rules. You could go and kiss her boo-boo better, allowing her to enter the War game again. However, Sy had made a rule that anyone hit with a Kill Shot had to be dead for at least five minutes, before you could render aid to them.

“All right.” Ada sighed, before flopping to the floor with a dramatic sound.

“Where were we?” Sy asked, then nodded. “Right, Myles, kindly allow me to escort my Nurse upstairs.”

“No deal, Pops.” Myles replied, shaking his head.

“Can I just go upstairs on my own?” You asked, peeking at your son through the spindles of the stairs.

Myles was quiet for a moment, considering. “Only if I get to keep you to myself for an hour!” He finally answered.

“Oh, he drives a hard bargain, that son of yours.” You teased Sy, tickling the back of his neck.

“That he does.” Sy agreed, shivering, as he brewed over Myles' offer. “You can have her for thirty minutes!” He negotiated with him.

“Thirty minutes!” Myles barked in outrage.

“You have to go to bed in two hours, boy!” Sy reminded him.

“So, give her to me for an hour!”

You smirked and pressed your palm to the base of Sy’s neck, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear, so only he could hear you. “Let him have me for the hour, Austin. I’ve been gone for twelve hours, and they have to go to bed in two. It’ll give me a little bit of time with them.” You reasoned with your husband. “We’ll have all night together after they're asleep, and the next two days, when they're at school.”

Sy nodded, rubbing his lips together. “You’re right.” He whispered back to you. “All right, you can have her for an hour, after you let her go upstairs and do what she pleases.”

A muffled yes came from the dining room. “Deal! You’re free to come out, Mama!”

“Thank God! I have to pee really bad.” You chuckled, kissing Sy, before scurrying out of your hiding place with him and started up the stairs, as you reached the top, you wondered where your middle child, Colt, was.

The seven year old was oddly missing in action the whole time the rest of you were battling and negotiating downstairs. As you reached the top, a cry filled the air, startling the life out of you, before a fury of Nerf darts peppered you all over.

“COLT!” You howled at the boy, dashing for your bedroom door and taking cover behind it.

“Colt Nero Syverson!” Sy’s voice called up the stairs. “You know the rules about firing upon your mother!”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” Colt’s soft voice whimpered in the dark to you. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s fine, little man.” You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Just mind yourself.”

“Okay, Ma.” He smiled, ducking back into his hiding place; his room.

“Oh, this family.” You sighed again, closing the door and rushing for the en suite, tugging off your shoes as you went. “Ooo.” You cooed, enjoying the feeling of the icy tile on your bare, throbbing feet.

Bladder empty, you splashed some cool water in your face, then got out of your nursing scrubs, replacing them with a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top. You laid down on your and Sy’s enormous bed, dozing off for a couple minutes before getting back up to fulfill the promises you made to Ada and Myles.

“Colt, I’m coming out, please don’t shoot me.” You called through the crack you opened in the bedroom door.

“Okay, Mama!” He called back.

Coming out of the room, you stood at the top of the stairs, but frowned and turned, heading down to Colt’s room. “What are you doing, buddy?” You asked, peeking around the doorframe, seeing he had made a little barricade and was hunkered down behind his bed. “Why haven’t you come down to challenge your dad, brother and sister?”

“Oh, I have, Ma!” He answered, his smile showing off the two front teeth he lost a month before. “I’m just waiting for the most opportune time to go back downstairs to finish off whoever is left.” He sat up on his bed a little more, eyeing you. “How many of them are left?”

You smirked at him, slyly. “You know I’m not allowed to give away information to someone, especially if I’m not teamed up with them, little man.”

“Poop.” He huffed, slapping his mattress and sitting back. “Do you wanna be on my team?” He asked, hopeful.

“Sadly, your Papa had to bargain me off to your brother for an hour, so I could go to the Lair and change.” You informed him, giving him a sympathetic smile. “But, how about this? When it’s bedtime, I’ll come and read to you, whatever you want.”

“Eragon!” He gasped, enthralled again.

“Deal.”

“Deal!”

“All right, wee man, if I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you at bed time.” You cooed at him.

You headed back downstairs, pausing on the middle landing. “I’m coming downstairs, don’t shoot!” You announced to Sy and Myles.

“All clear!” They both called back.

You joined them downstairs, finding them just as you left them.

“Mommy, can I be alive again?” Ada called to you from her spot behind the couch.

“Yes, love, I’m coming right now to fix your boo-boo.” You replied, crossing the entryway and leaned over her, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “There, sweet girl. All healed and alive again. Off you trot. Why don’t you watch a movie on your tablet, until bedtime?”

“Thanks, Mama!” She giggled, hugging your waist, then ran off.

With your daughter resurrected, you joined Myles in the dining room, and despite the soreness in your body, got under the table with him. “Just you, Colt and your Papa now, big man.” You told him, propping your head up on your hand. “Tough crowd.”

“But I got you, Mama.” Myles countered. “You can heal all my wounds.”

“Mm, that I can.” You nodded, casting your eyes past the table legs and made out Sy’s outline. “But, that’s about all the energy I’ve got for you. Bringing your sister back to life took a lot out of me. So, I can’t help you fight either of them.”

“That’s fine. I can finish them.”

You reached out and brushed your fingers through his tamed, black curls. “I have all the faith in the world in you, my sweet boy.” You cooed at him, lovingly.

“Moooom!” He groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Time’s wastin’, kid!” Sy called out.

“You stay here, mom. I’m gonna sneak around.” Myles said, wiggling back up the table towards the back entry of the kitchen.

“I’ll be here.” You replied, propping your head up on your hand, eyes drooping for a moment.

At least, you thought it was for a moment, until you felt a pair of strong hands grab your ankles and yanked you out from underneath the table, startling you awake from the nap you dozed into.

“Jesus.”

“Naw, just me, Angel.” Sy grinned, helping you up.

“Where’s Myles?” You asked, rubbing at the sleep in your eyes and noticing he wasn’t in his tactical gear anymore, but just a pair of shorts.

“Out cold in bed.” He answered, steadying you with his hands on your hips.

“But…” You frowned, glancing at the stairs over your shoulder.

“Colt came down not long after Myles tried sneaking around me through the kitchen.” Sy explained to you, a proud little glint in his blue eyes. “Took out both of us, the little rascal.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “We found you asleep and they understood you had a long day, and would spend time with them tomorrow, after they came home from school.”

You pressed your forehead against his chest. “What in the world would I do without you?” You cooed, sighing heavily.

“I don’t know what we would do without you.” He replied, encasing you in his muscular arms and resting his chin on top of your head, rocking gently. “Let’s go to bed, love.” He whispered, scooping you up off your sore feet and carried you upstairs, to bed.

You moaned softly, sinking into the mattress as Sy tossed the blankets over you and kissed your temple, before joining.

[kenziesimsblog]

SIMS 3 HIGH SCHOOL STEROTYPE LEGACY

hi guys! I decided to make my very own legacy for sims 3! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

some traits are repeated because they fit!

GEN 1-EMO

you never really fit in when you lived in your small town so as soon as you became a young adult you moved to the bustling city where you began a new alternative band.

traits - over-emotional, loner, virtuous, shy, and night owl

lifetime wish-rock star

career- music

requirements

must fall in love with another emo. -must name kids after alternative band members / singers, albums or songs.

must have fun colored hair. -must have piercing (s)

dye hair at least 3 times during each life stage

must complete lifetime wish.

master guitar skill

start a band. -must be close to bandmates

perform every or most gig you get. -reach level 5 celeb status

GEN 2-POPULAR

you are the exact opposite of your parent but hey when you're the kid of a famous band member you're bound to be popular.

traits- diva, irresistible, social butterfly, party animal, and flirty

lifetime wish- super popular..

career-any

requirements must have 2 best friends. choose either being a mean popular or a nice one. throw tons of parties be in at least 3 relationships before finding the one. marry the nerdiest person. master the charisma skill. don't lose any friends. chat with friends at least once week have at least 1 boy and 1 girl

GEN 3-NERD

your parent always taught you to be yourself and to show how smart you are!

traits - genius, bookworm, socially awkward, eccentric, and loser

lifetime wish- perfect student

career- scientist requirements always have an "A" in school go to university. earn your degree with a perfect GPA. earn a scholarship. be a strict parent. if kid has lower than a yell at them meet your partner in university. make kids have daily chores. make kids have curfew of 7. master logic skill master inventor skill

GEN 4- THE CLASS CLOWN

your parent was super strict and you vowed to never be like them

traits good sense of humor, rebellious, easily impressed, inappropriate,and friendly.

lifetime wish- distinguished director.

career- director

requirements have a bad relationship with your parents. have a "D" in school. always pull pranks on school and home become a director for comedies (pretend) master street art skill have at least 1 girl steal partner from someone else

GEN 5- HORSE GIRL

horses, horses, horses that's all you talk about traits - equestrian, loves the outdoors, ambitious, athletic ,and lucky

lifetime wish- the jockey

career- none all your time is spent with horses

requirements have a horse as a child. must be female. have at least 2 horses ride them every day. marry a cowboy/cowgirl. enter racing. live in a farmhouse. master riding skill have 1 kid that you have a bad relationship with.

GEN 6-BULLY

your mom only paid attention to her horses and not you resulting in a bully

traits- evil, mean spirited , grumpy, brooding, and coward

lifetime wish- ceo of mega corporation

career - business requirements be hated by everyone. have one "friend" that is a sidekick. get pregnant or impregnate a one-night stand. have baby in your household. co parent with one night stand even though you hate it. marry one night stand at middle/end of adult life. have one more child/ or multiples before you reach elder status. at least perform two mean actions a day

GEN 7- GAMER

your parents didnt care what you did they spent to much time hating each other so what better way to distract your self then video games

traits- couch potato, computer whiz, heavy sleeper, night owl and loner

lifetime wish- blog artist

career - video game developer

requirements attend university to master nerd social group. drop out when maxed nerd group. marry college sweetheart. cheat on college sweetheart with person you met online. have one kid with college sweetheart.

have more with new partner play video games every day. run a blog about games. master logic skill

GEN 8- THEATER KID

you spent all of your childhood watching plays dreaming one day it would be you

traits- star quality, natural born performer , hopeless romantic , dramatic, and ambitious

lifetime wish- superstar actor.

career- actor

requirements name kids after real life actors woohoo 5 celebs. complete lifetime wish. get pregnant by 3 different celebs. have at least 3 kids have a bad reputation. ruin your reputation at least once. never get married. spoil your kids.

GEN 9- JOCK

you lived in a booming town with a big gym where you spent most of your time

traits- handy, athletic, vegetarian, green thumb, and daredevil

lifetime wish- become a superstar athlete.

career- athletic

requirements master lifetime wish. be a vegetarian. have a garden of healthy vegetables. workout everyday max gardening skill max handy skill max athletic skill meet partner at gym. have a big family (4 kids)

GEN 10-ARTSY

traits- artistic, avant garde, adventurous, perfectionist, virtuoso

lifetime wish-master of arts

career- self employed artist

requirements master guitar skill master painting skill travel to different countries for inspiration meet partner in another country. perform for tips. sell paintings. at least always have one animal in house house is very colorful. do photography on the side. master lifetime wish. go out with family every holiday.

be sure to tag me in posts if you decide to play!