#and i hope you one day meet someone who gives you that warm feeling inside
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the days are long, the days are hard [h.s]
word count: 4.5k
after a long, excruciating week at work packed with bad news, all you want is your husband, harry.
(inspired by one of my moots that has had a rough few days, hope this brings some comfort!)
warnings: none, just fluff!
Your week started off roughârougher than most, in fact. The kind of week that clings to your chest like damp fabric, making it hard to breathe and even harder to find the energy to push through.
Monday was everything youâd expect a Monday to be: sluggish, jarring, and unforgiving. Getting back into the groove of things at the office after a much-needed holiday break felt like trying to climb uphill in heels on black ice. Your inbox was flooded, your calendar double-booked, and your brain resistant to the demands of corporate life. The fluorescent lighting overhead seemed brighter than usual, glaring down at you as though it wanted to mock your every misstep.
By Tuesday, the headache that had been brewing since the start of the week blossomed into a full-on throbbing migraine. You powered through with your phone glued to your ear, making calls and leaving voicemails to important individuals who somehow never seemed available. The phone grew slick in your clammy hands, and you found yourself gripping it tighter as though that would keep it from slipping away along with your patience.
Wednesday hit like a freight train. You walked into the office, already dreading the growing to-do list, only to be blindsided by the news that youâd be giving not one, but two speeches at back-to-back meetings. Meetings that you didnât even know existed until that very moment. You had smiled through clenched teeth and nodded at your boss, silently berating yourself for not anticipating this kind of curveball. The weight of your own expectations pressed heavily on your shoulders, making the simple act of breathing feel like a chore.
Meanwhile, Harry was a ghost in the rhythm of your week. He left before the sun rose, his coffee cup rinsed and drying in the sink by the time you wandered into the kitchen each morning. By the time he returned home, long after the sky had surrendered to darkness, youâd already have dinner waitingâhis plate warm, yours half-empty. Conversations were quick and superficial, exchanges of how-was-your-day glossed over in favor of tired smiles and heavy eyelids.
Friday arrived, and with it, the chaos of the city seemed to mirror the storm inside you. Your phone buzzed incessantly in your purse, vibrating against the side of your hip as you weaved through the swarm of New Yorkers hustling to get wherever they needed to be. The cold January air stung your cheeks, and the weight of your tote bag dug into your shoulder as you dodged elbows and briefcases. You muttered an apology to someone who bumped into you, though you couldnât bring yourself to look up from the sidewalk until you reached the revolving doors of your building.
Once inside, you let out a sharp exhale, your breath fogging up the glass as you took a moment to compose yourself. Tugging at your blazer, you smoothed it over your pencil skirt before running your fingers through your hair, trying to tame the frizz that had been building from the morningâs commute. Your heels clicked sharply against the marble floors as you made your way to the elevator, the sound echoing faintly in the open lobby.
âHi, Martha!â you chirped at the receptionist, flashing her a smile that felt paper-thin.
âMorning! Good luck today!â she called back cheerfully, though her voice felt like it was coming from underwater.
You loved her, truly. She was one of the few people in the office whose presence didnât add to your stress, but today, you could barely muster the energy to respond with more than a quick wave. Your nerves had been stretched to the breaking point, and your usual confidence felt like it had been replaced by quicksand.
If it had been any other day, Harry wouldâve held you the night before, grounding you in the warmth of his arms as he peppered light kisses across your face. He wouldâve whispered words of reassurance into your temple, his voice low and steady as he reminded you of just how capable you were. His hands would have found the curve of your back, his thumb tracing soothing circles into your skin until your worries melted into the sheets.
But last night, you hadnât let him in. Despite his gentle prodding and his furrowed brows that silently begged you to confide in him, you had brushed him off with excuses of being overtired. Youâd told him about your unreasonable bosses, blaming your frustration on the endless pile of work. He didnât believe youâHarry never did when it came to half-truths. He knew you too well.
Heâd pressed his lips into a thin line, his silence carrying the weight of his concern, but he had let it go, probably sensing you didnât have the energy to delve into your worries. And maybe you should have let him, but you couldnât bring yourself to add to the weight he was already carrying. With two employees down at his job, heâd been shouldering triple the workload, yet he still came home each night with that same lopsided smile.
You thought about the time, three years ago, when you asked him how he managed to leave the stress of work at the door. His answer had been so simple, yet it had stayed with you ever since.
âBecause,â heâd said, pulling you into his arms, âat the end of the day, no matter how bad it gets, I get to come home to you. And that makes everything else feel small.â
The memory brought a faint smile to your lips, even as you stepped into the elevator and prepared yourself for another long day.
You sighed as the elevator dinged softly, floor by floor, the sound seeming to echo in the confined space. It was a rhythmic, monotonous chime, yet it only heightened your sense of dread. Fishing your phone out of your purse, you let the leather strap slide from your shoulder and settle in the crook of your arm. The screen lit up immediately, bathing your face in a cold glow, and a notification blinked persistently at the top. A voicemail.
Your stomach tightened when you saw the name attached: Martin Mayer-Harvey. The name alone carried weightâa man whose influence stretched across six major publishing branches, a figure both revered and feared in the industry. His voice had been a beacon of hope during your one-on-one interview, one you had approached with equal parts trepidation and determination.
Harry had been ecstatic when you first told him about the opportunity. Heâd grinned so wide his dimples had cut deep into his cheeks, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he pulled you into a celebratory hug. âThis is it,â heâd said, his hands cradling your face. âThis is the door opening for you, babe. And youâre going to crush it.â Heâd even gone the extra mile to send recommendations on your behalf, his faith in you unwavering.
But now, standing alone in the elevator, the air felt thick with foreboding. With a swipe of your thumb, you tapped the notification, bringing the phone to your ear as you turned the volume up. Another ding. Another floor.
The voicemail played, Martinâs voice smooth and clinical, like velvet stretched too thin.
âMrs. Y/N, thank you for your time and the professionalism you demonstrated during your interview. I regret to inform you that you have not been selected as an employee for this upcoming year. Nothing personal, it just comes down to the finer thingsâsuccesses and ethics, and all. Thanks again. Your time was appreciated.â
The words hit you like a gut punch. Your stomach churned, a nauseating wave rolling over you as your breath caught in your throat. Not selected. You repeated the phrase in your mind, the syllables heavy and jagged, cutting deeper with every repetition. Successes and ethics? What did that even mean? Was he saying you werenât accomplished enough? That you lacked whatever intangible quality he deemed essential?
You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat refused to go away. When youâd shaken his hand after the interview, his words had brimmed with promise, his smile so genuine youâd dared to believe the position was yours. Yet now, the sterile tone of his voicemail made you feel like just another name crossed off a list.
The elevator dinged again, jolting you out of your spiraling thoughts as the doors slid open with an indifferent hum. The bright fluorescent lights of the seventh floor spilled in, harsh and unforgiving, making you squint as you stepped out into the long hallway. Blinking rapidly, you shoved your phone back into your purse, gripping the strap tightly as if it could somehow anchor you.
Your heels clicked against the polished tiles, the sound sharp and deliberate as you forced yourself to move forward. The walls, painted a dull beige, seemed to close in on you with every step, the air growing heavier as you approached your office.
When you finally stepped inside, the familiar scent of stale coffee and printer ink greeted you, a small comfort in an otherwise dismal moment. Dropping your purse onto the desk with a dull thud, you leaned against the wooden frame, your fingers curling around its edge as if it could keep you upright. Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as you closed your eyes, willing yourself to regain control.
The weight of disappointment pressed down on you, a suffocating heaviness that made your fingers tremble as they tightened around the wood. You hated this job. Loathed it, really. What had once been a golden opportunity now felt like a gilded cage. Five years of grunt work had left you disillusioned, the spark of ambition dimmed by endless busywork and little recognition. You had learned, yes, but at what cost?
Your thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the door swinging open, followed by a brisk knock. You didnât need to look up to know who it was.
âLetâs go,â your boss grunted, his voice clipped and devoid of warmth. A briefcase dangled from his hand as he nodded toward the hallway. âYouâve got work to do.â
The meetings were as grueling as youâd anticipated. Standing in front of the room, under the scrutinizing gaze of your colleagues, felt like being trapped under a spotlight. The projector whirred faintly as you fumbled with the remote, your palms damp as you flipped through slide after slide. Words stumbled out of your mouth, tangling together as your nerves got the better of you. Every time you glanced at the room, the blank faces staring back only made your stomach twist further.
You kept replaying Martinâs voicemail in your head, the words looping like a broken record, distracting you at every turn. The disappointment, the humiliationâit all burned, settling low in your gut like a stone.
By the time the meetings ended, you could barely muster the energy to exchange handshakes, your smiles forced and brittle as you bid everyone a good day.
You checked the dainty watch on your wristâa delicate silver piece Harry had gifted you on your one-year anniversary. It read 5:30. You sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you snapped your case closed on the meeting table.
âWhat happened out there?â your boss asked, his tone sharp and unimpressed. His gaze swept over you, narrowing slightly as though he could see every crack in your armor. âI thought you were prepared.â
You gave me just under two damn days, you thought bitterly, though the words never left your lips.
Instead, you offered a tight-lipped apology. âIâm sorry. It wonât happen again. I let myself get distracted.â
Your boss lingered for a moment, his eyes scanning your face before letting out a quiet âhm.â He turned on his heel and left without another word.
The breath youâd been holding escaped in a shuddering sigh. The weight of the day bore down on you, your muscles aching under the strain. All you wanted was to go home. To take a long, scalding shower and let the steam wash away the tension clinging to your skin. To crawl into bed, pull the covers over your head, and pretend for a moment that the world wasnât so heavy.
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
The hot water cascaded over your skin in steady rivulets, steaming against the cool tiles and filling the bathroom with a dense, comforting warmth. Each droplet hit your shoulders and back with a soothing rhythm, dissolving the tension knotted in your muscles from the weekâs troubles. You leaned forward slightly, pressing your palms against the wet shower wall, letting the stream ripple through the strands of your hair and drip down to your toes. The scent of pomegranate and shea butter from the body scrub filled the air, sweet and creamy, wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.
You had gotten home just over half an hour ago. The house had been quiet, the kind of stillness that usually greeted you on Fridays. Harryâs car was absent from the driveway, as expectedâhe always stayed late at the end of the week, wrapping up whatever loose ends needed his attention. The emptiness of the house had been neither comforting nor unsettling; it simply was. Youâd set your bag on the kitchen counter, slipped off your heels, and headed straight for the shower, bypassing the bedroom entirely.
Your clothes lay in a careless heap on the tiled floor, a small pile of the dayâs exhaustion. Youâd scrubbed at your scalp with your fingernails, washing your hair thoroughly not once, but twice, as if doing so could cleanse not just the grime of the day, but also the weight pressing on your mind. You busied yourself with every task you couldâshaving over every inch of skin, exfoliating with the grainy scrub until your arms and legs felt soft and raw, then lathering up with the matching body wash, its silky foam sliding over your skin before being washed away in swirling streams.
When the water finally stopped, you stood for a moment in the silence, the air heavy with steam and the faint aroma of your products. You wrung out your hair with practiced motions, droplets splattering onto the shower floor as you reached for the towel. With a flick of your wrist, you flipped your hair forward and wrapped it into the plush fabric, the soft pink standing out against the misty haze. Another towelâthis one a little coarserâwas pulled from the rack, and you pressed it to your damp skin, blotting and drying before wrapping it securely around your body.
The bathroom was your sanctuary for the next hour. You took your time moving through your routine, dabbing on lotions and serums, brushing out your hair, and slipping into a pair of soft, oversized pajamas. The familiar scents of lavender and coconut oil mingled with the lingering steam, grounding you as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your heart still carried the same heaviness it had since hearing the voicemail, a quiet ache nestled in your chest. But now, it felt distantâmuted, like background noise to the slow hum of your movements.
By the time you left the bathroom, the house felt cooler, the air outside the warmth of the shower almost brisk against your skin. You padded down the hallway barefoot, the soft patter of your steps swallowed by the carpet. The living room was dimly lit, the glow from the TV casting flickering shadows against the walls. You curled up on the couch under the throw blanket, its weight comforting as it settled over you. Your comfort show played softly in the background, the familiar voices blending seamlessly into the quiet. A well-loved book rested by your side, its pages slightly worn, ready to pull you in if you felt like retreating further into your own world.
Around seven PM, the sound of the front door opening broke the silence. The subtle click of the latch, followed by the rhythmic clack of Harryâs work shoes against the hardwood floor, was a melody you didnât realize youâd been waiting for. His keys jingled briefly before landing with a soft clink in the bowl by the door, and the heavier thud of his briefcase settling onto the dining table made your heart lighten just a little.
Relief bubbled in your chest, warm and effervescent, as you shifted under the blanket. Your arm hooked around the back of the couch, your head tilting to look over your shoulder as Harry rounded the corner. The sight of him brought an instant smile to your face.
He was still in his work suit, the sharp lines of his dark grey blazer and slacks softened by the slight dishevelment that came with a long day. The plain black button-up underneath was unbuttoned at the collar, and the sleeves were cuffed up just enough to reveal his wrists. His hair was slightly mussed, a few strands falling across his forehead.
His lips curved into a familiar, easy smile when he saw you, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he lifted a bag of takeout into the air. âI brought takeout,â he said, his voice warm and teasing as he walked over to you. âFigured tonight was one of those nights.â
Your chest swelled with gratitudeâ he knew you so well. He always had.
You murmured a quiet thank you, your voice soft and a little worn, and let out a contented sigh as he sank onto the couch beside you. His arms wrapped snugly around you, pulling you close as the weight of the day melted away. You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest as his familiar scentâ something clean, woodsy, and uniquely himâ enveloped you. His nose brushed against your damp hair, and the warmth of his presence grounded you in a way nothing else could.
For the first time all day, you felt like you could finally exhale.
âYou smell good, baby.â Harryâs voice was a soft murmur, his accent thick and lingering in the air like honey, each word wrapped in warmth. His large hands splayed across your back, their weight grounding you as they roamed gently over the sleek fabric of your pajama set. His touch was tender, deliberate, as though he was trying to smooth away the burdens of your day. You melted into him, your arms winding around his torso, clinging to him like he was your lifeline. The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around you, blending seamlessly with the faint aroma of soap lingering on your own skin.
Your face nestled into the crook of his neck, the warmth of his body radiating into yours as you fluttered your eyes shut. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath your cheek, his heartbeat a gentle, soothing rhythm that seemed to lull your own into sync. Being here, in his arms, felt like finally exhaling after holding your breath all day.
Harryâs lips pressed into a small frown, the pinch of his brows betraying his concern. His hands, broad and steady, paused on your back, giving your shoulders a reassuring squeeze before he pulled back slightly to study you. One hand slid beneath your chin, his touch feather-light but firm, guiding your gaze up to meet his.
âWhatâs wrong, baby?â he asked softly, his green eyes searching yours with an intensity that felt like he was looking straight into your soul. His voice was gentle, but the concern etched into his expression made your chest tighten. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone in a slow, comforting stroke, its warmth grounding you even as you struggled to hold his gaze.
You let out a small, weary sigh. âMeetings,â you mumbled, though even to your own ears, the excuse sounded thin. Still, you nuzzled into his touch, seeking comfort as your words trailed off.
Harryâs hand cradled your jaw now, his thumb continuing its soothing path along your skin. His other hand found its way to your bare thigh, his palm warm and steady as it swept up and down, brushing lightly under the hem of your sleep shorts. His touch was instinctive, effortless, but it carried with it a deep well of care that threatened to unravel you.
âYou donât get this worn and torn over meetings, love,â he said quietly, his voice like a low hum of thunder, steady and grounding. âIs there something else?â His green eyes held yours, steady and unyielding, like a comforting fire that wouldnât burn but would warm you to your core.
Your lips parted, but the words caught in your throat. You sighed again, this time deeper, your shoulders slumping under the weight of it all. His hands never waveredâ one cupping your face, the other continuing its soothing rhythm against your thigh.
Finally, you spoke, your voice trembling with a mix of sadness and resignation. âThat job at Mayer-Harvey completely fell through,â you admitted, your breath hitching as the words spilled out. âHe said... he said I wasnât qualified enough, not accomplished enough, just⌠not enough.â The words felt heavier the more you said them, the ache in your chest twisting a little tighter.
Harryâs frown deepened, the lines on his face etched with quiet frustrationâ not at you, but at the world that had made you feel this way. His thumb stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle sweep across your cheek. When your gaze dropped to your hands, which were busy fiddling with the edge of his blazer, he tipped your chin back up with tender insistence.
âBaby, you know thatâs not true, right?â His voice was firm but still soft, his words laced with conviction. âNone of it. He doesnât know an ounce of what heâs talking about.â
You shook your head slightly, your brows furrowing. âH, he owns six different branches. I would say heâ.â
âNo.â Harryâs voice interrupted gently but firmly, his head shaking in disagreement. âJust because he owns them doesnât mean he knows how to work them. I can guarantee you, in two months, heâll realize just how badly he messed up by letting you go. Heâll regret it, love, because no one brings what you do to the table.â
Your lips wavered into a faint pout, sadness glazing over your eyes as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. âI just⌠I have to keep looking, I guess. Maybe I wasnât meant to work there anyway.â
âBut you damn sure wanted it,â Harry said, his voice softening, though the conviction in his tone remained. His hand on your thigh paused to squeeze lightly before resuming its gentle strokes. âAnd you deserved it. Y/N, Iâve seen your work. Iâve seen how dedicated you are, how much effort you put in, even when itâs for a company that doesnât deserve you. And I know,â he paused, leaning a little closer, his eyes locking onto yours, âI know youâd pack a bigger punch for a company thatâs actually worth it.â
His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, slowly loosening the knot of doubt and hurt in your chest. Maybe he was right.
You nodded slowly, your fingers tracing the lapel of his blazer as you whispered, âI really wanted it, H.â
âI know, baby.â His voice was soft, his lips brushing against your forehead in a kiss that was as much a promise as it was an act of comfort. He kissed the bridge of your nose next, lingering there for a moment. âBut donât worry, darling. Weâll find you something betterâ something that deserves you. And listen, if you want to leave that job now, Iâd be more than happy to support us. All I want is to take care of my girl. Thatâs it.â
Harryâs hands framed your face, his thumbs stroking softly against your cheeks as he looked at you with an intensity that made you feel seen in a way no one else could make you feel. Then, slowly, he leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss so gentle, so tender, that it made your heart swell and your worries ebb away.
With Harry by your side, it didnât matter what the world threw at you. His unwavering support, his patience, his loveâ it was all you needed.
âNow câmon,â he murmured, pulling back just enough to press another kiss to your forehead. âLetâs have dinner, yeah?â
You spent that night cooped up under his arm, the fabric of his suit soft but slightly wrinkled from your cuddling. Neither of you cared. All that mattered was the comfort of being close, the way his steady heartbeat became your lullaby as the hours ticked by. The movie played quietly in the background, but neither of you was paying much attention. Harryâs fingers absentmindedly traced little patterns along your arm, while you nestled deeper into his side, letting his warmth soak into your skin.
When dinner was done and the plates had been set aside, Harry stood, stretching dramatically before grinning down at you. âDonât move a muscle,â he teased, his green eyes crinkling with affection as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head.
He took care of the cleanup, tossing the trash and rinsing the dishes with that same effortless grace he did everything else. You watched him from the couch, your heart swelling as he moved around the room, sleeves rolled up, that signature Harry charm shining through even in the simplest of acts. He looked over his shoulder to catch you staring, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips. âWhatâre you looking at, huh?â
âYou,â you said softly, your voice carrying a warmth that made his smile widen.
âGood answer,â he chuckled, before walking over and scooping you up effortlessly. You let out a small squeal, laughing as he carried you bridal style toward the bedroom. âCâmon, love. Time for a proper cuddle.â
Once in bed, Harry wrapped you up in his arms as if he never wanted to let go. The suit jacket had long been tossed to the side, but his tie still hung loosely around his neck, a detail that made you smile. His hand found its way to your hair, fingers combing through the strands with a tenderness that melted away the last of your worries.
âBy the way,â he murmured, his voice soft and low, âI took the next few days off.â
You pulled back slightly, looking up at him in surprise. âYou did?â
âMmhm,â he confirmed, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. âFigured my girl needed me more than work did. And honestly, I needed this too. Just you and me for the weekend. Sound good?â
You nodded, your smile spreading as you snuggled closer, your hand resting against his chest. âSounds perfect.â
Harryâs arms tightened around you, his lips brushing against your temple. âGood. Because I wouldnât have it any other way.â
And as you drifted off to sleep in his embrace, the weight of the world seemed to disappear, replaced by the quiet, unshakable love that only he could give.
#harry styles#harry#styles#harry fic#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fluff#harry styles writing#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles one shot#fanfiction#harry one shot#one direction#one shot#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x yn#harry x reader#harry styles fandom#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fiction#harry styles au#harry styels x reader
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I love how this goes hand in hand with another post I found.
Always doing anything BUT treating toxic women as abusers worth every callout and no defense.
Men who admit when theyâre sad and let you hold them are so strong and absolute treasures.
#abuse is abuse#abuse tw#reblogging again and again#i wish this would stop being relevant. some real heartless folk in the world.#for any man reading this; you are NOT and NEVER will be the exception to find love with someone who cares about you dearly#and i hope you one day meet someone who gives you that warm feeling inside#men. always understand that. i'm there for y'all.#how bitter and lonely some jerks are...#valentine's day is coming up. so this is doubly important.#reading this can help spot red flags before it is too late#especially from women who claim to wave none#abuser logic#emotional abuse tw#mental abuse tw
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actually dying for a cooper howard x vaultie!reader smut where they have some slow burn longing steaminess, but coop thinks sheâs too good for him UNTIL she comes in contact with a sex pollen-esque chem and he finally gives in to save her 𼾠please work your magic and elaborate however you want
A Flame in Your Heart
Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)
CW: NSFW like absolutely filthy yâall, youâve been warned. đ unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, p in v, p0rn w/ plot, slow burn, flirting, cursing, perverted thoughts, dub-con (because of chem usage though consent is asked and given!) rough sex, dirty talk, choking, praise kink, degradation, squirting, mention of fingering, FEELINGS!! Slight deviation from TV series, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, cooper starts off mean but slowly warms up to reader
AN: I absolutely LOVED this request! I was up all night writing down all my ideas and spent all this morning perfecting it, and this has to be my longest one yet! I thank you for your patience anon and my lovely readers as I finally post this! Hope you enjoy and that I have done your ask justice! â¤ď¸
Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways youâd never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, youâd never felt so alone. You werenât sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasnât until youâd passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didnât take kindly to people like you. âVaultiesâ she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. âIâll be going then, have a nice day!â You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you werenât sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.
âI ainât no charity case sweetheart, I donât take on straysâ The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. âThe dog there with you tells me otherwiseâ you quipped. âAinât my dogâ he responded harshly as he continued walking. âI can make it worth your while!â You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. âAnd how you suppose youâd do that?â He asked, and at first you didnât know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? âWellâŚI can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuffâ you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. ââf I wanted a pack mule Iâdâve found a brahmanâ he shot you down. âOkay, then I can be good company to talk to!â You offered. âThey make radios for when I want to listen to someone yackâ he shut down once again. âIâm a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew thatâd put a smile even on the meanest son of a gunâs faceâ you said, hopeful that heâd at least take you for something, but you had a feeling heâd probably turn you down again. âIguana on a stickâs just fineâ he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. âOh, ummâŚâ you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.
âGot a lotta nerve walkinâ up tâ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ainât met dangerous yet, youâre lookinâ at someone who could put you down before youâd even mutter your last wordsâ he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. âI know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. Iâm new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same wayâ you explained. âLook, I know I donât look like much but please just give me a chanceâ you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. âYou help me, I help you, however that ends up beingâ you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didnât see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. âAlright, but the minute you start dragginâ youâre out, got me?â He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. âOh thank you, thank you, thank you!â You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. âI donât do hugsâ he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where heâd drop the gun back to his side. âR-RightâŚsorryâ you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. âCâmon, I ainât got all day nowâ he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.
Your travels with him certainly werenât at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time youâd traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you werenât prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why youâd ever left the comfort of the vault, why youâd abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasnât riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasnât unclaimed. Youâd gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than youâd talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you werenât great with a gun, but you were getting there.
âMight I suggest takinâ them clothes instead of wearinâ that suit?â He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. âWhy would I do thatâŚ?â You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. âBecause, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here donât like vaulties or the ones that run âemâ he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.
Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing heâs had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldnât manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. âAinât no use if the cold gets yaâ he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. âThank youâ you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. âDonât say I never did nothinâ for yaâ he replied, trying to sound cold but it didnât come off that way, making you chuckle. âWhat do I owe you?â You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. âJust keep watch for a bit, Iâll be up in a few hoursâ he responded, and while it wasnât what you were expecting, youâd take it.
He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didnât seem to like that very much, claiming that wasnât how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. âWell would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payinâ off after all. Howâs it feel?â He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. âHe was yelling at me butâŚhe was aiming at you. I donât really know what came over me, I didnât like that he was going to shoot you so I justâŚI killed himâ you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadnât seen it himself. He didnât really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. Youâd just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time thatâs passed since? He wasnât sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. âGet some rest vaultie, sunâll be up soonâ he said, knowing you likely wouldnât get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.
When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You werenât some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.
When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as youâd smiled sweetly at him. âGlad to know I donât have germs anymoreâ you said jokingly, making him chuckle. âGive an old man some credit. It ainât exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlinâ, even cute can be deadlyâ he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing itâs just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldnât quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. âJust teasinâ you, I get it. Iâd tie me up and use me for bait too if Iâd been doing this as long as you have. Itâs a shit hole out hereâ you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word heâs ever heard from you. âWell Iâll be damned, either Iâm a bad influence or youâre finally growinâ outta that naive shell there, vaultieâ Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one youâd seen in a while that wasnât brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. âProbably bothâ you quipped, making him chuckle. âYeah, probably. Been told I ainât easy to stomachâ he said, making you hum. âYouâre alright in my book, Coopâ you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? âYou ainât so bad yourself, vaultieâ he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. âKeep making food this good and I just might have to keep you aroundâ he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. âItâs not much but I certainly try. Iâll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with youâ you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?
âHey, if it isnât too much can I ask you a sort ofâŚpersonal question?â You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasnât here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasnât been so on edge with you, it was like heâd warmed up to you. âDepends on what youâre askinâ there, sweetheartâ he said, the nickname once again making you blush. âDo youâŚmiss them? Your wife and daughter?â You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasnât sure. âAinât a day that goes by that I donât think about âem. About the way I ran out on âem when them bombs droppedâ he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open heâs been with you this whole time. âI feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runninâ out and leavinâ âem behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryinâ tâ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ainât sureâ he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things theyâve done in the past that they arenât proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. âWell, in the short time Iâve gotten to know you, Iâve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I donât think you should blame yourself for doing soâ you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if youâd opened something in his mind, something heâd never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didnât flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldnât. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. âGuess youâre right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to makeâ he replied. âI understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that weâve done before in regret, itâs what makes us humanâ you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. âYou got anybody?â He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. âAn ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..â you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what youâd asked of him to share. âSorry tâ hear thatâ Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. âI havenât exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?â You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. âHe was the fool, not you darlinâ. He was the one skippinâ out on one hell of a womanâ Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.
âThanksâ you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, youâd been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. âOh my gosh, Iâm so sorry! I didnât mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-â ârelax vaultieâ he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. âItâsâŚrather nice actuallyâ he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. âThen there it can stayâ you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.
Months passed on like this, where youâd spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way youâd hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way youâd go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. Youâd helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights thereâd be so much tension in the air, itâs a miracle you havenât jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. Youâd been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didnât need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didnât kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didnât look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed thatâs where the term âopposites attractâ came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.
Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache youâd both ever laid eyes on. âCoop! Come here, you gotta see thisâ you said, making him run towards you to make sure you werenât hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. âTell me Iâm not seeing shitâ you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. âWell ainât that just the prettiest fuckinâ sightâ he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. âThis is the closest fuckinâ thing to a slice of heaven Iâve seen in agesâ he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldnât speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. âYou said it!â you replied, and itâs even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. âHoly shit, this thing still works?â You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. âGuess soâ he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. âI dunno about you baby doll, but I ainât about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittinâ here ân front of usâ he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.
In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasnât the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka heâd found to wait for it to take effect. âThe hell is DN?â He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. âDonât know, guess weâll find out here soon because I took twoâ you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. âYou come a mighty long way, little ladyâ he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There werenât any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldnât be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. âShit, itâs hot as hell in hereâŚâ you complained, shaking off your jacket that youâd picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. âLightweightâ he quipped, making you chuckle. âAccept I donât feel anything, I just feel hotâ you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. âGive it some time, youâre new to all this. âm sure your body is wonderinâ what the hell you just put in itâ he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.
As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldnât help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldnât stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. Youâd rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. âBeen awful quiet. You doinâ alright over there, sweetheart?â Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. âIâm so sorry, I donât know whatâs gotten into me all the sudden. I feel soâŚweird?â you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. âYa took some chems, itâs gonna feel a bit fuzzyâ he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didnât feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldnât grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. âNo, this is differentâŚI donât think what I took was a normal chem, CoopâŚâ you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. âI feel like an animal in heatâ you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. âI ainât ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?â He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.
âHey, ya with me still?â He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. âIs that DN shit the only thing you took?â He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing heâd never heard of before. He knew it wasnât the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadnât.
It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tinâs lid. âShit..â he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. âDid you read the lid before you popped them pills?â He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldnât get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. âThere was instructions?? Oh my godâŚwhat the fuck did I take?â You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. âSomethinâ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like itâs aâŚwell looks like itâs a handmade sex chemâ he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, youâd never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. âPlease tell me youâre fucking joking, cooperâŚâ you whined, watching him read it more. âHow much of it did you take?â He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. âTwo?â You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. âFuckinâ hell sugar..â he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. âYouâre only sâpossed take one, and with you beinâ new tâ all this, I wouldnât have taken more than halfâ he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. âFuck meâŚwait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean Iâd like if you did butâŚFUCK! Forgive me Cooper, Iâm so sorry, I can hardly think straightâ you said, making him chuckle. âWell sweetheart, I think you and I both know thereâs only one good fix for this situationâ he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you werenât the only one all worked up here. âI donât want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-â you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.
âI wonât lie tâ you, doinâ this with you has passed my mind more times than Iâd care to admit, but I donât wanna cross that line unless you really want thisâ he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. âCoop, I know Iâm under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, Iâd be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if Iâm honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you donât fuck meâ you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. âThat so sugar?â He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. âGod yes, Cooper please..â you begged, nearly moaning in reply and heâd spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. âGood, because I donât think Iâd be able to hold myself back once weâve startedâ he said, and the idea made you moan. âDonât want you to hold back, want all of youâ you said, and your wish was his command.
By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, youâd already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. âYes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!â you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldnât stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. âDoinâ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whoreâ he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. âYeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?â He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasnât a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. âNever knew such a sweet lilâ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. FuckâŚenough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?â he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing youâd pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. âMy, you are just a little freak, ainât you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honeyâ he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. âCooperâŚâm so close, so close please!!â You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. âGo on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you makeâ he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. âOh fuck, oh fuck Iâm gonna cum again, I-â you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. âWell ainât I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and sheâs a gusherâ he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. âHoly shit, I-I didnât know I could do thatâ you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. âDo it again for meâ he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. âNow thatâs a damn good sightâ he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.
Itâs a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooperâs side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. âMorninâ sunshineâ he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. âMorningâ you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. âAinât that a pretty sightâ he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. âLast night was definitely something, canât believe youâve been holding all *that* out on meâ you joked, making him give a dry laugh. âCould say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. Youâre a wild thing to party with, lilâ ladyâ he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. âYouâre fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. Iâm sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plansâ you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. âDrunk words are sober thoughts they say, so Iâd say I made out pretty good. But donât sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but itâs good to know I ainât as hard to stomach as most people sayâ he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. âI think you are just perfect, Cooperâ you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore heâd do anything to see pointed his way.
âYou really wanna be my girl?â He asked softly, sounding shocked and with some self doubt still lacing his tone, but he had to be sure this was what you wanted outside of the drugâs effects. He cared for you deeply, in a way that he hasnât felt in a very long time, but maybe you were just the right person for him to finally open his heart up to. His question made you giggle as your heart fluttered in your chest with excitement. âI absolutely do, I meant it when I said it last night, I mean it just as much now. I think weâve danced around it for long enough, donât you?â you replied, making him smile the most genuinely happy smile youâve seen him wear since youâd met. âJust checkinââ he said, before laying a sweet kiss to your lips, wishing every morning could be like this one. Maybe it could, now that you were here with him.
#fallout x reader#fallout smut#fallout#cooper howard smut#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard#sole survivor#cooper howard x you#the ghoul#the ghoul smut#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul x you#asks
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Girl, since you mention the OP dilfs, I would LOVE to see some headcanons or something about either how they flirt with you or when they realize they like you đđđ
you can add who you like but Iâm begging for Shanks and Mihawk â¨đ§đ˝ââď¸
hi!!!!! I went with 'realising they like you, and I actually added most of the dilfs. hope you enjoy đ¤¤đ
âŠâË.ââžââşââ§âŠâË.ââžââşââ§âŠâË.ââžââşââ§âŠâË.ââžââşââ§
Realising He's In Love | âĄ
characters: beckman, buggy, crocodile, dragon, mihawk, shanks, smoker
cw: fem!reader, crocodile's is suggestive,
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Beckman
Beckman realises his love for you on a random cold morning.
It's a very rare calm day aboard the force. Beckman, sitting in a chair on the deck, listens to those of his crewmates who are awake this early, navigating around the ship. He hears your voice humming a pretty tune. He hears the clanking of pans in the background, giving away your location.
When he enters the kitchen, he sees you dancing around and helping yourselves to Lucky Roux's ingredients.
âWhatcha doing?â he asks. He laughs as you jump, startled by his interruption.
âIt's kind of chilly out, and you were running a little cold this morning, so I'm making us some nice warm breakfast,â you say, adding ingredients to a pan. Your desire to take care of him warms him up enough already. He walks up to you and wraps his arms around your waist. He buries his face into your neck as he hums in response. The domesticity of it slaps him in the face. A warmth spreads through his body. He understands, in this moment, what it is to truly love someone, but he'll keep it as his little secret for a while longer
âŠâŹ âË.âď¸ââžââşââ§
Buggy
Everyone is so mean to him. All his life, he's been treated poorly. Then he meets you; you're a subordinate of Mihawk's that he's brought along to the cross guild. Mihawk is a solitary creature, so the fact he keeps you around must mean you hold some value to him. This fact scares Buggy; it makes him distrust you, even if you're so kind to him.
You talk to him gently, offer to pour him drinks when he stops by Mihawk's tent and patch him up when his two business partners beat him down. At first, he thinks you have alternative motives, that this is a ploy, and you're going to hurt him in some way. Then, he thinks you're patronising him and taking pity on his poor soul.
It takes Mihawk stomping his boot down a little too hard, which causes you to step in and beg your boss to back off, to make him realise you genuinely care about him. You standing up to Mihawk despite what repercussions it may have is the day he realises that he doesn't ever want you to leave.
âŠâŹ âË.âď¸ââžââşââ§
Crocodile
He's pretty into you from the beginning, but he doesn't fall quickly. You're a colleague, a hard worker, and he likes you. He takes you to many galas and events and proposes that the two of you should work together more often. That leads to the two of you being tangled in the sheets, and Crocodile makes it clear to you that this ârelationshipâ is sexual in nature and nothing more. You're fond of the man, but you keep your feelings to yourself. Until one night when he needs to take his stress out and finds himself unable to be rough with you.
He doesn't lay your back against his sheets, doesn't flip you onto your front and squish your head into the pillows. Instead, in a move that baffles you, he asks you for a kiss. You oblige, seated on his lap on a soft velvet sofa. His hook caresses your leg, keeping you pressed to him while his hands explore you. You gently ask if he's ok, careful not to anger the beast beneath you. He nods, moving his kisses down to your neck. He feels it in his heart, his chest crumbling from the inside as he bares it to you with every kiss placed on your skin.
He laughs at himself as he remembers telling you this was nothing more than sex. What a fool he was.
âŠâŹ âË.âď¸ââžââşââ§
Dragon
Dragon and you are dating, and you have been for a while. He's quite frankly terrified of love. He's been there once, and it didn't work out for him. He takes things slowly with you. Every late-night talk and comforting hug in the privacy of your room pulls his heart deeper and deeper.
He realises just how deeply in love he is when he sees you standing with Koala, giving her some advice. Your heart is what attracted him to you in the first place. Seeing you so readily help other people makes him realise just how strongly he feels about you. He more than loves you; he admires you. He approaches you as Koala leaves, looking much calmer than she did before.
âIs she ok?â
âShe's fine, honey. Are you ok?â It's a simple question of concern, but it still has his heart squeezing in a way he's never felt before. He kisses you softly, hoping the action will convey his feelings properly.
âŠâŹ âË.âď¸ââžââşââ§
Mihawk
He's very straightforward and to the point. He knows what he wants. He realises he likes you pretty much immediately after meeting you.
The first time he meets your eyes from across the bar, he plans to take you back to your home, entertain you and leave you before you wake the next morning. Then he strikes up a conversation with you, and everything changes.
âCan I buy you another drink?â he asks, sliding into the seat next to you.
âPlease don't, this cheap wine tastes like shit. I could probably use this as a truth serum against my enemiesâ You bite, smacking your lips together at the bitter taste. Something about your attitude lights a flame in Mihawk. He's found a kindred spirit in you. A fine woman with a fine taste. Now he's intrigued by you, suddenly struck with a desire to know more.
So he starts talking to you about wine. There's no flirtation in his words, no exaggerated flattery or innuendo. He asks about you, divulges very little about himself and then tells you he found you interesting. He asks if you'd like to go home with him and see his much more impressive collection of wine. Of course, you accept. He lets you break open a well-aged bottle, drinking happily with you.
âŠâŹ âË.âď¸ââžââşââ§
Shanks
Oh, he's pathetic, actually. Everyone else realises before he does. He denies it with every fibre of his being. You've known each other for a long time. Every time you touch him, talk back to him, even look at him, his heart stirs. He has to tell himself the tightening of his chest is just the drink catching up to him.
After a night of drinking and joking, you go off to bed. When you part with your captain, you're so drunk that you don't even realise what you're doing and press a goodnight kiss to his cheek. You cart yourself off to bed, tiredly waving at your crew. You go to sleep, completely oblivious to the fact that Shanks is currently turning the colour of his hair while Yasopp and Roux tease him for it. Beckman gives him a look that says, âI told you soâ.
âI'm not in love with herâ, he groans as he's hit with flashes of all the times you've made his heart skip a beat. â I just think she's beautiful, smart, talented, fun andâ he pauses his sentence when he realises he's rambling, rambling about you. âI'm in love with her,â he sighs, putting his head in hand. What kind of captain falls for his crewmate?
âŠâŹ âË.âď¸ââžââşââ§
Smoker
Smoker doesn't realise until it's almost too late. The two of you are co-workers and have known each other for years. While working together, an enemy you hadn't noticed takes a shot at you, and Smoker puts himself in the line of fire. The bullet hits his ribcage, and enough of the soldiers under his command help him away to be seen by a doctor.
Seeing that bullet fly towards you had every missed opportunity to kiss you, cycling through his brain. He moved to save you, knowing it would harm him because he realised at that moment he would rather die than spend a single minute without you. He needs you to eat, breathe and sleep. He convinced himself at one point that you two were just inseparable friends, but the singular bullet in his torso had the truth bleeding out of him.
When he wakes up from surgery, you're sat in his hospital room, asleep in a chair next to his bed. His busy heart relaxes, seeing you safe and sound. He considers the bullet a silent vow of protection. A vow he will never break.
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thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading. comments and reblogs are appreciated âĄ
tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn @quanxifangirl @mythicallystupid
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#one piece x reader#fem!reader#shanks x reader#mihawk x reader#crocodile x reader#buggy x reader#smoker x reader#dragon x reader#benn beckman x reader#monkey d dragon x reader#sir crocodile x reader#buggy the clown x reader#op x reader
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American Boy | Logan Sargeant x Celeb! Reader
Summary: When Logan finds out this his celebrity crushâs celebrity crush is HIM!! He freaks out. Thankfully, the internet (and Oscar) manage to do most of the work for him.Â
Warnings: Swearing. Fluff
Requested: No. I just love Logan Sargeant
I put an embarrassing amount of effort into this one, especially that letter. 2024 season
F1 Masterlist
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
user1 girlies, who is this logan sargeant and how is he managing to make our girl smile like thatÂ
â user2 heâs an f1 driver. yn grew up watching f1 and is still a huge fan of it
â user3 a vroom vroom guy! the shameÂ
user4 i canât believe these came out in the same week???Â
â user5 the universe is aligningÂ
user6 okay but i donât think any of us would recover from them dating. theyâre both so hot liked by yn_official_ln
â user7 omg omg omg she liked the tweet
â user8 @/logansargeant look at this!!Â
user9 okay but i really hope that somebody showed yn that episode of team torque because she loves f1 and i feel she would die
â user10 babe, if logan is her celeb crush, what makes you think she hasnât watched it herself? liked by yn_official_ln
user11 can we all take a moment to admire how calm yn was in her interview though. she admitted sheâs had a crush on a guy since she was like 17 and didnât even blush
user12 okay but ynâs liked tweets section is going to send logan into cardiac arrest
user13 @/logansargeant shoot your shot, dude!Â
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
yn_official_ln just posted
liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others
yn_official_ln vroom vroom what an exciting day. a huge thank you to mclaren for inviting me into their garage. i canât put into words how amazing it was to be inside an f1 garage, and the whole team were warm and welcoming. (iâm still convinced these two are dating though???)
1,778 comments
user1 someone check on logan please? is he still alive?
â user2 no because the way he just stopped dead in the middle of the paddock when he spotted her walking with oscar and lando
landonorris right, iâve told you like 10x now. we are NOT a couple. he just looks at me that wayÂ
â oscarpiastri whoa, donât act like youâve not been caught giving me the goo goo eyes too
â landonorris goo goo eyes? who taught you that!
â yn_official_ln that wouldâve been me when i was showing him the photo i took of you looking at him with goo goo eyes
â landonorris i take it back. i donât want you to come again next weekend
â yn_official_ln but i already booked my ticket :(Â
â user3 i fear logan may have passed away
 williamsracing perhaps we could poach you into our garage next time?Â
â user4 logan ghost wrote this
â yn_official_ln would i get an ls2 cap to go with it?
â logansargeant you can have mine liked by yn_official_ln
â user5 they interacted!Â
â alex_albon iâm hoping he wonât see this because itâs hidden within comments but logan wonât stop giggling at his phoneÂ
danielricciardo it was so great to meet you. i didnât know it was possible for one person to do so many different voicesÂ
â yn_official_ln give me time to watch some interviews and i bet i can do you by silverstone
â danielricciardo i donât think logan would appreciate that
â yn_official_ln omg! no! not in that way! i think iâve made it clear that aussie drivers arenât my typeÂ
â arthur_leclerc what about monegasque?
â yn_official_ln not american, not for me liked by logansargeant
â user6 i love how bold she is! logan, go for it! She has literally announced to the entire world on multiple occasions that sheâs into youÂ
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
yn_official_ln just posted a new story
logansargeant just posted a new story
oscarpiastri just posted a new story
yn_official_ln just posted
liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and others
yn_official_ln exciting things coming soonÂ
1,650 comments
alex_albon i thought we were friends. you can tell me right? new movie? new album?
â yn_official_ln as my friend, i can tell you that you already know
â user7 new boyfriend
georgerussell63 whatâs all this then
â landonorris george admitting heâs not cool enough to be included in the inner circleÂ
â yn_official_ln donât pick on him. thereâs pics of him looking like amelia airheart on the internet, heâs suffered enough
â georgerussell63 @/logansargeant why do you like this one
charles_leclerc the news is that sheâs an ambassador for lec ice cream
â yn_official_ln deal but only if i can meet leo
user8 okay but all the f1 drivers being here makes me think something
â user9 sheâs been in the paddock and went to a few garages. i think sheâs made friends with a lot of them
williamsracing just checking that weâre still on for sunday?
â yn_official_ln like i would miss the british gp
â lilymhe youâre going to be in silverstone? omg, iâm freaking out. alex, why didnât you tell me!Â
â alex_albon yeah, sheâs racing instead of me liked by logansargeant
user10 miss rabbit has fainted
francisca.cgomes i was not familiar with your game. i need you to kiss ME like thatÂ
â pierregasly pardon? you better not come anywhere near alpine on sundayÂ
â alex_albon like logan would let her leave williams
user11 logan liking but not commenting? do we think heâs actually died upon seeing that yn has a boyfriend?
â user12 hear me out. what if heâs the boyfriend
â user13 babe, i think youâre as delusional as he was for thinking he had a chance. nobody has a shot with their celeb crush, even if youâre semi-famous yourself
â yn_official_ln wait, so i donât have a shot with my celeb crush either?
â oscarpiastri i think your celeb crush would let you step on him if you askedÂ
â user14 i love that the grid are exposing logan being down bad for our girlÂ
ââââ ŕźťđĽ¸ŕźş ââââ
logansargeant just posted
liked by jensonbutton, arthur_leclerc and others
logansargeant silverstone complete. amazing support this weekend. and an amazing effort from the team
995 comments
user1 where can i get that jumper
â yn_official_ln etsy x
â user2 um, maâam are you admitting thatâs your jumper?
user3 iâm sorry but did anyone else see logan kissing someone who looked an awful lot like yn after he realised he was almost in the points???
â user4 and we all know she was in the garage that weekendÂ
â user5 fans caught video footage of her hugging him, and he just folded into her in shock, his helmet was still on and everythingÂ
alex_albon i donât think this counts as a soft launch after you were caught on camera in front of millions
â logansargeant iâm trying my best, okay!Â
â yn_official_ln youâre doing amazing babyÂ
â user6 miss yn, are you even trying to hide it
â user7 she kissed him on live tv, iâm gonna go with no
â yn_official_ln have you seen his face? you would too
â logansargeant âşď¸
lilymhe thank you for bringing my new best friend to silverstone
â logansargeant you canât have her
â yn_official_ln i only came for you @/lilymhe
â lilymhe you, me, run away into the sunset together?
â alex_albon whoa, hold on a second
oscarpiastri mate please tell me youâre not attempting to soft launch
â logansargeant it was the plan but somebody ignored the plan
â yn_official_ln oops? itâs not my fault youâre too cute to ignore
yn_official_ln just posted
liked by oscarpiastri, williamsracing and others
yn_official_ln somehow i managed to get a date with THE logan sargeant. i think i have ultimate rizz
1,839 comments
oscarpiastri no, you both just have a really good friend. youâre welcome
â yn_official_ln whoa, i can get bitches on my own
â logansargeant i canât so thank you, oscar
â mclaren i think you mean, thank you mclaren. we sent the letterÂ
logansargeant babe, you got more than a date
â yn_official_ln youâre right. iâve had six months worth <3
â logansargeant and i look forward to even more
landonorris and it was all too much for little logan sargeantÂ
â landonorris mate, why do your legs look so long
â logansargeant @/yn_official_ln this is why i told you not to post that oneÂ
â yn_official_ln but you look so baby girlÂ
â landonorris ha!Â
alex_albon stop trying to make him look good at sports. i kicked his ass at table tennis
â yn_official_ln yeah and i kicked yours. and stole your girl
â lilymhe you tell him, boo!Â
â user8 yn really said donât insult my princess
â logansargeant she just called me her beautiful princess so thanks for thatÂ
user9 when they say people died, and itâs a pic of logan sargeant kissing his celeb crush. i am people
â yn_official_ln i also died because do you see how passionate this man is
â user10 no need to rub it in (i love you)
danielricciardo i see a gentleman who respects a good hat
â yn_official_ln heâs letting me live out my cowboy fantasiesÂ
â danielricciardo you know what they say, save a horse
â yn_official_ln yeehaw!
â logansargeant is this why pr are calling me?
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"It's All Your Fault, Isn't It?"
Yan! SatoSugu x Reader Sum: You've had the chances, why didn't you take them. In the end you'll always just lose the purest of love. Last part of: Can my friend join?, This is Love, Right? ** Can be read as standalone fics** TW: Yandere Behaviors (Obsession, Manipulation, etc), Death of Child Character, Blood, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Depression, Dubcon, Lactation, Pregnancy themes, SatoSugu, Angst No Comfort. MDNI WC: 7.7k
A/n: I got supperrr stuck in the loop of editing, so I am just gonna post it, I feel like rereading it after the tenth time. I almost just pressed delete lol. :) enjoy!
Itâs all your fault, isnât it?
You did this to yourself. You should have walked away when the chance was there, when the door was still open, even just a crack. You should have screamed, fought, runâanything to reclaim a sliver of your freedom.
But you didnât.
You stayed.
Was it the security? The comfort of knowing youâd never struggle to pay bills or scramble to find work? Was it the way Satoru promised, over and over, that youâd never go unloved, never feel the ache of loneliness again?
Or was it something darker? Something you couldnât quite admit to yourself?
You told yourself it was love. You told yourself you were lucky. How many women could say they had someone whoâd give them the world? Someone who, with a flick of his wrist, could bend the rules of life itself to ensure you had everything you could ever need?
So, you stayed.
Even before Suguru became part of the equation, you stayed. You even stayed when Satoru would come home in the dead of night, his footsteps a faint echo through the silent halls before his hands found you. Youâd stir from your sleep as he pulled your panties down with barely a word, his breath hot against your neck.
There was no tenderness in those moments, no loveâjust need. A raw, consuming need he claimed you had to fulfill. And you let him, didnât you? You let him push inside you with barely any preparation, your body yielding to him because he knew it so well.
Satoru knew the places that made you crumble, the spots where your body quivered, the way your breath hitched when his fingers grazed just right. He knew you better than you knew yourself, didnât he? His movements were deliberate, practiced, the wet noises filling the room a cruel testament to how thoroughly heâd mastered you.
Youâd given him permission. He reminded you of that often, didnât he? That youâd said yes. That he worked so hard, carried so much, and that this was his right. That he had needs only you could meet.
And you understood. You always understood.
After all, he was the strongest, wasnât he?
So, you let him use you.
Like a doll.
Youâd lay there, staring at the ceiling, as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his loud groans of release cutting through the stillness. A pathetic little whimper followed, muffled by the darkness, as he spilled himself inside you. And then, as if the act meant nothing, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, murmured something soft and indistinct, and rolled over to his side of the bed.
You stayed there, silent and unmoving, the lingering heat of his body beside you doing nothing to warm the cold ache between your thighs.
Thatâs when the thought would creep in. A sick, unwelcome whisper:
You didnât even climax.
You hated yourself for thinking it. For letting it matter.
But still, you stayed.
Was it fear that held you there? Or was it hopeâa desperate, foolish hope that one-day things would change? That one day, every day would feel like those rare, sweet moments when he pressed teasing kisses against your lips before dragging you out to get sweets. That heâd touch you with love, with the tenderness he so effortlessly showed to othersâwhen he wasnât breaking them apart piece by piece with that same teasing grin.
And now, looking back, you canât decide whatâs worse: that you didnât leave when you had the chanceâŚ
Or that part of you still doesnât want to.
You stayed, even when the small arguments started. The little spats about wanting him to open up more, to share pieces of his life with you, the pieces he always kept hidden. Perhaps it was selfishâmaybe even naĂŻveâbut you wanted to know why he loved you.
Really, truly loved you.
But you never asked.
You saved that question, tucking it away deep into your heart, right alongside the cracks that had already started forming. You told yourself it wasnât the right time. That maybe he wasnât ready. That you shouldnât push. Instead, you focused on the good times, clinging to them like lifelines.
Because they were good, werenât they?
What other guy would give you the world like Satoru did? What other guy would bring you flowers every weekâa different color each time, sometimes traditional, sometimes exotic, but always beautiful? What other guy would shower you with affection so openly, so shamelessly, pressing kisses to your skin, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded?
Satoru had told you he loved you. And maybe he didâin a way that wasnât entirely built on desire, the need to keep you within his grasp, or the insatiable craving to hold you close for the rest of your days.
Thatâs what you told yourself, anyway.
Thatâs why you stayed.
Even when Suguru came into the pictureâwhen those dark, calculating eyes lingered on you just a moment too long when his quiet, honeyed words wove themselves into your life like threads binding you to a tapestry you couldnât escapeâyou stayed.
You had the choice, didnât you? You could have said no. You could have walked away.
But you didnât.
You stayed, and now there was no one else to blame.
So, truly, it is all your fault.
However, your heartâs at fault too, isnât it? For leaning into Suguru's touches, craving his warmth, even when you knew deep down that he was a cruel and awful man. A man who veiled his darkness in sweetness, wrapping it in gentle words and tender caresses that made you doubt your own truths. He was a master of contradictionâsoft hands and sharp edges, honeyed lies hiding an iron grip.
You could have left.
You could have said no to the whole relationship, shut the door before it ever opened.
But you didnât.
You stayed.
You told yourself that maybe this was the best you could hope for, the best kind of love someone like you deserved. Because it was love, wasnât it? They loved you. Even if it was conditional. Even if you had to give and give, piece after piece of yourself, just to receive a sliver in return.
Love comes in many forms, after all. And this was love.
Or so you continued to convince yourself.
This is what you deserve. That you should have listened to your gut, back when every touch felt too heavy, too lingering, too much. Back when their words seemed to wrap around you like chains instead of promises. You should have left before the walls around you closed in. Before you realized that leaving wasnât just difficultâit was dangerous.
You had your chances, didnât you? If only youâd taken them.
You knew Satoru would tear the world apart to find you if you ran. Heâd find you, no matter where you went, no matter how far. But⌠would he really?
If youâd left early enough, maybe it wouldnât have been like this. Maybe it would have been nothing more than a bad breakup, a lesson in heartbreak youâd recover from in time. Maybe, if youâd left after Suguruâs return, Satoru would have leaned on him instead of spiraling further into obsession.
But you didnât leave.
You stayed.
Such a stupid, stupid girl.
And yetâŚ
It was never just about them, was it?
Because you craved love too, just as much as they did. You wanted it desperatelyâso much that you ignored the warnings in your heart, the creeping dread in your chest. You wanted to be loved, to feel wanted, to belong to someone in a way that was absolute, undeniable, and unshakable.
And thatâs exactly what they gave you.
But love like thatâit came with a cost.
And you paid for it in silence, in submission, in the pieces of yourself youâd never get back.
So now, here you are, locked away in the beautiful Gojo estate. A place so grand it should feel like a palace, yet it suffocates you like a gilded cage. Every corner gleams with wealth and power, every surface reflects the life youâre supposed to be grateful for.
The maids donât meet your eyes.
To them, you arenât Satoruâs wife. You aren��t a partner. Youâre something lesser.
A pet.
Because you arenât the one ensuring the estate runs smoothly while Satoru is away on his endless missions. That responsibility doesnât fall to youâit belongs to Suguru, doesnât it? Heâs the one in charge. He holds the reins, commanding the household with a quiet authority that leaves no room for question.
And you?
You remain.
The pet. The wife. The child-bearer.
Barefoot and pregnant, with a swollen belly to show for it, you shuffle through the estate like a ghost. Your body aches, weighed down not just by the child growing inside you, but by the chains of a life you canât escape.
Suguru sees to it that the estate runs like a well-oiled machine, all while maintaining his title as the second strongest. His responsibilities never seem to tire him, never seem to dull his devotion. If anything, they only make him more overbearing.
He adores pampering you.
He drapes you in the softest blankets, ensuring youâre always warm. He dresses you in the finest clothes, silks and satins that cling to your growing belly, showcasing the proof of your usefulness. He loves the way your independence has been stripped away, loves the way youâve been forced to rely on him for everything.
When did you become so dependent?
When did you start accepting his affection like a loyal dog, start leaning into the way his rough, calloused hands would trace the curve of your stomach? When did you start craving the way heâd gaze up at you with that lovesick smile, his voice low and honeyed as he murmured sweet words about the future?
âI hope the baby looks like Satoru,â heâd say, his eyes dark and soft as they met yours. Then, after a pause, âI hope itâs a girl.â
The words always made your chest tighten, made your stomach twist.
You know he must miss the twins.
Itâs not just the weight of their absenceâitâs the way heâs filled that void with this child, this unborn life. You can see it in the way he touches you, the way he watches you. Heâs more excited about this pregnancy than you are.
And thatâs the cruelest part, isnât it?
Because to him, this isnât just a child. Itâs a legacy. A purpose.
To you?
Itâs another chain.
And yet, you hate how loving he is. How heâs always there to hold your hair back when youâre bent over, heaving in the dead of night. How his large, warm hands find every knot in your aching limbs, massaging away the tension with a tenderness that makes your heartache.
Itâs cruel, how gentle he can be. How he disarms you with care just when you think you might muster the strength to fight back.
Thereâs a constant mantra in your mind, a desperate hope that the baby wonât resemble either of them.
Because the thought of seeing their features reflected back at you stirs a fear too heavy to bear.
The thought of seeing their features reflected in those tiny, innocent eyes is terrifying. It brings the fear that every decision will feel like a mistake, that allowing any of this to happen will become an unbearable regret.
You tell yourself you hope, but itâs hard to ignore the possibility, isnât it?
What if the child inherits Satoruâs piercing blue eyesâso crystalline they seem otherworldly, glowing even in the faintest light? The same eyes that burn and freeze you all at once, stripping you bare and exposing every secret, every hidden part of you.
Even his grinâboyish, sharp, too wideâlingers in your mind. A grin that could charm and cut in the same breath, leaving you unsure whether to lean closer or step away. What if that grin appeared on a smaller, softer face, just as devastating?
Or worseâwhat if the baby inherits Suguruâs gaze?
Those dark, soulful eyes that pull you in like the tide, gentle at first glance, inviting even, but hiding endless, churning storms beneath their surface. Eyes that promise escape is not an option. Unlike Satoruâs, Suguruâs smiles are quieter, softerâbut no less dangerous. His smiles feel deliberate, like theyâre slipping past every defense you didnât even know you had.
Would the baby inherit Satoruâs arrogance? Suguruâs patience?
Or worseâwould the child inherit both of their possessiveness?
The thought makes your skin crawl.
But the fear doesnât end there.
Because itâs not just about the baby, is it?
Itâs about you.
About how theyâve already carved themselves so deeply into your soul that you canât even imagine a world without them. You hate that truth. Hate the way it festers inside you, a bitter root growing into every part of you.
You hate Satoruâs smirk when he strides into the estate after a mission, brushing off the exhaustion and blood as if itâs nothing. How he towers over you, his white hair catching the light in a way that seems almost ethereal, his fingers tilting your chin up with a mock tenderness that makes your breath catch.
You hate how he always knows exactly what to say to make you crumble, his voice dipping into that teasing lilt that makes your heart flutter in spite of yourself.
And Suguruâoh, you hate how he lingers. How his touch lingers. His hands are always warm, always deliberate, tracing paths across your skin as if heâs claiming you, piece by piece. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a silent reminder that you are his, that you belong to him. His voice, low and soothing, is a cruel contradictionâa balm against your nerves, even when his words are laced with quiet threats you pretend not to hear.
You hate them.
You hate the way they consume you, the way theyâve woven themselves into the fabric of your life so tightly that even your thoughts feel tangled in their presence.
And yet, as you sit in the vast, lonely expanse of the Gojo estate, the weight of your belly grounding you, you know the truth.
Youâre not just afraid of the baby looking like them.
Youâre afraid of what that child will mean.
Because if they look like Satoru, with his arrogance, his fire, his brilliance, how will you deny the pride swelling in your chest? How will you stop yourself from feeling that flicker of awe, even when you know you shouldnât?
And if they look like Suguru, with his quiet strength, his steadfast devotion, how will you deny the love? How will you stop yourself from melting beneath those familiar eyes, from imagining them crinkling with joy or softening with affection?
You canât.
And that's horrifying.
You wonât be able to ignore how Satoru has changed, how heâs become softer, more attentive in ways that make it harder to hold onto your resentment. How he lingers closer to you than he ever did before, as if the mere distance between you might undo something fragile inside him.
How heâs started resting his head in your lap as you sit together in the serene gardens, his white hair catching the sunlight like spun silk, almost ethereal. His long lashes cast soft shadows over his cheeks as his half-lidded gaze flickers up to meet yours, brimming with a tenderness you donât know how to process.
He murmurs lazy words of affection, his voice low and warm, the kind of sweetness that drips like honey and sticks to your skin. His fingers trace absentminded circles on your thighs, soft patterns that feel far too intimate, far too easy.
And you hate how much you crave it.
You hate the way his presence soothes something raw inside you, even when you tell yourself it shouldnât.
You hate how heâs begun helping you with the small, intimate things you wish you could keep to yourself. Like the unbearable ache in your swollen breasts, the pressure building so much it leaves you trembling, whimpering in pain. How he doesnât hesitate, doesnât even ask.
The way Satoru's lips wrap around you with loud, deliberate suckles, the sound echoing in the quiet as he eases the pressure with almost clinical precision. He doesnât flinch. He doesnât falter. His hands grip your hips to steady you, his thumbs pressing reassuring circles into your skin.
You hate the sound.
You hate the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way it prickles, a constant reminder of just how close he always isâtoo close.
When heâs finished, he pulls back with a satisfied hum, his lips brushing against your collarbone with a lingering kiss. His voice low, almost tender, as he murmurs, âI love this version of you.â
The words settle into you like stones. His lips, still soft from the milk, press against yours, and the faint sweetness lingers, almost cloying. Satoru murmurs more wordsâgentle, saccharine things that would feel kind if not for the way his hands start to roam as they wrap around your waist.
âHow nurturing youâve become,â he whispers, his tone carrying a dangerous sort of reverence.
Thatâs what he loves. Thatâs what he says.
And the way he looks at you when he says itâthose bright blue eyes glinting with something dark, something that sinks its claws into youâmakes your skin crawl. Because you know exactly what he means.
He doesnât love the nurturing in and of itself. He loves how it ties you to him. How it binds you to this role, this life, this carefully constructed world where you are his and only his.
The version of you he loves is one that has no room for defiance, no space for resistanceâonly the space to give, to sacrifice, to bend under the weight of his love.
And thatâs what makes it so much worse.
Because even as you hate it, even as your stomach churns and your skin prickles, thereâs a part of you that leans into his touch. A part of you that longs for the softness, for the fleeting moments when it feels like love instead of control.
And you hate yourself for that, too
Because you know how it goes. Youâve seen it now. Lived it.
How one pregnancy ends and another begins.
The cycle repeated itself after your firstborn, didnât it? Barely a year after you gave birth, they had you pregnant again. You didnât even have time to recover, to heal, before they decided it was time for another.
But they love you, donât they?
Satoruâs affection is impossible to missâthe way he grins at you, almost childlike, as he cups your face with hands that can destroy worlds but hold you as though youâre the most delicate thing heâs ever touched. How he showers you with gifts, flowers in every shade imaginable, rare treasures that sparkle as brightly as his endless energy.
How many times has he told you, in his low, teasing voice, âYouâre my world, you know that? I could do anything, have anythingâbut none of it would matter without you.â
It sounds like love, doesnât it?
And SuguruâSuguru loves you too, in his quiet, steady way. You see it in the way he watches you, his dark eyes softening when you enter the room, the weight of his gaze feels suffocating. Heâs the one who stays calm when you cry, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring, âShh, itâs okay. Iâm here. You donât have to carry this alone.â
And you believe him, donât you?
They love you. Thatâs why they insist on keeping you close. Why Satoru kisses your forehead every morning, why Suguru runs his fingers through your hair as he whispers sweet nothings youâre too exhausted to resist. Thatâs why they ensure youâre taken care of, why they never let you lift a finger, why they promise theyâll always protect you.
âYou donât have to do anything,â Satoru once said, kissing your swollen belly as he grinned up at you. âJust stay here with us. Thatâs all we need.â
âItâs not just for us,â Suguru added, his voice softer, more measured. âItâs for you too. We want you to feel safe. Loved.â
And in moments like that, when the weight of their words settles in your chest like a lullaby, you almost believe them.
You tell yourself that no one else would love you this much. No one else would care for you so completely, so unconditionallyâbecause this is love, isnât it?
The maids barely acknowledged your struggles. Their gazes were cold, dismissive, even as your body ached and your mind screamed for reprieve. They would gently pry your child from your arms with hushed whispers.
âYou need more rest,â theyâd say, their voices soft but unyielding. âWeâll take care of them. Donât worry.â
And what could you do? Youâd watch helplessly as they carried your baby away, leaving you empty-handed, empty-hearted. As if you were nothing more than a vessel, an incubator meant to bear and birth heirs for the Gojo family.
Your firstborn was a boy.
A son.
An heir.
He looked just like Satoru.
Those piercing blue eyes stared back at you from his tiny, cherubic face, wide and curious, already holding a glint of brilliance and confidence you couldnât deny. His hair was the same stark white, impossibly soft beneath your trembling fingers as you brushed it back, memorizing every perfect strand. Even the little smirk he gave in his sleep mirrored Satoruâsâa playful, almost mocking curl at the corners of his mouth that made your heart ache with emotions you couldnât unravel.
You loved him.
You hated that you loved him.
And when Suguru would cradle him in his arms, his dark eyes soft and filled with a devotion that seemed to crack the carefully constructed walls around your heart, you couldnât deny the warmth blooming in your chest. Heâd whisper promises to the childâvows of protection and guidance.
When Satoru would swoop in, effortlessly spinning the boy around with an energy that filled the room with light, the sound of your sonâs uncontrollable laughter echoing like music, that warmth would return. It would swell in your chest, suffocating and undeniable, a cruel reminder of the chains you wore willingly and unwillingly all at once.
This is what they wanted, wasnât it?
This is what theyâd planned all along.
And now, with another child growing inside you, you realize something that terrifies you more than anything else.
Youâre not sure if you stayed because you had no choice.
Or because you wanted to.
Again, itâs all your fault.
For trying to run, again.
For thinking, just for a moment, that you could escape them.
You were far too pregnant. Belly too far swollen, body heavy and slow, every step a reminder of how deeply tethered you were to this vast estate. But the thought wouldnât leave your mind. The desperate hope of freedom burned too brightly, too wildly, even as your body betrayed you.
Even as you were dragged back to that sickening place, back to the people that you convinced yourselfâdesperately, foolishlyâthat this was love.
Youâd screamed at Suguru, the words spilling out like a torrent you couldnât stop. You told him the child was yours too, that you had the right to hold them, to sleep in the same room, to be more than a vessel. Your voice cracked, raw with frustration and desperation, as you hurled your defiance at him.
You remember the way his gaze darkened.
He didnât yell. He didnât snap. That wasnât Suguruâs way.
Instead, he stepped closer, his movements slow, calculated, as though he were approaching a frightened animal. He tilted his head, his expression calm, disarming, the warmth in his dark eyes a stark contrast to the undercurrent of control they held.
âYouâre upset,â he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaking your face. âAnd thatâs okay. Youâve been through so much, havenât you?â
The quiet warmth in Suguru's voice made it hard to breathe, made the frustration clawing at your throat turn to something elseâsomething like shame.
âYou need to calm down,â he continued, a warm calloused hand slipping down to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse. âI donât want you to hurt yourself. I donât want you to hurt us.â
His words lingered, heavy with meaning, as he pulled you closer, his forehead pressing against yours.
âI know itâs hard,â he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. âBut I love you. We love you. Everything we doâeverything I doâis for you.â
You wanted to push him away, to scream that it wasnât love, that this wasnât love. But as his arms wrapped around you, strong and unyielding, pulling you into his embrace as though Suguru could shield you from the very world they had trapped you in.
âYouâre everything to me,â he murmured, soft lips brushing your temple. âDonât you see that? You donât need to run. You donât need to be afraid. Iâll take care of you. Iâll always take care of you.â
A voice that was so tender, so achingly sincere, that it almost broke you. Suguru's words were enough to extinguish the fire of defiance burning in your chest, to leave you standing there, trembling and helpless in his arms.
The maids saw it, didnât they? They whispered about you, their quiet voices slipping through the halls like ghosts. They called you ungrateful. Sick. They said you didnât understand how fortunate you were.
âYou should be enjoying this,â they murmured, their words laced with thinly veiled judgment. âNo responsibilities, no struggles. A carefree life. Everything is taken care of for you. What more could you want?â
What more could you want?
No choices.
Thatâs what they meant, wasnât it? No choices. No freedom. No you.
Was something wrong with you? Maybe.
Maybe there was something wrong with wanting more. For wanting to feel like a person again, instead of a vessel, a doll, a beautifully dressed incubator meant to carry their legacy.
It really is all your fault, isnât it?
Because when labor came, it dragged you into hell.
Thirty-three grueling hours. Each contraction ripped through your body like a punishment, an unrelenting reminder of every fleeting thought of rebellion, of every moment you dared to imagine a life beyond them.
The emergency c-section was chaosâa flurry of hands, sterile lights, and voices rising above the incessant ringing in your ears. You were losing too much blood. Fever scorched your skin, your body trembling as the edges of the world blurred, your thoughts slipping between consciousness and darkness.
You couldnât make sense of what was happening. You werenât even sure whose tears streaked your skin as they fellâwere they yours? Satoruâs? Suguruâs?
You didnât know.
You didnât know what happened after that.
All you remember are the words.
Suguruâs voice, low and steady, cutting through the haze. He leaned close, his hand resting on your clammy cheek with an almost painful tenderness. His dark eyes bore into yours, soft yet heavy with something that made your stomach twist.
âYou shouldnât have run,â he whispered. His tone was calm, soothing even, but the edge beneath it was sharp enough to draw blood. âLook at what youâve done to yourself. You shouldâve listened.â
And for a long time, you didnât have the strength to argue.
The days that followed blurred together. Feeling like a ghost in your body, too weak to move, too tired to speak. Satoru and Suguru hovered, their gazes flickering between concern and something you couldn't quite place. The maids continued to whisper on with their rumors, their eyes darting to you with pity or disdain, as though youâd done this to yourself.
In their eyes, you were lucky.
Lucky to have survived. Lucky to have them.
And lucky, in their eyes, to not have another pregnancy until your first two boys turned five.
Five years of peace. Or something that resembled it.
Five years of watching your sons grow, of hearing their first words, of feeling their small, warm arms wrap around you as they giggled into into your neck. Five years where it was almost believable that this was normal, where you could almost convince yourself this was love.
Because it did feel like love, didnât it?
Until the day you overheard Suguru speaking to them.
His voice was hushed, but not hushed enough.
âMommy is sick,â he said, tone calm and soothing like he was explaining a simple fact of life. âSometimes she says things she doesnât mean. Sometimes she gets confused. But thatâs okay. We love her, donât we?â
A pang sent through your chest, breath catching as you froze in the hallway. Those cruel words lies carved like knives, each one slicing deeper than the last.
He was planting seeds, wasnât he?
Teaching them to see you the way he wanted them to see you. Fragile. Dependent. Broken.
However with fists clenched, nails pressing into palms with a sting sharp enough to ground the swirling emotions within. The urge to scream hovered at the edge, to cry and storm into the room, demanding explanations with the desperation of a cornered animal. Words burned on the tip of the tongueâprotests that it wasnât true, that sickness and confusion werenât the chains binding this existence.
But what would they believe?
Suguruâs steady, patient voice, rich and even, always laced with quiet authority? The father whose dark eyes always seemed to understand everything, who carried himself with calm, unshakable control, even when his smiles didnât quite reach his eyes?
Or you?
The mother who had tried to run, who had collapsed and bled and screamed, who had been scolded for her defiance. The one they saw as weak, frail, and ungrateful.
You wanted to run again. The thought burned in the back of your mind, relentless and wild.
But you didnât.
You stayed.
Because, in the end, what choice did you really have?
But by the time your third childâa sweet boy who looked like a perfect blend of you and Suguruâturned three, the illusion of peace began to crack.
Suguru was already leaning close, his voice soft and coaxing as he murmured into your ear, âI think itâs time we try for a girl.â
Satoru, of course, was on board almost immediately.
After all, your third child was different. A nonsorcerer, just like you, showing none of the abilities your first two boys possessed. Those two had cried in the dead of night, their small voices trembling with fear as they described the horrors only they could seeâthings you couldnât even begin to comprehend.
But that wasnât why your husbands looked at Kiyoshi with quiet disapproval.
It wasnât his lack of cursed energy that made them see him as an anomaly.
It was his heart.
From the moment Kiyoshi was placed in your arms, red-faced and wailing, he clung to you with a desperation that never faded. He didnât want the maids to hold him, didnât toddle after Suguruâs composed steps or reached for Satoruâs strong arms. He wanted you. Always you.
He was a mamaâs boy through and through, and that was love.
A love so pure it felt like a lifeline in the suffocating world youâd been forced into.
While you loved your first two boys deeplyâhow could you not?âthere was always a distance there, a reflection of the walls your husbands had built around you. The first two cuddled into your lap, their small hands clutching yours as they whispered things that broke you.
âMommy, we want you to get better.â âWe donât like it when you yell at Daddy to let you leave.â
They were too young to understand, too innocent to see the chains tightening around you.
But Kiyoshi understood, in his own way. Even as a toddler, he refused to leave your side, refused to let the maids or his fathers pull him from your arms. He was always on your hip, his little hand clutching your clothes, his head resting against your chest.
âKiyoshi,â Satoru had said once, his tone laced with false amusement, âmeans âpure sadness.â Donât you think thatâs fitting?â
He smiled as if it were a joke, but you could hear the bitterness beneath it.
And maybe it was fitting.
Because Kiyoshi only stopped wailing when he was in your arms, as if he already knew the world outside of you was too cruel, too cold.
By the time he turned three, Kiyoshi would toddle after you in the gardens, small, sturdy legs working hard to keep up. His faceâa blend of Suguruâs gentleness and your warmthâwould brighten with the purest smile. When his eyes crinkled at the corners, just like yours, you couldnât help but feel your heart swell.
âLook, Mommy!â heâd say, holding up a flower heâd plucked from the garden, his tiny fingers dirt-stained and clumsy. âFor you!â
Youâd crouch down, brushing his dark hair back as you took the flower, your voice soft and tender in a way you hadnât heard in years.
âThank you, my sweet boy.â
And for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.
Like you could breathe again.
But you knew better.
As the sound of approaching footsteps always shattered moments like these. Heavy and far too familiar. You didnât need to turn around to know it was Suguru.
His softspoken voice broke the fragile silence, calm and even, as always. âKiyoshi,â he said, warm and affectionate, though laced with something you couldnât quite name. âYouâve been keeping your mother all to yourself again, havenât you?â
Kiyoshi stiffened at your side, the little hand tightening its grip on your kimono as he glanced nervously toward Suguru.
Suguru stepped closer and crouched down to Kiyoshiâs level, dark eyes softening as they met his sonâs. âCome here, son,â he murmured, holding out a hand. His tone was gentle, coaxing, but there was an unspoken expectation beneath it. âLet Daddy hold you for a little while. Iâve missed you.â
But Kiyoshi didnât move. His small fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your kimono, his face pressing into your side as though trying to make himself small, invisible.
Suguruâs gaze flicked to you, lips curling into a faint smile that didnât quite reach his eyes. âSo shy,â he said softly, his voice carrying a note of amused affection. âBut you donât have to be, Kiyoshi. Daddy just wants to hold you. You know that, donât you?â
You felt your heart clench, torn between the instinct to shield him and the weight of Suguruâs presence. The tenderness in his tone, in the way his hand remained outstretched, made it all the harder to breathe.
âKiyoshi,â Suguru said again, his voice dipping into a firmer edge, calm but unyielding. âCome.â
Reluctantly, your little boy let go of you, his steps slow and hesitant as he moved toward his father. Suguruâs smile widened, soft and reassuring, as he scooped Kiyoshi up effortlessly, cradling him with a gentleness that felt too deliberate, too controlled.
âThereâs my good boy,â he murmured, brushing Kiyoshiâs hair back with careful fingers. His touch lingered, as though committing the texture to memory. âYou love your mommy very much, donât you?â
Kiyoshi nodded silently, his small face burying itself in Suguruâs shoulder.
Suguruâs gaze lifted to meet yours, a gentle smile, his tone almost playful. âYouâve spoiled him,â he said, a note of amusement threading through his words. âHeâs too attached.â
You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, but the words caught in your throat.
What could you say?
That you were the only warmth in a world that terrified him? That his attachment wasnât a flaw, but a desperate grasp at something safe?
Satoru appeared not long after, his presence impossible to ignore as he strolled into the garden, hands in his pockets and a grin that seemed too bright for the moment. His eyes, however, betrayed something softerâsomething that lingered only when they landed on you.
âKiyoshi giving you trouble again?â Satoru's voice came out light, tinged with curiosity.
âNo trouble,â Suguru replied smoothly, a hand still resting on Kiyoshiâs small back. âJust a little too fond of his mother.â
Satoru chuckled, shaking his head as he moved closer. His cerulean gaze flicked briefly to Kiyoshi before returning to you, that playful grin softening as he moved to brush a kiss against your temple. âWell, can you blame him?â he murmured, his voice low, meant only for you. âYouâre hard not to love.â
The warmth of his affection made your heart twist, and your stomach flutter. For a moment, it was easy to forget the way his words often carried double meanings, easy to believe he was simply being sweet.
He straightened, turning his attention back to Suguru with a teasing smile. âBut weâll fix that soon enough, wonât we?â
They didnât mean to hurt him, you told yourself. They wouldnât.
But you knew better.
Because Kiyoshi was different. He didnât fit into their world the way your first two boys did. And in their eyes, difference was something to be controlled.
For now, they let him cling to you. They let him toddle after you in the garden, offering flowers and dirt-streaked smiles that made your heart ache with both love and dread. For now, they allowed him to stay close, to hold onto the warmth you gave him, to believe he was safe in your arms.
But you knew it was only a matter of time.
Because your sons didnât belong to you. Not really. They never had.
And no matter how much you wanted to shield Kiyoshi, no matter how fiercely you loved him, you knew one simple, devastating truth:
Theyâd let you have this for now.
But they would take him, too.
Because, after all, itâs all your fault.
For fleeing in the middle of the night.
The day was supposed to be perfectâa rare moment where Satoru and Suguru had taken the older two boys to the school, their voices filled with excitement as they promised to teach them more about the world they were destined to inherit. Your sweet boys kissed you goodbye with a tenderness that felt almost cruel, leaving you behind with Kiyoshi in the quiet, sprawling estate.
You had been on your best behavior. Smiling more, laughing when Satoru teased you, letting Suguru hold you a little longer than usual. Youâd made them believe you were finally settling, finally accepting your role in their carefully constructed world.
And it worked.
So when the sun set and the house fell silent, you made your move.
You bundled Kiyoshi up in the softest blanket you could find, the small body warm and sleepy against your chest. He stirred only slightly as you slipped out of the estate, his tiny hands clutching onto your clothes.
He didnât cry.
He didnât make a sound.
It was as if he understood. As if even at three years old, he knew that silence was the only thing keeping you safe.
He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his soft breaths warm against your skin, and you couldnât help the tears that welled up in your eyes.
The highway stretched out before you, an endless black ribbon under the faint glow of the moon. The lights of the city sparkled in the distance, a beacon of hope, a promise of sanctuary.
You walked for miles, the cold night air biting at your skin, legs aching with every step. But you didnât stop. You couldnât. Not with the faint echoes of paranoia whispering at the back of your mind.
Were they already looking for you? Did Satoru sense you slipping away even from miles away? Did Suguru wake in the middle of the night with the suffocating weight of intuition, already calling for their forces to track you down?
You didnât know.
And you didnât care.
The city limits were closer now, the glow of neon lights growing brighter, sharper. The faint hum of life and sound buzzed in the distance.
Kiyoshi stirred in your arms, his little head lifting just enough to peek out at the world around him. His dark eyes, so much like Suguruâs but filled with an innocence his father could no longer claim, glanced up at you with quiet curiosity.
âMommy,â he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the wind.
You pressed a kiss to his forehead, your tears wetting his soft hair. âWeâre almost there, my sweet boy,â you murmured, your voice trembling under the weight of hope and fear. âJust a little farther.â
Sanctuary was so close you could taste it.
But itâs all your fault, isnât it?
Born a nonsorcerer.
Blind to the horrors that lurk unseen. Powerless to fight them off. Too weak to keep that sweet little boy safe.
You always imagined curses as massive, grotesque creaturesâmonsters so obvious that the very air would change in their presence. That the world would stop, that everything would smell of death and decay as they loomed closer.
But when a curse appears, nothing changes.
Thereâs no warning. No shift in the wind.
The only thing you feel is the sudden weight of your child going limp in your arms.
And then the blood.
And then the blood.
It coats the groundâdark and endless, pooling around your knees and seeping into the cracks of the earth. Sticky and warm, it clings to trembling hands, staining your kimono, your skin, your very soul.
You canât move. Canât breathe.
Your little boyâyour Kiyoshiâlies limp in your arms, his small body growing colder with every agonizing second. Tiny fingers, once so eager to cling to you, now dangle lifelessly. His dark lashes rest softly against pale cheeks, unmoving.
He looks like heâs sleeping.
You tell yourself that, over and over, as if saying it enough times will somehow make it true. Shaking hands brush back his dark hair, trembling as you whisper his name. Softly at first, then louder, your voice splintering with every syllable.
âKiyoshi⌠wake up, baby. Please.â
But nothing changes.
The world around you feels wrongâtoo quiet, too still. The city lights in the distance mock you, their glow a cruel reminder of the sanctuary youâd been so close to reaching. Youâd promised him, hadnât you? Promised that everything would be okay. That youâd make it there. That youâd keep him safe.
You lied.
âKiyoshi,â you choke out again, pressing a desperate kiss to his cooling forehead. Hot tears streak down your face, wetting his soft hair as you clutch him tighter, as though you could anchor him to youâkeep him here, with you.
A wail tears through the night, raw and broken, shattering the oppressive silence. The sound is unrecognizable, guttural and full of despair. It takes a moment before you realize itâs coming from you.
The blood stains everythingâyour hands, your clothes, the groundâbut itâs the loss of his warmth that destroys you.
How did this happen?
Your mind races, replaying the moments in broken fragments. Youâd been walking, your legs aching, his small body cradled against your chest. Heâd been so quiet, so trusting, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.
You were almost there.
Then the air shiftedâjust slightlyâa subtle wrongness you hadnât noticed until it was too late.
You didnât see it.
You didnât even know it was there until his body jerked in your arms, a sharp, unnatural movement that stole his breathâand yours.
And then he went limp.
It doesnât make sense. None of it makes sense.
You rock him back and forth, tears falling freely, your voice hoarse as you beg him to wake up. Leaning to press your cheek against his, murmuring his name over and over, as if the sound alone could bring him back.
Because you failed him.
Because this is your fault.
Suguruâs arms wrap around you, their weight unbearable. His warmth presses against the chill of the night, suffocating in a way that makes the air harder to pull into your lungs. He cradles you like something precious, something fragileâlike he cares, even as his words twist the knife deeper into your chest.
âWeâll take care of this, just like always,â he says, his voice soft, almost gentle. His lips brush against your hair, lingering, and the tenderness in the gesture makes your skin crawl. âYou just need to stop fighting us. Donât make this harder than it needs to be.â
Satoru stood frozen, head bowed, white hair catching the faint glow of the city lights. Kiyoshiâs lifeless body was pressed tightly against him, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he held him close. For a moment, you thought you saw something crack in his expressionâsomething raw, something human.
But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.
When he finally turned his gaze to you, his blue eyes were as hollow as youâd ever seen them. âYou shouldnât have done this,â he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual teasing lilt. âWhy couldnât you just stay?â
The question stabbed deeper than you thought possible, the shame and guilt coursing through you like poison.
Why couldnât you just stay?
The image of Kiyoshiâs bright smile flashed, his tiny hands offering you flowers from the garden, his laugh ringing out like music in the suffocating silence of the estate. Heâd been your light, your tether to something good.
And now he was gone.
Because of you.
You sagged further into Suguruâs hold, the fight draining out of you entirely. The tears wouldnât stop, falling silently now, soaking into the front of Suguruâs shirt as he held you tighter.
âThere, there,â he murmured, his hand stroking your hair in slow, deliberate motions. âThatâs better. You donât have to fight anymore. Weâll make it right.â
But there was no right in this.
The car waited nearby, its door open like an unspoken command. Suguruâs grip on you didnât waver as he began guiding you toward it, his movements gentle but unrelenting. Satoru followed behind, cradling Kiyoshiâs small form like he was made of glass.
Your legs moved on instinct, numb and heavy, the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.
The city lights grew fainter as the car doors shut behind you, locking you away from the world youâd been so close to reaching.
You told yourself youâd tried. That youâd done everything you could.
But deep down, you knew.
Youâd never escape them.
And as Suguruâs fingers intertwined with yours, as Satoruâs empty gaze lingered on the horizon, you realized something that hollowed you out completely.
It wasnât just that you had nothing left.
It was that you no longer cared to try.
It really was all your fault.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere satosugu#yandere satosugu x reader#yandere satoru gojo#yandere gojo satoru#yandere gojo#yandere geto#yandere geto suguru#yandere suguru geto#yandere satoru x reader#yandere jjk#yandere#yandere suguru x reader
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Golden Light // H.S.
synopsis: you go on a blind date with Harry at your best friend's insistence and enjoy it much more than you expected.
wc: 3.9k
a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this! i haven't written fic in a hot minute, so let me know what you think! this will likely have a part 2 where the exciting stuff happens, but writing even this much took me forever so i wanted to share before the Christmas mentions became irrelevant, lol!
The streets of New York City are beautiful this time of year. Christmas lights twinkle in nearly every retail storefront, some even including a dusting of ripped-up cotton balls and other snow-like materials. Just ignore the grey sludge coating the streets.
You were never one for holiday cheer, and today was no exception. Despite thinking the same of every single day, youâve had what you would consider the longest day of your life. Your first meeting ran late by just a few minutes, but even this was enough to push your calendar so far off that you needed to reschedule your final call with the client youâd been waiting almost a month to meet with.
There was nothing more in this world you wanted to do than curl up in bed with a bottle of wine and a silk eye mask. But, here you were, trudging down the streets of New York City in your slightly uncomfortable heels, trying to dodge puddles, slush, and other mysterious substances on the sidewalk, on your way to a blind date. Emma had set you up with a friend of her boyfriendâs, and sheâd made you promise youâd give him a chance.
Your last relationship had ended with a bang after you went to his apartment to surprise him after getting out of work early one afternoon, only to find him in bed with a blonde girl you never did learn the name of.Â
You could easily find a man to wake up to the next morning, but after years of running your own business, it wasnât as simple as walking into a bar to meet Mr. Right. Youâd dated enough men with little ambition; you needed someone who had driveâ had success.
All you knew about your date for the night was his name was Harry, he was a record executive, and, according to Emma, he was hot.
The pit in your stomach only grew as you approached Bella Napoli. It didnât help youâd spent the last six blocks trying to lift your dress and nearly-floor-length coat high enough to keep it out of the puddles.
The little blue location dot on your maps app glided closer to the restaurant with each step you took, nearly there - mist ghosted over your nose with each exhale, doing nothing to keep it warm in the frigid weather of the city, and you couldnât wait to get inside.
Finally, you spotted the marquee sign affixed to the small brick building half a block up, signaling the end of your journey. The glass-front double doors opened easily under your hasty pull, eager to feel the heat of the brick buildingâs furnace.
âGood evening, maâam,â the hostess greeted from behind her podium. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and prominent cheekbones.
âGood evening, I have a reservation under (Y/L/N),â you brushed stray snowflakes off of your wool coat. Emma had ensured she would let Harry know the reservation would be under your name, and you hoped she hadnât forgotten.
âAh, yes, table for two? Right this way.â The young woman stepped from behind the podium and began heading toward the main dining area. You followed her as she snaked around the tables full of affluently dressed couples and businessmen in suits, reaching a small archway leading into a more dimly-lit section of the restaurant.Â
She led you to a booth in the corner with velvet seats and matching curtains, held open by small hooks on either side - out of sight from most of the other patrons in the section, who didnât seem to be paying any mind to you anyway. A small candle sat between two menus, adjacent to a traditional silverware layout and an empty highball glass on either side of the booth.
You slid onto the bench facing the roomâs entrance as the hostess filled each glass with ice water. She nodded as you thanked her and informed her a man by the name of Harry should be arriving soon to join you. Just in case Emma had forgotten.
The menu was short but obviously well-curated. The wine list was almost twice the length of the food menu - just how you liked it. You skimmed the offerings, deciding on a merlot of the second-highest price point. Your anxiety still made itself known in the way your stomach was twisting. You checked the time. It was 5:58 pm - still two minutes early. You hoped the wine would drown the butterflies (or maybe moths) in your stomach.
Your eyes returned to the restaurantâs food offerings but were again drawn upwards as another person sauntered into the secluded section of the restaurant. His pale grey, half-unbuttoned silk shirt settled just under the gold cross necklace grazing the indent between his pecs. A blazer of a much darker grey draped his shoulders, matching the straight-legged trousers just long enough to only allow the front of his patent-leather black loafers to peek out from under them.Â
The air suddenly felt heavy, like you couldnât get a breath in. Who is the lucky lady heâs here with tonight? Your eyes darted around the section, trying to find his date, but coming up empty.Â
Shit, is this Harry?
Your fears are confirmed as you realize the hostess had entered the room a bit ahead of him and was leading him to your booth. The poor girl looked entirely flustered.
âHere you are, sir. Your waitress will be over shortly to grab your drink orders,â she squeaked, turning on her heels and scurrying away as quickly as possible.
You smiled at him as you shuffled out of the booth and rose to your feet, trying to seem much more confident than you were. You reached about the height of his shoulder in your heels.
âYou must be (Y/N),â he spoke with a slight smile, glancing at your attire before returning his eyes to meet yours.
âThat would be me. And you must be Harry.â You smiled back at him, subconsciously smoothing out the part of the dress resting on your hips.
Harry took a step toward you with arms extended, pulling you into an easy hug, His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders and yours around his waist. He smelled like an intoxicating mix of vanilla, patchouli, and musk. Expensive. Even just brushing your fingers across his suit jacket as he pulled away, the feel of the fibers suggested it had also not been cheap.
âYou look stunning. I love the color of your dress,â he complimented, pulling back slightly with his hand hovering over your waist. âIt looks great on you.â
âThank you, it was actually a gift from my mother.â Compliment-taking was not your forte.
âWell, she has great taste. Shall we?â He motioned toward the set table, waiting for you to take your seat before sliding into the bench on the opposite side. âHave you been here before?â
âI havenât, but Iâve heard great things. Have you?â His ring-clad fingers picked up the beverage menu in front of him as you spoke.
âI have, itâs one of my favorites.â That must have been why he suggested it.
âIs the Merlot any good? Thatâs what I was thinking of ordering, but Iâm open to suggestions.â You played with the seam of your dress under the table absentmindedly.
âNow that, I havenât had. Iâm more of a white wine guy myself. Iâm a fan of the Riesling.â
âReally? My first guess would have been whiskey, honestly.â There exists a pattern in these kinds of men - they always drank some very expensive whiskey they needed to tell you all about, as if it didnât taste like smoke-flavored lighter fluid.
âI tend to prefer a sweeter taste,â his eyebrows twitched as he raised the glass of water to his lips. You nodded before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, taking time to browse the food menu.
It wasnât very extensive, with a few choices to pick from each protein category. You settled on a grilled chicken tagliatelle with a cream sauce, hoping it would pair well with the wine.
âHi, my name is Danielle and Iâll be taking care of you this evening,â a voice burst your bubble of concentration, âhave we decided on what weâd like to drink?â
You recited your wine order first, with Harry following shortly after. The waitress jotted down your selections in her notepad before exiting the room with a promise to be back to take your food orders shortly.
âSo, Emma said you work in marketing?â he spoke slowly. His accent was thick, only further drawing you into the conversation.
âPR, actually,â you replied, âI have my own firm, with a few employees. I love it.â
âThatâs amazing,â he sounded sincere. âHow long have you been in PR?â
âAlmost a decade, but Iâve had the firm for a little over 3 years. At first, it was just myself operating out of my apartment, but weâve been able to build up some clientele and move to an actual office space. Emma said you work for Atlas Sound, right?â you shifted the conversation away from yourself, curious about what exactly came with being a record executive.
âThatâs right. Iâm mostly in charge of production but I help out with some of the publishing aspects as well.â
âAh, so no talent scouting? I was hoping this could be my big breakâŚâ you mused, narrowing your eyes at him. Harry chuckled, flashing the smile youâd found yourself dead set on seeing more of.Â
âNo, no, unfortunately, thatâs not me, but I may know some people who could help. Let me guess, rap?â
You almost choked on the water youâd just taken a sip of, but managed to swallow it before the laugh burst from your throat. It caught you off guard - Harry honestly didnât look like he would even know what rap is. A silly notion, given his career, but true anyway.
âYou have a beautiful laugh,â Harry stated sincerely, and your heart just about stopped.Â
Before you got the chance to respond, a full wine glass was placed in front of each of you. You hadnât even noticed the waitress had come back. âHere are those drinks. Did we decide on what weâd like to eat? I can make some suggestions if youâre not sure what to getâŚâ
It appeared as if sheâd forgotten you were even in the room with the way she was staring directly at Harry. You couldnât blame the girl - youâd been staring too - but she could definitely tell the two of you were on a date, so she could have at least been a little more subtle.
Harry smiled politely (and briefly) at her before turning his attention back to you to confirm you were ready to order. You both relayed your choices to the waitress, and you appreciated that Harry did not seem like he was interested in entertaining her advances.
âAnyways, where were weâŚâ he smiled again, and your heart lurched.
Conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, aided by the wine in your glasses. You found yourself getting less and less nervous about him not being the right fit, but more and more nervous you were somehow making a fool of yourself.Â
The story of how one of your interns accidentally jammed the copier so badly you had to buy a completely new unit made Harry laugh loudly. It was one of many stories you had from your job that were definitely funnier in retrospect than they were as they happened. You were aware youâd talked a lot so far, but you couldnât help it. The way Harry spoke was attractive, but the way he listened was even better. He seemed genuinely interested in the stories you told, maintaining eye contact, nodding in the right spots, and asking thoughtful follow-up questions. It had been a while since youâd had a date genuinely listen to you, and it was refreshing.Â
He asked more about your job, and you found yourself telling him how as much as you like being âin chargeâ and able to have control over your firm, sometimes it was incredibly stressful, especially in emergencies. He could see the stress that followed you home every day seep back into your expression, despite you trying your best not to let it show.
His ring-clad hand slid across the table, fingers gently entwining with yours and giving them a quick squeeze.
âYou know, I think youâre brave for taking that risk. You should be proud of what youâve built.â The eye contact he made with you as he spoke was intense, with sincerity behind his words. His hand was warm, contrasting the cool feeling of the metal rings, and you subconsciously squeezed it back in an attempt to keep it where it was. Luckily, your hands stayed intertwined for another couple of minutes as you expressed your appreciation for his kindness and shifted the conversation back to his job until your food was in front of you.
The meals were delicious, just as Harry had promised. Heâd ordered a mushroom risotto that looked delicious, and your pasta tasted perfect with the wine youâd chosen. Good job, self.
Soon, you found your plate nearly empty and your body warm from the alcohol. Your thoughts felt slightly fuzzy, and you caught yourself staring a little too long at the rings on Harryâs right hand, as well as the fingers adorning them. The muscles flexed as he moved his hands while speaking, and you couldnât seem to tear your eyes away. You knew how his hand felt in yours, but how would it feel touching your cheek, against your back, gripping your -Â
âDid you save room for dessert? The tiramisu is incredible.â Harryâs voice broke your train of thought, and you quickly averted your eyes back to his. What seemed like a slight smirk played on his face, but you couldnât tell if it was because heâd noticed the staring, or if the alcohol was just affecting him as well. You prayed for the latter.
âThat sounds great, but I can probably only take a few bites. Would you want to share a piece?â you suggested, much too full for an entire dessert to yourself.
âIâd love to.â Harry absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the table in a rhythm you couldnât place, not helping your attempts not to stare. âSo, tell me more about that yoga class?â
The conversation flowed again, with Harry ordering dessert when the waitress stopped by. Of course, you were just as interested in his words as he was in yours, hanging on his every accented sentence. He was a captivating storyteller and his facial expressions were no different - you loved how his eyes lit up at the good parts and narrowed at the bad in the story. The slight scruff on his face complimented the way his mouth moved as it formed words, drawing you closer. How would they feel against your own lips, you wondered?Â
You could hear the words he was saying, but you werenât fully listening as he continued telling you about the time he got a little too drunk at a friendâs birthday party and ended up volunteering to give a speech he had in no way prepared for. It was a great story, very funny, but your mind was otherwise preoccupied. Wine always made you⌠flirty.
Soon, the tiramisu was in front of you. This, too, looked delicious - Harry was right again.
âWould you like the first bite?â He offered, picking up one of the small forks laid out on the plate and scooping a bite of the dessert onto it.
âWell, ladies first I suppose,â you joked. You parted your mouth slightly as you leaned forward, waiting for him to place the fork on your tongue. What you werenât expecting was for his other hand to reach out and lightly grasp your jaw, thumb on your chin to hold your mouth farther open. A choked gasp escaped your lips at the same time the sweet cake hit your tongue, but you could barely taste it, too distracted by the skin contact. Again, his eyes didnât leave yours as he allowed your mouth to close and pulled his hand away from your face.
âWell? How is it?â he asked, with a definite smirk this time.Â
You tried to compose yourself before answering, swallowing the dessert and the lump that had formed in your throat. âItâs good⌠really good.â Your voice came out breathier than you intended, and you blinked heavily a couple of times, trying to kickstart the part of your brain that could think of anything except what youâd like to do with the gorgeous man sitting in front of you.
Harry took his own bite next, letting his eyes flutter shut as his mouth closed around the fork. His long eyelashes rested atop his strong cheekbones, the same ones you almost had to physically stop yourself from reaching over to brush your fingertips over. His lips were a stunning, dark shade of red, still slightly wet from the wine heâd been enjoying.
His Adamâs apple bobbed as he swallowed the bite, slightly brushing against the collar of his shirt. Seafoam green eyes made contact with yours as he opened them again, and a small smile graced his face as he realized youâd been watching him intently.
âYouâre right, it is really good.â Your heart raced under the fervency of his gaze. He was staring into you like he wanted to read the thoughts echoing in your brain. âWould you like another bite?â
âSure, but I can feed myself this one if you like,â you attempted to lighten the intense mood that had befallen your booth so you might actually be able to catch your breath,
âThat wonât be necessary, I was quite enjoying myself,â Harry mused, refusing to break eye contact until you did. He scooped another bite onto the fork, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear before resuming his grip on your jaw and returning the fork to your lips. He felt your jaw flex as you chewed and swallowed the bite, but didnât take his hand off of your face. Instead, he brought his thumb back to your lips and brushed below them gently, careful not to smudge your lipstick.Â
He brought his thumb back to his mouth and slowly closed his lips around the pad of it, a half-smile tugging at his lips at your bewildered expression. âSorry, you had a little something there. I figured Iâd get it for you.â
You nodded, taking a deep breath instead of attempting to utter a response.
He took another bite himself before offering you another, which you obliged with little hesitation.
âYou know, Harry, you need to be careful feeding me like this or Iâll get used to it.â Another feeble attempt to ease the tension and stop acting like a flustered teenager.
âI wouldnât mind that,â he murmured, voice sincere and slow, laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine, âif it means I keep getting to see your cheeks flush.â
Heâd noticed how your body was responding to him, whether or not you tried to hide it. Your face burned again, sinking further into the booth behind you in slight embarrassment.
âWell, it doesnât help that Iâm on a date with an attractive man whoâs feeding me tiramisu. I think thatâs every womanâs dream.â
âSo itâs working?â His face glowed in the candlelight, a smirk on his face but a subtle vulnerability behind his eyes.
You knew what he was implying, but wanted to regain some of the power youâd lost by being so flustered. âMaybe.â
âThatâs not good enough for me. I need a yes.â He needed confirmation that you were on the same page.
âAnd what exactly am I saying yes to?â A sip of wine ran down your throat as you awaited his response.
âTo letting me walk you home after this,â Harry stated bluntly, scanning your face for your reaction. You couldnât help the way your face flushed, but you held your composure, leaning back casually against the booth behind you as you pretended to mull it over. You already knew what you wanted.
âAlright, Harry,â you smirked, bringing the wine glass to your lips once more, âletâs see where the night takes us.â
- - - - - - - - - -Â
âGod, itâs freezing out here,â you groaned, dodging patches of ice. You were nearly home, your apartment building visible up the street.
Harry had grabbed your hand under the guise of keeping it warm a few minutes ago, something you were grateful for now as you gripped it tightly, trying to navigate the snow-covered ground in heels with little traction. Heâd offered to call an Uber, but you wanted some more time with him without a driver listening in on your conversation.
As you approached the building, your imagination ran with thoughts of getting him upstairs, into your apartment, into your living roomâŚÂ
Before you could get too far, you were at the front door. Your free hand patted over the pockets of your jacket to ensure that you had your keys and found them in your left pocket.
âI had a great time with you tonight, Y/N,â Harry turned to face you, not letting go of your hand. âIâd love to do this again, sometime, if youâd be interested.â
A slight flush now graced his face, glancing at the ground as he awaited your response.
âI had a lovely time. Iâd love to see you again,â you confirmed quickly, not letting him worry for too long.
He was beaming now, allowing you to admire his prominent dimples. Your heart skipped a beat and you couldnât help but smile right back at the sight.
âThereâs that beautiful smile again,â he quipped. His free hand reached for your jaw, cradling it again as you both continued to grin at each other for a few moments. A silence fell upon you again, and Harryâs eyes searched yours for a second before flickering to your lips, which had slowly returned to a resting state. As he moved his gaze back up, your eyes gleamed with the reflections of Christmas lights and were swimming with the need for more contact with him. He inhaled slowly, nervously, before exhaling sharply. âCan I kiss you?â
You nodded quickly, gripping his collar to pull him closer before his mouth met yours. Electricity sparked between the two of you, his luscious lips colliding with yours over and over again, like he couldnât get enough of you. The kiss started slow, but quickly became deeper, more desperate, as he gripped your waist tightly and pulled you close to him. Your hands searched for solace, moving from his collar to his cheeks before lightly running through the hair at the back of his neck.
He tore his lips away from yours but didnât stray far, pressing his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. You could see both of your small pants in the air as they fogged due to the cold. A small smile played on each of your lips, and you just knew your lipstick was half-gone because you could definitely see some of it on Harry.
âYou know,â you pulled away, straightening your stance confidently, âI have a bottle of wine upstairs if youâd like to help me drink it.â
Harry grinned. âI would love to.â
part 2!
#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles x reader#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles imagine#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles x y/n#harry x y/n#harry x you#harry styles#hs1#hs2#hs3#one direction#harry#haz
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saw uu wrote for squid games and had to request !! could you pls write for hyun ju (player 120) x fem reader smut please đđ just smth about it being readerâs first time and itâs soft and gentle ?? if ur okay w that ofc đ
Hehe hi!! Yesyessss i'm okay w it... i just can't guarantee a good one đ but i hope u enjoy anyways <3
Title = Healing Touch
Warning = smutđ, cum eating, fingering, first time
Summary = After surviving Squid Game, you join a support group and meet Hyun Ju, a former contestant. As you grow closer, your connection deepens, leading to an intimate and healing moment between you both.
Word count = 1.3k
It had been a few days since the whole âsquid gameâ incident and youâve recently heard about a squid game survivor group. You overheard it when you were in the bar, apparently ever since the news came out about the whole operation, some past players came forward to help make a support group. And you decided to check it out. The process of joining wasnât too difficult, all you had to do was fill in your name, age and player number.Â
The address leads you to a small alleyway. It didnât scream âtrapâ or anything but a feeling of paranoia struck through you as you got closer to it. The shadows loomed, but soon you're greeted by warm light spilling from a cracked door.
Inside, the atmosphere is surprisingly warm despite the eerie nature of the situation. A few folding chairs, scattered papers, and anxious smiles from the other survivors set the tone. They welcomed you like an old friend, even if your paths never crossed during the games. When the session ended, everyone stood up and went different ways.Â
And thatâs when you spot Hyun Ju. You swore she was player⌠120? 121? You didnât remember but she was quite the player. She won several games, it was quite impressive⌠not quite⌠very actually.
She was still sitting on the chair, despite the session already ending. She was all by herself and her posture was relaxed yet guarded, as if she were still sizing up the room. Something about her aura drew you in, perhaps it was her strength, or maybe just the faint glimmer of vulnerability she couldnât quite hide.
Deciding to take a chance, you crossed the room and greeted her.
âHyun Ju, right? Player 120?â you asked, hesitating for just a moment. Calling her a random player number was a huge gamble, but you were quite sure it ended with a 0.
Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, her expression shifting from guarded to curious. âThatâs me,â she said, her voice softer than you expected. âAnd you are?â
You introduced yourself, giving your name and player number. Her gaze lingered on you for a moment, as though she were trying to place you in her memory. Then, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
âI remember you,â she said. âYou were⌠quiet. But you made it pretty far.â
You nodded, unsure whether to feel flattered or exposed. âYeah, I guess I kept my head down. But you- you were incredible. You made everything look so easy.â
Hyun Ju chuckled, a sound that felt surprisingly warm in the somber atmosphere. âEasy? Trust me, it wasnât. But thanks.â
An awkward silence hung between you for a moment before she gestured to the empty seat next to her. âYou can sit, if you want. Itâs nice to talk to someone who⌠gets it.â
You sat down, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. The conversation flowed naturally after that, starting with shared memories of the games and gradually moving to lighter topics. You found yourself laughing at her dry humor and sharp wit, feeling a connection form between you that you hadnât expected.
As the meeting wound down, Hyun Ju glanced at you with a thoughtful expression. âDo you⌠want to grab a coffee or something? I could use some normalcy, and you seem like good company.â
Surprised but pleased, you nodded. âYeah, Iâd like that.â
She smiled, and for the first time in days, you felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, life after the games wouldnât be so bad.
Then she suddenly brought up the topic about partners and lovers.Â
âI-I actually⌠never had a serious relationship before,â you mention, making her perk up in surprise.
âEhh?? Forreal?â she asks you.
âY-yeahâŚâ you answer.
âSo⌠youâve never⌠uhmmâŚ?â she asks awkwardly, hand rubbing the back of her neck.
âNoâŚâ you respond, giving a light chuckle at the end in an attempt to save both of you from the awkwardness.
â
Honestly, you didnât even know what happened but now⌠you were suddenly being pinned onto the wall by her. For a moment, everything froze in time. Hyun Ju's breath hovers near your skin while your heart pounded inside you as she loomed over you. The distance between you both feels electric, yet thereâs a hesitance, like the air itself is waiting for something to happen.
Her hands are warm against your skin, a subtle pressure as they roam slowly over your body. Your pulse quickens, body reacting before your mind can even catch up. The proximity of her form, her breath, itâs overwhelming, and you can't help but lean into it, just slightly, as though wanting more.
Hyun Ju's voice is low, like sheâs savoring the moment. "Are you sure you want this?" she asks, her lips dangerously close to your ear. Everything about her was so soft. She was so gentle with you, as if youâd break if she added just a bit more force.
Thereâs an unspoken understanding between you two now. Her fingers brush against your neck softly. Her lips hovering yours just a breath away, and for a moment, everything feels unreal. The world outside fades, leaving just the two of you in this⌠space together.
You tilt your head slightly, your lips parted in silent invitation. She doesnât hesitate, her lips meeting yours in a kiss thatâs slow at first, but with the quiet promise of more to come.
Her hands tug at the hem of your shirt and her eyes look at yours, waiting for your permission. When you finally give her the affirming nod, she takes her time on pulling your clothes off, so as to not harm you. Finally, your pants are stripped off and she gives you a warning look.
âPlease tell me if it hurtsâŚâ she says. You nod in response.
Her hands start to trail down⌠and down⌠until she reaches your folds. Gently, she shoves her index finger in ever so slowly. It was starting to feel agonising⌠you wanted her to go a bit faster but you just bit your tongue and let her do her thing.
She pumped her fingers in and out of you, coating her finger with your wetness.Â
âP-PleaseâŚâ you whimper, asking for more.
Her other hand then started roaming around your body more, the heat transferring to your skin. Your body was starting to feel hot⌠but not in a sick way⌠in a desperate way. Then, she slowly slipped another finger into you.Â
âA-ahh! H-Hyun JuâŚâ you moan. âMmmhâŚ!â
She started going faster, but still not fast enough to hurt you. The friction made you so close. The feeling was painful, you just wanted to release that very moment. The way her skillful fingers thrusted in and out of you felt like ecstasy. Your hand covered your mouth to minimize the moans and you⌠released your first orgasm. Your cum covered her fingers and she brought it up to show you.
âI-I have tissues in my bagâŚâ you said breathlessly.
âNo needâŚâ she says before licking off your fluids.
Then her hand gently cupped your cheek, fingers brushing softly over your cheek. Slowly, she leaned in, her forehead meeting yours in a tender, lingering touch. The contact was warm, grounding, as if she was seeking comfort in the closeness.Â
Your breath started to steady in the quiet space between you. For a moment, everything else faded, nothing else mattered. The world, the noise, the tension and all that existed was the warmth of her skin and the weight of her hand on your cheek. The simple, intimate gesture felt like a promise, a silent understanding, deepening the connection between you.
#hyun ju#squid game#squid game fanfic#player 120#hyun ju x reader#player 120 x reader#squid game x reader
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Welcome to Miami
Lando Norris x Messi!Reader
Summary: a crazy weekend in Miami leaves Lando with his first Formula 1 win, one very pissed off football legend, and a baby-shaped surprise set to arrive in just about nine months
Warnings: 18+ content and unplanned pregnancy
Note: based on a request by @glitterquadricorn that I may have ended up going a little overboard with
You wake up with a pounding headache, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the hotel room window. As you blink your eyes into focus, you realize youâre not in your own bed. The sheets are unfamiliar, the decor is generic and impersonal.
Panic starts to set in as you try to reconstruct the previous nightâs events.
The space next to you is still warm, indented from where someone else was recently lying. You glance down at your lack of clothes and tousled hair. Yep, definitely had a one-night stand.
Wracking your brain, you vaguely recall meeting a charming stranger at the club, letting him buy you drinks until everything became a blur of flirtatious banter and wandering hands.
Your phone is on the nightstand and you grab it, hoping for some clues. A new contact catches your eye: âLando đâ. You snort at the stupid name and obvious (if cringey) innuendo. At least he has a sense of humor.
You wonder what kind of guy calls himself Lando these days.
As you get dressed and leave the hotel, already trying to put the awkward walk of shame behind you, fragments of the night come back in flashes. Landoâs warm blue-green eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughed. His skilled hands roaming over your body. The way he whispered filthy praises in your ear between searing kisses.
You shiver, feeling an unexpected pang of disappointment that youâll never see him again. But a one-night stand is just that â one night. No need to dwell on the best sex youâve had in ⌠well, maybe ever.
When you arrive home in the early afternoon, your dad greets you at the door with a knowing smirk.
âHave a good night, mija?â Leo teases, taking in your mussed appearance.
You roll your eyes, not wanting to give him any details. âIt was fine.â
He chuckles. âIf you say so. Iâm just glad youâre home safe.â
Over the next few weeks, you put Lando out of your mind completely. Your life goes on as normal â training with the University of Miamiâs football team, doing promotional appearances, and spending time with family and friends.
But then one morning about a month later, you wake up feeling nauseous. You brush it off as a stomach bug at first.
When the queasiness persists for several days along with strange cravings and bouts of fatigue, a nagging suspicion forms in your mind. You dig through your bathroom cabinets until you find an old pregnancy test leftover from a scare last year.
Your hands are shaking as you wait for the result. This canât be happening. You were so careful with Lando, youâre almost certain ⌠but maybe not careful enough.
The little plastic wand displays two solid pink lines. Positive.
âOh shit,â you whisper, feeling like the ground has dropped out from underneath you.
How could you have been so stupid? Getting knocked up from a drunken one-night stand with a guy you canât even remember properly. What are you going to do? How will you tell your parents? What about your athletic career?
A million thoughts race through your panic-stricken mind as you try to process this massive, life-altering situation. You want to call your best friend and cry, but youâre almost too overwhelmed to formulate words.
Part of you wants to be furious at Lando, that reckless idiot who came inside you so carelessly. But you know youâre just as much to blame. You obviously consented, you just canât recollect the exact circumstances.
God, why did you let yourself get so sloppy drunk and make such terrible decisions?
You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself. Okay, first things first â you need to confirm this with a visit to the doctor. And if itâs still positive, youâll have to figure out your next steps. Tell your family, decide whether to keep the baby or not. Thatâs still your choice, at least.
Your mind keeps drifting back to Lando, wishing you knew more about him than just a stupid contact name. Was that even his real name? What did he do for a living? Where was he from? Was he ready for the responsibility of being a father? Not that it mattered â you barely knew him. For all you knew, he could be married or secretly twisted.
No, you reason with yourself, trying to shut down that line of thinking, he seemed like a good guy. At least in the moment. Even through your tequila-soaked haze, you got a feeling of genuine warmth and kindness from him. Maybe youâre both just a couple of random people who made a reckless mistake after having too much fun together.
You take another breath and stand up, your mind made up. First, youâll go to the doctor and get an official test. Then youâll deal with everything else from there. Thereâs no use panicking until you confirm this is actually happening.
But deep down, you know this cheap little test is accurate. Youâre pregnant with a virtual strangerâs baby. And in that moment, feeling so lost and overwhelmed and terrified, you canât help but wonder â who the hell is Lando?
***
You sit on the couch, hands trembling as you clutch the results of your blood test. Tears stream down your face as the weight of the situation crushes down on you.
How could you have been so reckless? So stupid? Youâre supposed to be a role model, setting an example for young girls. And now youâre pregnant from a one-night stand with some random guy.
The shame and fear swirl inside you until you can barely breathe. You need to tell your dad. Heâll be so disappointed in you. But you canât keep this a secret, it will only get harder as your belly grows.
You hear the front door open and your dadâs familiar footsteps. Bracing yourself, you call out in a shaky voice, âPapa? Can you come here please?â
Leo wanders into the living room, his expression turning to immediate concern when he sees your tear-stained face. âMija, whatâs wrong? Are you hurt?â
You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as you try to find the words. âI ⌠Iâm pregnant,â you finally choke out.
His eyes go wide with shock. âPregnant? How âŚâ Realization dawns on his face. âWas this from that night you came home ...â He doesnât need to finish the question.
You nod miserably, a fresh wave of tears falling. âIâm so sorry, Papa. I was drunk and stupid and ⌠and I donât even know who the father is, not really.â The words tumble out in a rush. âJust some guy I met at a club, his name was Lando or something. I barely remember anything!â
To your surprise, your dadâs expression softens into something like sympathy instead of the anger or disappointment you expected. He moves to sit beside you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.
âShh, itâs alright mija. Iâm not happy about this situation, but Iâm not angry at you either. We all make mistakes.â He pauses, seeming to think something over. âThis Lando guy ⌠was it around the time of the Miami Grand Prix in early May?â
You nod again, not understanding the connection. âI think so, why?â
A look of recognition crosses your dadâs face. âThereâs a young driver in Formula 1. Iâm a bit of a fan actually, been following his career when I have the chance. Itâs not the most common name.â
Your breath catches in your throat as the pieces fall into place. The drunk recollections of warm color-changing eyes and a charming smile. The weird name followed by that stupid eggplant emoji in your contacts.
It all fits.
âOh my god ⌠you think the father is Lando Norris? Like, the Formula 1 driver?â Part of you wants to dismiss the idea as ridiculous, but another part feels an undeniable certainty that your dad has hit the nail on the head.
Leo nods firmly. âI think itâs highly likely. He was in Miami for the race that weekend. Reckless kid probably went out partying after finally managing to win.â
Thereâs a hard edge to your dadâs voice at that last part. You canât really blame his protectiveness â finding out your daughter is pregnant from a one-night stand, especially with a relative celebrity, canât be easy for any father.
âWhat am I going to do?â You whisper, scared all over again at the massive upheaval your life is facing.
But your dad just pulls you into a tighter hug, his touch reassuring and strong. âWeâll figure it out together, mija. Donât worry. If this Lando character is the father, heâll damn well take responsibility. Iâll make sure of it.â
You let out a shaky breath, letting your dadâs words soothe you. Heâs right â youâre not in this alone. And if Lando Norris really is the father, well, he signed up for this whether he knew it or not.
âThank you, Papa. I was so scared to tell you, but I shouldnât have been. Iâm lucky to have you.â You hug him fiercely, fresh tears spilling but this time born of reassurance instead of fear.
Leo just holds you close, his embrace full of fatherly love and protection. âAlways, mija. Iâve got your back, no matter what. Weâll get through this together.â
After a few moments, he pulls back, his expression turning more stern. âAnd as for this Lando kid, he better step up and be a man about this situation. Because if he tries to abandon you or this baby ...â He lets the implied threat hang in the air.
You canât help but give a watery laugh. âI have a feeling he wonât want to mess with you. Not if he knows whatâs good for him.â
Your dad allows a small smile at that. âSmart boy. Now, do you have a way to contact him? Iâm sure someone can get us his information if not.â
You think for a moment, then remember â your phone contacts. You grab your cell and pull up the fateful entry.
âHere, just this number with the stupid eggplant emoji.â Your cheeks flush a little as you say it.
Leo arches an eyebrow at that but doesnât comment. Instead, he takes out his own phone and dials the number, his expression hardening with determination.
âRight, listen up, Lando Norris ...â he begins, leaving no room for argument.
You take a steadying breath as your dad starts laying down the law to the man who knocked up his precious daughter. For the first time since staring at those two pink lines, you feel a tiny kernel of hope taking root.
No matter what happens, youâre not alone in this. Your dad has your back, and Lando â well, Lando better prepare himself. Because when Leo Messi demands you take responsibility for your actions, you donât dare say no.
***
Lando jolts awake to the harsh buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. He blinks blearily at the harsh red numbers of the alarm clock â 2:51 am. Who the hell is calling at this ungodly hour?
He fumbles for the phone, squinting at the unknown number with a +1 country code. Probably a spam call from across the pond. Heâs tempted to just silence it, but something makes him swipe to answer with a groggy âHello?â
âLando Norris?â The deep voice on the other end is vaguely familiar, but Lando canât quite place it in his sleep-addled state.
âYeah, this is him. Whoâs this?â He tries and fails to smoother a huge yawn.
âThis is Lionel Messi.â
Landoâs eyes shoot wide open, any lingering drowsiness evaporating like heâs been doused with ice water. Leo freaking Messi is on the phone with him? His brain scrambles to comprehend whatâs happening.
âI ⌠uh ⌠Mr. Messi, sir. This is ⌠I mean ⌠wow. What an honor!â He cringes at his own stammering, feeling very much like a star-struck fanboy rather than a fellow professional athlete.
Messiâs voice remains calm but firm. âIâll get right to the point. Do you remember a young woman you slept with recently? The night of the Miami Grand Prix a few months ago?â
Lando feels his stomach drop out. Suddenly this phone call is taking on a very different context than just a casual chat with a sports legend. He racks his brain, trying to recall the handful of women heâd casually hooked up with around that time.
There was that petite blonde from the club after sprint qualifying ⌠no, she was just a make-out in the back alley behind the valet. The pair of Brazilian bombshell twins heâd brought back to his hotel room on Saturday ⌠no, they made him get tested after that escapade just to be safe.
Then it clicks into place â the gorgeous young woman with a killer smile that heâd met at the LIV Nightclub afterparty. They had danced and drank together all night until everything descended into a sweaty, semi-public grope fest in one of the VIP booths before he convinced her to come back to his suite.
He remembers her gasping and whimpering his name as he pounded into her from behind. Remembers the way her nails raked down his back when he made her come apart with his tongue. Remembers being too drunk and worked up to put on a condom before sinking back into her tight, wet heat and ...
Oh shit.
âI ⌠yes, sir. I think I know who youâre referring to,â Lando forces out, his mouth incredibly dry.
âGood. Then youâll remember getting my daughter pregnant that night as well.â
Lando actually feels the blood drain from his face, a rushing sound filling his ears. He must have misheard, right? Thereâs no way Leo freaking Messi just said Lando got his daughter pregnant!
âI ⌠Iâm sorry ⌠your what?â He sputters out dumbly.
Messiâs tone takes on a steely edge. âMy daughter. The young woman you slept with, sheâs my daughter. And now sheâs pregnant with your child.â
The room starts to spin. Lando tries to force air into his lungs, feeling like he might actually pass out. âOh my god, I ⌠I had no idea! We were both so drunk, I never would have ⌠oh fuck, Iâm so sorry, sir!â
âSorry doesnât really fix this, does it?â Messiâs voice is like sharpened steel. âYou got my little girl pregnant from some drunken fling and now she has to deal with all of this.â
âI ⌠yes, youâre right. Completely right.â Lando presses trembling fingers to his throbbing temples. This canât actually be happening, right? âWhat ⌠what do you want me to do? Iâll do anything, whatever you need!â
Thereâs a weighted pause on the line before Messi speaks again, his tone leaving no room for argument.
âFirst, youâre going to meet with me and my daughter in person so we can discuss this situation. Then youâre going to take responsibility and be a part of this childâs life, understood? Step up and be a man about it.â
âYes! Yes, absolutely, of course!â Lando is nearly shouting into the phone, desperation and panic clawing at his throat. âWhatever you want, sir. Iâll be there. Just tell me when and where.â
âGood. Iâll have my people set it up and send the details to your team.â Thereâs a hint of grudging approval in Messiâs voice now, like heâs satisfied Lando appears to be taking this seriously. âI suggest you get some sleep, youâre going to need it.â
The line goes dead before Lando can respond. He stares dumbly at the silent phone in his hand for several long moments, trying to process everything.
Leo Messiâs daughter.
Pregnant.
With his baby.
Holy shit, what has he done? What is he going to do? How did one reckless, drunken night blow up into such a massive catastrophe?
His head is spinning and he can feel his overtaxed body starting to shut down from the shock and stress of the harrowing phone call. He tries to take a deep breath, pushing away the panic and leaning back against the pillows.
Sleep. Right. He needs sleep if he has any hope of dealing with ⌠with all of this. But how can he possibly rest now?
Landoâs eyes start to drift closed despite his whirling thoughts. His body has other plans, sucking him under into blessed unconsciousness as he slumps fully back onto the mattress.
The last thing heâs dimly aware of is his phone slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor, followed by his own body going entirely limp.
When Lando finally does manage to sleep, itâs to the terrifying vision of Leo Messiâs furious face snarling âyou got my daughter pregnantâ over and over again behind his closed eyelids.
***
The flight from Nice to Miami feels like it takes an eternity, but also happens in a terrifying blur. Lando can barely remember booking the first available ticket, throwing some clothes into an overnight bag, or making his way to the airport in a daze. He runs on autopilot, his mind spinning in frantic circles.
He got Leo Messiâs daughter pregnant. How is this his life?
A private chauffeur is waiting at the baggage claim when Lando deplanes in Miami, holding up a printed sign with his name. Of course Messi would have people to handle something like this.
Lando swallows hard and approaches the stern-faced driver. âIâm Lando Norris. Uh, Mr. Messi is expecting me?â
The chauffeur gives him an appraising look but doesnât respond beyond a curt nod. He turns on his heel, expecting Lando to follow.
The drive to the Messisâ palatial Miami mansion is silent and tense. Lando fights the urge to fidget anxiously, his knee bouncing until he forces himself still.
Get it together, man. This is it.
All too soon, theyâre pulling through an immaculate gate onto perfectly manicured grounds surrounding the huge home. Lando takes a steadying breath as the driver gets his bag from the trunk.
Then the front door is swinging open and thereâs Leo Messi himself, looking as intimidating as Lando has ever seen the football icon. His expression is stony, jaw clenched tight as he measures Lando up.
Before Lando can even open his mouth, Messi beats him to it, tone leaving no room for argument.
âI donât like you.â
The words are like a kick to the gut. Lando forces himself to hold the steely gaze, giving a small nod.
âI understand, sir. Iâve made a terrible mistake and you have every right to be angry with me. Iâll accept whatever consequences I have to.â His voice is strong, despite the way his heart is jack-hammering in his chest.
Messi holds the intense eye contact a moment more before giving a short nod of what might be begrudging respect. He turns and heads inside, clearly expecting Lando to follow.
The foyer opens into an elegant living room where a familiar woman is sitting on one of the plush couches.
You.
Landoâs breath catches in his throat as memories from that hazy night come rushing back. Your skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat as you moved rhythmically to the music. Your throaty laugh and sparkling eyes as you flirted shamelessly over your fourth ⌠no fifth ⌠mojito. The velvet silk of your hair brushing his face as you ground down against his lap.
He swallows hard, trying not to stare. The situation is awkward enough without dwelling on the admittedly incredible sex that caused this whole mess. Though he canât deny the sharp spike of pure physical want that hits his gut at the sight of you.
Your eyes are wide and nervous as you take him in. âUm ⌠hi.â
âHi,â he replies simply, feeling incredibly self-conscious under the weighty stare of your legendary father.
An agonizing beat of silence stretches between the three of you.
âWell?â Leo prompts impatiently, making you both jump. âYou got my daughter pregnant. What do you plan to do about it?â
The blunt words make Landoâs face flush hot, but he forces himself to meet your fatherâs stern gaze head-on.
âWhatever I need to do, sir. Iâll take full responsibility. Financially, emotionally, being there for the child ⌠anything you need from me.â He pauses, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. âThat is ⌠if the mother wants me to be involved as well?â
He looks at you then, trying to convey his sincerity. Despite the casual nature of your hook-up, he meant what he said â he will step up and do the right thing for this kid.
His kid.
You seem to consider his words for a long moment before giving a small nod. âYes ⌠yes, Iâd like you to be involved if youâre willing. This is as much my responsibility as yours. We ⌠we can figure this out. Together?â
The uncertain note in your voice tugs at something in Landoâs chest. For all your fatherâs bluster, you just sound like a young woman in a scary, overwhelming situation. Just like him.
âTogether,â he agrees firmly, returning your nod. âWeâll, ah, weâll be good co-parents. For the baby.â
The words feel strange leaving his lips, but also fill him with a sense of resolve and determination.
Leo watches the exchange between you both like a hawk, his expression unreadable. When he speaks again, his words are measured but dismissive.
âGet it sorted out then. Find a way to make this work. I donât care about the details as long as you two take care of my grandchild properly.â
With that, he gives a curt nod and turns to exit the room, leaving you and Lando to your own devices. The sudden lack of his intimidating presence seems to deflate the tension somewhat.
You let out a long, shaky breath, shooting Lando a wry look. âHeâs ⌠taking this about as well as could be expected, all things considered.â
Lando canât help but huff out a surprised laugh at that, some of the nervous knot in his stomach loosening slightly. âYeah, Iâll say. Your dad is legitimately terrifying, you know that?â
âOh, Iâm well aware,â you say with a small smile.
An odd sense of camaraderie falls over you both then â two young people bonding over how Lando quite literally knocked you up. Itâs almost enough for him to relax a bit.
Then you glance down at your still-flat stomach and all humor drains away. âSo ⌠co-parents, huh? You really want to do this?â
Lando doesnât even have to think about it. âOf course. Itâs my kid too, yeah? My responsibility, like I said.â He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. âItâs not exactly how I pictured becoming a father, but ⌠Iâm in this all the way. For the little oneâs sake.â
Something in your expression softens at his words and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. âThank you, Lando. That ⌠that really means a lot to hear.â
Before he can think better of it, Lando closes the distance between you and pulls you into an impulsive hug. You stiffen for just a moment before relaxing against him.
âHey, weâre gonna be okay, you and me,â he murmurs as he holds you close. âWeâve got this, baby mama.â
You stiffen again and pull back sharply at the words, a look of mortification on your face. Lando frowns in confusion until a familiar gravelly voice cuts through the room.
âLando Norris, I swear if you ever call my daughter that again, theyâll never find your body.â
Leo Messi is back, leveling Lando with a look that would liquefy steel. The driver nearly swallows his tongue, flushing scarlet.
âY-yes, sir! Of course, sir! It, ah, it wonât happen again!â He stammers out, mentally making a note to permanently delete those words from his vocabulary.
Messi just grunts in response, apparently satisfied, before retreating from the room once more.
Youâre staring at Lando with wide eyes and badly-suppressed laughter. He groans, dropping his face into his hands.
âWhy did I say that? God, Iâm an idiot.â
âItâs okay,â you assure him, that smile breaking free. âThis is just ⌠all a bit surreal, isnât it?â
Lando peeks through his fingers to meet your gaze, unable to stop the rueful grin that spreads across his own face.
âJust a bit, yeah.â He drops his hands with a defeated chuckle. âBut your dadâs right â weâve got to take this seriously for the little one.â
You nod, smile fading into a look of grim determination. âWe do. Which means you canât call me baby mama if you actually want to stay alive to see your child.â
âDeal,â Lando agrees readily, feeling lighter than he has since your father first called to drop that bomb on him.
Maybe co-parenting wonât be easy, but somehow he gets the sense you two just might be able to figure it out. And with the entire weight of Leo freaking Messiâs protective rage motivating him, Lando is damn sure going to try his best.
***
Ten Months Later
The vibrant Miami sun beams down on you as you carefully lift Maia out of her stroller, cradling the bundle of joy in your arms. Your daughterâs wide, curious eyes dart around, taking in all the sights and sounds of the paddock for the first time.
âThere they are! My two favorite girls,â Landoâs voice rings out as he jogs over, already wearing his team gear in preparation for the drivers parade. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek before turning his attention to Maia. âAnd howâs my little princess doing today?â
Maia lets out a delighted squeal and you canât help but smile at the pure adoration on Landoâs face as he gently brushes a finger over her chubby cheek. âSheâs been an angel all morning. I think she knows this is a big day for her first race.â
âThatâs my girl,â Lando grins. âGoing to be a little racer before we know it.â
âLando! There you are, mate.â The Aussie accent cuts through the paddock as Landoâs teammate bounds over. âIâve been looking everywhere for ⌠oh wow, is that her?â
Oscarâs eyes go wide as they land on Maia, taking in her tiny features with an almost comical look of awe. âSheâs ⌠sheâs so small,â he says dumbly.
âWhat did you expect, sheâs a baby,â Lando scoffs with a roll of his eyes, though his tone is good-natured. âDo you want to hold her?â
âCan I?â Oscar asks eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overexcited puppy.
You laugh and carefully transfer Maia into Oscarâs waiting arms, guiding his hands to properly support her head. âJust watch the grabby hands. Sheâs got a pretty strong grip these days.â
Oscar nods rapidly, looking a bit intimidated as he gingerly cradles Maia against his chest. But the instant she lets out a little gurgling coo, his face splits into the biggest, most boyish grin youâve ever seen.
âHey there, little Norris,â he murmurs softly, instantly transfixed. âIâm your favorite Uncle Oscar.â
âOi, who said you get to be the favorite uncle?â Another voice cuts in as Carlos saunters over, immediately zeroing in on the form in Oscarâs arms. âIs that her? Dios mio, sheâs gorgeous!â
Without hesitation, Carlos plucks Maia right out of Oscarâs hold, completely ignoring the other driverâs sputtering. âWell hello there, princesa. Donât worry, your TĂo Carlos has got you.â
Maia blinks up at the new face peering down at her, tiny fists waving as if to grab at the Spaniardâs perfectly coiffed hair. Carlos simply grins and nuzzles his nose against her cheek, seemingly not caring one bit about any damage the squirming infant in his arms can do.
âAre you seeing this?â Lando mock-whispers to you, looping an arm around your waist and leaning in conspiratorially. âHow are we supposed to get her back now?â
You stifle a giggle behind your hand, watching in amusement as Carlos and Oscar descend into bickering over who Maiaâs favorite uncle will be â only to be interrupted as another figure appears beside them.
âWhat do we have here?â Daniel Ricciardo pipes up with a wide grin, hands shoved casually in his pockets. âDonât tell me you two are fighting over babysitting duties already?â
âSomething like that, mate,â Lando chuckles, reaching out to clap Daniel on the shoulder in greeting. âUp for putting your name in the hat too?â
âYou know it!â Daniel agrees easily, quickly sidestepping Carlos to peer down at Maia with a wide smile. âHey there, little monkey. Look at you all bright-eyed and curious.â
Amazingly, Maia seems entirely unperturbed by all the fussing going on around her. She simply blinks placidly up at each new face, soaking it all in like a tiny sponge. At one point, she even lets out a delighted squeal and flails her arms â prompting a fresh round of cooing from the three drivers clustered around her.
âAw, I think she likes me best already,â Daniel declares with a wink, gently booping Maiaâs button nose and making her giggle.
You shake your head in fond exasperation even as Lando tugs you tighter against his side, completely content to bask in the scene. That is, until Danielâs next words nearly make you choke.
âSo just how old is this little angel?â He asks idly, eyes still trained on Maiaâs sweet face. âFour months now?â
âThree months and one week,â Lando answers automatically â only to tense a split second later, mouth falling open in realization. âOh. Oh.â
The smug grin that slowly spreads across Danielâs face is borderline devlish as it clicks into place for everyone exactly when Maia would have been ⌠well, conceived. A heavy silence falls over the group, disturbed only by Maiaâs happy gurgling as she remains oblivious to the sudden shift.
âWell, well, well,â Daniel drawls, dark eyes dancing with mirth as he bounces Maia playfully in his arms. âI think someone got a little overexcited celebrating his win last year, didnât he?â
The only response is a strangled squawk from Lando as his face flushes bright red â no doubt remembering exactly how the two of you celebrated his first time on top of the Formula 1 podium. Meanwhile, Carlos and Oscar openly gape at the revelation, eyes nearly bugging out of their skulls.
âDonât you dare,â Lando manages to choke out, stabbing an accusatory finger in Danielâs direction. âWe are not having this conversation here.â
âWhy not?â Daniel shrugs blithely, gently jostling Maia to the crook of his elbow in a way that has her giggling. âItâs a perfectly natural thing, nothing to be ashamed about. That mustâve been one hell of a victory lap!â
The innuendo hangs heavily in the air, made all the more mortifying by the lecherous waggle of Danielâs eyebrows. Lando, meanwhile, looks like heâs two seconds away from spontaneously combusting on the spot.
âIâm going to kill you,â he mutters through gritted teeth, dragging a hand over his rapidly reddening face.
Before Daniel can respond with another quip, however, you quickly step in â scooping Maia out of his arms with a stern glare. âThatâs enough of that, I think.â
Daniel wisely snaps his mouth shut at the warning in your tone, offering a cheeky salute instead. âIâll lay off ⌠for now.â
With a wink and a last jaunty grin towards a still-sputtering Lando, he bids the group farewell and heads off to prepare for the race. Oscar, seemingly remembering youâre all congregating in a very public place, manages to pick his jaw up off the ground long enough to clear his throat awkwardly.
âRight, well ⌠I need to go, you know, do driver things,â he mumbles before beating a hasty retreat, stumbling over his own feet in his haste.
Carlos, for his part, has the audacity to start outright cackling the second Oscar is out of earshot.
âYou never fail to entertain,â he manages between wheezing gasps, wiping away mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes.
Lando flushes even deeper, if possible, and shoots you a helpless look. You simply raise an eyebrow, letting him squirm for a moment before taking pity.
âAlright, thatâs enough out of you,â you chide Carlos lightly, shifting Maia higher on your hip. âUnless you want to be the one explaining the birds and the bees to her when the time comes?â
That seems to sober Carlos up somewhat, his laughter trailing off into a few more chuckles as he waves a hand dismissively. âYou wound me, amiga. As if I would corrupt the ears of such an innocent little one.â
You give him a pointed look and he holds up his hands in surrender. âOkay, okay. Iâm done.â
With a roguish wink, Carlos reaches out to gently pinch Maiaâs cheek â earning a bright smile from the bubbly infant.
âYouâll learn soon enough that your papĂĄ can be un poco loco sometimes, princesa.â
âShe really doesnât need to learn that at all, thanks,â Lando grumbles, shooting his friend an exasperated glare.
You canât help but shake your head fondly at the pair of them, even as Lando tucks you snugly against his side. For all their bickering, itâs abundantly clear just how enamored all the drivers are with Maia already.
The tender moment is interrupted, however, by a voice calling out for your boyfriend from across the paddock.
âLando, we need you over in the garage. The parade will be starting any minute now,â a press officer arrives to herd him away.
Lando exhales a put-upon sigh, dropping a kiss to the top of Maiaâs head before meeting your gaze apologetically. âDuty calls, I suppose. Youâll be okay here with my littlest fan club?â
You wave him off with a warm smile. âWeâll be fine. Just focus on having a good race, yeah? Maia and I will be cheering you on.â
The brilliant grin Lando flashes you is enough to make your heart flutter. âHow could I do anything else with my two favorite cheerleaders?â
With one last lingering kiss, he tears himself away â offering a half-hearted wave to Carlos before disappearing through the paddock. An oddly serene quiet falls in his absence, the crowd breaking up to get settled before the race.
Carlos seems to sense your pensive mood, stepping up beside you to gently bump his shoulder against yours.
âYou know, he really has changed since becoming a papĂĄ,â the older driver muses, casting a fond look down at Maia. âFar as I can tell, itâs done wonders for him.â
You smile softly, bouncing Maia gently as you watch Landoâs retreating back weave through the controlled chaos of the paddock. âHeâs been ⌠amazing. And he loves Maia more than life itself. My father complains that he has run out of things to threaten Lando over, which is the biggest compliment coming from him.â
Your daughter simply blinks at the two of you for a long moment before that sunny smile youâve grown to adore stretches across her face, little fists waving happily in the air. You canât help but chuckle at her antics, brushing a knuckle over her soft cheek.
As the bright Miami sun shines down and anticipation slowly builds in the background, you feel a surge of nearly overwhelming contentment. No matter what twists and turns life throws your way from here, you decide, youâll always be able to find your way back to moments like this.
So much has changed in the course of a year, but you truly wouldnât have it any other way.
Even if Lando still canât quite look your father in the eye.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#lando norris#ln4#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfic#lando norris blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#miami gp 2024#f1 x female reader#lando norris x female reader#lando norris x y/n#mclaren#lando norris one shot
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His hand so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face || Joel Miller x reader
Summary: Tommy hires a new ranch hand behind Joel's back and he's not happy about it.
CW: jackson era, rancher!joel and helper!reader, mean!joel, perv!joel, unhinged and bold!reader, lots of banter, mentions of parent death, alcohol, masturbation, smut, dry humping, unprotected p in v, fingering, daddy kink, degradation kink, lots of pet names (baby, etc.), big cock joel miller, lots of dirty talk, some fluff and feelings, no y/n, multiple POVs. (2.8k words)
A/N: Special thanks to @fhatbhabiee for proofreading, @notjustjavierpena for the beautiful banner, @saradika-graphics for the dividers.
âThe hell is this?!â Joelâs fists are closed against his hips, his head cocked to the side as he looks at what Tommy has brought into his home, another lost sheep.
âThis is your new helper.â His younger brother gestures towards you and you look at the older man, an eyebrow raised in defiance. It wasnât the warm welcome you had expected. âMariaâs about to pop out any day now, so I hired someone to take my place in the ranch.â
âYou think a lilâ girl can help me?â Joel looks down at you, his steel gaze analyzing your reaction. But Tommy cuts you off before you can say anything.
âDonât be a sexist olâ prick. She has experience and took care of animals in her previous community.â
âAnd Iâm not a little girl.â You add, detaching every syllable. âShall we try that again? You must be Joel.â You tell him your name, and he takes your extended hand in his calloused palm, squeezing it stronger than necessary.
âNice to meet you.â He grumbles.
âSo, whereâs my room?â
âYour⌠room?â Joel asks, his murderous gaze pinning Tommy down.
âListen, she just got here. Itâs temporary. Give âer a room, feed her and sheâll work for you for free.â
âI sure fuckinâ hope so.â Joel mutters.
How dare he bring this pretty young woman into his home without asking him before? The worst part is, youâre hard working. Every day, you get up at the crack of dawn to feed the cows and the sheep. Youâre stronger than you look. And sometimes, you cook for him too, and he hates admitting that youâre good. Youâre too fucking young, too fucking good looking and he shouldnât be looking at you like that. He shouldnât be fucking his fist every night since you arrived with your name dying on his chapped lips.
Joel joins you in the barn to see if youâre working well. You are, of course, milking one of the cows; your knees in the mud, pulling on the cowâs udders.
âWhen youâre done, put the milk into glass bottles and bring âem inside⌠We can trade âem.â Joel orders, then clears his throat. âDâya⌠need anythinâ?â
When Joel doesnât bark out orders, heâs silent. Itâs the first time in a week heâs shown any care for your well-being.
âHm⌠clothes for the cold months coming would be nice.â You finish milking the cow and get up. You look at your ruined pants and sigh. âYeah⌠clothes would be nice.â
âSure thing, kiddo.â
You cringe at the nickname. âThanks, Joel. But stop calling me that.â You canât look at him, and you simply pet the giant, but soft beast who moos in response. You chuckle and turn to Joel. You pretend for his sake that you donât hear him on the other side of the wall every night, wet noises mixed with heavy pants. You pretend you donât do the same. âIâm closer to 30 than to 20.â You watch as he swallows heavily.
Still, 26 years is a big age gap, and Joel curses in his head as he hears you confirm your age.
âRight, but Iâm 56. Youâre jusâ a kid to me. I could be your dad.â
âIâm a woman. Treat me like one.â You respond firmly. He sees how worked up that gets you, how your body is facing him with your fists tight like youâre keeping yourself from hitting him.
Joel sighs and stays silent for too long, leaving with a last glance at you and another order. âBe ready in 10. Weâre goinâ downtown to get you clothes. Be late, and Iâll go without ya.â
Youâre fuming, and you want to curse the manâs ancestors, but you stay silent, obedient. You pack the milk harvest of the day: 3 good bottles, that would only need to be filtered before consumption. You go into your room to put on your only clean pair of jeans, and join Joel at the front, where heâs stoically waiting, big, stupid strong arms crossed against his chest, the sleeves of his flannel pulling against his muscles. You stomp to him with a box of milk in hands, and he chuckles, the asshole chuckles â
âListen, asshole â â You push the box into his arms, and he takes it effortlessly, an amused grin on his face. âI donât know if youâre just sexually constipated or what, if so, please for the love of God, get fucking laid, but you donât have to be mean to me all the time. Just because Iâm young or because you donât want me here orâŚ. You know what? I had a dad, heâs fucking dead. Youâre not my father, move on. Treat me like a fucking person.â
One of his eyebrows lift, and he looks at you for a few seconds, before asking: âYou done?â
âNo. Tell me youâll stop being an ass or Iâll go find someone more annoying than me to replace me.â
âFine. Iâll treat you like a woman and a person.â
âThank you for the bare fucking minimum. Letâs go, cowboy.â You say between your teeth.
Your walk from the ranch to downtown Jackson calms you down. Everyone else is too nice for you to stay mad.
âSâhere.â He points at the storefront with a sign that reads clothing and repair services. You go in with him, a soft bell announcing new guests. There are a few racks with seasonal clothing, a few different sections clearly identified: for children, women and men. Joel brings the milk up to the counter and the owner gives him five coupons in exchange.
âYou can get five things.â Joel tells you as he hands you the coupons.
âButâŚ. Donât you need anything?â
âNo, Iâm fine.â
âOkayâŚâ
You look around while Joel waits at the counter. You find two sweaters your size, two pairs of pants and some underwear (that were on âsaleâ for 3 for 1 coupon). You give your coupons to the owner, she counts your items and tells you that youâre good to go.
Weeks pass, where Joel really tries to be nicer to you after your little meltdown. He doesnât call you kiddo anymore â thank God â but you sometimes feel his gaze linger. You both try to stay away from each other â why would you fuck your new boss - because truth is, you find him very attractive despite his ill manners. But seeing Joel every day in the most domestic of settings lights something inside of you â a profound want and⌠affection.
In some rare occurrences, you have fun together. There are a few people in your backyard â Tommy, some townies you met through Joel, Ellie, Joelâs adoptive daughter who had moved away with her girlfriend. Youâre settled around a bonfire to shield your bodies from the cold. Joel has a guitar on his lap, and his face has a pleasant glow from the beers you shared. Youâre sitting between him and Tommy.
âHope the old manâs treating you well.â Tommy jokes, a dig at his older brother.
âSurprisingly well. Well, after he stop treating me like a fucking kid.â You snort.
âYeah, he tends to do that.â Ellie concedes.
âStop talkinâ about me like I ainât here.â Joel grumbles.
âYou just had to be nicer.â You grimace.
âHad to see if you were a good worker âfore.â
âAm I?â
Your shoulders brush, and you smile innocently at him.
âGuess so.â
Thatâs the closest thing from a compliment youâd get. You call it a night shortly after, but everyone seems determined to spend the night outside.
You wake up in the middle of the night to a door closing, so you decide to get up for a glass of water. You pad silently on the cold wooden floor, only wearing your panties and an oversized long-sleeved shirt. You almost jump out of your skin when you see Joel sat on his favorite chair in the living room, knees spread like he owned the world. He had a half empty beer in hand.
âDidnât mean to wake you up, sweetheart.â His voice is rough. He looks up at you, eyes tracing your curves through your shirt, focusing on your bare legs, on your nipples peaking through your shirt. You self-consciously wrapped your arms around your torso.
âSâokayâŚâ You go into the kitchen to get a glass of water. You could still feel Joelâs gaze on you, since the house was open-floored. âHm, Joel?â You suddenly felt bold, maybe it was the remaining alcohol in your system.
âYeah?â
âWhy do you masturbate every night when Iâm right here?â You sip on your water as you walk back calmly to where Joel sat. âWhy donât you fuck me, huh?â
Joelâs face burns with shame, and you smile when you realize you were right.
âYouâre way too young and pretty for me, darlinâ.â He leaves his bottle on the table next to him, and he pinches the bridge with a long sigh. âAnd youâre workinâ for me.â
âLet me be clear, Joel.â Your glass joins his bottle, and you lean towards him, your legs between his, your arms around his neck. âI like you. I want you. Please. Let me have you.â
Joelâs breath comes out shaky, and his rough hands grab onto your shirt. âTried so hard to make you hate me, so this wouldnât happen.â
âYou succeeded for a while.â You smile sweetly, your fingers treading in the curls on the back of his neck. âYouâre very hot, Mr. Miller. I wonât beg again.â Your breath fans his dry lips.
âOkay. Okay.â Joel pulls you down even more, and youâre almost falling on his lap as his lips crash on yours. Itâs hungry and angry, desperate. Heâs angry at himself, you know it, but you donât want his shame. The older man tastes like beer and smells like fire. Your teeth pull on his bottom lip.
âI do the same thing, Joel. I fuck my fingers every night while I imagine yours.â You whisper against his lips after a chaste kiss to his swollen bottom lip.
Joel groans and drags you down. You sit comfortably on his lap, feeling the rough tent in his jeans.
âLeâme see you.â He sounds more confident now as he pulls on your hem and lift your shirt over your head. You like his heavy gaze on your breasts, his calloused fingers pulling on your nipples to make them harder. You sigh happily and thrust your hips against his hard cock. He feels so big, but youâre confident you could take all of him.
âYâwanna rut against my cock like a bitch in heat, huh? Go ahead, sweet girl. Make yourself wet for daddy.â
You didnât think Joel had such a dirty mouth on him, but you obey. You rub your wet panties against the large bump in his jeans. The rough texture of the used fabric pleases you, but you need more. You clumsily remove your panties and abandon them on the floor. Joel, in a trance, admires your pussy. His fingers barely touch you, and youâre already panting.
âSâall foâ me, huh? Dâyou need help?â
You nod enthusiastically.
âWords, baby.â He pressed, his free hand holding your chin up.
âTouch me, daddy. Please.â
âSuddenly so polite and sweet.â Two of Joelâs fingers circle your clit as you keep desperately moving your heat against his jeans, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. Pleasure builds rapidly in your core, and youâre thrusting your hips even harder, until you come in a moan.
âThatâs it, thatâs it.â He soothes. âCâme here.â He holds you in his arms strengthened by years of manual labor and lifts you up as he gets up. You wrap your legs around him. âMânot done with you, but I want you to be comfortable.â
He brings you to his bedroom, which you had never seen fully. Only glimpses here and there. Somehow, it felt more intimate. He drops your body on his large bed.
âHow are you still wearing clothes?â You complain, and he chuckles.
âSo eager, arenât ya?â Joel starts undressing, still on his feet by the bed. He only leaves his boxers on, and you try to see him in the dark. You decide to rely on your touch instead, when he takes the spot between your legs. Your fingers trace his strong back, finding scars here and there. You kiss him, softly this time.
âNeed to get you ready foâ me,â
âYes, please.â
His calloused hands spread your legs more, before he inserts one of his thick fingers in. You tighten around him, it already feels like heâs stretching you out.
âRelax baby.â
You breathe, in and out, slowly relaxing your walls at the same time.
âThatâs it, leâme in.â He thrusts it in and out a few times, before adding another finger. He uses his thumb to caress your clit, soothing the pain through another wave of pleasure.
âF-Fuck, Joel. Thatâs so much.â
âI know baby, youâre doinâ so well. Jusâ let go.â
He fucks you hard and fast with his fingers, pressing on your swollen clit with his thumb. Youâre moaning and thrashing through your second orgasm of the night, and Joelâs looking at you intently, his free hand caressing the lump in his boxers.
âNeed to fuck ya now. Can you take it?â His fingers leave you empty, and he soothes you with a kiss on your forehead.
âYes. Give it to me, please.â
He pulls down his boxers and throws them away. You watch in awe as his girth jumps out. He holds the base and swirls the fat head against your wetness, making you jump a little, still sensitive.
âSo wet foâ me.â
He aligns the head of his cock with your hole and pushes in slowly. You let out a breath after the big tip has breached your entrance.
âThatâs only the tip. More?â
You nod your head a few times. âI want everything.â Youâre so scared this will be the only time you can have him like this, bare and desperate.
He thrusts in, feeding you his cock as slow as he can bear. You hold on to him.
âYouâre so big, Joel.â You whine.
âI know baby I know.â Joel kisses you lazily and sensually, stopping his movements when his hips are flush with yours. He waits until you move on your own, and he thrusts in and out with your help, still slow and careful. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, you had never felt better in your life.
âFaster.â
He listens, snapping his hips faster and harsher, but he canât seem to be able to fuck you as hard as he wants in this angle. He suddenly leaves you empty and grabs your hips to turn you around, your ass in the air.
He thrusts in before youâre even ready, and the angle is perfect. He fucks you hard and fast, the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and your pants fill his bedroom. The line between pleasure and pain is so thin, but you love the way he lets himself go. His big balls hit your clit a few times, and youâre crying of pleasure. You hold on to his silky sheets and to the solid, wooden headboard as he pounds into you.
âGimme ânother one, câmon.â He urges you through gritted teeth. âCome on my cock.â
He slows down to catch his breath, fucking you deep and hard, and one of his hand sneaks to the front of your body, teasing your tits with expert hands. Your pleasure builds in your tummy, before the pressure releases, and you come hard around his cock.
âAtta girl.â He praises, breath heavy. You feel him move away, and you turn around just in time to see him pumping his cock a few times, until he comes in any piece of fabric he can find â which ends up being his boxers.
You lay down on his bed, all members spread as you catch your breath with a dumb smile on your lips. You couldnât believe you were just fucked by Joel Miller.
âI never came so much in my life, God.â You whisper in amazement, a hand against your sweaty forehead.
Joel chuckles and you hear his steps moving away from the room, but he isnât gone for too long. He comes back with a warm, wet cloth, which he uses to soothe your swollen pussy, and clean himself up. He climbs into bed with you, and you hope he doesnât ask you to go back to your room. Ever.
Youâre both laying on your side, facing each other. Joel lifts the blanket over you and lays his palm against your warm cheek.
âMâglad Tommy hired you behind my back.â
âYeah?â
âYeah. Stay. I like you.â He adds after clearing his throat. You smile and bring his palm to your lips to kiss it.
âI like you too. I wonât leave, if you want me to stay.â You assure him.
âGood.â He says as he closes his eyes. âSleep, youâre workinâ early tomorrow.â
âYouâre the worst.â You mumble as he chuckles weakly.
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller x yn#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x reader#joel miller tlou#jackson!joel miller#jackson!joel
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hello hello lovely! so the other day i donated blood for the first time and i felt perfectly fine the whole time but then like ten minutes after i threw up with like no warning?? (im fine now turns out i hadnt eaten enough during the day!!) but anyway i was wondering if you might please do a similar scenario with emt!marauders? doesnt have to be exact of course đ love you!
Oh I'm sorry that happened to you babe!! Thank you for requesting <3
cw: mention of past blood draw, nausea, lightheadedness
emt!marauders x fem!reader ⥠798 words
Youâre bent over so that your head is almost resting on your knees when a pair of shoes comes into your periphery. It seems theyâve sent someone to make sure youâre not going to pass out.Â
You force yourself to sit up, every muscle in your body feeling strange and overwrought, and oh. Itâs three someones. Youâd worry your vision was tripling if they didnât look each very distinct, save for their black EMT uniforms.Â
The owner of the shoes youâd seen sits in the chair beside you, all brown eyes and kind, gentle features. âHi,â he says, âIâm Remus. Are you the one who had trouble with the blood draw?âÂ
You sigh. âYeah.â Give him a small smile you hope looks reassuring. âIâm fine, though. It passed quickly. Iâm just waiting for the go-ahead to go home.âÂ
âYou got sick?â A second paramedic asks you as he sits down on your other side. This one has glasses and thick, curly hair that falls just above his eyes. The third, with sleeves rolled up to display arms full of inky tattoos, leans against the wall across the hall from you.Â
Youâre not entirely sure which one of them to look at, but you decide upon the boy whoâd asked the question. âYeah?âÂ
His lips tilt with a sympathetic sort of smile. âProbably best not to be walking or driving anywhere while youâre feeling ill, love. Do you feel up to some crackers?âÂ
You take the package of saltines he offers you. Notice for the first time how badly your hands are shaking as you try to tear it open. He notices, too.Â
âHere, Iâve got that.â He takes it back from you, ripping it open with one easy motion. As he holds it out for you, he says, âIâm James, thatâs Sirius.â The tattooed paramedic shoots you a wink.Â
âNice to meet you,â you mumble. âLook, Iâm really okay. They didnât need to send three of you to check up on me.âÂ
Sirius laughs. âDonât worry, babe, no oneâs worried youâre going to have a seizure. Weâre just a package deal.âÂ
âThe staff is all busy with the blood drive,â offers Remus when you still look perplexed, âand weâre between calls. We just thought weâd sit with you on our break, if thatâs alright.âÂ
âOh.â You swallow a bite of cracker. âYeah, okay. Thank you.âÂ
He gives you a soft smile. âHow do you feel?âÂ
âIâm okay.âÂ
âYouâre shaking down to your kneecaps,â Sirius says dryly.
âThe nurse said you looked like you were going to faint after you got sick,â James tries in a lighter tone. âDo you still feel that way?âÂ
He keeps his eyes on yours, warm and gentle, as you chew the inside of your lip. âI donât think so,â you say. âJust a bit weird, I guess.âÂ
âWeird how?â Sirius presses.Â
You shrink some under his gaze, and Remus says sternly, âSirius.âÂ
âYouâre scaring her.â Jamesâ hand lands on your thigh almost absentmindedly as he gives the other boy a faux glare. âGo get some juice. Begone.âÂ
Sirius huffs a laugh, pushing off from the wall. âPricks,â he says as he goes.Â
James turns back to you, smile turned up to full wattage. âDonât mind him. What were you saying about how you feel weird?âÂ
âJustâŚmostly fine.â Itâs impossible not to grow shy under the attention of the prettiest guys you think youâve ever seen. Remus nods for you to continue. âA little bit nauseous, I guess, and shaky. JustâŚweird.âÂ
James makes a sympathetic sound, rubbing your thigh. The way you go shock still at the touch appears not to catch his notice. âYeah, sounds like lightheadedness to me. Sâalright, though, weâll get you fixed up in a minute here.âÂ
Sirius saunters back in with a cup of orange juice. âLook,â he says as he hands it to you, âI even got her a straw to prove Iâm not mean. See?âÂ
âI didnât think you were being mean,â you say quietly.
Sirius grins. âNo.â He chucks you gently under the chin. You shrink even further into your seat. You swear these boys are only making your trembling worse. âYou never said a bad thing, gorgeous. Itâs just these two, they love to tyrannize me.âÂ
âYou could stand to be tyrannized from time to time,â says Remus.Â
âYeah,â James agrees heartily. âKeeps you from tyrannizing everyone else so much.âÂ
Their easy bantering brings a smile to your lips. Remus smiles back at you, nodding to your orange juice. âTake small sips of that,â he says. âDonât drink too fast and stop if you start to feel sick again.âÂ
âAttagirl,â James encourages when you raise the straw to your lips obediently, rubbing your thigh again.Â
Theyâre lucky the orange juice doesnât come out your nose.
#emt!marauders#emt!marauders x reader#marauders au#poly!marauders#poly marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction
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this is not how you imagined your friday night would go.
you thought youâd be watching the stars by now after a nice dinner. maybe some compliments, maybe even a small kiss shared. or some held hands.
but no. because currently youâre seated on the expensive couch, eyes fixated on some random nature documentary because you donât have the courage to face the six year old boy to your left and demand him to stop staring.
you like kids, but this one oddly makes you nervous, scared almost.
your date is in the bathroom taking way too long and youâre half tempted to up and leave. your posture is stiff, forcing yourself to find the screen interesting.
our of your peripheral, you can see the boy raise his spoonful of ice cream to his mouth, head tilting like youâre one of the animals being observed on the TV.
âare you the one he keeps talking about?â
confusion strikes you as you finally turn your head to face him. your titled head mirroring his own. âumâŚ..iâm not sure.â
a part of you feels flattered by the sudden fact. is satoru really talking about you? but then an unsettling feeling takes place, one of hesitation and jealously. or is he talking about someone else?
âyou have the black Cane Corso, right?â
ah, so itâs the former. you smile. âoh, yeah. thatâs me.â
âwhatâs his name?â the little boy asks you, shifting his small body as the talk of dogs gains his attention by the second.
âsunny.â
his brows pinch together. âwhy sunny?â
âbecause he was a stray, i found him in a box on a very hot day.â
he hums and nods before asking yet another question. you forget how curious children can be. âis he nice?â
you chuckle. sunny has the stereotype of being aggressive due to his breed and size, but heâs anything but. heâs your gentle giant who gets scared of butterflies and plastic water bottles. âheâs really nice, he loves meeting new people and licking.â
you playfully stick your tongue out with a look of a faux grimace. this gets the small boy to crack a hint of a smile. it warms your heart almost instantly. âyou like dogs?â you ask him, voice softening.
he nods automatically. âi really like dogs, i have two dogs. one is white and the other is black.â
âoh wow,â your eyebrows raise. âthatâs so cool, are they big too?â
âmhm.â he nods.
you do a small look around. âwhere are they?â
he simply shrugs and answers, âthey only come out sometimes.â
you want to ask what he means by that, but you figure satoru would best know. speaking of, he must be shitting a big one or heâs trying to calm his nerves inside that bathroom down the hall.
the little boy hesitates, like he wants to ask another question but isnât sure if he should. you give him an encouraging nod and he sighs. âcan you bring sunny next time?â
âââââââââââââââââââââ
âwhen you said you were fostering, i assumed a pet or something. not an actual child.â you tell Satoru as heâs walking you to your apartment door.
the two of you stop in front and he takes this time to grin. âdo i not look like a boy dad?â
your eyebrow raises with an unamused expression. âno, first off, you look like a girl dad. and second off, does he consider you his dad?â
ânah, not at all. more like an older brother if anything. or maybe that annoying uncle everyone hates.â he reaches forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. âdid he like you?â
âi hope so.â your lips purse. âi wasnât exactly ready to pitch myself as a good person tonight to some kid.â
satoru chuckles, thumb lingering on your cheek. âdonât need to pitch yourself, just be you and heâll like you just as much as i do. wellâactuallyâhopefully not as much. iâd hate to have competition.â
you canât help but roll your eyes. âhe did mention a next time, though. wants me to bring my dog.â
âyou mean that oversized human on all fours?â
your hand collides with his shoulder. he laughs and intertwines your fingers with his. âkidding, kidding. donât get violent, at least not now.â
leaning down, his lips kiss your forehead smoothly, they linger for a few seconds before he mutters against your skin. âhis names megumi, i hope youâll get along.â
your stomach flutters during this moment, relishing in the easy and comfortable intimacy. you nod and murmur back. âof course.â
he pulls back and smiles down at you. just as heâs about to speak another cheesy line, you beat him to it.
âsoâŚ.you talk about me a lot?â
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk#drabble#x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fluff#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#megumi fushiguro x reader#fushiguro megumi#megumi fluff#gojo fluff#satoru x you#satoru x reader
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Pleaseee Vampire James x pregnant reader?? A surprise dhampir babyyy
Just Mine
Vampire!James x pregnant!reader
Summary: âDid you know I never imagined anything could be more beautiful than you?â he murmured, his blue eyes shining like sapphires in the silver light. âBut here you are. You⌠carrying what we created together. A piece of me, inside you.â The reverence in his voice was almost devastating, each word laden with an intensity that seemed to heat even the air around them.
Warnings: blood (nothing serious) - a possessive James
A/N: anon, hope you like it <333 - have I mentioned how much I love vampires?
Masterlist
The night seemed more alive to James, as if every shadow danced in celebration of the miracle you carried. The silver light of the moon entered through the window, bathing the scene in an ethereal, almost supernatural glow. He was there, lying beside you, one of his large, cold hands resting on your rounded belly. His long fingers moved gently, tracing slow circles over the fabric of your thin nightgown, as if engraving in his memory every curve that your pregnancy had shaped.
âYou look beautiful like this, you know?â he murmured, his voice low and husky, carrying that tone that always made your skin tingle. His blue eyes shone intensely, fixed on you with a reverence that made your heart race. âSo full of me... our life growing inside you.â He smiled, his white teeth standing out as his sharp fangs showed, a sensual and dangerous reminder of what he was.
âJames,â you whispered, your voice slightly breaking with emotion. Your hand covered his over your belly, your fingers warming the cold skin that seemed to bring an inexplicable comfort. âYou always say that. You always make me feel like Iâm the only thing in the world that matters.â
âBecause you are.â He leaned in, his black, rebellious hair falling forward as his lips found your belly, leaving a cold kiss there. His eyes lifted to meet yours again, the vibrant blue contrasting with the darkness of the room. âYou and him... youâre everything. Every day that passes, I only become more certain of that.â
You laughed softly, the sound low and cozy, as your fingers slid to touch his face, tracing the perfect contour of his jaw. âAnd who takes care of you, James? I donât want you to forget that... youâre mine too, you know?â
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if absorbing your words. When he opened them again, there was something even more intense there, something almost devastating in his devotion. âIâm yours. In every sense, forever. But taking care of you is what keeps me alive. Knowing youâre safe... knowing I can give you everything. Thatâs enough for me.â
He moved closer, pressing his forehead to yours. âYou understand, donât you? What you mean to me? My light in the darkness... my whole world. If I could, I would keep you here forever, where no one can touch you, where I know youâre protected.â
âI know, James,â you replied, your eyes filling with tears that he quickly wiped away with the tips of his fingers, gently. âAnd I trust you. With everything I am.â
There was something in the scent you now carried that drove him madâsomething warm, sweet, full of promises and love. He often pressed his face into your neck, inhaling deeply, as if each breath were vital to him. And there was always that satisfied, possessive smile. âYou have no idea how irresistible you are... how it feels knowing you belong to me, in every sense.â
âJames,â you called him again, your voice soft but filled with conviction. âIâll never belong to anyone but you. Not even before all this... before us. You know that, donât you?â
He chuckled softly, his expression overflowing with pride and a joy that seemed impossible for someone like him, a creature made of darkness. âI know. And I swear Iâll spend every moment of our eternity reminding you of that.â
With that, he pulled you closer, enveloping you in an embrace that was both protective and intimate, while his hands gently caressed your belly once more. âOur son. My blood. Our eternity,â he whispered, and there was a promise in his voice that seemed to echo forever into the vastness of the night.
âDid you know I never imagined anything could be more beautiful than you?â he murmured, his blue eyes shining like sapphires in the silver light. âBut here you are. You⌠carrying what we created together. A piece of me, inside you.â The reverence in his voice was almost devastating, each word laden with an intensity that seemed to heat even the air around them.
You smiled at him, your hand covering his. âItâs the most precious piece. I never thought I could feel so complete, James.â Your voice was soft but firm, full of sincerity.
He tilted his head, the smile taking on a more predatory edge, though still filled with tenderness. âAnd thatâs exactly why you need to take care of yourself. You need to be strong. For you. For him.â The way he looked at youâas if you were all that existed in the worldâmade your heart leap.
Before you could respond, he gently pulled you closer, positioning you in his lap with an ease that betrayed his supernatural strength. His cold fingers caressed your face as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes fixed on yours. "It's time for you to feed." He didn't phrase it as a question, but rather as a statement, as if he already knew your body craved what only he could provide.
Your heart raced, not out of fear, but because of the familiar and inexplicable excitement these moments always brought. You didn't hesitate â you never did. Instead, you watched with palpable hunger as he raised his own wrist, the pale skin highlighting the veins. With a precise movement, he made a small cut, dark blood beginning to surface. The scent reached you almost instantly, rich, seductive, impossible to ignore.
You carefully held his wrist, but the urgency in your touch did not go unnoticed. He watched every movement, his blue eyes locked on you, glowing with something bordering on fascination. When your lips closed around the cut, he let out a low sigh, satisfied.
"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and laden with a tone that made your skin tingle. His fingers moved to the base of your neck, his touch almost possessive as he kept you close. "That's it... that's right. You need this. You need me."
You couldn't deny it. You didnât want to. The taste was indescribable, a mixture of need and pleasure, and the way he watched you only made the moment more intense. He encouraged you, whispering soft and seductive words, his hand now sliding to your back as he pulled you even closer.
"You're perfect like this, you know? So hungry for me... as it should be," he whispered against your hair, his voice deep and filled with an almost palpable satisfaction. The other cold, firm hand moved up to caress your belly again, his long fingers tracing slow, reverent circles on the stretched skin. "Everything about you is mine. It always has been." The low timbre of his words vibrated in the air, as possessive as it was passionate.
He tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes burning into you like two cold flames. Your heart, already racing from the intensity of the moment, beat even faster, and he could hear every pulse with supernatural clarity, like a song composed just for him. "I can hear it," he murmured, a smile forming on his lips, revealing the tip of his fangs. "Your heart. So fast. It's beating for me, isn't it?"
You couldn't answer, but the way your fingers tightened slightly around his wrist was enough. He laughed, a low sound, almost a purr, that seemed to reverberate through your body. "Ah, my sweet girl. So dependent on me... and I love it." The words came out laced with pride, but there was something deeper there â a fierce desire to protect you, to keep you always within his reach.
As you drank, he adjusted his position, pulling you even closer to his body. The way he held you was a perfect contrast between strength and care. His fingers, cold but comforting, slid down your back in slow caresses, while his other hand remained on your belly, as if needing to feel the life growing there to believe it was real. "My child," he murmured almost to himself, a glimmer of adoration in his eyes. "My blood. Our blood. You're giving me the greatest gift anyone could."
Minutes passed, but he showed no rush to stop. Every sound you made �� the soft sigh, the way you adjusted against him â seemed to fascinate him even more. He tilted his head, his lips brushing your temple lightly as he whispered, "That's it, love. Take as much as you need. You know I would never deny you anything."
Finally, when he realized you had fed enough, he gently pulled his wrist away, his blue eyes never leaving yours. "That's enough for now, my dear. You're strong, but you need balance," he said, his voice sounding like a mix of authority and affection.
Before you could protest, he raised his wrist and used his thumb to wipe the remnants of blood from the corner of your mouth. "So beautiful," he murmured, his eyes roaming your face with an intensity that was almost predatory. "Now... show me." He pressed his stained finger against your lips, a satisfied smile forming as you obeyed without hesitation, licking the traces as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Good girl," he said, the tone laden with pleasure as the smile on his lips widened, revealing his sharp fangs. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, as if he wanted to taste a bit of himself in you. When he pulled away, his eyes were shining with something almost dangerous. "You know I love this, don't you? This power... this submission. It's exactly where you belong."
You could barely find words, but he wasn't expecting any. He pulled you back into his arms, holding you against him as if he wanted the entire world to disappear. "Mine," he murmured, caressing your belly one last time. "My eternity. My perfection." And in that moment, you knew that, for him, nothing existed but you.
#james potter fanfiction#james potter fic#james potter marauders#james fleamont potter fanfiction#james fleamont potter#james x you#james potter#james potter x reader#romance#ao3 writer#writers on tumblr#atj#aaron taylor johnson#fanfiction#atj x reader#vampire!james potter#pregnant!reader#vampire
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Hei, may I ask Chan whoâs obsessed with giving you hickeys?đđťâ¤ď¸
This ask was made so long ago, I'm not even sure if you still want it to be answered lmao. But that's me, I'm probably the slowest writer in the world. Not sure if this is what you wanted but this is what I came up with đ hope you like it, though.
My bestie @baby-yongbok wrote something in this format and I liked it, so I kinda tried it on here hehe
Chan has been obsessed with you since the first time he laid eyes on you. The way your skin looks so soft, so beautiful, he just wants to mark you.
Chan sneaks looks at you every chance he gets and when you dress on something with a low cleavage he just goes crazy with the thought of sucking on your skin.
Chan cages you against the kitchen counter one day, hands gripping the wood with his hands on each side of your body. He smirks when you stare at him with huge doe eyes, not really trying to get away.
Chan gets closer, leaning his face so close to yours that your lips almost touch. He brushes his lips on yours, trailing down till his are right on your neck.
Chan hears you murmur "Fuck", trembling as soon as his lips meets your skin. He lands a kiss in there, forming an "O" with his mouth and sucking on your neck.
Chan has awakened something inside of him now, the way you gasp feeling his lips on your skin, the way your hands go right into his shoulders, digging the skin with your nails, the way the purple-ish tone shows up slowly. It all just makes him go crazy right then and there.
Chan can't control himself after that, when you're close to him your scent just pulls him in and his mouth starts to move on its own. He unconsciously trails wet kisses down your neck, feeling the sweetness of your skin.
Chan just listens to his desires, It's natural to him to just bite you, feeling your cold skin warming up on his lips.
Chan doesn't think It's just a question of loving the feeling of you squirming beneath him every time he gives you a hickey, it's the fact that he's marking you.
Chan loves to see the red marks turning purple and them fading away in bluish traces of his love bites on you. He loves to see you walking around covered in them, he loves when people notice it and joke about it with you, he loves to make new ones over the ones that are disappearing.
Chan loves when you argue with him because you have to wear turtle neck shirts or scarves to work to cover his feats, teasing you about not wanting to show that you have a territorial boyfriend.
Chan just wants everyone to know you already have someone, that you're his.
#stray kids#skz imagines#skz#skz x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz x y/n#skz x you#bangchan#bangchan imagines#stray kids bangchan#bangchan x reader#bangchan x y/n#bangchan x you#k labels#bangchan scenarios#skz scenarios
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Your Power (3)
Pairing: Azriel x reader
Summary: You made it out of the meeting with Azriel and the Inner Circle. They wanted to work with you, but how was it going to work? It seemed impossible with the crush you seem to be developing on the Shadowsinger.
Word count: 2.2k
Warnings: none
A/N: This is 3 months late, I know I know. Forgive me but I haven't forgotten about this story! I'm hoping this month I can get more parts out so don't give up on me pls. Dont forget to comment and let me know what you think! Thank you for the feedback!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Remembrance Day...Â
A day meant for remembering all of the lives that were lost to the war. Remember, honor and grieve for them. Five years too late but it was better than to continue like it never happened.Â
Right? Â
That was better than any idea you had. You just wanted it to be acknowledged, that a major event happened to a whole freaking city and left them, left you traumatized. And trauma needed to be acknowledged and healed, not shoved away. Â
It was going to be a big day, major really. The idea is for every citizen of Velaris to attend and pay their respects. The logistics and details? Â
ââGather people who will be willing to work for this. Create a team, have a meeting and lead them.ââ Â
Rhysand had said back at that cozy-not-formal-at-all room in the Library. Wait, did they expect you to do everything? It was their idea! They canât just throw everything at you! Well, they can but...Â
ââWe will be right there with you, every step of the way.ââ Feyre said, noticing the look on your face. She smiled ââAnything you need, you tell us, and weâll get it done.ââÂ
It made sense for you to be the one to gather the people. They didnât know them, didn't know your neighbors, your co-workers, the old fae who owned a bakery down the street from you who also lost someone to the war, the people who made the city.. Velaris. But they knew you. Â
ââHow am I supposed to convince them? Â Iâm so...awkward and I talk to much sometimes.ââ You expressed your worry to your sister-in-law the next morning after your encounter with the Inner Circle. Â
She gave you a look in return that said ââonly sometimes?ââ But she knew what you meant, it was a valid worry to have. Â
ââI doubt you would need to convince them, Y/N. Weâre all on the same page here, if they see how much this means to you, they will join.ââ She gave you her best reassuring smile, her body language seemingly relaxed. She had no doubt that you were the perfect person for the job. And the Inner Circle knew it too. Â
And they were right. Â
On your way to work, you made some stops at some shops, talked to the owners and asked them to meet with you in two days' time at the Library. Some had looked skeptical but after telling them what it was about, they instantly agreed. The majority though, had agreed right away. It made you feel all warm and happy inside, to know they respected you enough to take you seriously for this. You only hoped it would continue to go smoothly. Â
You opted not to mention that the high lord and high lady would be there. If some of them were anything like you, they would decline out of fear. Or maybe they wouldn't have, and it would have motivated them, who knows but you didn't mention their assistance and hope it didn't come and bite you in the ass. Â
You did that for the rest of the day and when the sun started to go down, you closed the shop and made your way home. A sigh of relief leaving your lips that the day was almost over. You needed to seriously organize if you were going to juggle this event plus work plus your family all at the same time. Thinking about how you were going to do that, you failed to notice someone had joined your walk and was walking beside you. Â
ââYou should really pay more attention to your surroundingsâ. Â
The scream that left your mouth wouldâve put a scared child to shame. You moved your hands frantically as if looking for something to hit or push, preferably the someone who had scared you. But it wasn't just anyone, no..Â
It was a 6â2ft tan, Illyrian warrior whose wings could easily hide someone, with the most beautiful hazel eyes that made you feel all sorts of things... like distress at the moment. Â
Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. You spoke before you could analyze what had just occurred.Â
ââWhat the heck is wrong with you?!ââ Â
He couldn't hide his amusement, a small smile on the corner of his mouth. His shadows flew circles around you as if they were too laughing at you. His response to your outburst was to raise an eyebrow. Â
Which quickly made you stop your walking and realize that you had just screamed at the freaking Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court. Â
Great.Â
If he thought you had a death wish well, there was no way to prove him wrong. Â
You shook your head and managed to get out a ââI-Iâm sorry. Iâm not actually implying there's something wrong with you! You just scared me, you appeared out of freaking nowhere, I didn't even hear you!ââ. Â
ââIâm a spy, it's part of my jobââ.Â
Right yes, that made sense. What didn't make sense is why he was walking you home when youâve seen him just the day before. Your thoughts went..there.Â
Did they regret your alliance (if you could call it that) and now wanted to kill you? Perhaps the High Lord thought you would squeak to everyone how he had apologized and now wanted your head. Â
ââIâm not going to murder you, Y/Nââ. If Azriel wouldn't have found the situation amusing, he would actually feel disappointed that you still managed to think they- he was going to hurt you. Â
He said your name. Out loud. You couldn't remember him saying it out loud and Mother did you love the way it sounded coming from him. Gods, you felt pathetic. Â
You exhaled. ââ I know that.ââ Clearing your throat and looking away from his pretty eyes, you asked him, trying to understand what was happening . ââWhat are you doing here?ââ. Â
He found that he didn't like when you weren't looking at him. He enjoyed observing your expressions and figuring out what you were thinking. Not that there was much to figure out since you were an open book. He slowly resumed the walk, waiting for you to catch up before replying. Â
ââFeyre sent me to check how it went with gathering the troops.ââ Â
A lie. Nor Feyre or Rhys had sent him but you didn't know that. You didn't need to know that he enjoyed your company, it was refreshing. He enjoyed that you didn't know anything about him except his title, enjoyed that you didn't even try to know his business and every step he took.  It was also great to be away from so many happy couples when he didnât have that. And you didnât either. Â
Troops. He made it sound like you were going into battle, jeez. Â
You were glad you weren't looking at him so he couldn't see the small quirk in your face that revealed you were hurt. It hurt you a little to know that he was only there with you because he was ordered to. Â
Well, what other reason did he have? None, to you at least. Besides this ââjobââ, there was nothing else you could offer him, nothing else that tied you together. Â
ââRight.ââ You cleared your throat once again and resumed walking with him next to you. Â
ââIt went well. I thinkââ You fidgeted with your fingers. ââThe majority said they would go to the meeting. Not sure if all of them will help with anything but Iâm hopeful theyâll at least attend.ââ Â
He nodded. ââAnyone we should be worried about?ââÂ
The thought made you chuckle, and you looked at him. ââIf you think an old baker with an affinity to touch everything is a threat, then yes. You should be worried.ââ You motioned to his siphons that seemed to glow exceptionally pretty against the light of the sunset. ââI would put those away just in case.ââ Â
The smile you gave him made him feel..things. Things he hadnât felt since he lost his chance with a certain Archeron sister. Things that made him want to get you to smile like that again. Â
ââNoted.ââ Â
You nodded and looked away from him to pay attention to the street. Knowing your luck, you would trip over air and fall on your face in front of him. Thankfully that didnât happen. Â
You didnât have a clue what was supposed to happen next to be frank. The conversation seemed to be over since you told him what he was there for. Â
So, why did he continue to walk you home? You didn't know if he knew that was were you were headed but he still accompanied you for the rest of the walk. Â
You wondered how it must've looked. A 5â5ft nervous, average looking female walking next to a 6â2ft handsome male with wings on the streets of Velaris. With the sun going down behind them. Did it look as silly as you felt? Â
Nonetheless, you decided to stop questioning it because it only made your head hurt and spent the rest of the walk enjoying his quiet company and listening to the buzz of the streets around you. His silence wasn't uncomfortable, which surprised you. You often felt uncomfortable around people you didn't know and especially if they werenât yapping your ear out like you would often do. Â
No, you quite enjoyed the peace his silence provided. It was also different from the silence that often accompanied you in your office, if Sabrina wasnât conversing with you about anything. Â
This was...nice. You hoped he wasnât feeling awkward. Â
He wasnât. Azriel was also enjoying it. Although secretly, he liked it more when you were talking to him. Which is why, once youâd made it to your house, he noticed the different house materials thrown around and asked. Â
ââRenovating?ââ Â
You cursed under your breath and sighed. Of course, he noticed the state of your messy house. Like you promised to yourself, you started working on the backyard finally and noticed you were missing stuff so you bought them and instead of placing it where it belongs in the backyard, you had thrown it in front of your front door (quite literally) because you were late to work. Â
You had forgotten about it until now. Â
ââUmm, something like that?ââ You rushed to open your front door so you could push the materials inside. Something you should've done that morning in the first place. Â
ââIâm actually making this..thing. Like a patio? On my backyard. These are just some things I left here by accident.ââ You said while pushing some of it inside with your foot. Â
Noticing how heavy a particular item was, Azriel picked it up and asked: ââWhere to?ââ. Â
You only looked at him, flabbergasted, all words seem to fly over your head. ââUm--ââÂ
He smiled internally, feeling glad he was able to make you feel whatever it was you felt. He raised an eyebrow, an amusing look in his eyes appearing once again. Â
Right. ââJust-you can put it here in the living room, its fine.ââ You motioned inside and stepped away so he could walk in. Praying to the Mother that the inside of your house was decent. You couldn't remember if you had put away the clean clothes..Â
But he knew thatâs not where the item was supposed to go so he suggested ââI can put it outside if itâs gonna be easier for youââ. Â
And indeed, it would be easier for you but that would also entail having him walk all the way to your backyard which was an even bigger mess. Plus, it would mean a couple more minutes with him. Did you want that?Â
Obviously. But you tried not to show it. Â
ââUm- sure. Yeah, thanks that would be great.ââ Â
And you would never forget the scene of him trying to walk through your house with his wings, not wanting to collide with anything. Â
Trying to contain your amusement, you quickly stepped up and showed him the way to your backyard. Thankful he couldnt see your face. Â
ââHere it's fine.ââÂ
You said once you made it outside to your yard. Motioning to the other supplies on the floor. Â
He nodded and placed it next to them. He took a look around your backyard and gave you a single nod. ââLooks like a big project.ââ Â
ââIt is.ââ You nodded and also looked around. Your brotherâs face and enthusiasm to be a part of it popped in your brain, dampening your mood for a second.Â
Azriel saw it and he wanted to ask, really wanted to ask about the reason of your expression but held back. He didn't know you and you didn't know him. And he clearly made you nervous, so he wasnât going to push it. Â
At this point, you didn't know what else to do or say so you looked at him and said ââWell, thank you. Um- you can tell the High Lady that everyone will be there.ââÂ
Accepting this as a goodbye, for now, he nodded and said ââGoodnightââ. Â
And that was all you got before he disappeared. Literally. Â
Eyebrows raised, widened eyes, you spinned and looked everywhere for him. He just...disappeared? Â
Well, then. Â
At least you made it. You actually managed a normal conversation with Azriel. Right? That was considered normal. Â
If this interaction was a preview of what was to come, you needed to be prepared of anything and everything. Including your surroundings, clearly. Â
#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel fanfiction#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#azriel#azriel imagine#azriel fic#azriel series#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x female!reader#azriel x oc#azriel story#azriel angst
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Simply Perfect
Dimitri Kravinoff x Reader
Summary: Your first Christmas with him.
The fire crackles softly, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.
Outside, it was a rainy day in London, but inside, it was just the two of you, wrapped in the spell of Christmas.
The tree twinkles with the lights you placed on it that morning, and the smell of pine and cinnamon fills the air.
Dimitri sits next to you on the couch, his hand resting lightly on your knee as you look at him with a smile.
He looks so handsome in this light.
Despite the luxury of the room, thereâs something wonderfully simple about tonight, just the two of you, sharing this special moment.
He reaches under the tree, pulling out a velvet box.
âI hope you like it,â Dimitri says, his voice low and smooth, carrying a hint of suspense.
Your heart skips a beat as you take the small box from him.
Heâs always thoughtful, but thereâs something about his sincerity tonight that makes your chest tighten in a good way.
You open the box, and your breathing stops for a moment.
Inside is a necklace, a beautiful silver necklace with a pendant which has intricate design that gleams like starlight.
Itâs the one youâve admired for months, the one you thought was out of reach.
It was simply too expensive and too beautiful for you.
Youâve talked about it before, but you never expected him to buy it for you.
âDimitri⌠itâs perfect,â you whisper, your fingers brushing over the delicate diamonds.
You meet his gaze, his eyes dark and warm with affection. He doesnât say anything, but the way he looks at you tells you everything.
âI'm glad you like it,â he says, his voice a soft promise.
You get the necklace from the box and drape it around your neck.
Immediately, he stands up, reaches behind you, and fastens the clasp with fast fingers.
His fingers brush your skin, and for a moment, you feel just how cold they are.
He must have been nervous to give you this beautiful gift.
"I feel spoiled." you laugh a little.
"You should be spoiled, you deserve it, My Love."
You reach for the gift youâve been hiding in the pillow behind you.
Itâs not nearly as extravagant, but itâs from the heart.
You spent months trying to find the best gift.
âIâve got something for you, too,â you say, your voice a little shaky as you hand him the box.
He looks at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
âYou didnât have to.â
âI wanted to, and it is only fair because you also bought me something,â you reply, your heart beating faster, now you understand why his fingers were cold.
Dimitri unwraps the gift slowly.
When he finally opens it, inside is a leather-bound journal. You watch as he makes a confused face.
Then he decided to open it.
The first page: For every moment weâve shared, and every one we still have to come.
His expression softens, the stoic façade he often wears slipping just a little. His eyes flicker to you, searching your face but you just smile and motion for him.
âItâs⌠itâs beautiful,â he says, his voice thick with meaning. âYou know, Iâve never been someone who writes down my thoughts, but⌠maybe Iâll start.â
As he flicks through the pages he notices that you have also written some things in there.
It makes him smile. You are so thoughtful.
You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.
âI thought it would be nice. To have something for only you. Write your thoughts down since it has been a tough year for you. I have put some of mine in there. Some might be... dirty.â
His eyes lit up as he quickly began his search through the pages.
You only laugh.
He closes it, his thumb brushing over the cover.
âIâll treasure it.â
For a long while, neither of you speaks. You simply sit there, in the quiet warmth of your home, the sound of the fire crackling in the background and the soft hum of Christmas music playing from the speakers.
"This is the best Christmas you know?" he speaks. "I never really liked Christmas... with my father... but you changed my mind."
"I'm glad I was able to help you. And I really do love the necklace."
He leans in and you kiss him.
It is a slow and soft kiss.
The world outside may be cold, but here, in this perfect, intimate space, you have everything you need and want.
You rest your head against his shoulder, the necklace he gave you gleaming softly in the firelight, and Dimitri pulls you closer, his embrace wrapping you in both warmth and affection.
He reaches for the remote and turns the TV to search for your favourite Christmas movie.
It was simply perfect.
A/N: Above photo is not mine! It's from Pinterest!
Taglist:Â
@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou
@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischiefÂ
@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz
~Masterlist~
ËAO3Ë
/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
#x reader#fanfiction#x female reader#kraven the hunter#kraven x reader#kraven movie#kraven x you#kraven the hunter x reader#dimitri kravinoff x reader#dimitri kravinoff imagine#dimitri kravinoff imagines#dimitri kravinoff x you#dimitri kravinoff x fem reader#dimitri kravinoff x female reader#marvel#dmitri kravinoff x reader#dmitri kravinoff imagine#dimitry kravinoff#dimitry kravinoff x reader#dimitry kravinoff imagine#dimitry kravinoff imagines#kraven dimitri xreader#kraven dimitri x you#kraven dimitri kravinoff x reader#fred hechinger character
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