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#and then my brain was not working so I called my dad even though my dad was not home and my brother was
luludeluluramblings · 12 hours
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Hi so I was having some brainrot regarding your small-town-neglected-meta reader and I wanted to share them with you!
One thing I've been thinking about alot is the way readers powers work and what kinds of weather they're likely to create, etc. One thing I specifically thought about is that readers powers definitely have to come from her mom's side. Bruce and no else in Bruce's biological line have powers so readers mom has to have the meta gene. I was thinking that maybe readers mom also controlled the weather a bit, maybe not as strong as reader can but still had some powers.
Like creating little drizzles, maybe some dustdevils, and little snow storms. Because her powers were so weak she never really used them for much, maybe to help out her own parents on the farm but that's about it(using her rain powers to easily water the crops)
In that same line of thinking I also wondered if readers little brother also has superpowers. Maybe the way his powers work or appear are bit different than readers because of they have different dads(I imagine Bruce has really strong genetics. If Damian is any proof of that lol)
One little crank in this little headcanon though is that Nana and Gramps would also have to have superpowers. But then I reread the first chapter and thought about One of the phrases you used to describe how reader got in Bruce's hands.
"but blood is thicker than water in the eyes of the court."
That specifically makes me think that Nana and Gramps are actually readers little brother biological grandparents and not theirs.(what happened to their bio grandparents 🤔)
But anyway, one last thing I wanted mention is how badly I want to see reader using their powers more freely when they're back in small town. Like they aren't afraid to use their powers to make it super windy and have fun with their little brother up on the sky. Or causing a blizzard just so they can have a snowball fight and make snow-men with their little brother. Or even accidently cause a power outage because someone pissed them off! No more suppressed emotions just freedom. (Also reader crying in the middle of the rain they made in front of their parents graves(they wanted to be buried in their hometown) would be so tragically fantasic.)
Anyway I know this is a lot to read and I'm sorry if I seem a bit scrambled but I wanted to send this to you just cause I had so many ideas floating up in my brain I couldn't stop thinking about it all. Thank you for listening to me ramble, I hope your doing amazing🩷
Your call this bain-rot, Imma call it fertilizer. This is long as mess, but I think I addressed everything. Lots of Smalltown!Reader lore and I made a Family Tree to help explain if needed.
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Smalltown!Reader's Family Tree:
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Complicated little bugger, ain't it? I didn't add Stephanie or Barbara because Bruce technically never adopted them or fostered them. This isn't an official thing, I made this and it was composed of little bits of information I found online. So some of this stuff might not be lore accurate.
Also, while I was researching I found out that Bruce's middle name was apparently Patrick, after his grandfather at one point.
Now, time for the pseudo science.
I consider the meta gene to be a genetic trait carried down by a parent. That would be Momma/Adeline, in this case. She carries the gene. Now, the meta gene does not always activate even if one has it. So, no, Momma was not making mini storms for us. She was, however, very encouraging of Reader using their abilities. It takes an event, usually a traumatic one, to activate the gene. (Little Brother could be getting power's in the next chapter, though.)
As for Nana and Grand Daddy we have this:
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They don't have the gene, so they don't have abilities. (Which doesn't me their harmless.) They are Reader's Step-Grandparents, but they've grown to love them all the same. Now, in court, it is preferred for a child to go to the nearest blood relative after their parents die. Or, at least, that's what I roughly know from what the court in my state is like. I'm not from Louisiana or New Jersey, where Gotham's located, so maybe it's different. But, this is fiction. This is why Nana and Grand Daddy didn't get custody of Reader, though. Plus Bruce is rich with a bunch of adopted kids, on paper he looks like the best option.
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I really love the thought of Reader using their abilities for silly little things while back in Smalltown, at least before things absolutely go to hell in a hand basket. So I'll probably include a bit. (They used to do things like that before moving to Gotham, definitely.) Something I want to mention is that Reader likes to make it rain when their happy. It's their favorite weather, they love it. So a grave scene might be a bit different. (I have to include that now. Thank you for that idea! Frick, Part Eight about to be long af.)
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If your curious about Reader's other grandparents, they just died from old age and health problems. I like to think that Reader had a close relationship with them. Calling them MawMaw and Gab for their nicknames and having spent a lot of time with Reader and their Little Brother before they died. (I'm sorely tempted to just commit to rewriting this with the OC I based Reader off of so I can include all this backstory to highlight how different their life in Gotham is compared to what it used to be, but I best finish what I started first.)
(Side Note: It's very common in the American south for people to give their grandparents nicknames. I have some for my southern grandparents, while I call my northern grandparents just plain Grandma and Grandpa. The nickname can vary and is usually what ever the first grandchild comes up with.)
Thank you for sending me this ask! Stuff like this actually inspires me so this was wonderful. Hopefully this helps. (Now to get back to work on my writing, I've been draggin' my feet again.)
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mars-ipan · 2 months
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i do love my family very dearly but the internalized ableism the men in here struggle with is. so much
#marzi speaks#it’s worse with my brother but he’s doing more to actively work on improving that#my dad however has very subtle internalized ableism that i don’t think he recognizes is there#which is. fun#like earlier. either last night or this morning i don’t remember#i was talking to him about how while ideologically i have nothing against accepting needing help and things like that#in practice it’s very challenging to adjust to being disabled even temporarily. and that if i do end up with a diagnosis that’s gonna be#a lot to handle. both mentally and just with the lifestyle changes i’ll have to make#and he makes a bit of a face and goes ‘i wouldn’t quite call you disabled. i’d just say ‘ill’’#and i just sort of look at him. and i blink. and i go ‘i am physically Un-Able to do things i am normally able to do’#‘i can’t walk long distances at all. i can’t sit in chairs for too long without causing pain’#‘i’ve spent the last 24 hours staring longingly at my computer because i want to draw but am currently Not Able To’#he didn’t argue with me but i can tell he was still unnerved by the idea of picturing his daughter as disabled#also like . illness and disability are not mutually exclusive? several disabilities are or involve chronic illness#i shouldn’t be surprised though. i mentioned considering starting lexapro#and he went on his ‘you’re an adult and it’s your choice in the end but i wouldn’t recommend it’ spiel#(he’s anti-psychiatry bc he doesn’t like the idea of breaking the brain down into smth so purely physical)#(and also doesn’t like the idea of someone being dependent on pills their whole life)#(which i’m giving him some slack on rn bc he is a just-got-clean recovering opoid addict. so)#(btw before any of you say SHIT abt my dad he took his pills legally prescribed for chronic pain and did not abuse them)#(and even if he DID that would give nobody a right to make a moral judgement on him. ok cool)#i then reminded him that my mom takes anti-anxiety meds and they really really helped her#and he just goes ‘true.’ and moves on#king u got some shit to unpack#it’s fine if u didn’t want to start antidepressants when it was recommended to you meds aren’t for everyone#but like come on now. u don’t gotta be so fundamentally against it when literally ur own wife who you adore takes psych meds#anywho my mom handled me making the disability comment much better. she was basically just like ‘ur fear is totally understandable’#‘u have a good support system we’ll help you through it’#which. thanks mom 👍 that was very kind of her to say
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tj-crochets · 1 year
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Crafting update/life update: - managed to bake something! (spiced blondies! I did not take a picture before they were all eaten but they were really good) - Winter Soldier Bear is halfway done! - I've been doing, uh, not great. physically. I'm mostly okay now but it turns out being super stressed while recovering from corticosteroid withdrawal* (from my asthma flare up) combines super poorly with a new anxiety trigger*** and the end result is that I came extremely close to passing out last week****. I did not! But my crafting time and energy have been extremely limited lately because of health issues, and I don't know when that will change.
*I had to go on a short course of steroids** because I had a bad asthma flare up (because a plumbing issue in my house led to mold in the wall. Plumbing is fixed, wall is replaced, I'm all good asthma-wise now) **short courses of steroids, according to Every Doctor I've Ever Talked To, shouldn't cause withdrawal symptoms. Like, should not be possible. I get withdrawal symptoms every single time because of whatever the is wrong with my endocrine system ***got my first "go hide NOW" tornado warning and I gotta say I do not like it. Every thunderstorm makes me panic a bit now. Not great. ****it was not my normal POTS low blood pressure dizziness, it was a narrow pulse pressure issue. Which, again, doctors have told me shouldn't be happening, which is real useful to hear. (narrow pulse pressure is when the top number and the bottom number of your blood pressure are too close together, and it's Bad)
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Having a fuckin Thursday, my dudes (gender neutral)
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arachine · 1 year
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something about non-traditional family dynamics with gojo just speaks to me…
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includes :: co-parent!gojo, rich boy!gojo, mentions of pregnancy + leaky nips hehe
note :: this is just pure brainrot, started thinking about him in class today and i needed to get this out of my brain!
link to part two + link to part three
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i’d like to think that after he knocks you up in college, the two of you take it upon yourselves to get married because, “‘it’s the right thing to do.’” and so, for a few years, you do the whole marriage thing—the family thing.
no longer were you the twenty-something-year-old who partied hard every weekend, and studied until the break of dawn every school night.
no, now you were the twenty-something-year-old who fixed bottles at odd hours in the night, whose nipples leaked through all her favorite tops, who had a husband that paid a mortgage and kissed her goodbye before he went off to work for the company passed down to him.
and after some time, things finally start to fall into place—your little family.
the baby gets bigger. you go through the terrible twos, of course, and the teenage-threes, but once she hits five, it’s suddenly pie in the sky—and god, it feels like you can finally start to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
so, you and gojo have one more. one more girl that’s precious, and smart, and quick-tongued, and every bit of her dad as she is you.
things are touch and go for awhile, but for the most part it’s...easy, smooth. that is, until married life starts to feel like a task, and your husband starts to feel like your roommate instead of your companion.
conversations becomes brief, the bed becomes colder, morning kisses are exchanged for nods of acknowledgement, and you can’t even remember the last time either of you desired each other…
one day though, the two of you come to a mutual decision to separate. you spend the night talking, and talking, and talking. you talk about things. memories—before and after. you even talk about your mis-comings, and if things could’ve gone differently had either of you did ‘this, this, and that’.
when you tell the girls, you’re half expecting them to be upset, but all they can think about is how, “‘they’ll get twice the amount of gifts during holidays’” — at least, according to your oldest who heard that from a kid in her class with separated parents.
a few years pass after your separation and now the both of you have come to a place where you can just be...friends. it was weird, at first—dropping your kids off to their 'other home'. walking them up to the grandiose sky-rise apartment building that's always bustling with people who've got places to be, and working class people to probably torture—but that's neither here, nor there.
gojo's waiting in the lobby. he's leaned up against the side of the elevator, dressed down in all black athleisure, and he's sporting that damn cheesy grin that you find yourself missing lately.
"hey girls," he greets, lowering down to his haunches and opening his arms for hugs, "oof—big hugs, almost knocked me over! missed me that much, huh?"
while the three of them get their hugs out of the way, you stand there idly watching, rocking back and forth on the balls of your heels.
"hey," he finally acknowledges you, "how was the drive? they got everything they need?"
"it was fine, and yep! they insisted on packing their own bags like big girls but i checked them," you say, before whispering, "and then repacked them."
he laughs at that, and then grabs their suitcases.
"but yeah, i should get going before traffic hits. if you need anything, let me know, and if you need anything," you drop down to your knees, "mommy's only a call away, okay?"
the two of them nod, "okay, mommy!"
"good...now come on, hugs and kisses!" you pull them in, getting enough kisses for two-weeks time. eventually, you pull away—albit, reluctantly, and wave your goodbyes.
the three of them watch you walk away, and when you're finally out of ear-shot, gojo utters a 'miss that'.
"miss what, daddy?"
"uh-huh," he clears his throat, "daddy didn't say anything..."
"liar, you miss mommy. don't you?" the youngest grins, all cheeky and knowing. gojo rolls his eyes—not out of annoyance, but because of how much they reminded him of himself. much like he, nothing ever got past those two...and he doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. right now, though? it's gonna be a good thing because he needs to know if-
"does mommy have a new boyfriend?"
"why?" the oldest answers, squinting her eyes in suspicion.
"jeez kid, just answer the question."
she ponders for a second, then extends her hand out, opening and closing it in a fast manner. gojo pouts, then takes out his wallet to put a five dollar bill on it.
she doesn't budge.
"oh, c'mon! i'm your father!" he pouts, but acquiesces and pulls out another five, "fine, you little brat."
with a smile on her face, she stuffs the bills in her front pocket and nods her head.
"wha-really?" he gasps, "is he better looking than me? how old is he? is he younger than daddy? is he richer than daddy? what's he do for work?"
ignoring his questions, she only extends her hand out again.
"i'm not giving you any more money, so we can settle this with some ice cream or nothing."
she ponders for a second time before nodding. "ice cream works for me."
"you little...c'mon get on the elevator."
20 floors in and the questions never stop coming.
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bunny-lily · 6 months
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Satoru, who...
Did you ask for more fluff? I did, ehe~
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader
CW: pure fluff, just fluff, no angst, only happiness | proposal, marriage, pregnancy, husband!Gojo, dad!Gojo, soft!Gojo, categorically fucking whipped Satoru, domesticity, kinda slice-of-life, mildly suggestive at the end
The starstruck boy, Gojo Satoru, who is utterly obsessed with you in every way possible.
AN: while I’m in the middle of writing an absurdly long fic, I wanted to post some shorter stuff to 1) keep my hands loose and brain active/busy, and 2) post something while I’m working on the fic to come. I won’t post much about it rn because I want to actually finish it first and not make any promises, so enjoy a lil fluff in the meantime <3 just something short and sweet
WC: 3k
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Satoru, who is smitten with you from the very moment he first lays eyes on you. Sure, he's had infatuations before, but they were short-lived and typically lasted no longer than a week. A quick fascination, then poof. You, on the other hand – you are different.
And it is plain to see for pretty much everyone. He is normally cocky and outgoing, even during the little fads he’s had, he never let down his façade of bravado. You, though? You melt all his walls until he’s a goopy puddle of a blushing, giggling school girl.
He is whipped, almost to an annoying point. He rambles off Suguru's and Shoko's ears enough times for them to know when he’s about to start singing your praises and avoid him, or distract him somehow (which is a monumental task when his ditzy head is full only of thoughts of you).
Even so, they are conflictingly bewildered and happy for their friend. For him to have found someone that he is interested in for longer than a week – let alone several months, now – is a riveting change of pace. He seems so genuinely delighted any time you two interact, bubbly, dreamy sighs leaving him as hearts dance in his eyes.
He has fallen for you bad.
Satoru, who’s a stuttering disaster when he tries to ask you out on a date, and damn near collapses in relief when you’re able to decipher what the hell he’s going on about and agree to go to the new café that opened up near campus with him.
One date turns into two, then three, then a dozen more that become routine for you. You meet up after classes let out, then head to the café side by side. Or, if one is running late, you have each other’s orders memorized. You even go the extra mile and order him a sweet he hasn’t tried yet to surprise him with when he bursts into the establishment, panting like he ran a marathon. He might as well have, he booked it for the café as soon as he was free, dying to see you.
Satoru, who is somehow in even more shambles when he gets the nerve to ask you to go steady with him, despite the two of you being borderline boyfriend and girlfriend by now. He’s jittery, sweaty, downright vibrating with tense energy when he brings you to the sakura tree near the back of school that you two had laid claim on. Oh, and when you say yes? He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Nothing can explain how an angel like you decided to grace him with your existence as is, let alone love him – even while you called him an idiot and said you thought you two were already dating.
Satoru, who was already protective over you when you first met, dials it to eleven after you agree to being his girlfriend. Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, could inspire fear and respect simply by being in the room with his confident and brash nature, completely relaxed and faithful in his skill. But if, gods forbid, something happens to you? Gone is that cocksure attitude. Gone are the coy smirks and passive-aggressive taunting meant to rile others up. Gone is everything but his one track mind that focuses solely on two tasks: protecting you, and destroying whatever harmed you.
Satoru, who spoons you to his chest and watches ASMR, random videos, or movies on your phone with you 'til you both fall asleep. It became routine shortly after you began officially dating. You'll climb into bed first and decide what you want to watch while he finishes his nightly regimen, then he'll slip under the blankets and pull your back flush against his front, prop his chin atop your head, slide a thigh between your legs, and off to cozy dreamland you two go as whatever you choose acts as white noise. 
It brings him an immense amount of comfort, and though he doesn't need as much sleep as normal folks, he'll refuse to leave bed until you're awake (with the exception of any needs he might have to take care of that will only see him away for a couple minutes at most before he’s cradling you in his protective hold again).
Satoru, who salts and peppers your face with endless, ticklish kisses to wake you up, saving the best kiss for when your sleepy, pretty little eyes open: right on your lips. He always wakes up before you do, and spends hours watching your blissful, precious face as you snooze, content and relaxed like a cat with full trust in its human. The comparison always makes him smile, because he, truthfully, envisions you both as being cats all the time. Lazy ones that cuddle in the sun, your smaller form using his ridiculously fluffy and larger one as a pillow-slash-blanket. His tail twined with yours, your ears twitching as he grooms you with kitten licks, ah, the dream.
Satoru, who wants to slap a ring on your finger the very moment he can. You two spend so many days and weeks raving about your imaginary wedding that he so desperately wants to be real, setting up plans, picking out what you would want for decor, scrolling through forum boards for ideas on a wedding dress for you. He is practically more excited at the prospect of getting married than you are, eager to help in every step of the process and more. 'Let me handle all the hard stuff, baby,' he nearly begs. 
He won’t tell you the cost of anything, and insists you go all out. Get the dress you want, don't you dare look at the price tag. Choose the perfect venue, he doesn't care if it's in Japan or fucking Dubai, he'll handle paying for everyone's travel and hotel needs on top of the whole wedding. Only the absolute best for you, nothing less, everything more.
Satoru, who is a train wreck of nervous excitement, anxious anticipation, and giddy trepidation when the day comes for him to propose. He takes you to the perfect location – up a short and easy hiking trail that leads to a cliffside with the most magnificent view of the ocean and setting sun. You think it's just a sweet date trip, until you see the path of tea candles guiding you to a romantically set up picnic blanket, a basket resting atop it, waiting to be opened.
When you turn around to express your shock and confusion, you find Satoru on one knee, looking up at you as if you are the most gorgeous and divine creature to ever exist. He's confident and boisterous, as always, as he plays out his little speech about how much he adores you and wants to keep you by his side, forever and ever, but he's a shaking trash fire inside. A shivering little dog that's relieved he didn't stutter or screw up the speech he practiced a hundred times over and then some.
Satoru, who's thanking every god to ever possibly reside above (and even below) when you throw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as a flood of yeses pours out of you, slurred as you ramble through your tears and tell him you love him, how happy you are, and a plethora of other things that make him genuinely the most elated person to ever live.
Satoru, who slides the brilliant engagement ring he had custom made for you onto your finger; smooth, with an inset blue diamond that shares the same shade as his eyes, nestled in with a dozen tinier crystals in vine-like spirals flowing outward from the center. Swarovski, of course. He made sure that it was all flush with the platinum to ensure it wouldn't snag on anything. 
He was practically breathing down the jeweler's neck during the entire process, needing to guarantee it’s positively perfect for you. And, when he sees the glimmering jewelry cozy on your finger, the evidence of your bond and the next step in your journey to unite as one, he knows he made all the right choices.
Satoru, who only uses the finest material for your matching wedding bands, and has the insides of both engraved with each other's names. Yours in his, his in yours. He has the same jeweler as before (poor guy) design them to have two stripes of platinum within the gold of your rings, delicate and stunning for himself and his wife.
Satoru, who's jubilant and so incredibly ecstatic that you're now his wife that he can't help but tell everyone he knows, everyday, multiple times a day, even those that were at the wedding. He just can't get over it. You're his wife, the girl he's been crushing on since highschool, the girl he swore to make his, and to devote himself to. It feels like an incredible dream, and he worriedly pinches himself from time to time to make sure it's real. 
He did it. He married you, and now you carry his name in yours, in your wedding band, everywhere he could put it to subtly (not really) show you off as the unquestionably precious treasure you are, his wife, and how overjoyed he is that he managed to catch you and keep you.
Satoru, who forgets how to function when you hold up a pair of white and pink sticks on his birthday, from different brands, both showing positive symbols. You. You're pregnant. With his baby. He swears his brain short-circuits because one minute, he's staring at you like you'd grown a second head, and the next, he has you wrapped up in his arms as he showers your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, neck, ears, anywhere he can reach, with kisses.
He's a babbling, sniffly mess as he practically crushes you to his chest and coos and preens and weeps with elation. He reveres you like a deity and he’s your loyal and pathetic servant who was blessed beyond measure that you decided to give him the gift of life. He's going to be a father, and it's all because of you.
Satoru, who completely spoils the living hell out of you during your pregnancy (as if he hadn't already been), bending backwards for you for everything. Weird cravings? He's on it. Swollen ankles and nausea? He's rushing to the store for medicine, then rubbing your feet to ease the ache. Insatiable horniness? He's your slave for you to use for your pleasure. Hormones swinging wildly back and forth? He's there with a box of tissues and his firm chest for you to beat on when you feel like you're going crazy. It's his fault you're pregnant, after all. You're doing the hard work of not just carrying his child, but of nurturing it, growing it, letting it take from you to develop strong and healthy. Of course he's going to take care of you.
Satoru, who refuses to let you do any work. You're on indefinite parental leave. From the moment you show him those positive tests, he sits your pretty ass down on the couch and tells you firmly that your only job now is to help your baby develop. He'll take care of everything else, don't even think about lifting a finger.
Satoru, who's there at every appointment with you, clutching your hand tightly as you talk to your doctor about everything you need to know. And when you have your first ultrasound, and see your fetus together for the very first time, he's crying right alongside you.
Satoru, who spent meticulous hours packing a duffel bag with everything you'll both need for when it comes time for you to go into labor. Spare changes of clothes, plenty of water, blankets to keep you warm, a couple pillows, anything and everything. He refuses to go in unprepared. As soon as it's all packed and ready to go by the 8 month mark of your pregnancy, it's in the backseat of the car. The baby car seat is in the trunk of the sleek and top-of-the-line SUV he purchased specifically for your soon-to-be family. He doesn't care that it's taking up space, or that it’s too early, he refuses to go in unprepared.
Satoru, who immediately ditches work the very instant your water breaks. Who gives a fuck if he's in the middle of something important, nothing takes precedence over you and the incoming birth of your infant. He's breaking several driving laws to get you to the hospital, but neither of you care. Not when you're panting in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the grab handle with a palm pressed to your stomach, grunting and crying out in pain any time you have a contraction. It's a miracle he doesn't get pulled over, and he's incredibly thankful (and proud of himself) for thinking of calling the hospital ahead of time so that they're ready for you.
Satoru, whose entire world becomes a blur from the second you reach the hospital, to the second you're crushing his hand in your grip, screaming as you fight to bring his baby into the world. He's letting you yell at him and blame him for the pain you're in, easily accepting and agreeing because it is his fault. 
But while your shaking sobs and shrieks of agony wound his heart beyond any possible measure, he also can't help his elation at knowing it's time, all the waiting has been worth it, every minute spent catering to your every need, want, and desire. He'll do it indefinitely, wait on you hand and foot for the rest of his life, treat you like a queen, because you deserve it and so much more.
Satoru, who's shocked by how well he's holding up when the nurse puts the wrapped up, pudgy little newborn in his arms, gazing down at the tiny being. His tiny being, your tiny being, the fragile and priceless life you both created. Looking down at his kin, his reason for being, he knows he'd do anything and everything to protect you and your child.
Satoru, who sees you, a disheveled and tired disaster, with your hair all tangled, frizzy, and astray, strands stuck to your sweaty skin, your body slack in relief as the hardest part is finally over, watching your husband hold your baby, and he thinks you're more beautiful now than you've ever been. 
You look like you’ve been dragged through hell; your legs are sticky with residue blood, amniotic fluid, placenta, and whatever else that needs to be cleaned off (though your legs are covered with a few layers of blankets to keep you toasty warm while you recover from labor), your face is a little pale and sallow, you're barely clinging to consciousness, and he's marveling at how he's never seen anything or anyone as utterly blest and sacred as you. 
A goddess amongst men, the only one the strongest man in the world would ever willingly bow down to without you even needing to ask.
Satoru, who helps place your baby on your chest, the nurse having opened the blanket for skin-to-skin contact as you feed it, and finally lets himself release all his pent up emotions of raw, unfiltered joy. Every cell, every fiber, every atom in him is dancing in overwhelming happiness. He'd do it all over, again and again, as many times as you'd let him, if it means he gets to see you this blissful and tranquil. The glow of maternity suits you like no other, even in all your unkempt and chaotic glory. 
Satoru, who can't believe he's a dad. He goes above and beyond, insisting he takes care of the baby at night so you can sleep – he doesn't need as much rest as others do, after all. He murmurs to his newborn about how much he cherishes and adores you, how much you mean to him, how you're the best wife and mommy a man could ever ask for and more. He reads the kiddo bedtime stories to help it sleep, feeds it, changes it, whatever it is that is needed, he's there and doing it. 
On top of that, he continues to be your doting, devoted, caring husband. He makes sure you're taking your vitamins, takes you to all your postpartum appointments, aids you through your subsequent depression, all of it. He's sworn himself to you for life, not just in this timeline and universe, but in any and every single one of them.
He made and said his vows with purpose and conviction. He meant every word, and upholds them like his life depends on it. Because, in his mind, it does.
Satoru, who is patient with you, and firmly commands you to not push yourself to do things you can't do while you're still in recovery. He doesn't care if he has to wait months or even years for you to be ready to lay with him again, he'll wait it out. He might not be a patient man, but for you, he'd wait until all the stars die. 
Oh, but you, darling little minx that you are, do your best to take care of him, too. Even when he urges you to rest, or not worry about it, or anything other arguments he might have against it, you tend to him in whatever way you can. Touching, sucking, rough and heavy petting, whatever it takes. You refuse to leave him alone to suffer through months and months of dryness with no relief save for his hand and the toy you surprised him with to help take the edge off.
Satoru, who can't be more grateful to you. You're more than his wildest dreams, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect person as a whole in the entirety of the universe. He really can't help boasting about being the Chosen One, because he really is, if the cosmos decided to gift him with you.
Satoru, who swears to take care of you for the rest of your lives, and does well on his promise.
Satoru, who fights for the sake of you and your kin alone. He refuses to leave you in any way, shape, or form. He refuses to let the world be a danger to any of you. He refuses to have anything happen to his family. Nothing will tear you apart, not now, not ever.
Satoru, who loves you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars combined.
—-—-•(-•ʚɞ•-)•—-—-
Banner by cafekitsune ♥ thank you for reading
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authorhjk1 · 3 months
Note
dont you think Haewon deserves to get absolutely destroyed in her childhood room while her parents are downstairs
Marking
(Oh Haewon X Male Reader)
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"I don't really get, why you had to come too. It's not like you're my boyfriend."
"I'm not. Lucky me."
You feel Haewon's elbow in your ribs.
"Hey, I'm driving!"
"So what?"
You send her an angry glare, before looking back ahead, focusing on the traffic.
The two of you are on your way to Haewon's parents. They are celebrating their anniversary today. A special one. 25 years. And the both of you are invited. Haewon for obvious reasons and you because you know her father. You only found out after your shenanigans at her place after your breakup. You saw a picture of him on her fridge while you left. And it turns out, he is your boss.
Well, not exactly. He is the head of the marketing team at the company you're working at. You are in a different department. He still has the higher position though. The two of you had to work together occasionally and, despite the age difference, you got along very well. That was, until you started to fuck his daughter's brains out every chance you got.
"We are here."
The two of you get out of the car. While Haewon walks towards the door, you get her stuff and trail after her. She didn't have time to change into her dress yet.
"Mom, dad!"
Haewon greets them and you shake the pair's hands afterwards. Luckily, her father knows that your ex girlfriend Sullyoon is his daughter's best friend. So it's not that weird that the two of you know each other. But it might have been a little suspicious for the two of you to arrive in the same car.
"Please come in. We have prepared lunch already."
"Thank you."
You smile at them, but you can't help but feel guilty. You doubt that they know what you have been doing to their beloved daughter every single day for the past couple of weeks.
"Haewon, go upstairs and get changed. After we are finished eating, we are driving to the party."
"Please, Mr. Oh. Let me drive. The two of you should just relax today."
"Thank you so much, dear."
Haewon's mom accepts your offer with a big smile.
"Too bad that Sullyoon found you, before our daughter did."
"Mom!"
Haewon's cheeks turn red in embarrassment as her mom teases her.
"She is coming too today, why is she not here?"
You glance at Haewon upon hearing her dad's question. Seems like she hasn't told them yet. Maybe to have an excuse for the two of you to keeps seeing each other.
"Well, she... She is very busy with work these days. She told me to pick Haewon up and drive her here. She will catch up with us at the party."
Not your finest moment, but you don't want to call Haewon a liar in front of her parents.
Come upstairs
You stare at the message on your phone. What the hell, Haewon? You know what she wants from you. But this is her parents house. Her father is sitting two meters away from you. How could you...
If you come upstairs now, I'll admit it.
You scoff in disbelief. This has been going on for weeks and now, Haewon wants to admit that she is a whore? A little late in your opinion. But then again, hearing it from her own mouth, while she cums on your cock...
The picture in your head makes you get off the couch.
"Haewon texted me. She needs help with her dress."
You explain yourself without even thinking about your words. It's surprising to see how fast your blood can rush from your brain to your cock, just by thinking of Haewon's desperate moans and whines.
"Sure. Go ahead"
You're glad her father doesn't seem to catch on as you climb the stairs, taking two steps at a time.
You barge into Haewon's childhood room. She stands in the middle. Naked.
"Took you longer than I expected."
You slowly tear your eyes off her naked frame and scan the room. A bed, a desk, a wardrobe. Nothing special. Her walls are decorated with her paintings though. She was definitely not very old, when she made them. They look like ones from six year olds. But still not bad. Your eyes land on the wax crayons, which are lined up by color, lying on her desk. But the nude woman in front of you quickly brings back your attention on her.
Haewon steps forward, her arms wrapping around your neck.
"Fuck me and I confess."
You roll your eyes.
"I'm not falling for that again."
"It's not a joke this time."
Haewon gives you grin.
"Admit it first. Then I fuck you."
This is how your 'relationship' started out anyways. Haewon broke you and Sullyoon up and just wouldn't admit that she did it, because she wanted you. Because she is a slut.
"No. Wrong order."
Haewon gives you another teasing grin.
"Fine."
You give in, knowing that, except for fucking it out of her, there is not much you can do about it anyway.
The two of you quickly engage in a heated kiss, warming each other up. Not that Haewon needs much of that. You can tell by how her core rubs against your thigh.
"If you want me to fuck you good, you better start sucking."
You whisper into her mouth, while slightly pulling away.
"You are not too big of a whore yet to take all of it without lube."
Haewon bites your lip, the pain makes you flinch.
"You just want to see me choke on it again."
Without a word, you grab her shoulders and push her down.
"Not that I'm complaining."
A devilish grin appears on her otherwise innocent face.
Haewon starts out slow by just putting the tip into her mouth. She lets her tongue swirl around it, while both her hands wrap around your cock.
Her blowjob is everything but slow and sensual though, once she gets into it. Like a hungry animal, Haewon starts to engulf your cock. You're reminded of this morning. That's how your day started.
Her hands quickly stroke you, while her head bobs up and down. Her eyes look up at you, almost mocking your inability to keep standing still. You can't help it. You have to hold onto something, or you'll fall. The only thing in sight, as usual, is Haewon's head.
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You place one of your hands on top of it. Haewon immediately stops. Her eyes tell you to use her. Her eyes tell you that she is a whore. But her mouth still doesn't. To be fair, it's full with cock right now. But you make a silent promise to yourself. Within the next twenty minutes, Haewon will be calling herself a whore, while she begs for more.
You slowly pull her back onto your cock. Only halfway though. It doesn't make her choke, but you can already hear her breathing through her nose. You loosen your grip, Haewon's lips glide along your length, until they reach your tip. A moment to let her take one last breath.
A second later, Haewon chokes hard. Your cock is blocking her airflow. It's entirety is stuffed down her throat. Her nose is pressed against your abdomen. You hold her in place.
One second
Two seconds
Three seconds
Four seconds
Five seconds
Haewon's eyes give you a silent challenge. Every fiber of her being tells you that she is a whore. Why can't her mouth do the same?
Five seconds turn into ten seconds.
Spit starts to leak out of the corners of her mouth.
Ten seconds turn into fifteen seconds.
Haewon's eyes become wider as she realizes that you don't intend to let go anytime soon.
Fifteen seconds turn into twenty seconds.
Her nostrils flare as Haewon's breathing becomes heavier, faster.
Twenty seconds turn into twenty five seconds.
Her drool now falls off her chin in the form of long strings.
Just as you reach thirty seconds, you let go.
Haewon falls off your cock. Her mouth still hanging open as she backs away. She tries to catch her breath, her naked chest heaving heavily.
"I will wait for your confession, once you're done with surviving."
You give her smug grin.
Haewon doesn't have the energy to reply. The lack of oxygen is still visible.
"Or are you in for round two?"
This time, Haewon shakes her head.
"But you're not gonna confess what a whore you are?"
She shakes her head again.
You groan.
"Fine. But I will not be leaving this room, until your whole body screams whore."
You take a step closer towards her desk.
"And I know just the right way to start."
After grabbing the red wax crayon, you turn back around. Haewon's eyes are slowly wandering towards your hand.
"I hope this washes off easily. For your sake."
Haewon barely has time to open her mouth, before you're already towering over her. Taking a fistful of her short hair, you make her turn her head.
The young woman feels the cold crayon on her cheek. You stain her gorgeous face. Her skin senses your handwriting. The swing of the letter S. A straight line down, one to the right. An L. Another swing U. Two more lines form a T.
You let go of Haewon's hair, letting her head return to its original place. You lean back, taking in your work.
She glares at you. Her cheek is covered with red wax. The word 'slut' seems to glow on her otherwise flawless skin.
"Well, slut..."
The word slowly drips off your tongue with such a degrading undertone.
"Let's fuck that confession out of you."
You lift Haewon off the floor and place her on her windowsill. She shivers as the cold glass makes contact with her back.
"So much space for me to write on."
You whisper as your free hand wanders all over her front.
"You wouldn't dare."
You raise an eyebrow.
"I already did, slut."
You step closer, parting her legs in the process. Your faces only inches away, the tip of your cock now resting on her wet pussy lips.
"And I will cover your entire body."
You immediately start to fulfill that promise. Haewon weakly tries to push your hand away, but you hold her wrists with one hand. You place the tip of the wax crayon right between her tits and her collarbone. You slowly read the words as you write them on her skin.
"Sex toy."
Haewon closes her eyes. She shivers again. You are sure it's not because of the glass.
"Do you want another one?"
She shakes her head and shoots you an evil glare. Her lips are pressed together, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of begging you to stop.
"Suit yourself."
This time, you place the crayon right above her pussy. Her smoothly shaven skin becomes your canvas. You don't read the word out loud, this time.
It takes her moment, since Haewon has to read it upside down.
"Owned"
Just as she understands its meaning, you're already past her lips.
"Ngh! Please!"
A loud whine escapes her mouth as she feels your tip inside of her. Your cock starts to stretch her out as you slowly push forward.
"From now on, whenever you deny being a whore, I'll ruin your body further."
Just as you say that, you are just as deep as Haewon can take it. She starts to take heavy breaths again. Her eyes are glued to the part of your cock that's still not inside her.
"Are you a whore?"
You sigh, knowing full well that she won't agree yet. Haewon shakes her head.
You place the crayon on her left shoulder.
"Bitch"
You focus on fucking her now. Being inside of Haewon doesn't allow you to properly focus on humiliating her. You need to blow off some steam first. And what is better for that than Haewon's snug hole?
You start to screw Haewon into the window behind her. Her back is pressed flat against it. Her legs are spread wide, dangling off the windowsill. One of your hands holds onto her waist while the other is loosely placed on her thigh, still holding the crayon.
Haewon's moans fill the room she has grown up in. All those memories of her childhood are now stained by this experience. They are worthless. All that matters now, is that she is a whore. Slowly, Haewon's own mind comes to that conclusion. So slow, she almost doesn't realize it.
Your pounding makes her slowly lose her mind. Her moans increase in volume. Her whines reach a higher pitch.
"Again, are you a whore?"
This time, you catch her hesitate. But then, Haewon shakes her head again.
Her eyes are barely able to follow the crayon as you slow down your thrusts only a little. Just enough, so you can properly write. Her skin just above her navel is now showing off a marking as well.
"Cocksleeve"
Haewon doesn't have time to read the second half as you pick up the pace again.
"Oh, god!"
Her head leans against the glass behind her. Her back arches, her chest gets pushed towards you. Instead of leaning in and sucking on her tits, you reach forward with your free hand.
"Aaah!"
Haewon let's out a loud cry as you pinch her nipple. And the other one. Another scream.
"S-Stop. It hurts."
She whines, but you both know that that's not her safeword.
"Tell me, if you want me to be gentle. Are you a whore?"
"No!"
She gives you a determined glare. An angry pout.
Once again her crayon finds her skin.
This time, you write on both her tits.
"Free"
"Use"
Haewon looks down, barely manages to read it, and lets out another moan.
"So you do like it rough? Thought so."
You let the wax crayon fall onto the windowsill. Hooking your arms under her legs, you pull her towards you.
"Oh, fuck!"
Her cry can be heard throughout the whole house. You're sure of it. You're buried balls deep inside her cunt. Your thrusts are harder now. You go as fast as possible, not wanting to give her a split second to breath. Her eyes, once locked on yours, are now rolling to the back of her head. Haewon's mouth hangs open in a silent moan.
"Are you a whore?"
This time, Haewon doesn't even respond. Maybe she didn't hear you. Who cares?
You let one leg fall down to reach for the crayon. Another two words are added to the others.
"Sex object"
Between her collarbone and her throat.
Haewon feels you, marking her again. But an overwhelming heat rushes through her body in an alarming pace. It starts out inside her pussy. Right around your cock. It travels through her core. Through her abdomen and her organs. Past her tits. Through her throat. Until it finally reaches her brain. And her mouth.
"Oh holy fuck!"
Haewon cums hard. You start to produce squishing sounds as you keep stuffing Haewon's wet pussy with your cock. Her hands search for your body, trying to push you away. Her legs quiver and shake, before they wrap around you, trapping you in place.
"N-No more."
She weakly sighs, once she has started to calm down.
"I haven't heard the magic word from you yet.
"Haewon, honey! Are you alright? The clock is ticking!"
Misses Oh's voice makes you both look at the door. Luckily, it sounded like it was coming from downstairs.
"In a minute."
Haewon's voice cracks in the middle of her sentence.
"Maybe we should open that door and let them hear you."
"Whore!"
You're surprised at how quickly Haewon blurts out that word.
"I'm a whore! I admit it."
She looks down, very aware that your still inside of her.
"I know. "
You lean forward and kiss her forehead.
"Was it that hard?"
Haewon timidly shakes her head.
Her eyes widen when you raise the crayon again.
"W-Wait what are you doing?"
"Hold still."
"But-"
"I feel like your confession isn't coming from a genuine place, you know? Plus, I need to mark the spot, where I want to cum."
Haewon gulps, but stays silent and doesn't move.
You start on her right cheek. Three words. You keep going, even when you reach her nose. Once you are on the other side of her face, you finish the line. The last letter is placed right next to the first word you wrote on her. The new words cover her whole face. From right to left.
"Cum hungry slut"
You don't tell her what you wrote.
"Knees."
Haewon follows your order and you're back to where you started. It doesn't take long for her to bring you to the edge from there. A nice, quick blowjob. Her hands massaging your cock. Her tongue lapping her own juices off of you.
"Damn, Haewon."
You grunt, which makes her look up at you with those big eyes.
She points your cock at her own face, strokes you two more times and then makes you orgasm. You explode right above her face, covering it with your cum. Her nose, her cheeks, her lips. All of it is ruined by your seed. And the rest of her body is marked with red wax.
"Write it down."
You nod towards her desk.
Haewon understands. She doesn't even get off the ground. She crawls the short distance, reaches up and grabs a piece of paper and the black crayon. You enjoy the view of her ass, before she turns back around. She writes one word.
"WHORE"
When she looks up again, you're already holding your phone in your hand, the camera ready.
Haewon holds up her self made sign.
"A little lower."
You make sure that every single mark you left on her body is clearly visible. Your cum is still staining her face as well.
"What a whore you are."
You chuckle as you snap a couple of pictures.
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Hi everybody!
Hope you enjoyed this one. This chapter is gonna be the last of of this small series. So there won't be any follow up fics.
Stay healthy!
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wondernus · 10 months
Text
— DAD OF THE YEAR
SYNOPSIS: seungcheol accidentally reveals he has a daughter on a first date and doesn't know how to tell you that his daughter is a dog
PAIRING: csc x reader
GENRE: fluff
TAGS: first dates, dog dad cheol
WC: 575
MESSAGE FROM NU: s/o to this seungcheol for making it out of the dating app conversation phase & making it work bc I did it once and it did not turn out like this
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seungcheol doesn't know if he has the heart to tell you that it was all a misunderstanding that he accidentally took too far. several hours of conversations on a popular dating app about various niche topics that piqued both of your interests led the two of you to skip the basics. he didn't find out about your occupation until twenty minutes into the current date.
when you accidentally drop your phone on the sidewalk, he immediately bends over to pick it up for you. but one of kkuma's several hair clips from the last time he walked her falls out of his jacket pocket and slides a few centimeters away from his hand. by the time he slips it back into his pocket, you've already seen the pastel-hued flower clip.
you tilt your head at him while he hands you back your phone as if to ask him who that clip belongs to.
"my daughter" — the answer slips out of his mouth before he can correct himself. he's already so used to calling his dog his daughter that it feels right to address her in that way.
when he realizes his mistake, he's expecting a question from you asking for an explanation about the bomb that he just dropped. his correction forms on the tip of his tongue, but you're quick to beat him. and weirdly enough, you ask him about her clips and whether or not he does her hair every day.
the several pistons that churn his brain are all firing at once. there's a frenzy happening in his mind. are you going to ignore the fact that he said he has a daughter even though the daughter is technically a dog? would you think of him differently? he already knows about how you always look at city bike riders to see if they've adjusted their seats high enough, but he doesn't even know if you're a dog person.
yet he casually continues the conversation. he's been sucked into a black hole. he loves talking about her accessories and the different ways he dresses her up. she's his daughter. of course he's going to spoil her and dote on her all the time. he can't stop talking about her and embarrassingly spends a good chunk of the date talking about her.
he talks about how she's the smartest in her class, how she's a picky eater, and how she sleeps by his side. he thinks you're fully convinced that he has a human child at this point, but he doesn't know when exactly is a good time to casually drop the fact that he has been talking about a dog the whole time.
"do you have pictures of her?" you ask him. the question causes him to physically stop in his tracks.
"huh?" he dumbly asks in response.
"your dog right? I remember seeing a pic of her in your profile." you're smiling at him.
all of the little fires in his head extinguish. smoke rises from the top of his head. gosh, it feels so nice to know that there wasn't a miscommunication. you're a good listener and you pay attention to tiny details that even he might miss. he thinks you're cute, especially the way your eyes seem to smile more than your mouth. he blushes.
"yeah. lots of them." he grins while pulling out his phone from his pocket. "we can picnic with her next time."
"great. it's a date."
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miley1442111 · 3 months
Text
confession- s.reid
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a/n: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1K I LOVE Y'ALL, also my lc is over!!!! expect more stories more frequenrly and I'll finally get around to clearly m y drafts and finishing my TTPD series! also working on finishing my spencer reid series so yay!
summary: spencer's birthday was supposed to be fun for him and his girlfriend, what happens when his mentor (his girlfriends father) shows up at his door?
pairing: spencer reid x fem! gideon! reader
warnings: complicated family relationships, heavy making out, suggestive mentions, that's all
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“Spence-” you whispered into his mouth. God, this felt good. After not seeing you for 3 whole days, here you were making out on his couch like you two were hormonal teenagers.
He didn’t exactly mind though, and it seemed you didn’t either. Plus, you being here and the birthday gift you gave him (a doctor who box set and a blowjob) made this his best birthday yet. 
“So pretty,” he whispered against your lips as your hands messed up his perfectly styled hair. 
You took his glasses off his face and kissed him harder again, his moaning becoming unbearably hot. 
An ice bucket would’ve been an easier way to crush Spencer’s libido, but the loud ring of the doorbell brought you both out of the heated moment, and actually made you jump off his lap. You scrambled to pull your cardigan over yourself, and Spencer groaned out in frustration, the blood running back to his brain. 
“Coming!” He called as you dressed yourself. He grabbed his glasses, tried to straighten out his hair, and prepared himself to mentally curse whoever this was. It was 11pm, it was a weeknight, you two had already gotten your delivery order, and no one was supposed to come over. 
Who the fuck was at his door then?
Jason. Jason Gideon was standing at his door, and his soul left his body. 
He let out an involuntary scream which made you and Jason scream back. All were small, but distinct sounds, and Jason’s interest was piqued. 
“You have someone here?” He whispered. 
“J-just my girlfriend,” Spencer admitted. He’d never told anyone who his girlfriend was, especially not that she was his mentor’s daughter. “You can come in if you want?”
“Oh, I can finally meet the woman behind Doctor Reid-”
“No! S-she’s sick right now,” he squeaked. “She’s just… resting up.”
You had sprinted into the bedroom when you heard your dad’s voice and thank god you had, or else you would’ve been caught. 
“Wow, love really does defy all odds, you don’t even touch us when we’ve been fully sanitised,” Jason laughed. 
“ ‘We’, who’s ‘we’?”
“The rest of the team,” he nodded. “They’re coming up after me.”
“W-why?” Spencer picked at his nails as Jason smiled at him. 
“It’s your birthday Spencer, we wanted to throw a party,” he chuckled. 
“But it’s 11pm at night?”
“And we have another case,” Jason sighed. “So grab your bag and we’ll have the party on the plane.”
“Oh,” Spencer deflated. He promised he’d spend the next few days with you. You’d taken time off work and everything. And he had to leave, again. “I-is there anyway I could… stay?” 
“Pardon?” Jason stopped in his tracks. 
“It’s just… I kind of promised my girlfriend that I would be here for the next few days since it’s my birthday and-”
“Spencer, it’s fine,” you promised, coming out of his bedroom. You did it without thinking, and now you’re faced with the impending wrath of your father. 
He looked between the two of you, then where you held Spencer’s hand in comfort as you waited for his reaction. 
“You’re dating my daughter, Spencer?” He asked, a certain anger in his tone. 
“Dad, please just-”
“And you didn’t think to tell me it was you who’s keeping my best agent from me?” He turned to you and you rolled your eyes. 
“Spencer is allowed to have a personal life, dad,” you argued as Spencer got increasingly red. 
“And what? You’re the personal life he needs?” He snapped and your face fell. 
“I know you don’t think I’m doing enough with my life dad, but I’m allowed to be happy with my boyfriend. Sorry that pisses you off so much,” you snapped back, anger boiling through you. You’d only really known your dad for the last two years. He’s reached out after your mom died. They’d been broken up for over 20 years. “If you didn’t want a kid, which you clearly don’t, you shouldn’t have reached out when my mom died. I was doing just fine on my own.”
His face twisted into a mix of shame and embarrassment. He didn’t want to make you feel small, he just wanted the best for both of you. “Y/n-”
“You have a case. Go on your case,” you spat, then turned to Spencer. “I’ll text you later.”
“Ok,” he rushed out, then ran off to grab his go-bag and be out of his apartment and out between you two. His girlfriend or his mentor, he was hoping you two wouldn’t make him choose because he knew Jason wouldn’t like his choice. 
Jason held out a hand to stop him. “Stay,” he sighed. “Take care of her.”
And with that your dad left his apartment. 
And with that the first few tears fell. 
“Baby,” he whispered, pulling you in. His heart ached for you. You’d grown up with a horrible family, and you’d begged someone to take you out of it, hoping that your father would show up one day. He didn’t. Not until the funeral. 
“I’m sorry I'm crying on your birthday,” you whimpered, trying to stop. 
“Please don’t apologise, he was being an asshole,” he held you tighter, praying the pain in his chest would go away. 
“I don’t know what to do,” you sobbed. “I know I’m not enough- for both of you, and I just… I keep trying but nothing is ever good enough and I’m so sorry Spencer, I really am, I really am trying-”
“You’re more than enough for me. I love you. I adore you,” he reassured you and your heart stopped. 
Well, that was a first. 
“You love me?” You asked, staring up at him.
“Of course I love you,” he nodded, a wonky smile on his face.
“I love you too,” you whispered and his smile turned into a full-on grin. 
“Well, that’s good,” he leant down so that you two were face to face. “Because-”
You cut him off with a kiss. You could taste the saltiness of your tears and you were sure he could too. But you didn’t care.
You loved him. He loved you. 
That would be enough for the both of you. Your dad was a jerk. 
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criminal minds masterlist :)
navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)
cm taglist
@khxna
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princessbrunette · 4 months
Text
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dbf!rafe thought he was doing a pretty good job at pretending he didn’t care too much about you. but it was coming to the late afternoon, and he’d driven past you wandering around town on your own wearing one of those stupid little mini skirts you’re crazy about and he had to do his duty and command you come with him. for your safety of course. he’d hate if some sick older guy got his hands on you.
“get in. c’mon.” he’s already acting irritable with you and it only spurs you on to act mischievous.
“why so glum, hm?” you pout, letting a small giggle slip through as you fasten your belt — the friend of your fathers glancing around the area briefly to see if anyone had seen his bosses daughter climb into his car before zipping off.
“what’d i tell you last time i saw you just— just walking around asking for trouble?” he berates and he’s not even sure why he’s so wound up. you just got him so pent up and touchy that he always found himself being this way with you.
“asking for trouble? mr cameron i was just hanging out.” you laugh, stretching your legs and going to rest your feet on his dashboard. he shoves your legs off, sending you a scalding glare.
“in that little skirt? yeah i wasn’t born yesterday, alright— you were probably off meeting guys.” he grumbles and you turn your head to him, heart fluttering at the jealous tone he had failed to conceal.
“oh no, not hanging out with guys my own age… that would be the most awful thing in the world, right?” you sark, and he resents the way he can hear the pretty smile in your voice without even turning his attention away from the road. he huffs out a scoff, shaking his head as he pulls up to the traffic light.
“told your old man i’d look out for you, right so — so i am just telling you that you shouldn’t be wandering around meeting guys dressed like a hooker. i know how guys brains work, okay — i am a guy. s’why i’m taking your ass home where you can’t get into any of that shit.” he rants, and before you can complain about him calling you a hooker your attention is caught by his promise to bring you home and you shoot up in your seat.
“no, please. just— anywhere else. not home.” you suddenly sound serious, and he nearly misses the stoplight turning green to glance at you in confusion.
“and why the hell not?” he drawls and suddenly you’re a lot more quiet. he raises his eyebrows waiting for a response.
“i’m fighting with my parents. i just… i don’t want to see them yet.” you sigh, staring at your manicure in your lap. as much as he wanted to teach you a lesson and drag you back into the house to your father, he knew what it was like to have a rocky relationship with his parents. because of this he sighs after his slight hesitation and turns in the direction away from your house.
“ah… shit, alright fine. the fuck do you wanna go then? gotta drop you somewhere, alright?” he relents and you beam.
“really? thanks mr cameron.” your elated expression calms itself into a pur as you lean across the gear stick and press a kiss to his cheek. he clenches his jaw.
“watch it.”
to this you respond with a giggle and he relaxes a little, knowing he had a little more time with you.
“where do you wanna go then? haven’t got all day, kid m’not a fuckin’ taxi.”
“hmm, your place?” you’re quick with your answer, almost like you had it planned. he’d given in a few times, let you have your way with him even though he knew it put his career on the line — and he told himself and you that this could go on no longer.
he huffs out a laugh, scratching at his cheek and shaking his head, choosing to ignore the suggestion. your bottom lip curls over at this, frowning a little.
“raaafe.” you whine and he resists an eye roll.
“what you’re — you’re serious about that shit?”
“mhm… i missed you…” you coo, and he feels your warm body lean across the centre console again, a clawed hand finding his thigh as you speak into his ear. “c’mon dad.” you groan and he feels a hot rush of blood fly through him at the nickname. god you were sick.
“don’t fuckin’ call me that.” he turns into his driveway at tannyhill, parking up infront of the house haphazardly before turning off the car and not making any move to get out.
“just wanna play a little bit.” you complain, kissing down his white shirt leaving lipgloss prints that he’d soon complain about down the expensive material as he watches you with parted lips, feeling your hot breath fan over his hardening crotch.
“well if you’re gonna suck me off just fuckin’ do it alright. don’t wanna hear that shrill ass little voice unless you’re tellin’ me how good that shit tastes. c’mon.”
you couldn’t help but obey.
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tryingtofindava · 5 months
Note
hi !! could u write tyler x fem reader where they are dating, and instead of tyler being impaled by a tree it’s his girlfriend ! thank u
── 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!
{[TYLER HERNANDEZ X FEM! READER]}
: ̗̀➛Back to Source
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Your breath was staggered, twitching every few seconds or so. Trying your best to keep your eyes open, which proved to be a tricky task.
‘I wonder if I’ll die in the real world.’ Your thoughts spoke loudly, too loudly for your own liking. Why was it so quiet anyways?
Have the other’s drove off?
Will you ever see your friends again?
Will you ever see Tyler again?
I hope they’re safe from that… thing…
Is this how you die?
Thoughts like these consumed your mind. Y/n let out a defeated grunt, as she tried to push herself from the tree one more time. Her efforts were all futile though…
She is quite literally a human kabab. On this dead tree. In the middle of fuck all. The girl sighed shakily, her tear filled eyes trailing down to her stomach
. Looking at the tree that had pierced right through her very being, blood gushing out of you at an alarming rate, making it look like a Saw movie in real life.
This sucks major a-
SNAP!
Your head wipe to the side, your puffy eyes widening at the grinning face staring back at you. Shit. You have to get off this tree. Now.
Your brain is in overdrive as you try to push yourself up to escape from the phantom that was approaching rapidly. You close your eyes real tight, waiting for the phantom to scale the tree with ease and end your suffering.
TWACK!
Opening your eyes and peering down, blood dribbling from home parted lips. “Y/n!” You heard the red heads voice call up to you, though it was all muddled from the blood loss.
“Ashlyn, have you found her-“ Tyler looked up, his mouth falling open in utter shock. His hand shakes as he shone his flashlight up on your hanging body.
“Help me get her down!” Ash called out to the boy, who hurriedly went to help the leader to save his girlfriend. While Ben, Aiden, Taylor, and Logan watch from the sidelines.
Making quick work to get the needed medical equipment Ashlyn’s dad had placed in the real world for them to use to help.
You let out a pained whine as you feel Tyler lift you from the bark of the tree. His brows were furrowed as he focused on doing this as quick as possible to not prolong your pain.
“You’re safe now, I got you…” He murmurs quietly to you shaking form.
Everyone in the group made team effort to help you, all while Tyler gripped onto you so hard like if he let go it’d be game over. Mumbling reassurances, though you couldn’t tell id it was to you or himself.
Aiden was talking your ear off to keep you awake. “Y’know? This isn’t even that bad! One time, my bone went right through my knee while playing soccer!” He blabs, though it didn’t help you feel better or assured at all.
“Dude, not the time!” Your boyfriend scolds him, while he rocks you in his shaking arms. While Ben and Logan stitched the gaping hole going through your back to your stomach.
“You’re gonna be okay, I promise… I won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again.” He squeezes your arm.
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A/N: SOZ THIS WAS SHORT!! ^_^ I’ll probably add more and make it better in the future lolz :3
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bagerfluff · 3 months
Text
Catboy Casper Headcanons - SFW/NSFW
hmmmm. Catboy!Casper, doing holy and unholy things to my brain
if you have any more headcanons feel free to reblog and had them. And if you want me to write a drabble or fic about one of these headcanons just ask
SFW
Catboy!Casper being the prettiest thing ever. I mean look at this. With his white ears and tail that match his hair. Tail slightly fluffy and ears just a little more fluffy.
Catboy!Casper being able to turn into a white cat with red eyes. Him sitting in your lap while you work. Cuddling up with your pet. Follow you when you leave. Imagine you look out a window or look down an alley way just to see red eyed cat looking at you
Catboy!Casper pushing his head up into your hand as you pet him. A small blush on his face as you play with his hair. Fingers running near the base of his ears, sometimes rubbing the backs of them
Catboy!Casper looking extra cute when he blushes with his ears pressed against his head and tail slowly swaying back and forth.
Catboy!Casper purring when he's comfortable. Purring when you hold him, purring when you kiss him, purring in his sleep cause he dreams of you.
Catboy!Casper pouting when you get home late. Ears flat on his head, arms crossed, tail still on the bed. Azrael in his arms, face buried on top of Azrael's head. It bringing him comfort as he waits for you. Ear's perking up when he hears the door open.
Catboy!Casper being hyper aware. His ears perk up at any sound outside the door, wondering if it's you. Him getting up just a few minutes after you. Hearing you get up and not smelling you near him anymore.
Catboy!Casper running up to you to hug you when you get home. Head resting on your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. Displeased that you smell like other people. Ears perked up to listen to your voice, it being music to his ears. Tail wrapping around your leg, you were his.
Catboy!Casper curling up on your bed. Sleeping like an cat surrounded by your sent and sometimes even held in your arms. Azrael in his arms as he falls asleep content.
Catboy!Casper blushing at simple pet names like kitten. He'll try to deny it but he loves that pet name. Not like he can hide it anyway. His tail wags every time you call him that.
Catboy!Casper being scared of loud noises. He doesn't jump or scream, but he hissing and will scratch the nearest thing if he's scared. He won't admit it, but he really wants to cuddle you when he's scare. Which means it's up to you to cuddle him.
Catboy!Casper and his canines, Two sharp teeth on his top jaw. They look good but hurt when you kiss him. They leave two red dots when Casper lightly bites you. You love them though.
NSFW
Catboy!Casper and his pussy. He's a cat, of course he has one.
Catboy!Casper arching his back like a cat while you fuck him from behind. Tail wrapping around your leg to keep you there.
Catboy!Casper being extra needy in his heat. Always wanting to be fucked and whining when you don't fuck him.
Catboy!Casper fucking himself with a dildo when your at work. Just for you to come one early and see him bouncing up and down on it in your bed.
Catboy!Casper with his ears pinned to his head and tail constantly moving. Sometimes his tail curls forward to rub his dick.
Catboy!Casper begging for you to breed him. Cum in him. Give him your children. Despite what he says he would be a great dad.
Catboy!Casper making the cutest noises when toy fuck him. He whines and moans so loud that your neighbors definitely know what's happening. Not that you or Casper care.
Catboy!Casper loving praise and degradation. Call him your pretty little whore. Your perfect slut. The best kitten to breed. He'll melt and moan even louder then before.
Catboy!Casper finally getting his fill and falling against the bed. Tail still wrapped around your leg as you kiss his forehead. Casper expects that best after care and you don't mind, anything for your kitten.
Catboy!Casper and his sharp canines. Again with this. He loves to bite you when you fuck him. Most of the time drawing blood from the bite. He'll then lick the blood and admire the wounds he left on you. You don't mind that either.
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suppose-i-was-worm · 1 year
Text
Like A Lamb
**Idea taken from @nerdpoe's post- What the hell is this "Infinite Realms"?**
John Constantine would never call himself a kind man, much less a good man, but the kid at the corner table of this fast food restaurant was making him want to be both.
Not that John’s kindness would really help the kid, in the long run.
He’d seen so many things in all the time he’d been alive- wondrous and horrific in equal measure, but this boy- this teenager, barely out of childhood, was probably the most heart-breaking.
John had known sacrifices- marked by both men and demons. He’d seen the crumpled bodies after the fact, and sometimes he’d been able to save them beforehand. None of them were like this boy. Marked like a sacrificial lamb down to his bones by the universe- an inevitable end.
The teen was the beginning and the end of worlds- his death would shake the foundations of all that was, could be, and is. Time would stutter to a stop before restarting with a different beat, and John could do nothing to delay or stop what was coming.
How in the world could this kid still smile and laugh with his friends? How could he not feel the weight of an entire reality on his shoulders? If John, sitting across a dining room from him, could feel the pressure, why wasn’t the boy buckling under it?
John’s phone alerted him to a text from Zatanna- he was needed by the JLD.
With a sigh, he fished out the strongest protection amulet he had on him. It wouldn’t save the teen, but maybe it would make the rest of his life a little easier.
The kid looked up at him as he approached, all smiles and young innocence. John Constantine thrust the amulet into his hand and then turned, stalking out of the Nasty Burger.
He needed to tell the Justice League. Amity Park needed protection- there was a kid there whose death would change the world.
~~~
Danny flipped the little charm around in his hands, trying to figure it out. The sad trenchcoat man had handed it to him before leaving, and he had no idea why.
“What do you think it is, Danny?”
He shrugged. For some reason he didn’t want to hand it over to Sam for her to inspect it.
“Dunno. It feels important, though. I might take it to Pandora- she’s been teaching me a bit of magic stuff, so she can probably parse it out.”
For some reason, Danny knew he would recognize that man again if he ever saw him, despite only having looked at him for a moment. Something in his core rumbled contently as he tucked the amulet carefully into the back of his phone case.
The next few weeks, Danny found himself having suspiciously good luck. The food at home didn’t come to life, ghosts didn’t attack as much, Dash wasn’t a problem at school, and even the Fentons hadn’t been as insistent on catching Phantom.
That was another weird thing- His brain didn’t seem to compute that Jack and Maddie were his mom and dad anymore. He knew he’d been creeping toward that ever since his death, but it was like a switch had been flipped overnight. The Fenton adults no longer registered as his parents.
Finally he had a chance to slip into the Realms and head for Pandora, who took one look at the amulet he held out to her and laughed.
“You have been adopted, young one, and your core accepted.”
“Adopted?”
“Your nature is to protect- it sings in your blood and guides your instincts. An adult offered you protection, a safe haven, and you took them up on it. Had someone your own age done the same, your relationship with them would be vastly different.”
Danny frowned at the charm, but he didn’t put it down- it didn’t even occur to him to get rid of it.
“Why did he- what made him do that?”
Pandora ruffled his hair.
“He saw someone who needed protecting, I assume, and acted as he ought.”
~~~
“Bats, I don’t know what the Infinite Realms are. Yes, I know they exist. I just don’t know when they started to exist, and when my knowledge of the afterlife became outdated.”
Batman glared, and John rolled his eyes at the other man.
“Magic shit happens all the time. Zatanna can tell you just as well as I can that the Realms didn’t exist a year ago- and also that they’ve existed for millenia.”
“I’ve found a summoning spell for the king of the realms, but it requires a magic user. Zatanna is off-planet, so you’re up.”
John looked over at the speaker, Red Robin, whose slight form and dark hair made him think of the boy he’d left to die.
He’d thought of the boy more often than not- any research into the kind of sacrifice that would have so much power came to a dead end, and John Constantine hated that there was really and truly nothing he could do for the kid.
Maybe this Infinite Realms person might know something?
“Fine. What are the details?”
Red Robin perked up and handed over a heavy tome.
“Batman and I already set up the ritual space in the conference room, and a few other heroes are there to help out if the king is hostile.”
“Of course you have. Let’s go, then.”
The two bats swept off down the hallway, and John followed behind, studying the spell he would need to cast. It was fairly simple, and luckily wouldn’t require blood. He hated the ones that required blood.
As he stood over the sigils and spoke the ritual spells, the floor inside the protective circle began to writhe and bubble a toxic neon green. It was all John could do to stand straight as a rush of air spilled from the portal into the wide room, bringing with it the heavy taste of caution.
The Justice League took a step back as the first clawed hand reached out from the green, white and stretched beyond humanity. It scrabbled for purchase before finding it and pulling.
The creature that exited the swirling mass was something John had never seen before. If the situation wasn’t so tense, he might describe the creature as catlike, with a black body and white legs, as well as piercing green eyes. The similarities stopped, however, when the inky body flickered and lit up from within with the pinpricks of millions of stars and endless void.
This was a baby god, filled with the dreams of deities long forgotten and fueled by the hope of those still clinging on to life.
Its green eyes swept over the gathered heroes before coming to rest on John, and for a moment he felt as if his tattered soul was being judged by the cosmos.
And then the creature folded in on itself, the tense air around it changing from bitter caution to sweet relief, and John found himself face to face with the teenager from Amity Park.
“Hi.”
The boy sounded winded, but happy, and he reached inside his shirt to pull out a small chain necklace. John’s amulet was hanging off it, obviously well treasured and cared for.
“Did you know that you’re technically my dad now?”
Something on John’s face must have told the boy- the god, the sacrifice both dead and alive- that he was unaware of this fact. The kid shuffled a little, looking sheepishly at the floor.
“You- uh. Unintentionally offered safe haven. And I accepted without realizing what was going on, and- it’s weird. I collected your soul for you! Didn’t bring it with me, but I’ve got the pieces you’re missing.”
“I think you both need to sit down and discuss this.”
Bless Diana.
“Can you leave the circle, young one?”
The teen beamed at Diana and stepped out of the protective circle, smudging the sigils as he did and closing the portal.
“I can, yeah. Pandora says hi, by the way.”
John watched as the boy chattered away about his ghost friends to Diana while she led him to a seat, and then sighed, moving to join them. If he needed help with being a new dad, surely Bats could help, right?
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bamgyw · 4 months
Text
˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the second night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
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the spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it is a great triumph over christianity. - friedrich nietzsche
warnings: +18 getting hornier. pillow,, humping,, heh. a tiny bit of voyeurism as well? fingering. and a lot of male yearning we love that, we love a desperate man. a/n: team we made it to the smut. the hand kissing bit is kind of victorian. jane austen, even. but. i don't care. i’m not 100% happy with the outcome so it might get a little edited in the (distant) future, but nothing fundamental. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here
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"i am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses."
beomgyu stumbled upon that quote within the pages of a stolen copy of a book by nietzsche. he had always found himself more drawn to the destructive lunacies of clinically depressed germans than to the saving grace of the holy scriptures. there was no self-pitying in the bible, no self-indulgent sorrow to hold on to.
he had found that book, thus spoke zarathustra, in soobin's room, tossed in the trash. it looked almost new, so he took it out of curiosity.
"why are you throwing this away?" beomgyu asked.
soobin shrugged. "it's a good read if you're a happy person," he said. "but if you're miserable, it'll rot your brain. more spiritual talk and petty self-help in there than in the bible."
but beomgyu quietly took the book without soobin noticing, and he carried it in his back pocket ever since.
he had no intention of reading it from cover to cover, but sometimes he would flip absentmindedly through the pages, fixating on some passages. and that one specifically had reminded him of you. his new meaning. the rose he found in the darkness.
during the day, beomgyu usually roamed aimlessly around the town, drifting along with the rhythms of his headphones. that was pretty much the sum of his daily human activity since he quit college.
it was all he knew how to do, and often felt like all he was good for.
as he walked through the town, the familiar sounds of honking cars, distant sirens, and murmuring conversations mixed with the music in his headphones. the air was thick with the scent of seawater and the faint, sour smell of industry. it was a crummy town, sordid. each step felt heavy, purposeless, leading him nowhere.
he had a few favorite spots he liked to hang around - the port where the boats came in, or the grimy industrial estate where the addicts gathered. they all knew his dad pretty well. and maybe if they knew beomgyu was the son of the man who supplied them with their shit, they'd treat him better. but that's a secret he kept to himself.
instead, he joined in on their petty fights, easily swayed by whatever side fit his mood that day. he was better at fighting than them, but the victory was hollow. he was younger, his body was not rotten –not completely– and he had full motor control over his limbs. but he got pleasure from winning, anyway. he liked to exert some control over someone else for once. 
still, that day he didn't walk to any of his usual spots. he had been feeling a sorrow less violent, an ominous need for silence. his feet, barely in conversation with his brain, dragged him to the town's small church.
he had never really stopped at the church before, just passed by without giving it much thought. but now, standing there, he realized it was probably the most beautiful building in town.
every other construction felt fake, in plastic and plasterboard, but the wooden church had been crafted by the artisan hands of a carpenter and build up by a community. it seemed to be lovingly nursed, too. though the church meant little to him, it was obviously fundamental to others.
when lost and adrift, beomgyu would wander, getting into fights and ruining himself. but under similarly pitiable conditions, others came to the chapel like it was a second home, sometimes safer than their own. beomgyu wished he had something like that, too.
the building was small, but cute. surrounded by a little forest of old camellia trees, its walls painted a crisp white. it was an old building, but it was thoroughly taken care of. the air was different, cleaner, carrying the earthy scent of the camelliae and the faint fragrance of blooming flowers.
beomgyu liked how the wooden cross crowned the roof, marking the building, never allowing anyone to go astray. it must feel good, he thought, to have some guidance like that when you don't know where to go. a flower in the desert, a light in the darkness.
he knew he was being stupid and overemotional. he had never believed in all this religious stuff, and he never would. his relationship with god, if there even was one, was mostly based in resentment. if god was real, he could've treated him better.
and still, he didn't dare to enter the chapel out of some reverential respect he didn't even know he was capable of. so he just stood there, staring at the chapel, feeling small.
he took a deep breath. his cheek still burned where you had kissed him the night before. he really was going out of his mind.
"i want her so bad. and i think she might want me too." he prayed. to the church, to its wood, to the camellia trees, to the sky –he didn't know, he didn't care. "please let me be with her. please don't hurt her because of it, or shame her, or kick her out or whatever it is you do with sinners. i promise it’s not a bad thing. it’s so much purer than you think." he said.
no one answered, of course. there was just silence. some ruffling of the leaves because of the breeze, maybe the trebling chirp of a bird, but no answer. he felt like an idiot.
praying sucked, he ratified. how could you even make sure you were being listened to? it was emotional manipulation, playing with one's hope. feeling down and disappointed, he left.
˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
entering soobin’s house again would have felt like torture, were it not for the certainty that you lived there, too.
soobin never really left the house. he only went out to go to class in the mornings, and he still chose to skip as many as he could. not because he wasn't a good student, he was disturbingly accomplished. he just disliked the people.
every day, soobin locked himself in his room and studied relentlessly. he was determined to make something of himself and leave his stepfather’s house behind. he had a plan. beomgyu didn’t know the details of this plan—soobin never shared it, fearing it might be jinxed if spoken aloud—but it was clear that soobin believed hard work could get him out of that miserable house.
beomgyu thought that rhetoric too optimistic, alienated from reality. but still, he had some admiration for him. unlike beomgyu, who wallowed in his own misery instead of changing his situation, soobin searched for solutions.
beomgyu sometimes found him too sickly and rancorous, but he still looked up to him for his willpower. not that he would ever admit that to soobin.
so when beomgyu got to the house, certain that soobin would be there, he gave him a call. it was a code they had. soobin leaned out of his bedroom window, and threw down the keys for beomgyu to catch so that he could make his way in. 
as beomgyu climbed the creaky wooden stairs, he realised that the usual thrill and allure of sneaking around that house he had felt at night was dimmed in the daylight. he hated the smell of that place, too. the air inside was stuffy, filled with the faint scent of old wood and something slightly medicinal.
as he reached the top floor on his way to soobin’s room, he passed by a closed door. pristine surface, painted white. he knew immediately. a pink mother-of-pearl crucifix hung on the wood.
he stood in front of it, his heart quickening. inside that room lived his little bird, trapped in an evil cage. his angel, his obsession. he gladly would’ve shattered the door with his own hands. let his knuckles bleed, let the splintered wood stab into his fingers. he just wanted to take you away and set you free.
at first he maintained a cautionary distance. he feared that if he got any closer, he would actually do it. but then he saw the little plaque under the cross, in sterling silver, shining when the light hit it. he approached to read what it said.
"the lord is faithful. he will establish you and guard you against the evil one." it said.
beomgyu scoffed, a bitter smile curling his lips. like some metal plaque could protect her, he thought. he's the only dangerous thing in her life. that superstitious fool.
he found it bitterly amusing, to the point of feeding his ego. some cultures hang garlic on the doors to keep away the vampires and the witches. your daddy had hanged a nacre cross to keep choi beomgyu away from you.
he let his hand reach for the crucifix. he traced his fingers over it, middle and index. all the doors had a crucifix of their own, but yours was the only one that wasn't a choppy piece of wood, crude and utilitarian. his thoughts wandered as his fingers brushed over the cool, smooth surface. he must be aware of how pretty she is, beomgyu thought.
as he did, a noise startled him. he jolted away from the door, retreating as far as he could. only when he saw it was just soobin coming out of his room did he catch his breath.
“you were taking too long,” soobin said, his expression gloomy. “i didn’t like it.”
“you care for me that much?” beomgyu asked, a bitter grin spreading across his face as he walked up to him, hands in his pockets.
"well, i let you into my house, didn't i?" he asked, accusative.
"you did." beomgyu replied. “it's not versailles, but it’s cute. lots of quirky decorations.” he shrugged, poking at the crucifix that hanged on soobin’s door, tilting it slightly. "it's like a theme park."
"eveything’s a joke to you." soobin replied. he seemed distrusting, his chest filled with something he probably shouldn't say. but he did, anyway. “you need to forget about her."
“what are you talking about?” beomgyu raised his tone, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes, quickly masked by anger.
“i know you. you’re going to let your impulsiveness ruin everything for all of us. it won’t end well.” soobin said. “she's not like one of those girls you used to pick up at private schools. if you want to manipulate your way into someone's pants, choose someone else.”
beomgyu’s anger flared. how dared he imply those were his intentions? how dared he assume he had any other purpose than caring for his angel and godsend grace?
he took a violent step towards soobin, who flinched slightly but held his ground. “you think i’m dorian gray or some shit?” beomgyu retorted. “you're just pressed because i'm not a pussy like you, restraining yourself to please that maniac. but whatever happens, it won’t be because i forced myself on anyone."
“she doesn’t know what she wants." soobin said. "she’s confused and love deprived.”
“and you’re a patronising asshole,” beomgyu snapped back. "who are you to say anything?"
“you’re playing with fire. if you wanna be a psychotic masochist, fine. but don’t drag others into your mess. get yourself hurt if you want, but leave us out of it.”
“us?" beomgyu asked with a wicked grin. "she's an adult. she can make her own choices. and if your stepdad wants to mess with her because of it, it´ll be over my fucking dead body."
“is this how you repay me for letting you stay in my house?” soobin asked, a mix of hurt and frustration in his eyes.
“thing is," beomgyu began with a cynical laugh. "this isn’t about you. you shouldn’t be this bothered,” he said. “and if you are, maybe you should check yourself and see if you’re acting like your stepfather.”
soobin’s knuckles turned white, but he took a deep breath and held it in. “just. don’t do it." he said through gritted teeth. "it’s not worth it.”
but beomgyu grinned wickedly. he had one last bombshell, one last thing to get soobin fuming. “i’ll let you know if it's worth it or not when i have your sister go dumb on my cock.” he said, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction.
he shouldn't have said it.
instead of getting angry, as he had intended to accomplish, soobin smirked, too. it was unsettling. beomgyu got a ghostly feeling about it.  "what is it?" he spat out.
soobin inclined his head slightly towards the room with the mother-of-pearl cross—the room of his little bird. beomgyu turned just in time to catch a sliver of a prying eye, peeking through a barely open door. your eye widened when it met beomgyu’s gaze, then you vanished, the door slamming shut.
shit. beomgyu's heart raced, his breath hitching.
soobin smiled, a hint of triumph in his eyes. "consider her warned."
˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
late at night, thoughts of you consumed beomgyu’s mind. he knew he had fucked up. he knew that now you probably thought he was a creep and never wanted to see him again. his mind raced, replaying the words he wished he could take back.
he could’ve played his cards right. go slow, ease you into it. but he wasn't that sure now. the uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his insides with each passing thought.
soobin's room felt even stuffier than the night before, the air heavy and oppressive. the walls seemed to close in on him, making it hard to breathe. the need to see you pressed down on his chest, but lingering doubt kept him glued to the mattress.
a lone fly buzzed around, its annoying droning echoing through the room and fraying his nerves. each pass it made seemed to grow louder, amplifying his sense of confinement, maddening him.
his mind wouldn't shut up about you. you had struck him as someone who knew how to watch your back. he recalled how cautious you had been around him the previous night, like a dog used to being beaten flinches at the sight of a stick. but your eyes had never left his. not for a second. they seemed innocent, but not naive.
he liked that, he thought. that you were like him, smartened up by your environment. but he liked the innocence too, so much. an untouched you, drowning in chasteness and self-restrain.
uncaressed belly, uncaressed thighs, uncaressed sweet pussy. he could make you feel so good. that was all he could offer, all he could give you. he had nothing else.
he knew he should let the thought go. that he should start wrapping his mind around forgetting about you. but it was late, and he was tired, and the only picture that lingered in his mind was a pearl choker and a rosary over a tender neck.
with soobin's steady breathing beside him, perhaps even asleep, beomgyu lay staring at the ceiling. images of you fluttered behind his closed eyelids, all imaginations of his lovesick mind. illicit, probably, but fated.
he thought of your pretty lips whispering praises meant for him, kissing his cheeks, his jaw, the curve of his neck. he wanted to know the taste of your mouth, the softness of your touch.
had you even been kissed yet? with a father as twisted as yours, it seemed unlikely. beomgyu wanted you to never have been kissed. he wanted to teach you how to do it himself. eat your mouth out, nibble at your lips and press them gently. but not hurt you. that was new. 
he would start slow, so that you’d want more of him. then he'd deepen the kiss, his grip on you tight, giving into whatever you asked for, never letting you go hungry. the tingling started, the blood pumping.
pause. he thought as soon as he became aware that he was getting hard. his rational mind tried to assert control, to rein in his desires. you loser, just by thinking of kissing. be cold-minded. a voice told him. actions have consequences. 
the voice sounded a little like him, but it was surely an imposter. if it wasn't impulsive and hot-blooded, then it wasn't choi beomgyu. 
"i just want to apologise." he lied to himself as he sat up all of the sudden.
he slipped out of bed, his bare feet padding softly against the cool floor. he moved slowly, mindful of the creaking floorboards that threatened to betray his movements.
but a subtle rustle, not caused by him, echoed in the quiet room. the soft shuffle of fabric against skin. soobin was awake, and he had wanted to let him know. but beomgyu couldn't begin to care.
as he closed the door behind him, trying to make as little noise as possible, a sudden thud reverberated through the silence. "shit!" he cursed under his breath. another door in that corridor slammed shut with a resounding roar.
someone left a window open. air currents cause noise, beomgyu mused as he made his way down the dimly lit corridor, his steps quickening with purpose. tomorrow night, he thought, he would make sure all windows were closed before going to bed.
as he travelled the shadowy corridor, he got a chill. he kept hearing the ruffling of fabric, a doorknob twisting, steps against the wooden floor. a shiver went down his spine, but he told himself to forget about. it was all in his head.
he refused to let the silent threat your daddy stop him from seeing you. that liar, that imposter, that self-proclaimed god keeping everyone hostage in his castle of authoritarianism and indoctrination.
when he got to your door, the mother-of-pearl crucifix halted him like a policeman. it seemed more commanding now than it had earlier. it was stupid, he thought, how the night enhanced every feeling. 
the cross regarded him and he regarded the cross. “i just want to apologise,” he told jesus christ. “i said something stupid earlier today, and i wanna make better.” he tried to convince him.
it was just a symbolic plea. a desperate attempt to absolve himself of guilt, to make him feel less lustful, less like a pig. to find redemption in the eyes of a higher power. 
he thought about what soobin had said, about god, about your father, about right and wrong. maybe he wasn't as smart as he thought. maybe he was loosing the game and they were all making him go insane for good.
he debated whether to just turn back after the thought came to him that you didn't even want him there, anyway. how could you want him at all, after just one meeting where all he received was rejection?
sure, he got a quick kiss in the end, but it didn't outweigh the pulling away, the uncertainty, the avoidance. what was he worth, really? nothing. not even worth enduring a scolding from your dad, let alone the weight of guilt. he was making a fool of himself. better leave now before anyone got hurt for nothing.
but as he turned to walk away, his heart heavy and ready to toss aside, he heard a noise from inside the room.
a whimper. it was so faint he was sure his febrile mind had made it up. that he was so schizophrenically in lust he had made you escape that sound in his brain. a whimper. a sweet soft whimper. 
he tried to make sense of it by convincing himself that he heard you crying. he even allowed his sense of self-importance to fuel thoughts of bursting into the room and offering you his shoulder to cry on. to cuddle you, to comfort you.
but when he heard it the second time, his breath caught. this time it was a moan, unless his yearning mind was deceiving him. he pressed his ear to the door. he clearly heard a trail of soft muffled moans. restrained, but just so lewd to his feverish self. his face burned, his cock twitched.
index and middle finger reached slowly for the doorknob. they brushed over it, hesitating. maybe it was locked. and maybe that was for the better. the hand wrapped around it, twisted it slightly. it was open.
holding his breath almost to asphyxiation and in the most silent motion he had ever performed, he peaked in. 
god existed, he found out. his mouth went dry. like a bird in the clouds, surrounded by snowy plush blankets, he saw his little dove making herself feel so good against her pillow.
facing away from him, your legs draped on each side of it. your hips swayed, heavy and slow, as you tried to suppress the soft whimpers your throat escaped.
beomgyu pressed his lips together, teeth sinking into his lower lip until almost drawing blood. the messy nightdress, one delicate strap slipping off your shoulder. how the the silken fabric fell over your ass, not letting him see but inviting him to find out.
he wanted to see your doll face twisting in pleasure so desperately. to have you take in his cock and use him to fuck yourself so sweetly like that. only one door was stopping him. the door with the pink mother-of-pearl crucifix.
as though hypnotised, he quietly entered the room.
but when the door closed behind him with a click, you whirled around, eyes wide and breath catching in your throat. he froze in panic, too, as he saw how frightened you seemed. what the fuck were you expecting, you disgusting perv? came in the voice in his head.
your instinct was to retreat like a scared spider, flitting towards the head of your bed. fluffy white pillows framed your trembling body, with only a glimpse of your leg peeking out. your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, almost to an unhealthy degree, as you tried to cover yourself.
beomgyu took a cautious step forward, his obsession with you feeling safe in his presence outweighing how turned on he was. "please," he whispered, desperation in his voice. "don't be embarrassed." he said. or be. you're so adorable, all flustered like this.
"i… i'm sorry," you stuttered, your words hesitant.
beomgyu raised his eyebrow, an endeared chuckle escaping his lips. "you're sorry?"
"i shouldn't have… i…" you struggled, avoiding his gaze and pressing your hands to your head in frustration. anxiously, you began to hit your head with the heels of your hands. "i'm so pathetic."
without hesitation, beomgyu rushed closer, wrapping his hands around your wrists in the world’s softest handcuffs. "not at all," he murmured softly, his voice soothing as he attempted to coax your frightened gaze to meet his own.
quietly, almost reverently, he knelt at the edge of the bed, perching himself over the mattress like a praying supplicant.
he was so fucking hard, his blood boiling inside his pulsating veins. scorchingly, painfully. his hands trembled a bit on your wrists as he struggled to contain himself, like the scorpion resisting the urge to sting the frog and drown them both.
“i loved seeing you like that.” he managed out, eyes fixated on yours. “i’m the pathetic one, i sneaked in here like some creep. i... i'm so sorry about what i said earlier today. i was mad at soobin, trying to get under his skin. but i'm kinder than that. i can be, for you. you shouldn’t be scared of me. please.” 
"i’m not." you said.
"good," he said. "i want you to trust me."
"i think... i think i do."
beomgyu took one of your hands, already entwined with his, and raised it to his lips, planting a delicate kiss on the back. you didn't pull away, though a slight flinch ran through you. his voice, soft and concerned, cut through the quiet, "is this alright?"
you met his gaze, his eyes looking up at you dilated and pleading like a puppy's. you nodded silently, allowing him to continue.
he pressed his lips against your skin a few more times, the wet sounds his mouth made filling the room. with a heavy breath, you took in every detail of his gentle kisses—the way his plump lips pressed and nibbled at your skin, how slow, almost ritualistically.
"what were you thinking about?" he asked, his voice a muffled purr against your skin.
"w-what?" you stammered, trying to buy time as your mind raced to come up with a lie less embarrassing than the truth.
"you were so pretty like that just now, all spread out like a good girl...” he murmured softly, "tell me what got you like that."
you stalled. with an achingly slow movement, you mirrored his action. you brought his hand to your mouth, and brushed your lips over it. barely touched, almost imperceptibly.
a shiver down his spine. a sting to his heart. he watched you in awed stillness, his watering mouth half-open. then you whispered, "you."
"fuck, i– i want to do so many things to you. if you'll let me." he said. a blush crept across your cheeks as you instinctively tried to shy away, but his fingers beneath your chin guided you back to meet his gaze. "what did i do to get you like that? was it because of what you heard me say?" he asked.
"because of everything." you replied.
he moved up from the floor with deliberate slowness, each motion purposeful as if he were approaching a skittish forest creature, determined not to scare it away. cautious, he inched closer, finally settling beside you on the bed. "tell me." he said. "i wanna hear."
"you're smarter than daddy," you began to say, your voice mumbled, as you gazed at him, his features so close you could count the flecks of gold in his eyes. "daddy thinks he's god's chosen one, but you keep outplaying him. so what does that make you?"
"a hellhound," he replied with a cynical smile, drawing even nearer.
"no," you said softly, shaking your head in disagreement. "you're good. and you're sweet to me." with tender care, you brushed his bangs, your fingertips delicately tracing the contours of his face like a child exploring a new toy. you lingered over his brows, his long lashes, the graceful curve of his cupid's bow, and the strong line of his jaw. "and you're… really pretty."
an impulse like a mighty wave of devotion pushed beomgyu to cup your face, his thumb tracing delicate lines over your skin as he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, "have you ever been kissed?"
"yes." you nodded. though there was a flicker of fear in your eye, like he would've been disappointed at that lack of purity. but if he did, he said nothing.
"show me how you do it." he urged, his words a gentle plea as he drew closer, his breath mingling with yours.
you leaned in painfully still, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. but just before your lips met, you paused. hesitated. this changed everything. but beomgyu met your gaze unwaveringly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or doubt. then, with a soft smile, he encouraged you forward.
you brushed your lips against his, ever so slightly. it was a trembling little touch. chaste. when you pulled away, beomgyu's eyes remained fixed on you, half closed and drunk in longing.
he gently pivoted the hand that had cupped your face, trailing its back along the curve of your cheekbone to finally rest it at the nape of your neck. "so pretty," he whispered. "why are you so scared?"
"i don't want to disappoint you," you mumbled softly.
beomgyu's response was immediate, a fervent shake of his head. "never," he insisted, his voice a husky plea, "you're doing so well. please, kiss me again."
with trembling fingers, you reached up to his neck, your heartbeat a wild rhythm in your chest. you nestled his upper lip within yours. a little more intensely this time, but still experimental, like you were gingerly trying to color within the lines.
beomgyu was gone. you were so soft and plush and just so scared to do anything wrong. he lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "they're mine now," he said in a low growl.
he took over, giving you a deep wet kiss. unrestrained, heavy like a lion’s roar. as you moved your lips together, beomgyu demanded more and more, leaving you breathless. one of his hands rested on your thigh, tentatively stroking, fondling over the skin, as if to soothe you, to tell you everything was alright.
he tilted his head, seeking depth in your mouth. one of your hands traced up the length of his chest and reached his neck, which you squeezed tightly as you felt his mouth opening yours to let his tongue in. you tensed. he noticed. “do you like that?” he asked, breath heavy.
“i... yes."
and so he did it again. another painfully lusty kiss that left your lips soaked and swollen. you escaped a moan that he loved so desperately, making him bite on your lower lip, drawing another embarrassingly whiny whimper out of you. after a softer peck, he outlined the bitten skin with his tongue.
he devoured your lips again, eating out your mouth. he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to circle yours, playing with it; then he pulled back, as if urging you to follow him. he wanted you to try yourself.
his hand on your thigh moved to embrace your waist, fingers poking into your skin. you felt firm, secure. in the middle of the unbridled kiss, your tongue ended up in his mouth. so soft. my good little girl. he let out a grunt of satisfaction. happy with his reaction, your instinct got you to hold on to him tighter, trying to find a closeness that was impossible in that position.
he got frustrated at it, too, his groans turning into hummed pleading moans against your lips. for a painful second, he pulled away to say, "let me watch you fuck yourself, just like you were when i came in. please." he said. "would you be comfortable with that?" he asked. 
you nodded slightly, though you weren't even sure you were telling the truth. they were irreconcilable, avoiding embarrassment and giving in to the aching sensation in your pussy the moment he spoke those words.
he stretched his arm out toward the pillow, gently offering it to you, observing as you knelt on the bed and retook the position he had found you in. he helped you through it, caring for you with caresses and soft kisses, but he went back to seat at the edge of the mattress, gnawing lightly on his lip with anticipation. you didn't want that, you realised. you wanted him close.
you reached out your hand for him to grasp, "what is it, baby?" he asked, tending to you with gravity.
you guided him towards you, maneuvering him to recline half-seated against the bedhead. he caught on to your intentions and leaned in to give you a gentle peck before allowing his hands to settle on your hips, helping you in adjusting the pillow beneath you.
now on all fours, with him facing you, he noticed you wanted to say something, the words lingering on your lips. "is everything alright?" he asked, his hand tenderly caressing your arm.
you stammered a bit before shyly asking, “can you keep on kissing me?”
he smiled fondly. he would never in a million years be able say no to you. “of course, my angel.”
he drew nearer, his proximity warming you up. having him there like that, you didn't need to support yourself on your arms- instead, you found yourself instinctively clinging to his neck. with a mellow kiss and his hands firmly securing their hold on your hips, he led the start of the back and forward motion.
the first reactions the rubbing of your clit against the fabric drew out were subdued, mere soft moans and gentle breaths mingling with his the plush of beomgyu’s lips. but with his grasp pressing you down, those initial movements evolved into more intense and profound ones.
he let one of his hands abandon your hips to entwine his fingers in the strands of your hair. the louder your moans got, the tighter his grip on it. he was so hard, with no escape for it. but he liked the pain, the desperation. "you sound so beautiful, fuck–" he breathed out. "but i'm gonna feel so much better than that."
the promise echoed in your mind, getting you to let out a crying plead, "p-please, beomgyu..." you moaned out, as you fumbled with your hand to find his.
"you want me to help you out?" he asked, almost like it was a privilege.
"mhm," you whimpered with a sheepish, frantic nods.
"cute." he breathed out. his face was flushed and burning hot, his cock ached uncomfortably, but he spartanly focused on his little angel’s pleasure above anything else.
he wrapped his arms around your waist and took you to his lap, where he held you tight. "are you comfortable like this?" he asked, placing a a soft peck to your forehead.
"yes." you answered, embarrassingly. you were wet to the point of dampening your inners thighs, and you were mortified to have him see, to even stain him. but he'd notice soon enough.
he grunted as he kept on kissing down your face. your temples, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth, your ridiculously tasty lips. he held on to your waist for dear life with one of his arms, but allowed the other to travel down, slowly and deviantly towards your virgin pussy.
"you're soaked, my baby." he breathed out. you would've felt self-conscious at the exposure, but you saw in his eyes how bad he liked it. how starved and aroused he seemed when he began to caress your wet cunt with his slender fingers.
his cold touch startled you at first, making you hold on to his neck tighter. you were too sore, too sensitive. "don't be scared. i'm gonna take such good care of you," he said. "i promise."
tentatively, he stroked over the surrounding area of your aching centre, index and middle finger touching softly over your wetness. he performed circling motions in your clit, taking his time. getting to hear you. “b-beomgyu, you—god—you feel really good…”
he learned that when you liked something he did, you'd shower him in desperate soft pecks, like a puppy licks your hand after you pat its head. he wanted to see you react further, he wanted to try it all. he spread your pussy with both fingers and pressed forcefully against your throbbing clit with a third one. startled, you clutched his hair so firmly you feared you might have hurt him.
as by instinct, your thighs twitched from the overstimulation and seemed to want to close around his hand, but he didn't let them. he shushed into your lips with a soft "shhh," soothing as the seashore before leaning in for a honeyed kiss. he traced patterns against your cheek with his nose after pulling away. "its alright. you're doing so fucking well."
he let you catch your breath, but not for too long. he quickened his pace, your moans getting too loud, wept out and filthy enough to horrify all the saints in the house of god. it became a duel of you trying to suppress yourself and keep it quiet, and beomgyu trying to get everyone in the house to know how good he was for you.
to restrain the growing sound of your moaning, you buried your face into beomgyu’s neck, trying to muffle your voice against his body. but he huffed into your ear, "don't hold back. only you and me matter, no one else."
"i think i–" you whimpered into his ear, choking on your own puffs. the pleasure crept up on you, becoming too strong to bear and making your whole body shudder against his. "beomgyu, please..." you cried out.
he saw how close you were, and quickly thought if he should or should not stop it. tease you, edge you, have you go on all night. he could do so many things, he ached so much to do them all. but as he saw your pretty face so desperate to cum, how needy and palpitating, you were, he decided he had all the time in the world.
his movements quickened, each motion filled with urgency and strength. his veiny, strained forearm bore the weight of the world as he got you to your peak.
you came with a stifled cry but you muted your voice against his neck again. he wished he could've heard it in its full, piercing clarity, but he understood. you were so sheepish, his perfect little girl.
he didn't pull his hand away immediately, instead letting you feel his warmth for a little longer as you trembled against his chest. "my baby, you did so well," he whispered into your ear, his voice a soothing balm as he gently cradled your body.
now that the tension had drained from your limbs, you found yourself collapsing against him, your body limpy and worn out. it was then that you noticed the bulge in his pants. "beomgyu…" you murmured, your voice heavy. "teach me how to help you out."
"forget about me," he replied with a gentle smile. "i just wanted to get you to trust me tonight. to show you how good i can make you feel." 
you gazed at him, cherishing his handsome features. his cheeks were flushed, too, and his eyes so gentle. you couldn't help but cup his face in your hands, drawn to him. but as you leaned in to kiss him, he stopped you faintly, saying, "wait. don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to, so you'll be excited to see me again tomorrow."
"you'll come back tomorrow?" you asked, your eyes lighting up with hope.
“i couldn’t stay away even if i wanted to,” he replied. but as he said it, he noticed a flicker of guilt crossing your face. gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from your reddened cheek. "how are you feeling?" he asked softly.
your gaze darkened slightly. "like i shouldn't have done it," you admitted. "like daddy saw everything."
"i'm… sorry," beomgyu said, his voice full of consternation.
"no, it's not your fault. those thoughts aren't real. i can make the guilt go away, in time," you reassured him. "but i like it when you hold me. that's real. i… like you. a lot, i think."
beomgyu didn't even know what to say. he struggled to understand how this could be wrong to any human religion or faith since the dawn of time, because to him this felt like heaven. he held you in his arms, all flushed and a little tired, your lips swollen like ripe cherries from the kisses he had given you. this was fucking nirvana for all he cared.
he deeply regretted his no-kissing rule, and he sought to end it immediately. he leaned in, but you stopped him.
"no," you chuckled, "don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to so that you're excited to come back tomorrow."
he smiled back at you, like an absolute fool. maybe he was in love, even if it only had been a day, whatever. but how could he not be when he had the cutest being in existence all to himself? "give me a gift before i go, then," he said. "something i can carry with me.
"what do you want?" you asked.
"this," he said, pointing at your rosary beads. with a gesture that felt almost ceremonial, you took off the pendant and placed it around his neck. as you did, he couldn’t help but stare at your lips. "can’t i kiss you just a little?" he pouted.
you shook your head with a soft giggle. "your rules," you reminded him. "be stronger."
“fine. have it your way.”
he smiled, but it quickly vanished as you remembered him; “you should go. or soobin will know.”
he nodded, eyes filled with disappointment. the moment you lifted yourself off his lap, detached yourself off of him, an intense wave of pain surged through both of you. like a limb had been atrociously ripped off your body.
but just as he was about to leave, you grabbed his wrist, halting him. “beomgyu, wait,” you called out, rising to your knees to meet his gaze.
you pressed a gentle, lingering kiss on his cheek, just as you had done the night before. the softness of your touch sent a shiver down his spine. as you pulled back, beomgyu instinctively leaned forward, craving more. but you placed your index finger against his lips, stopping him. “you’re so weak,” you teased with a playful glint in your eyes.
he smiled ruefully. “i am,” he admitted with a sigh, the weight of reality settling back in. he really had to leave. “good night,” he murmured.
stepping out into the dark, the world felt colder, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness. he lingered for a moment, leaning his back against the door, not wanting to leave just yet, but his head bumped against something.
of course.
he turned around to regard the crucifix, holding the one you had given him in his hands. same color, same material. a bittersweet smile played on his lips. “she was so good,” he told jesus christ. “and i think i made her happier, just a little. i feel a little happier too. i told you, it was much purer than you think.”
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ so. i really struggled through this one. lemme know what you think.
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sunnysoulzz · 1 year
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Hey sunnyyyyy😋can we get the girl next door crush trope with Rodrick heffley headcannons
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THIS IS BUT FUCK YEAH
(I’m ngl- I’m very uncultured I had to look up what the girl next door trope was) (also this made me realise idk how to make headcanons)
Contains: rodrick Heffley x f!reader, nsfw, reader and rodrick are neighbours and childhood friends lol, more rodrick accidentally perving on reader, smut under the cut!
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You and Rodrick had been friends since childhood. you were neighbours. When you were little you used to always play together, he had a habit of being a bully sometimes.
As you grew up you stayed friends, not as close as you were when you were little, but still close. When he’d get mad at his dad or something, he’d come to your house. He’d talk about music, school, girls he had a crush on. You’d just smile and listen.
He never really saw you as ‘dateable’. You were always just his close friend who he’d go to for comfort, and when he needed someone to talk to.
The two of you would drive around in his van, listening to music, or get snacks together. He’d always tell you about songs his band was working on.
He’s the kind to make you a mixtape of your favourite songs, you face felt hot after he handed it to you.
He definitely throws his arm over your shoulder when he’s walking with you
One day one of your neighbours had a party, your family and rodricks family were both invited. You wore a short skirt and a cute top. That was the first time Rodrick really saw you as a woman. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, he has a goofy smile as he tried to act cool, his ears tinted red.
After that he realised how much he liked you, even before this, when he would adamantly refuse that he liked you, he definitely did. He’d always try to make you laugh, he thought the way you talked was cute, he’d try to impress you when he played drums, and way more embarrassing stuff he doesn’t want to admit.
Rodrick having a crush on you would 100% mean he’d invite you to every practice and the few places that let his band play. He’d call you his personal roadie lol.
He’d sneak out of the house at night to go to yours, he’d say it was because he was pissed off about something, but really he just wanted to see you.
You’d bring him to your room, trying not to wake your parents, even though they were used to rodrick coming over at random times by now. You talked about hearing a song he would’ve liked, humming the song softly. He immediately blushed, not just because he liked hearing your voice, but also because you thought of him.
You loved how dorky he was, even though he tried to act cool, he really wasn’t.
He never planned to confess, he didn’t want to ruin the friendship and was hoping the crush would just die down overtime, it didn’t. He was talking about you to his friends, yet again, when you showed up at his house unannounced and caught him talking about everything he loves about you. He has never been more embarrassed. He tried to pretend he was talking about another girl while he friends just exchanged knowing glances.
He definitely accidentally perved on you on when you were getting out of the shower.
Rodrick thought you were innocent, he hadn’t seen you bring any guys over, at least none he thought you were hooking up with. And since he’s a virgin too, he really wanted his first time to be with you.
He definitely thinks about you whenever he jerks off :]
You know that whole trope of “accidentally looking though a girls window when she’s changing”? That happened. You both stared at eachother for a few seconds before you felt your face grow hot. You quickly covered your chest and closed the curtains. He popped a boner real fast.
I’m all out of brain juice 😭 I’m so sorry, I have no idea what this trope is, so I hope this works 🫶🫶 if it doesn’t, I’ll rewrite it fr LOLL but my requests are always open 😼
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bouncybongfairy · 1 year
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Late Night At Fazbear's
Mike Schmidt x Fem Reader
Summary: Mike is an ex-coworker with whom you have a situationship with. Knowing about your interest in arcade games, he invites you to visit him at an abandoned pizzeria to check it out. Things get a little heated before you get a chance to look around.
Word Count: 2.5k+
(!This is a smut fanfic, you’ve been warned!)
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
You were working on some last-minute statistics homework after you got out of the shower. It was a Friday night and even though you got an offer from your friend group to go out, you decided to stay home. Going to house party after party was getting annoying. Half the time, the only people there were drunk frat boys trying to get some before their whiskey dick kicked in. Being a wing girl for your friends was fun the first thirty times but now you’d rather stay home. Things in your life seemed so stagnant, it was like all you did was school, work, then bumming it at home. Like you were some uncharismatic dad in a sitcom. Suddenly your phone goes off, which breaks you out of the trance you were in. When you answered, you immediately recognized the voice to be Mike from the pizza place you guys used to work at together. You thought it was kinda weird that he was calling you so randomly but you did talk often when working together. For reasons that still are unclear, you answered.
“Hey! Sorry I know this is- it’s kinda random but can you talk for a second?” his voice spoke over the receiver. 
“Yeah, I’m just hanging out at home. What’s up?” you asked, now standing up to pace around your room. 
“Oh cool cool, so kinda weird to explain but bear with me here. Remember how you were super obsessed with the old arcade games we had in the back of the pizza shop? Anyway, I got this new job at an old pizzeria and there’s a bunch of old games and animatronics. I was thinking while I’m working the graveyard shift you could maybe swing by for an hour or two and check it out with me?” His voice was so sweet and soft-spoken that you couldn’t help but blush over the phone. You coiled your finger around the wire of the landline. 
“Umm, yeah that sounds kinda fun actually, when are you there till?” you asked with a hint of a smirk on your face. 
“My shift starts at 12 am and ends at 6 am, no pressure. Obviously, I’ll be here all night,” he laughed.
“Yeah, I’ll call you right before I leave okay?” you asked softly. 
“Yeah that’s perfect, I’ll see you then,” he said. 
You put the phone back on its hook and check the time on your alarm clock. To your dismay, you’d been studying for two hours and it was 10:50. Luckily you’d already showered but that wasn’t the problem. Internally, you were going through a moral dilemma. Part of you was telling yourself that he was just a coworker that got attached and another part, wanted to do your hair and make-up and hair before going. Making sure that every strand sat just right as if he’d somehow notice. To make sure your eyelashes have the exact amount of mascara they need to be long but not clumpy. If you thought all these things, wouldn’t that mean you do care what he thinks of you? Although you were bubbling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation, you managed to finish getting ready. You start packing your bag, pacing around looking for all your items. Car keys, pocket knife, compact, body spray, and your wallet. As you went to take the cartoon of cigarettes from your bedside table, you thought about taking the joint that was rolled. Sitting on your knees in front of your nightstand, you start dialing Mike’s number to let him know you are on the way. After shoving all the contents into the bag, you make your way outside and start your Mazda. You were sitting in the car for a few moments, thinking about if you were really going. 
Once you pulled into the parking lot, thoughts of regret started to bubble in your brain. You would have turned around if it weren’t for Mike’s car being in the parking lot. You checked the time on the radio and saw that it was only 12:57, was it weird that you were there so early? You were slightly worried that it would look desperate. Deciding to let that unneeded anxiety go, you get out of the car and lock your doors. Take a moment to take in the outside of the building. It appeared to be severely unkempt, brown vines covered most of the building. Due to the unsettling vibe of the building, the bear that was supposed to look cute and inviting was the exact opposite. Creating an ominous feeling as it waved at you. The walls were mostly a dull yellow color with red and blue accents and a black and white checkered line across the middle. One of the R’s of the sign was out, only adding to the sketchy feeling. You knocked on the big metal doors, wiping your knuckles off on your jeans. When Mike swung the door open, it made you jump and gasp. This caused him to break out into a fit of laughter. You playfully pushed his shoulder back. 
He took you back to the small room where he was monitoring all the security footage. The room was more creepy than the outside of the building. You sat down on the desk and Mike plopped down on his office chair. He was completely slouched back, wearing a gray thermal and a dark hooded sweater. His hair was more curly than shaggy and he had a five o’clock shadow. You set your purse on the desk and stood up, looking at the security cameras. One of the first things you noticed was the group of animatronics that were standing on the stage together. It was then that you realized what you really had gotten yourself into. 
He was surprised that you even came, yes you guys had become close while working together but he didn’t think it would lead to anything after. You were currently facing away from him, and he couldn’t help but admire you as you did so. He liked the fact that you were so well put together. Your jeans were fitted perfectly and your thong peaked out slightly from the top of your waistband. When you entered the small room, the entire space began to smell like apple-scented perfume. The white long sleeve was also very fitted, which brought attention to your figure. You turned around once you noticed it had been silent for a while. Grabbing your purse, you pull out the cartoon of cigs. Bringing the lighter to it and taking a drag to light it. After taking a couple of puffs you pass it to Mike who leans forward with a groan. As he took his hit, a piece of ash fell onto his pants. You leaned down and brushed it off his knee. 
“So much for cutting back right?” he asked rhetorically. 
“Oh yeah, I did switch to Spirits though. My grandma swore by these,” you said taking it back. 
“Do you smoke weed?” he asked, you laughed and started digging through your bag and pulled out the Altoids container, grabbing the joint. 
“Will you get in trouble? For like, smoking on the job?” you asked. 
“Oh no, this place is abandoned. There’s usually nobody in and out of here that would notice,” he said. 
You lit the joint and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke at his face playfully. He laughed as he took the joint into his hands and inhaled. You put the cig out on the glass ashtray that sat on the desk. He commented on how good the flower tasted which made you relieved knowing he didn’t think it was reggie. You guys started talking about memories of working together. You guys would always take smoke breaks together and go to lunch every once and a while. Mike actually listened to what you had to say. He wasn’t the type of person that constantly changed to a conversation with himself. A lot of guys you spoke with were usually just telling you whatever you wanted to hear. Everything you had to say was so fascinating and impressive because they were just trying to butter you up. Mike would actually give his opinions on things and would tell you if he thought what you were saying was stupid. It was refreshing, to be honest, to have an interaction with the opposite sex without them drooling on you. You glanced over at Mike, maybe it was the weed but something felt different now. The way his legs were spread so widely made something in you feel hot. Eyes were now bloodshot, making the hazel color stand out even more than before. When he reached for the joint again, his hand brushed over yours. This made you make eye contact with him but then break away once the awkwardness set in. You looked down and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 
“Are you still with Jackson?” he asked.
“What? Oh yeah, we broke up a while ago,” you said, rubbing your arm.
“Well, what happened? I mean… If you don’t mind me asking,” he said. 
“No it’s- he just..” you took a deep inhale and spoke as the smoke poured out of your mouth, “he was really aggressive like, not just with his words. Not saying he beat me or anything but some things are meant to be more sweet and gentle. Sorry, I don’t know why I'm telling you this,” you said, passing it back. 
“No, I’m the one who brought it up. He always was a little misogynistic when we talked, I’m sorry you were subjected to that,” he said. You were sitting on the desk, you kicked off your sandals and gently swung your legs back and forth. 
“Yeah, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” you sighed.
“For sure, you could do so much better than that,” he said. 
“Oh yeah? When you say better what do you mean by that?” you asked, leaning over to grab the joint. 
“Like if you said he was overly aggressive then you’ll find someone that is more gentle and shit,” he said, chuckling a little. 
“Oh, I see,” you moved your foot so that it was resting on his inner thigh before continuing, “Maybe you could show me?” you asked flirtatiously, he looked up and looked at you with a shocked expression. 
You used your leg to roll him closer to where you were sitting. He was now smirking, looking up at you. He let his hands slide up both your outer thighs. He pulled you off the desk so that you were now sitting in his lap facing him. You still had the joint in your hand, you took a hit before letting it sit on the ashtray. Your noses were touching and you were relieved to see that his breath was as fast as yours. Running your fingers through his hair, forcing his head to tilt back a little. You ran your bottom lip across his, arching your back and pressing your crotches together. He picked you up which caused you to wrap your legs around his waist. He set you on the desk again so that he was standing, hovering over you. You reached your hands down between your bodies, trying to unbuckle his belt. He stopped the kiss and chuckled at your eagerness and helped you. As you unzipped his jeans, one of his arms reached behind you and undid the clasps of your bra. The way he unhooked it with one hand made you throb. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but jeans. He still had his jeans on but now that his pants were undone, you could feel how hard he was through his boxers. It was like the heat coming off his dick was making your stomach feel warm and tight. Before he buried his face into your chest, the look on his face was almost primal. Like it was taking everything he had to keep his hands off of you. He took one of your breasts into his mouth and sucked, biting down every once in a while. He reached into his backpack that was sitting on the desk and pulled out a condom. He was breathing heavily and a couple of drips of sweat were beading down his forehead. As you unzipped your jeans you looked over at the security camera and thought you saw one of the animatronics move from the stage. You pulled away for a second to show him,
“Mike, I know we smoked and everything. Oh my god, I know this is going to be crazy but I swear I just saw one of those… things moved,” you said as he trailed kisses up your shoulder. 
“This is my third day here and I think that all the time. It’s just your head playing tricks on us because of how creepy they look,” he said, then tearing the foil package open. 
“Are you sure because I could have..” you started but then were interrupted by Mike throwing the still-packaged condom onto the desk and pressing a button that made both doors close around you. He then got down on his knees and gripped the top of your jeans, pulling them down. Instead of trying to pull your panties off of you, he simply pulls them to the side. Sticking his tongue in between your folds, massaging your clit. You had been in a dry spell since you broke up with Jackson and even then, he would never go down on you. The feeling of his mouth pressed against you was so euphoric, the moans that came out of your mouth were completely natural and unrehearsed. His pace was slow but he kept a steady rhythm which helped you chase to your climax. Instead of pulling at his hair, you cupped his face, gently stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. He looked up and made direct eye contact with you. His eyebrows were furrowed but when he saw the look on your face, his eyes closed and he groaned loudly. He grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs back so that your feet were now on the desk. You grabbed two fistfuls of hair and threw your head back, moaning loudly. The pressure of the top of your thighs being pressed into your lower stomach. Crying out as you cum, the moans came out strangled. As you started to come down from the wave of ecstasy, you began to feel insecure about how fast he made you cum. 
“God you are so fucking hot, like seriously I almost came in my boxers,” he said standing up and grabbing the condom. His lips were parted and his mouth was still covered in saliva. Without wiping his mouth, he slid the rubber onto his shaft. 
“Sorry, do you want to keep going?” he asked, you didn’t verbally respond. Instead, you grabbed him by his shirt and smashed your mouth into his. He moaned the word ‘fuck’ into your mouth before continuing kissing. He broke away to look down and line himself up with your entrance. You were still wet and swollen from the previous orgasm, enabling him to slide in with you easily. He dropped his forehead down on your shoulder, mouth open and moaning as he slowly started rocking back and forth into you. You scooted your ass down so that you could fully be pressed against his hips. The desk was continuously banging up against the wall. Your foreheads were now pressed together groaning and growling into each other’s mouth. Everything suddenly came to a halt when everything went dark. You both jump and start looking for any articles of clothing that are nearby. The big metal doors on both sides of you slam open so loud, that your ears start ringing. 
“What the fuck just happened!” you exclaim.
“The battery died,” he realizes. 
“Well has that ever happened while you’re working?” you asked.
“No,” he stated. 
“Holy fuck, do you hear that fucking music?” you whispered. 
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