#another ten minutes crying about how soft he looked and how if i was there and he and Gauri were standing next to me

[theinfinitedivides]

as impossible as nearly all of these fight scenes are i'm so glad they let Shah Rukh be unhinged here as a treat. it's what he deserves

[sunniques]

— 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

➺ PAIRING: kim mingyu x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepbrother au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: mingyu will do anything to make sure no man takes his place in his stepsister’s life.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, yandere themes, stalking, violence, blood, manipulation, mentions of blackmail, jealousy, possessiveness, mingyu can lift reader, slight size kink, oral sex (f & m), 69, unprotected sex, riding, creampies, cockwarming

➺ WC: 7.7k

NOTE: don’t like don’t read. as always, thank you to my oomf @wonustars for beta reading <3

If anyone were to ask you about Kim Mingyu, you’d have nothing but nice things to say.

The large, puppy-like man is the epitome of kindness and happiness. Despite his tall stature and modelesque looks, he’s pure-hearted and a little naive. It’s why you’re so endeared with him. No one in this world is more lovable than your foolishly kind stepbrother.

“Are you gonna need a ride today?”

You look up to see Mingyu leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a small smile on his face. Your heart jumps, still not fully used to how handsome he is. The loud thrum of your heart is easily ignored when you remind yourself that you can’t do anything except acknowledge your stepbrother’s good looks. In another world, you’d definitely allow yourself to have a crush on him, maybe even flirt with him a little.

“No,” you say as you unplug your phone from the charger. “Minghao is picking me up.”

Because you’re busy making sure you have all your things, you miss the look that crosses Mingyu’s face.

“Oh. I didn’t know you guys were talking again.”

Part of you feels a little embarrassed. Mingyu is very much aware of how things ended between you and Minghao. After all, it’s his broad shoulder you cried on after everything was said and done.

“It’s not like that,” you insist, feeling your face get hot from how intense his stare is. “We’re just friends now.”

Mingyu frowns but doesn’t say anything. It’s times like these you’re grateful that he’s such a nice guy. Anyone else would’ve pointed out that you and Minghao were never actually friends. You two just fucked around until he got sick of you. It was devastating for you in the worst way, but since he reached out to you under the pretense of wanting to be friends, you couldn’t say no. The last thing you want is to let him know how much he hurt you.

“Okay. Well if you need a ride later just text me.”

You’re grateful that Mingyu isn’t judgmental like you know the rest of your friends are going to be when they inevitably find out.

When you’re done with your last class of the day, you text Minghao to let him know you’re ready for him to come get you. A sickening feeling coils in the pit of your stomach when ten minutes go by without a response from him. You bite your lip as you contemplate sending him another text. Double texting wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t Minghao. Given the way you two left things, you don’t want to seem desperate. (Although you’re pretty sure it’s a little late for that.)

When another five minutes go by, you’re sure you’ve been stood up. You’re so angry that you feel like crying. The entire situation is so humiliating. To think that you thought giving him a second chance was a good idea. You feel so stupid, and you know that there’s no way you can ever tell anyone about what happened.

Well, there is one person. 

As soon as you call your stepbrother, he drops everything he’s doing to come get you. Because it’s Mingyu, you don’t feel as stupid and embarrassed when you get into his car. Not even when you start to ramble on about what an asshole Minghao is. Mingyu listens attentively, offering supportive comments here and there. There’s no judgment or pity when he talks, either. Just empathy that gives you enough comfort to make you feel like you’ve finally made it back to your safe place.

“Don’t even think about him,” Mingyu says as he grabs your hand. He brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it before letting go. “He doesn’t deserve you or your anger.”

His words make you smile and feel warm inside. Aside from feeling a little embarrassed, you’re okay. Especially because your stepbrother makes it his mission to make sure you feel better.

You spend the rest of the day with Mingyu, and it’s not long before you completely forget about Minghao.

“I used to like you, you know.”

You choke on your drink, eyes going wide as you splutter embarrassingly. “What? Seokmin—!”

“I don’t any more!” He reassures you, looking around with slight panic. “And keep your voice down! I don’t need your guard dog acting up if any rumors start.”

You’re still too shocked by his confession to question who he’s talking about. You messily wipe your mouth and focus on getting Seokmin to explain because what he said doesn’t make any sense. Especially because of how things went down after you drunkenly admitted to liking him back freshman year.

“When was this?”

Seokmin looks ashamed. “A little after we met.”

There’s no way.

“You’re fucking sick. When I confessed to you that year, you friendzoned me.”

Seokmin has the decency to look sheepish and guilty. “It was a dick move, I admit it. But it’s not my fault!”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

“Your stepbrother had made it clear that you were off limits, okay? I wasn’t about to cross him.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Literally, what are you talking about?”

Seokmin blushes and looks around again. You’d laugh if his behavior wasn’t so odd. You’re not sure why he’s acting like he’s scared of something or someone, but you can’t focus on that too much. His bizarre story is throwing you off.

“Mingyu has always been very protective of you, and he’s actually really fucking scary when he wants to be.”

Silence. 

You two stare at each other until you burst out laughing. That’s all you can do because there’s no way your friend is being serious.

“Hey!” Seokmin slaps your arm to calm you down. “I’m being serious!”

“Mingyu? Kim Mingyu?” You say between breaths. “Your best friend—my stepbrother?”

“Yes, lovely Kim Mingyu who wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Seokmin scowls as you keep laughing.

Of all the reasons Seokmin could come up with for rejecting you while allegedly having feelings for you, you didn’t think he’d use your stepbrother. It was such a cheap cop-out. Mingyu has never cared about your unexciting love life. He’s always encouraged you to have fun and find a guy who deserves you. 

There’s no way what Seokmin’s implying is true. Even if it was, you’re sure he’s exaggerating. Your goofy stepbrother doesn’t have one mean, intimidating bone in his body. 

“Okay,” you wheeze. “Let’s say I believe you, which I don’t. What exactly did Mingyu say for you to reject me?”

Seokmin blinks and hesitates. Maybe it’s better if you don’t know all the details. “He just… advised me to not play with your feelings if I wasn’t ready for a relationship.”

You roll your eyes. Instead of bringing up the fact that he freely dated around after turning down your confession, you choose to steer the conversation in a different direction. There’s no need to keep rubbing salt in an old wound, anyway.

“Whatever. You’re still sick,” you say. “Anyway, are you still going to Chan’s on Friday?”

“Are you?” Seokmin counters. “Minghao will be there.”

Your lip curls up in disgust. “Like I’m going to let that asshole stop me from having fun.”

“True. And actually, he might not even go. I think he’s still recovering.”

“Recovering? What do you mean?”

“You don’t know? Minghao got into a fight last week! He won’t say with who, but he got fucking wrecked.”

You’re shocked into silence. A fight? It’s pretty hard to believe since Minghao is a pretty passive guy. He rarely gets angry or upset. 

So many things are going through your mind at once that you can’t get any of your thoughts straight. Had it happened the day he stood you up? If it did, why didn’t he say anything?

“Poor guy looks like shit. I doubt he’ll be going anywhere for a while.”

You frown. Sure, Minghao isn’t your favorite person in the world, but that doesn’t mean you would wish something like that on him. You know you shouldn’t be worried about him, but part of you still is. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble with a frown, not really knowing what to say. “Poor him.”

“Poor who?”

Your head snaps up at the sound of a familiar voice. A smile lights up your face when you see your stepbrother approaching the table. 

“Minghao,” Seokmin says as his best friend sits beside you. “Remember I told you someone beat his ass?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mingyu says with a frown as he slings his beefy arm over your shoulders. “Poor guy. I hope he gets better soon.”

You lean into your stepbrother, chest warming at the worried frown on Mingyu’s face. His kind heart is so admirable. Despite Minghao being a certified piece of shit, he still has the empathy to feel bad for the guy. It reminds you of how Mingyu is someone who’s a way better person than you, and you can’t resent him for it.

“Don’t worry, love. Minghao will be okay.” Mingyu says as he squeezes you into his side.

Like always, your stepbrother knows what you’re feeling without you telling him. It’s hard to stop the affection you feel from deepening when he always makes sure to comfort you first. His thumb gently caresses your shoulder absentmindedly as he and Seokmin start to talk about their statistics class. Just knowing your stepbrother is so understanding of your complicated feelings makes you feel so much better, and it’s not long before the topic of what happened to Minghao is long forgotten.

Mingyu will never forget the first time he saw you.

It was at one of Seungcheol’s notorious frat parties. Back then, he hadn’t been too into the party scene. Honestly, he’d gone out of pressure and boredom more than anything. One day he’ll have to thank his older friend for being the reason he saw you.

Unlike Mingyu, you were letting loose and having fun. He can’t forget how beautiful you looked while taking shots and laughing without a care in the world. Something inside him switched that night, and instead of being scared of the unfamiliar feeling, Mingyu quickly embraced it.

The feeling pushed him into watching you all night. To this day, Seungcheol thinks his friend had as much fun as everyone else. Which he had, just a different kind of fun.

At the end of the night, Mingyu secretly followed you as you stumbled your way back to your dorm. It’s not like you went home alone, but he had to make sure you were safe. (He also was curious to know if you lived on or off campus.)

Finding out your schedule wasn’t hard. As an attractive man, it’s always been easy for Mingyu to get what he wants. One charming smile and a little harmless flirting had him securing a paper with all your classes on it within minutes. Everything was too easy after that, and Mingyu couldn’t feel anything like guilt or shame as he went to go find you.

For weeks, he watched you from afar. Despite knowing he was most people’s type, Mingyu was still nervous about talking to you. He wanted everything to be perfect. Setting up a meet-cute was hard work, which meant calculating the time and place took a tremendous amount of effort. Honestly, he did start to get a little impatient when watching you no longer felt like enough for him. Mingyu was itching to know you and everything about you. To have you all for himself.

Luckily for him, swooping in when you almost got hit by a football was the perfect opportunity to worm his way into your life. Mingyu played the perfect part of a knight in shining armor, one that was undeniably kind and empathetic. Exactly what you wanted.

Mingyu still fantasizes about the way you looked at him that day. The lidded gaze you directed at him and the way you bit your lip was tantalizing in the sweetest way. It was easy for you to become friends after that.

There was an unexpected roadblock a month later when his mom told him she was marrying the man of her dreams. It’s both devastating and thrilling for him to find out that man is your father. You’ll be closer to him than ever, but now there’s this forbidden aspect that wedges itself between the attraction between you two.

Despite this, you two grow closer. All of your interests and hobbies line up almost perfectly, and the fixation Mingyu has on you steadily grows, slowly morphing into an undeniable obsession. Luckily for him, the new role he has in your life allows him to ward off any vultures that are lurking around you.

The loser in your calculus class was the easiest to get rid of. Once Mingyu caught him staring at you at a party, approaching him and telling him to stop staring at you like a fucking creep was enough for the guy to never look at you again. Then, there was your scummy coworker. Mingyu had to politely remind him that it wouldn’t be a good idea to keep bothering you unless he wanted his parents to find out he had dropped out of college and spent all of his financial aid partying.

Then there was his dear friend, Lee Seokmin.

“Y/N is single right?”

Mingyu looks up from his phone, jaw tightening as he fixes his dark stare on Seokmin. His friend is oblivious to the dangerous territory he’s venturing into, and there’s a moment where Mingyu contemplates whether or not to disregard the many years of friendship they have to impulsively act on his dark thoughts.

“Yeah,” Mingyu’s tone is clipped.

Seokmin hums thoughtfully. “Do you think she’d say yes if I asked her out?”

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu says through gritted teeth, still trying to be somewhat nice. “You’re not good at commitment, and that’s what she’s looking for.”

His best friend doesn’t seem to care for the advice he’s getting. “I can do whatever for someone I actually like.”

“You really like her?”

Either Seokmin doesn’t hear the venom in his friend’s voice, or he doesn’t care. Mingyu’s not sure which pisses him off more.

“Yeah,” Seokmin replies. “She’s smart and pretty. Exactly my type.”

Seokmin flinches when Mingyu slams his fist on the table. A dark look he never thought his friend was even capable of making is being directed at him, and he suddenly feels like he’s unknowingly walked into the lion’s den.

“Don’t you even think about going near her.” Mingyu spits, not caring that he sounds like an asshole. “I’ll cut your dick off if I find out you even hint at wanting anything more than a friendship with her.”

Seokmin laughs weakly. “You’re not serious—”

“Test me and find out.”

Mingyu smiles, but it’s a chilling smile. One that has Seokmin spluttering out an agreement before he realizes it.

After that, Mingyu knew he had to make sure everyone knew you were off limits.

The only dumbass that didn’t take Mingyu’s warnings seriously was Xu Minghao. The idiot had the audacity to laugh in his face when Mingyu suggested he find someone else to fuck around with. Unfortunately, Minghao didn’t have any dirt on him—not any that was serious enough for Mingyu to use as blackmail, anyway.

And so, Mingyu was forced to back off—for the time being.

His promiscuous ex had always been so eager to please that she didn’t hesitate to give in to Mingyu’s request to seduce and ensnare Minghao. It left you heartbroken and ready to receive your stepbrother’s comfort. Everything slowly went back to the way it was supposed to be. You were more dependent on Mingyu than ever, which made it easy for him to slowly erase that asshole from your life.

Until he finds out that scumbag was worming his way back into your life. 

Instead of attending his first class, Mingyu has his ex lure Minghao to her apartment building where he puts an end to that idiot once and for all.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Minghao groans and he coughs up a bit of blood.

Mingyu slams him into the wall, wounded hands moving to squeeze his throat and cut his words. “I warned you a long time ago to stay away from Y/N. This is the last time I’m going to tell you.”

When he does let go of Minghao, the idiot stops Mingyu from walking away. Even through large intakes of breath and spluttered coughs, he manages to piss Mingyu off some more. “You think Y/N will forgive you when she finds out what you did to me?”

Mingyu spins on his heels before landing a hard punch on Minghao’s nose. The loud crack echoes in the air, and it sounds almost dull compared to the yell that idiot lets out. Blood pours from his nose immediately, and it slips through the cracks of his fingers as he holds it in pain.

“You think she’ll believe you over me?” Mingyu’s laugh is dark and cruel. “Y/N knows I would never hurt anyone. Not even a piece of shit like you.”

Minghao’s heart rate spikes when he sees the way Mingyu smiles at him. A chill goes down his spine when he realizes just how depraved the man in front of him is. So for once, he does the smart thing and decides to cut off all contact with you. It pains him to stand you up and ghost you, but no pussy is worth this. Not even yours.

Mingyu sees you before you see him. You’re sitting at one of the many tables in the refectory, but you aren’t alone. Some guy is talking to you, grinning from ear to ear like some disgusting creep. Immediately, he recognizes the starry-eyed look in his gaze. A lot of guys get that same look when they see you. Even if you don’t notice it, Mingyu always does.

“Hey, man.” The stranger has the fucking audacity to smile at Mingyu as he sits across from you.

As much as Mingyu would like to tell the creep to fuck off, he can’t. Not while you’re around, at least. “Hey.”

“I’ll see you in class,” the guy says with an unattractive smile as he slowly stands. 

Mingyu feels like throwing up when you actually smile back.

“Bye.” You wave with a cute laugh.

The guy finally leaves, and it takes everything in Mingyu to behave normally. Dark thoughts loom in his head, ones that involve taking care of that idiot like he did to your ex situationship. He forces his depraved thoughts to the back of his mind to focus his attention on you.

“Who was that?” He wonders casually like he’s not losing his mind.

“That’s Josh. He’s in my communications class.” You say indifferently.

“Did he ask you out?” Mingyu wonders, trying to make the lilt in his voice sound teasing. And like the very thought isn’t killing him inside.

“Yeah,” you say. “He wants to hang out after my last class.”

Mingyu’s stomach turns. He smiles at you, so pained that you’re being so casual about some loser hitting on you. Especially in front of him. He’ll have to find out more about that asshole later and figure out exactly how he’s going to get rid of him, but right now there’s a more pressing matter.

“And?”

You give him a funny look. “And I told him no. We’re hanging out tonight, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

It’s a relief, and Mingyu hopes it doesn’t show on his face.

An unsavory feeling settles in Mingyu’s chest after that day. You slowly start to mention Josh more and more without knowing how insane it makes your stepbrother feel. It’s all so maddening because this Josh character is actually close to being a perfect guy. He’s been in a few relationships that have all ended up on good terms, and he doesn’t have any questionable behaviors. Mingyu almost considers fabricating something so he can get the loser away from you.

It’s not until a random Friday night that Mingyu decides he’s finally had enough. You were supposed to have been home hours ago, and you’re barely getting here. Accompanied by dumbass Josh, no less. He almost feels like throwing up as he watches you from the security camera. Mingyu clenches his jaw as anger seeps into his bones and clouds his mind.

Something inside him snaps, and he decides right then and there that you can’t keep doing this to him, and he can’t keep torturing himself like he has been.

“I had fun with you,” Joshua says sweetly.

Mingyu almost smashes his phone when you give him a hug and respond in a dulcet tone. “Me too.”

When he sees you waving at Josh with both of your hands in the cute way you always do, he’s quick to lock his phone and go downstairs to intercept you. 

It’s quiet when you enter the house. You didn’t see your stepmom’s car or your dad’s in the driveway so you know they aren’t home. Since it’s so quiet, you wonder if Mingyu is asleep or something.

“Where have you been?”

You jump with a quiet yelp, not expecting your stepbrother to be waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. There’s a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, and he almost looks threatening.

“Um,” you stutter, not sure what to make of the shift in his demeanor. “I was with—”

“With who?”

Dark eyes examine your face, demanding answers. Mingyu stalks toward you until he has you pressed against the front door. His large hands cage you against it as he leans close to your face.

“Tell me. I want to know why you’re so late when you promised me you’d be home sooner.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. “What? Gyu—”

“Let me guess,” he hums, sounding completely depraved. “You were with Josh.”

You swallow nervously, wondering why he sounds jealous. The thought sends a jolt of thrill down your spine. “Yeah. He just wanted—”

“Wanted what?” Mingyu’s glaring eyes get more intense. “To fuck you?”

You’re completely floored. That was the last thing you expected your sweet stepbrother to say, and for some reason it makes you feel dizzy in a thrilling way. You lick your lips, feeling your skin get hot as anxiousness mixes in with arousal. It’s been too long since you had sex, which is why you started to get wet from Mingyu’s uncharacteristic behavior. 

“N-No.” You say somewhat firmly. “We’re just friends.”

“Then why was he touching you?” He growls as one of the hands braced on the door moves to your neck.

Your cunt throbs at the action, and you feel like your mind is swimming from the sudden turn of events.

“It was a quick hug,” you say as he lightly squeezes your throat. “Something between friends.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, seemingly unbelieving of your words. More slick pools in your panties as the dark gaze stays locked in your face. You try not to make squeezing your thighs together obvious, but you haven’t felt so turned on in a long time.

“You’re sure?” Mingyu’s voice sounds entirely different as he squeezes your neck again.

“Yes,” you easily say. Deciding to act on instinct, you slowly smooth your hands over his chest and look at him through your eyelashes. “Promise, Gyu-Gyu.”

As always, he’s putty in your hands as soon as he hears that cute little nickname you gave him. Mingyu lets out a shaky breath as you go to cup his face. His eyes fall shut, and he lets himself lean on you and sandwich you between his body against the door. Your thumbs gently, caress his cheeks as you work to placate him. He loves every second of it, and just being pressed up against you has his cock twitching in his pants.

Fuck it.

Mingyu opens his eyes, pupils blown wide. “I’ll let it go this time, baby girl, but I better not catch him or any other guy touching what’s mine.”

He sounds completely insane and feral, but that only makes you want him more. It’s almost like you’re in a trace as you lock your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. The heat in his eyes makes you feel like a goddess, and you wonder if it’s always been there.

“Say it,” Mingyu demands as his hands trail down your body to squeeze your ass. “Tell me you won’t let any asshole touch you ever again.”

You whine in your throat. “I won’t let anyone else touch me. I promise.”

Mingyu grins, little fangs poking out like the cat who ate the canary. “Good girl.”

With that, he easily lifts you and locks your legs around his hips. For a moment, his pretty eyes search yours as if he’s trying to search for any sign of hesitation. He seems satisfied with what he sees, and in the next second his lips catch yours in a wet, heated kiss.

You mewl into his mouth as you grind down on his very large bulge. It all feels so good, and you groan when Mingyu eases his tongue into your mouth. There’s a desperation behind his movements that make you more horny than you already are.

Everything else happens in a blur, and before you realize it, you end up sprawled out on Mingyu’s bed. He handles you with care, but there’s also a roughness to his movements. It makes you gush because that’s exactly what you like.

“Naughty baby. Gonna have to teach you a lesson.”

There’s that switch again, and it makes you squirm. You squish your thighs together, both anticipating and dreading what’s in store for you. Mingyu seems like a feral animal, one that’s close to acting on primal instincts only. The thought excites you.

“Why?” You pout, wondering how you can get him to just fuck you. “I’ve been a good girl.”

You’re such a little minx, and Mingyu has to turn away so you don’t see the fond smile that forms on his face. As usual, you’re too cute for your own good. It’s always so disarming, but all Mingyu has to do is remember what led to this for him to get himself back on track.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns as he takes his shirt off.

Mingyu’s cock twitches when your pout accentuates. You still nod obediently, though. He kicks off his pants until he’s left in only his underwear. The way you hungrily eye his body (especially his large bulge) makes him feel like he’s in the clouds. All his plotting and waiting was really worth it.

“Show me your panties.”

You whimper quietly, not believing how filthy your stepbrother is. It makes you that much more eager to give him what he wants.

Slowly, you discard your jeans and spread your legs to show Mingyu how wet you are. His eyes are dark dark dark when he sees the material is almost see-through.

“Fuck,” he moans as he palms his throbbing cock. “Take them off.”

The fabric slips down your legs and dangles from your fingertips in the next second. Mingyu snatches them from your hands and presses the soiled fabric to his nose. His eyes stay on your pretty pussy as he carefully places your panties on his nightstand

“For later,” he clarifies with a filthy smirk.

You curse under your breath as more arousal drips out of you.

“You like that, baby girl?” Mingyu coos as his eyes stay on your dripping pussy. “Like that your stepbrother is going to use your cute little panties to jerk off?”

“Yes,” you admit through a whine. “Fuck, Gyu. I’m so wet right now.”

“I know,” his eyes flicker up to your face for a second. “But I still have to teach you a lesson.”

You pout at him again. “Even though I promised you already?”

His laugh is dark. “Have to make sure you keep it.”

“I’ll be good, I swear. Please, Gyu-Gyu?” You bat your eyelashes at him, and any resolve he has just breaks.

Mingyu slips out of his underwear, and he smirks when you gasp at the sight of his hard cock slapping against his abdomen. It’s so hard and leaking with so much precum. You’re eying it so hungrily that he decides to get the upper hand once again.

“I’ll give you what you want, baby. Just play with my cock first.”

“Really?” You ask eagerly, as Mingyu starts to stroke his huge cock.

“Yeah. Use that pretty little mouth on me, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

You jump to your knees in excitement. “Okay!”

“You want to gag on your stepbrother’s cock that bad?” Mingyu laughs as you eagerly nod and crawl toward him. “What a slut.”

“Can’t help it,” you say as you push on his shoulder to get him to lay back. “Want your pretty cock in my mouth.”

“Fuck,” Mingyu hisses as he leans against his pillows. His cock throbs at the fact that you’re making every one of his fantasies come true.

You press a gentle kiss to the tip, lovely eyes staring at Mingyu. A string of precum sticks to your lips, and you’re quick to lick it off with a salacious moan. You start to kitten lick his fat tip until his cock steadily leaks with sticky blobs of precum. The mewls and moans your stepbrother lets out only make you that much more eager to please. He’s really too hot for his own good.

With a grin, you wrap your lips around the head and slowly take him into your mouth. Slowly, you force the girthy organ down your throat. Your eyes start to glaze over, already addicted to the thick cock in your mouth. Mingyu thrusts his hips forward, sinking another inch into your hot mouth. The fat tip teases the back of your throat, making you gag on his dick. A loud moan tears from his throat when you take it like a good girl before pulling off with a wet cough.

“Messy girl,” Mingyu says with a groan.

You moan and start to lap at his cock again. Your tongue teases around his tip, and you can’t stop your thighs from clenching together. The arousal is practically leaking from your pussy, wetting your thighs obscenely.

“Aw, baby girl. Look at how fucking horny you are,” Mingyu coos. “Bet that little cunt’s soaked. Can’t wait to taste it. Gonna eat you out for hours after this.”

“Why not now?” You pout against his dick. “I suck dick better when I get eaten out.”

Mingyu tries not to blow his load at your filthy words. “Yeah? Want me to lick your little clit over and over and then suck it in my mouth until you’re begging to cum?”

Once again, Mingyu is putty in your hands when you blink up at him with your cute pout and tell him that’s exactly what you want.

And so, within seconds you’re laying on Mingyu’s hard abs, suckling on the head of his cock as you wiggle your ass, teasing Mingyu with your pussy. He groans, savoring the sight of your pretty pussy hovering over his face. Deciding that he deserves this treat more than anyone, he finally takes what you’re so willingly giving him.

You cry out when Mingyu licks across your swollen clit. He grabs your ass and spreads you open so he can lick into your pussy easier. Eagerly, he starts to lap up all the arousal from your drippy pussy. He loses himself in your taste, fucking his tongue deeper into your clenching hole. You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets anyone else drink from his sweet oasis.

“Mingyu,” you slobber against his cock, grinding your cunt into his eager mouth. “Fuck. Your mouth feels so good.”

Mingyu groans as you start to suckle on the head of his cock before you fully sink your mouth on it again. Your hot little mouth works his cock, giving him the best head he’s ever gotten. You’re so messy and eager, kissing and licking all over his cock. The way you’re getting him all wet and messy almost makes him feel like you’re prepping him for your cunt. That turns him on more and has his muscular thighs clenching with restraint. 

Your stepbrother moans into your cunt as you suck his dick. The vibrations run through your fluttering walls as his tongue fucks deeper into your hole. Pleasure consumes you as Mingyu continues to slide his tongue in and out of your soaking pussy with a filthy schlick sound. All the sweet sounds you’re letting out are slightly muffled by Mingyu’s cock, and he loves every second of it.

Mingyu sucks your pulsing clit into his mouth, making you whine around his cock and grind harder on his tongue. Your orgasm abruptly hits, and your cries of pleasure are gagged by Mingyu shooting his cum down your throat. You continue to suck eagerly as you rub your messy pussy all over your stepbrother’s face.

You pull off Mingyu’s big cock after you swallow all his cum, mewling in pleasure when he starts to press soft kisses on your pretty pussy. God, he’s unreal.

“Sweetest little pussy ever,” he moans reverently, not ready to separate from the heaven between your legs.

Your face gets hot, pussy clenching at his praise. The fact that someone as hot as Mingyu is so into you feels surreal, and it makes you more eager to get his big cock inside you.

Mingyu apparently thinks the same thing because he’s quick to lay you on the bed and get on top of you. His dark eyes drink in your naked body, licking his lips like he didn’t just finish eating you up. 

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

And you really don’t.

“Mingyu,” you whimper desperately when he starts to rub his dripping cock across your sensitive cunt. 

The sticky tip of his cock catches on your leaking hole and you moan loudly. God, you’ve never wanted anyone to fuck you so badly. He’s so hot, and you know he’s going to send you into another world of pleasure.

“Fuck, Gyu. Need you to fuck me. Please. I need it so bad,” you beg against his mouth as you start to kiss him repeatedly.

“Yeah?” He grins, blush spreading across his face at the affection you’re giving him. “Need your stepbrother to stuff you full of cock?”

“Yes.” You whimper shamelessly. “I need you to stuff my little pussy full. Want you to breed me.”

The groan he lets out is feral, and Mingyu buries his face in your neck so you won’t see the depravity your words cause. He kisses and nips at your neck as he grinds his cock on your messy pussy.

“Please, Gyu-Gyu.”

“Fuck. You’re so hot, baby girl,” Mingyu groans as he slips the head of his cock inside your needy hole. 

He pulls back to watch your face as he slowly sinks into your pussy. You’re so overwhelmed with arousal, and it’s evident. It makes the feral beast inside Mingyu yearn for more.

“I’m gonna ruin you for everyone else, baby. Gonna make sure the only cock you want is mine.”

With that, he bottoms out with a loud moan as you whine loudly. Your pupils are blown wide as your nails scratch against his broad chest. It turns you on to feel and see how big he is. He’s completely enveloping you in the best way. All that fills your mind is your stepbrother and his big cock.

“So fucking tight,” he hisses as he rolls his hips and fucks his cock deeper into your pulsing heat.

You wrap your legs around his waist to get him as deep as possible. Moans spill from your mouth as your hands smooth up his muscular chest and clasp around his neck. No one’s ever been so deep inside you, and you love it.

“Fuck me, Gyu.” You mewl, brain fuzzy from the stretch his dick provides. “Want you to fuck me dumb.”

“Shit,” Mingyu grunts with dark eyes. “My slutty baby wants her pussy creamed so fucking bad, huh?”

“Want it so bad, babe.” You whimper as you buck your hips.

Mingyu snaps when he hears the little pet name. Immediately, he starts to slam into your squelching cunt over and over again. You cry out loudly as juices leak from your stuffed hole. It takes him no time to find your g-spot, and he angles his cock to hit it every time he snaps his hips.

“Fu-Fuck, Gyu.” You whimper as you tug him closer to ghost your lips across his. “Gonna cum again. Gonna cum all over your big cock.”

“Do it, baby. God. Need to feel you cream on me,” he groans. 

You move your hips to meet his thrusts, eager to gush all over his dick and give him what he wants. Mingyu goes to kiss you deeply, moaning in satisfaction when your pulsing pussy clamps down on him again. His mind is swimming with pleasure as you cry out for him.

Mingyu’s heavy balls slap against your ass as he fucks deeper into your wet hole. You’re gushing so much that he knows you won’t be able to stop at just one orgasm. Which is exactly what he wants. He needs you addicted to his cock so you don’t ever consider going to someone else. Even if you do, he’ll get rid of them. Now that you’ve given him a taste, he’s going to make sure no one else has the chance to.

“God, Mingyu.” You whimper, toes curling in pleasure. “Just want you to keep me stuffed with your fat cock all night.”

Mingyu groans and presses a chaste kiss on your lips. He’ll give you anything you want. “Don’t worry, baby. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Gonna breed you all night.”

Your stepbrother’s promise pushes you over the edge. Those filthy words make your legs tighten around him as your pussy clamps down on his dick. You moan out Mingyu’s name loudly as you cover his cock with your orgasm. Your legs tremble as you keep getting fucked through your mind-numbing pleasure.

“That’s it, baby. Cum all over your stepbrother’s cock. Fuck. So good for me.”

Mingyu’s thrusts get rougher as he pistons his cock deeper into your pulsing cunt. There’s no hotter sight than you cumming all over his cock. The pretty face you make is something that he’ll never forget, and that’s all he needs to reach his own climax. Mingyu buries his cock to the hilt and spills all his hot, sticky cum inside you with a loud moan of your name. He keeps fucking his cock into your hot cunt, stuffing it full of cum. 

“Take it like a good girl,” he pants, eyes shut tightly as he keeps fucking his aching cock inside you. “Take every fucking drop, baby girl.”

You move your hands to cling to his hair, grinding your sloppy pussy to get his cum deeper inside. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he creams your pussy.

“Gyu,” you whimper. “You came so much—fuck. Feels so hot inside.”

Mingyu groans as he buries his face in your neck, cock pulsing at your words. “Shit, baby. Making me want to fuck you all over again.”

You hum, deciding that you won’t be leaving his bed anytime soon. “It’s my turn.”

Mingyu grunts in surprise when you push him off and make him lean against the headboard. Immediately, you go to straddle him before smashing your lips together. He hungrily kisses you back, big hands gripping your ass to grind your messy cunt onto his hot cock. 

“So hot,” you gasp in between kisses. “You’re so fucking hot."

Mingyu giggles into your mouth. “Yeah?”

You hum in confirmation as you suck on his tongue. Again, you tangle one of your hands in his hair and pull his head back so you can kiss him deeper. The kiss you share is nasty, and it just makes you needy for him all over again.

You pull away and grab his cock. Mingyu bites his lip as you slowly sink down on it. He slumps back against the headboard, giving you time to adjust to the stretch of his thick cock. Your stepbrother smooths his thumbs across your hard nipples, smirking when you clench down on him.

“God, you’re fucking pretty,” Mingyu growls as he punches your nipples. “My pretty baby.”

“Mingyu,” you sigh as your eyelashes flutter in pleasure.

You grind down on him, hips swivelling to fuck him just right. It doesn’t take long for him to become a mess under you. You smirk and start to bounce on him, loving how he’s practically writhing with pleasure. 

“I just wanna be inside you all the time,” he tugs on the sensitive buds until you’re arching into the motion. 

You duck your head down to sloppily kiss Mingyu again when there’s a knock on the door. Even to your surprise, you don’t stop your movements. It feels too good. You pull away, wondering when your parents came back home and how you didn’t hear them. Your pussy gets tighter, and Mingyu bites his bottom lip as he grabs your hips to keep you from moving.

“Mingyu? Are you still awake?” His mom calls through the door. 

At that moment, you two make a decision. A nasty, filthy one. Mingyu maintains eye contact with you and slowly fucks his cock up into your sloppy pussy. 

“Yeah. Do you need something?”

Your eyes roll back, cunt spasming around Mingyu’s dick. The lewd switching coming from your pussy seems louder now, but you don’t think to stop your stepbrother from bullying his cock in and out of your hole. 

“Have you seen Y/N? She’s not in her room.”

“She’s in here. We were watching a movie and she fell asleep,” Mingyu’s voice is smooth and even. It makes you start to bounce on him again. “I’ll take her to her room in a second.”

Your stepbrother’s dark eyes never leave yours as he starts to whisper. “You like that we might get caught?”

You nod again, barely able to hold back your moans.

“Okay good. I was worried since it’s getting late.”

Mingyu grinds his cock deep in your cunt and moves his thumb down to rub your clit roughly. You’re so wet that even with Mingyu's slow, deep thrusts, your pussy is squelching with every movement. 

“Dirty little slut. Imagine if she had opened the door,” Mingyu holds back a groan as your hot cunt clamps down on him again. “She would’ve seen how much you love your stepbrother’s cock.”

You bounce a little harder on his dick when you hear his filthy words. His thumb continues to flick and rub at your swollen clit. Your head tips back as your pussy gushes around his cock when your orgasm hits out of nowhere. 

Mingyu watches your throbbing pussy clamp down on him as he slowly thrusts into you. You feel his hands squeeze your hips hard enough to bruise. His slow thrusts are prolonging your orgasm, walls fluttering constantly around his dick. Mingyu’s thumb is still rubbing your clit, overstimulation making the muscles in your thighs jump. 

“God, baby.” Mingyu groans. “So fucking dirty, cumming all over my cock like that. Did thinking we were gonna get caught turn you on that much?”

“Yeah,” you mewl, too turned on to feel embarrassed.

Your thighs shake with the force of your second orgasm, pussy trying to milk Mingyu’s cock for more cum.

“You’re so nasty, baby girl.” Mingyu moans, raising to suck on your nipples. He smirks when your pulsing pussy clamps down on him again.

“My dirty little slut. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He bites down on your nipple as he pumps his hips into your soaked cunt. You moan as his hot cum fills your greedy pussy, walls fluttering and urging him to spill more inside of you. Mingyu fucks it deeper into you until all you can do is whimper and mewl like the fucked out slut he turned you into.

After a few minutes, he relaxes back into the bed, pulling you down to lay on him. You close your eyes, completely sated and full. As you go to move, Mingyu holds you still before his cock can slip out of you.

“Stay where you are,” his voice is commanding. “Want to keep you plugged up.”

You shiver and relax against him. “Okay.”

Soon enough, your breathing evens out and you fall asleep. Mingyu places a gentle kiss on your hair, loving that you’ve fallen asleep with his cock and cum still inside you. He closes his eyes and squeezes you against him like he’s afraid you might disappear.

It took a long time to get here, but it was all worth it

From suggesting to his stepdad that you moving back home would be a good idea to making sure his mom did the same. That made it easier to listen in on the many calls you had with your friends and find out everything about your ideal man. It helped him mold himself into everything you wanted, which wasn’t too hard because Mingyu swears you were describing him.

Going into your room when you were out of the house also lets him know more about you. All of your interests and hobbies are there for him to learn and master. It also made it easier for him to get you gifts.

And finally, constantly borrowing your laptop to find out what type of porn you liked. It was all good stuff, things that he knew he was good at. Obviously, you liked to be degraded a little, but also worshipped. Mingyu licks his lips as he thinks about all the things he’s going to recreate with you. His cock throbs inside your warm pussy just thinking about it.

Everything is perfect, and Mingyu will do anything to keep it this way. He’ll continue to drive away any threats from your life because he’s the only one who can have you.

And if a day ever comes when you no longer want him, he’ll make sure no one else can have you either.

[luveline]

I would dieeee for some more of Spencer and bombshell after her getting injured😭 him taking such good care of her, the BEST doctors, researching every single option😭 reassuring her rhats shes just as pretty😭

—Spencer looks after you while you recover from a brutal injury. fem!reader, 1.1k

Spencer thinks it’s one of the team's more gruesome injuries. Hotch has been stabbed to mince meat and Emily half-killed, Elle got shot, and he’s had his fair share of violence, too, but he can’t imagine the horror of being hit in the face with a hammer. The pain so close to your eyes, your teeth, your brain, the fear and the sudden crack. He feels sick whenever he remembers the sound, and he was sick the first time he dreamt about the way you cried as it happened. Your strange yelp, the immediate drop to the floor. 

Spencer never hit somebody as hard as he did that UnSub. His gun whipped out possessed across the UnSub’s face, and then drove forward into their nose with a stomach turning crunch. 

They’re in custody, and you’re in bed recovering with some of the best doctors in the world. Spencer thinks you both won this round, even if it doesn’t feel like a win right now. 

“Shh,” he whispers, “shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t cry.” 

You cling to his chest as though worried he’s going to move out of reach, sobbing. You’re careful not to touch your face or his chest, the soreness too much, but the rest of you is clinging to him. You don’t have to worry, he’s not going anywhere. 

“Please, it’s okay,” he says, the tip of his nose to your forehead. “You can have another dose in twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes.” 

He supposes the pain reminds you of the full extent of the injury, your jaw fractured in two places, your gum traumatised, your face more bruise than anything else. You hate your appearance being out of your control, it’s making you panic —he can feel you shaking.

He’d sat down with your drink to find you already crying, he couldn’t have been gone for ten minutes, but it was long enough for you to fall deep into the throes of hysteria. You’d grappled for him as he sat down to hug you, your face hidden ever since, and now the shakes have started. He’s hopeless. 

But Spencer’s willing to do anything to make it better. “Can you tell me what’s upsetting you? Please?” he asks.

“It’s–” Harder sobbing, your tears dripping down from your chin to wet the thigh of his pants.

He has to calm you down.

Since you met Spencer, you’ve been the comforter. He can’t count how many times something has hurt him and you’ve rushed to save him. You’ve hugged and held and kissed him into smiling, you’ve never let him down, you’ve forgiven him after a hundred stupid mistakes, so Spencer doesn’t care that you’ve been inconsolable for days. He really doesn’t mind that he’s had to look after you this attentively. It’s his pleasure, and he’s getting better at it. 

He presses a few soft shushes somewhere in your hairline, his hand rubbing a circuit into your back with a firm pressure that never tips into roughness. He does it until his palm is numb. He could paint the slant of your back from muscle memory, fingers tripping down the creased fabric of your pyjamas, pulling back up to your neck. He’s never felt such tender sympathy. He hates that you’re in pain, but he doesn’t hate getting to rub your back. This is surely boyfriend territory. 

“You want something to drink now?” he asks quietly. 

You open your mouth to answer, sighing in pain momentarily. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Did you want the straw?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” He can’t force himself away. “You okay for me to move you?” 

“Yeah.” 

You can’t be blamed for short answers. 

There are surgeries to hold your jaw together when it breaks, and while you were unconscious (shock, rather than head injury), Hotch consented as your next of kin for the doctors to make sure things wouldn’t get worse, but it was Spencer who had to advocate for you afterwards. They’d wanted a metal connector to prevent dislocation. Spencer knew this could mean another scar, so he said no, because you might’ve said no had you been awake, and they should’ve asked you anyways. 

When you did wake up, you were vehemently against it. Which is fine, you can heal without it, but it’s scarier to do it unaided. Your jaw could dislocate if you do something wrong, which is not only horrifically painful, but a painfully horrific injury to have. You talk quietly. You take small mouthfuls of soft foods. 

Spencer looks at you now, tearstained, back arched like a kicked dog, and doesn’t know what to do. He wishes he were the one who got injured instead. 

He takes the hospital bed controls into his hand and presses the button to make the top of your mattress elevate. Tomorrow, they’ll send you home, and Spencer will have to construct a nest of pillows for you to sit in while you recover, but it’ll be worth it. Things won’t feel as intimidating when you’re in your own bed. 

“Lean back, beautiful,” he says. 

Your smile is a straight line with eyes lit up. “What for?” you ask. 

“Comfier. Less stress on your head.” You lean back. “Oh,” he adds, “and so I can get a better view of you.” 

Your eyes get impossibly brighter. “What do you think?” you murmur. Your voice sounds scratched to death from crying, tight from holding your mouth a certain way, but pleased anyways. It’s just as pretty as it always is to him. 

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, reaching out to cradle your waist, his hand moving up and down the side of you tenderly. 

You have a bruise from under your left eye and bleeding down your neck, and you haven’t slept right for a few days, but you’re undeniably beautiful in Spencer’s eyes. 

You’ve been the most beautiful girl in the world literally from the day you met onward, with as much to do with your heart as your lovely face. He should tell you that, but he doesn’t. 

“Can I have water now?” you ask, covering his hand with yours. 

His confidence wobbles. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Sorry.” He grabs your drink, water spilling down the side to wet his hand. 

“Please don’t make me laugh.” 

“I’m not trying to,” he says pathetically. 

He holds the cup of water to your face and you guide the straw between your lips. Spencer’s sure he’s been in love with you forever, and it’s all but cemented now. 

[haeryna]

in my dreams you love me back (i still love you) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

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summary: soft moments with shoko keep your heart soft as well, but suguru finds something that he wasn't supposed to.

tw: sfw but vague mentions of losing your virginity. your mother MEDDLES but let's be real, we'd do the same. allusions to the bible for the aesthetic but also because i like the imagery of the themes. not proofread.

notes: title taken from red velvet's "in my dreams." the second half of "i would give up heaven if i had to." another short chapter because i split it in two originally! banner from @/cafekitsune

"You look like shit."

You can't stop the huff that escapes your mouth as Shoko peers at you from your phone, propped up against your rice cooker. She's somewhere in the United States right now, attending a medical conference. She isn't wrong; your ten minute break in the bathroom had turned into a full-blown half hour breakdown. Thankfully, none of your coworkers pointed out the redness of your eyes and the sallow tint to your skin. Your manager had practically forced you to go home early. They all assumed that you had broken down about how the Gojo Satoru had demanded you be the one to make his drink. At this point, you were too tired to correct them.

"I just got back from the cafe, leave me alone." Yawning, you reach for a bowl. "I'm starving and exhausted, and now you're going to yell at me, Sho?"

You can hear the heavy exhale, and the camera blurs as she lets out a cloud of cigarette smoke. "I never said that. Did you see them today?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Nobody else can make you cry that hard, and I know it wasn't me."

You hesitate for a moment. "Mom thinks I should hear them out."

"Personally, I would tell them I'll speak to them after a down payment of 5k."

"Shoko!"

But your laughter fills the air, and you can catch Shoko's self-satisfied smirk from the other end. "There she is." A soft haze fills your screen as her voice softens. "Do I need to fly back and tell the two of them to fuck off?"

"I can tell them to leave myself," you protest, but Shoko gives you a deadpan stare. "Okay, well, maybe it'll be hard."

As the silence falls, warm and comfortable, you bustle around the kitchen, spooning rice into your bowl of leftovers. The air is warm, and despite your exhaustion, you can't help but appreciate the dreaminess of the evening. Shoko watches you, dark eyes unreadable. "What?" you finally ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

"Just be careful," she sighs. "Satoru and Suguru will probably do some crazy shit to get you to notice them. I just don't want those idiots to scare you."

"They don't care enough to do that," is your sardonic reply, and this time, it's her turn to laugh.

"If you really think that, then you're blinder than I thought."

He is breaking me down on every side, and now it's too late for me; he has uprooted my hopes like a tree.

When the number of your old landline rings on Suguru's cellphone, he almost blocks it out of habit before he registers the last four digits. Panicking, he immediately accepts the call.

"Hey, is everything okay? I-"

Your mother's voice chirps back at him, a bit staticky from the old phone that he knows she'd insisted on keeping installed in the kitchen. "Suguru, dear, could you do me a favor?"

Ingrained instinct forces a "yes ma'am," from his mouth before he can even process the request. He can practically hear the smile in your mother's voice. "It won't take too long, don't worry. My back has been aching an awful amount after my last surgery, but I've been meaning to wear some of my old church clothes to Bingo Night. Would you mind grabbing it for me?"

The attic is cluttered and old, and the dust stings his eyes, but Suguru can't bring himself to complain as he begins to rummage through boxes. It feels like seeing you again, like being your Suguru again, as he unearths old photo albums, and stuffed toys. There was the rabbit you used to carry around all the time. A picture frame, of you, Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru one summer afternoon. Carefully, he wipes away the dust, smiling at the memory. You'd lost your front tooth that summer; now, it was forever memorialized.

Finally, he reaches a small collection of boxes in the back. The dress lays draped over a small stack of boxes, but as he grabs it, one topples over, spilling its contents all over the floor.

Suddenly, selfishly, Suguru is grateful that Satoru stayed behind back in their hotel room, because inside the cardboard box is envelopes. At least thousands of them, crammed into each possible corner, dates written on the front in the same handwriting you've had since high school. He tears open another box, only to find the same. Three whole boxes of letters. Selfish hope and heavier dread sinks into his skin like the dust that is slowly falling to the floor; Suguru has unearthed something that he knows he's not supposed to see.

Was this how Adam felt, holding the forbidden fruit in his hand? Which was stronger; the will of God, or the love of man?

"You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.

He's almost frantic as he searches for the first letter, scattering them around himself until he finds it; labelled a week after Suguru had taken Satoru with him to pursue what they had believed to be an impossible dream. Suguru hesitates only for a moment, until with one decisive swipe, he rips the flap from the waxy paper beneath. This one is addressed to him.

Suguru,

My parents put me in therapy. Remember how we always used to joke that if anyone needed it, it would be you? Why did you leave me? What did I do wrong? It hurts, Sugu, why, why, why My therapist thinks that keeping letters will help, and my parents want me to at least give it a try. Mom won't say anything, but I know she's concerned. Dad's already torn into Toru's parents, so the whole town is fully aware of what they've done. Shoko says that they're practically livid with shame, skulking around the town as that'll fix their reputation. You missed it; there was one night when the fireflies came back, and I swear they filled the entire sky. It was beautiful. It reminded me of the first time we met, do you remember that?

I wish you'd been here to see it. I'm sorry, Suguru. I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough to take along. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you I love you. I hope you're safe. I hope you're taking care of Toru for me.

I love you so much that it's hard to be mad.

Water drips down onto the ink of where you'd signed your name, and with a start, Suguru realizes he's crying. Gently folding the letter, he sets it aside, and reaches for the next one.

Mom and Dad have what Grandma had. I'm scared, Toru. I wish you were here. You'd always say something silly that would make me forget for even a moment.

Another.

I saw you on the television today, Toru. You're so beautiful it hurts.

Another.

I've given up on properly going to college. They're so sick that I'm terrified to leave them alone.

More. More. More.

I try my best not to listen, but the radio in the coffee shop plays the songs you make, Sugu. I hate it, but it's selfish of me. The girl you sing about, does Toru get along with her? Does she make you happy?

He can't stop himself from reading any more than he can stop the tears pouring down his face. They'd missed so much of your life, and yet you'd dutifully written letter after letter, as if you'd planned on them seeing it. Like you hoped they would come back some day. The next letter was only written two years ago, but it turns Suguru's blood to ice.

I saw the scandal on one of the gossip magazines while I was out shopping for groceries, Toru. The Chanel model? Really? I was kind of hoping for the Gucci one, she seems so nice to her assistant.

I say this like you're a celebrity. A celebrity that I can just laugh at, and say "must be nice, having supermodels fall into your lap!" You were mine, once, long before you were hers. I love loved you.

I did something stupid, last night. Remember Kenji, from high school? The one you always hated? I can't even explain it, how furious I was, when I saw you with that model. You looked so happy, like it didn't matter that all your joy and abundance didn't come at my expense.

I ended up sleeping with him for the first time, with anyone for the first time really. I'm not going to write more; it's embarrassing, and it wasn't even good, but I think I'm more upset with myself. It doesn't matter.

It's not like you'll ever find out. Even if you do, it's not like you'll care.

It's not like my love mattered to you to begin with.

Suguru's chest feels as though someone has washed his heart in acid. On paper, the person you were after they left was more jaded. Less optimistic. You no longer spoke of things you wished they were able to experience with you, but rather all the things they'd left behind. You thought they didn't care, and as he forces his useless lungs to take another breath, he knows that he can't leave this town until he convinces you to come with him. As he stumbles down from the attic, dress in hand, your mother gives him a knowing stare.

"Did you find the dress I asked you to grab?"

"Yes ma'am," Suguru says numbly. It's all he says. It's all he can say. Your mother sighs, patting the chair next to her. "Why don't you call Satoru over, hm? Try some of the tea I bought. I remember your mother saying you only drink black. You really should call her more."

Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?

"I'm home!" you call out, slipping your shoes off with one hand as you balance the full bag of groceries in the other. "Did you take your medi-"

The carrots drop to the floor as you take in the sight of Gojo and Geto sitting at your kitchen table with your mother of all people. "What the fuck?"

Geto's eyes are rimmed red, like he'd been crying, while Satoru stares at you with a hint of anguish. "What the fuck," you repeat again, dumbfounded. "Why are you in my house right now?"

Geto opens his mouth to speak, but your mother waves it away. "You know how bad my back's been lately, I really wanted to wear that old emerald dress your father got me, do you remember?"

Stunned, you can only nod.

"And, I didn't want to have you come all the way back from the city just to grab a dress for me, so I called over Suguru and Satoru to help me out," your mother finishes. You can't stop the panic from leaking into your voice.

"Where was the dress?"

From the look on their faces, you know that Geto and Gojo have found it. All the letters you were too weak to send, too weak to throw away. How much did they read?

"The attic, dear," is your mother's quiet response, and when you turn her attention to her, you can see the quiet love and encouragement in her eyes.

What's more important? The love for all the things they did do, or all the things they didn't?

White noises rushes into your head, and you can barely process your mother's departure. Something about Bingo Night? The door clicks shut and you're left with silence so profound that your body almost instinctively crumples in on itself. Suguru can't look you in the eyes, absentmindedly tracing the rim of the delicate porcelain teacup that looks comically small next to his calloused hands. Satoru merely watches, but you can see the tension in his neck, in the way his fingers flex around empty air.

So, you do the only thing you can do. You run.

Turning, you all but sprint up the stairs. You lied. You couldn't do this, couldn't face them, see them, hear them-

Toned arms reach around from behind, pulling you decisively to a well-defined chest. The air is forced out of your lungs as you yelp, squirming out of the hold, only to freeze as Satoru places his cheek on your head, nuzzling into your hair.

"I missed you."

Tears spring to your eyes but Satoru keeps going. "You were the only thing that kept us going. Our apartment was so shitty, we had to put cardboard on the floor just to keep warm. I thought of you all the time. I thought of which stage outfit you'd like better, how you would get along so well with the other members of the group. We didn't forget you. We love you too much for that."

"Stop," you choke out, as your legs crumple under you. Satoru catches you, tugging you further into him, as tears trickle down your face. A blurred shape; Suguru, kneeling in front of you, gently taking your hands in his.

"One chance, princess," he breathes. "Give us one chance to explain ourselves. After that, we'll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want. We've only ever been yours."

[darkbluekies]

God i want a dark!dr.kry fic soo bad. I read your most recent silas fic and I thought it was so good i ATE IT UP

Things you shouldn't see

Doctor!yandere x reader Summary: you've finally realized what type of man Dr Kry is, and what he is capable of doing. Warnings: murder, bruises, yandere, poison etc. Word count: 2.3k

Your crying hurts him, it really does, but he can’t be soft. Not now. You had tried to escape again. If he hadn’t come back in time to catch you in the door, God knows what could have happened to you. 

“Please, please don’t”, you sob as he cuffs your wrists to the bed’s railing with belt-looking leather. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Spare your voice, Y/N”, he tells you sharply. “Begging and pleading won’t work — you're not a child. You put yourself in this situation, didn’t you? How about we take some adult consequences?” He fixes the last buckle. “Too tight?”

You don't answer, you only cry. Dr Kry grabs your chin softly to direct your attention back to him. 

“Y/N, listen to me”, he says sternly. “Are the restraints too tight? Yes or no? Don’t lie.”

“No”, you sob. 

“Good. You know why I’m doing this, right? I don’t think it’s funny.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop with the bullshit, Y/N. I caught you in the damn door, Y/N.” He sighs frustratedly and runs a hand through his blonde hair. “I can’t let this slip. You almost escaped from me once, remember? I’m not letting that happen again. I’m going to go get you dinner and you are going to get yourself together until I’m back, okay?”

You nod slightly. When he's exited the room, you break out into sobs again. Have to get them out of your system before he returns. You hate him. Hate him so much.

He's back ten minutes later with two cardboard boxes filled with food. He looks somewhat pleased that you're not crying anymore. He stands by his desk.

“You don't understand that I want what's best for you”, Dr Kry says while opening the plastic lids. “If you did, you wouldn't try to do stupid stuff like this.”

“Turn it off”, you say through gritted teeth.

He glances at the air purifier, already knowing what you’re talking about.

“No, I will not”, he says simply. 

“You're killing me!”

Dr Kry scoffs and dumps your foodbox on your legs.

“If I wanted you dead, Y/N, you'd already be in the mortuary”, he says and rolls over to you on his stool. “But as you can tell by your current status in your room, I don't.”

He picks up the fork and holds a bite of potato to your lips. You refuse to open your mouth. 

“Are we doing this?” he asks with raised eyebrows. “Do I need to be mean?”

“Please don’t”, you whisper, scared. 

“You don’t want me to be mean?”

You shake your head quickly. 

“Good, me neither”, Dr Kry says. “Glad that we can agree on something. Open your mouth now.”

You open your mouth enough for him to put in the fork in your mouth. Dr Kry notices how you fight back the tears and sighs in defeat. 

“If you really want to cry, then do it”, he says quietly. 

It’s a trick. He actually doesn’t want you to cry, and you know that. But the tear that runs down your cheek can’t be brought back. You flinch when his hand brushes against your cheek to wipe it softly. He holds another fork of potato and meat to your mouth. You grimace slightly. 

“Just eat and you’ll get to sleep”, Dr Kry promises you.

“Turn it off”, you whisper. “Please.”

Dr Kry sighs and walks over to the air purifier, turning it off. The soft buzzing finally, finally stopped. Dr Kry can tell that you relax in your restraints. 

“Thank you”, you whisper without looking at him. 

“I’ll have to turn it on again”, he says. 

“Why?” 

“Because it keeps you where I want you. It’s much easier than keeping you cuffed to the bed like this.”

You tug at the restraints, as if you suddenly remember that you’re wearing them. Dr Kry’s hand shoots out over your right wrist. 

“Stop”, he says. “Don’t do that. I don’t like to see bruises on you. Just let it be. Give in, alright?”

You glance down at his large hand and grow cold. Could he break your wrist? Could he actually hurt you if he really wanted to? Without tools, without medicine and drugs?

“Open your mouth”, Dr Kry and removes his hand to give you the fork full of food. 

This time, you open your mouth without fuss. He smiles, pleased.

“Have I fucked up for myself now?” you mumble without looking at him.

“Just a tad bit”, Dr Kry smiles and wipes some sauce of your lips with his thumb. “But it's nothing that we can't restore.”

She had seen it, and although she tried to convince herself that she was overthinking, she couldn't bring herself to admit that everything was okay with Dr Kry’s patient — or Dr Kry for that matter. There has always been something with him that has rubbed her the wrong way. He's always been polite and helpful, but she thinks that it's a facade. There is something he's hiding, she can tell that there's a certain darkness in his eyes. And the fact that they never see, hear or get any reports about his patient — despite being here for so long — worries her.

One day, she decides to sneak inside. You’re lying in the hospital bed, sleeping soundly. But other than that, the room is empty. The woman notices how your wrists are … cuffed to the side of the bed. She sneaks over to you and carefully shakes your shoulder. You open your eyes slowly, and then dart them open. In pure fear, you start to tug at the restraints. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the woman shrieks. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“Who are you?!” you gasp. “Where’s Dr Kry?!”

“I don’t know, please be quiet, I’m not going to hurt you.”

You eventually start to calm down. 

“Why are you cuffed to the bed?” the woman asks carefully, feeling a shiver run down her spine. “What has he done to you?”

“Please help me”, you beg. 

“I saw that you tried to leave the room before … and that he snatched you back.”

“I-I will.”

“Please help me, I’m begging you, he’s killing me!” you nod at the air purifier. “He’s poisoned it! You have to help me!”

She is just about to unbuckle the leather strands keeping you to the bed when the door opens. You meet eyes with Dr Kry and feel how your entire body goes numb. 

Shit.

His eyes glare at the woman as he slowly closes the door behind him, locking it shut. 

“Can I help you?” he asks coldly. “What are you doing with my patient?”

The woman spins around and stutters in fear. 

“Who allowed you to come in here?” Dr Kry asks, sounding suspicious — and extremely angry, although he tries to hide it. “Speak up!”

“I-I …”, the woman stutters. 

Dr Kry walks closer. You’ve never seen his body language this … territorial before. It’s almost animalistic. 

“What have they told you?” he asks the woman. 

“Nothing!” the woman shrieks. 

With one quick glance at you, he scoffs with a small, cold smile on his face. 

“I wouldn’t believe anything they say, ma’am”, he says amusedly, although you’re sure that he’s angry like a bee. “They’re sick, they’re not thinking clearly. Seems like we have to talk after this.”

“Don’t be angry at them”, the woman says, finally collecting herself. “You are the one abusing your position. You should be the one who’s getting yelled at!”

“Oh, I’m not mad at my patient. How could I? If they don’t know what’s good for themselves, how could I ever expect them to know when to speak …” He gave you a warning look, “... and when to shut up?” He looked back at the woman. “They’re sick, after all.”

“Why are you keeping them prisoner?”

Dr Kry puts his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “I’m not keeping anyone prisoner. Did they tell you that?”

“You’ve poisoned the air purifier.”

“Why would I ever do that?” he laughs. “That’s absurd! You don’t think I have other things to do? A real job?” He takes a step closer. He’s almost reaching her by now. “Listen, my patient has been reading a lot of fantasy stories while being emitted here, and they must have spun their head out of control. Being in a hospital for as long as they have, all alone, must mess with ones head a bit. Don’t worry about it.”

He has slammed it over the nurse’s head, striking her to the floor. You fight against the restraints, but they’re as stuck as stone. Dr Kry continues to hit the poor nurse with the metal pipe, causing blood to splatter over the walls — and you. You can’t breathe when the red liquid lands on your face, too horrified to even move. The screams from the woman turns into moans of pain, then sobs, then silence. Dr Kry huffs and gets up from the ground, letting go of the metal pipe that clinks against the floor. His white coat and blue overalls are drenched in blood, and his face is covered in red. You’re shivering in your bed and meet his eyes with wide open eyes. 

Dr Kry walks over to his desk. You can tell how he picks up a metal pipe used for the IV-stand you use every now and then.

“No!” you scream, but it’s too late. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t want you to see that”, he pants lowly. 

Sobs start to exit your body. Dr Kry hurries over to you, sinking down on his knees by the bed, almost lying his upper body into yours. 

“I’m sorry, little one”, he whispers and cups your cheeks. 

“Don’t touch me!” you try to scream while doing your best to turn your head away, but his strong grip is forcing you to stay still, forces you to look at him. 

“I didn’t want you to see that”, he repeats. “Why did she have to come and but into our business, hm? Oh, please don’t blame yourself for her death. It’s not your fault.”

He notices how you’re trying to rip your head away from him. 

“I know that you’re afraid”, he says. “It was not your fault, okay? I don’t blame you, I could never blame you, you know that.” He wipes your tears. “Please, don’t cry. I’m not going to do it again.”

You’re unsure if you’ve ever sobbed this harshly before in your life. The cries ripple through your body, forcing your chest to lift with every sob. It hurts, like an unwelcomed workout. Dr Kry holds your face against his chest, hushing as he hugs your head close to him. You can feel how fast his heart is beating, and it makes you nauseous. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up”, Dr Kry says and unbuckles you. 

You hesitate getting out of bed, glancing careful down at the dead body bleeding out on the floor. Dr Kry hurries to pick you up in his arms and walk into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and places you down in the tub. Carefully, he removes your hospital gown and turns on the shower. You refuse to look his way. 

“Listen, Y/N”, he says and sinks down outside the tub. “There are things you shouldn’t see … and this was one of them. I don’t want you to think of me as a monster. I’m a realist, okay?”

“Is that what you’re going to do to me if I try to leave again?” you cry. 

“No! Don’t even say such nonsense. That’s absurd. How could you ever think that?”

You find it ironic that he grows offended. He starts to wash off the blood from your face with the gentle stream of the shower. 

He takes one of your wrists in hand and lets his thumb run over the deep mark from the leather. 

“I told you not to fight against it”, he whispers with a sigh. “We’ll have to put bandage on that.”

Dr Kry continues to wash the blood off of you and his own hands. You follow the red water down the drain. 

He puts the shower head back on the hanger and tells you to wait there until he comes back. You hug your knees close to your chest and watch how he disappears out of the bathroom. You can hear how he starts to clean up the body outside the closed door. This is what happens to the people who believe you. Those that trust Dr Kry’s words about you being too sick to function, and start to hallucinate, are no help … but those that are never get far enough. 

You shiver from cold air hitting your wet, naked body and bring your knees even closer to you. There’s a new form of silence in the room, a silence that eats you up from the inside … and yet, silence had never been this loud before. You would be able to hear a needle drop to the floor on the other side of the hospital.

It had taken wells to gather the courage to try to run away again, and it had been shattered in the moment of two seconds. Your hope had been sparked again when you saw the nurse, and knew that she was one of the few that actually believed you. 

You turn your face down into your knees and cry in realization that you’ll never get to leave the hospital as long as Dr Kry is around. In time, the poisoned air purifier will have killed you … but you’re unsure that you’ll get to leave the hospital even then.

I’m going to die.

[blindmagdalena]

Guilty Pleasures

18+ 3.3k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 1/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory

Homelander is on top of the world. He can say or do whatever the fuck he wants, and the sycophants around him will bend over backwards to make his word law, with few notable exceptions.

He never expected you to be one of them. When you put him in his place after a workplace incident, he becomes fixated on the promise of a firm hand alongside a soft body.

It’s Thursday, which means Homelander is currently bored to tears less than ten minutes into Vought’s weekly digital marketing meeting. These monotonous discussions of percentages and trending graphics gradually begin to feel like a drill pushing slowly into each of his ears, but they’re a necessary evil if he wants to have input when it comes to his image.

He taps his fingers impatiently on the armrest of his chair. The tapping pauses, however, at the appearance of a new presenter.

You.

You’re a far cry from the dime a dozen jackass in a suit that had been presenting before you. He’s sure he hasn’t seen you before, which means you’re new. His gaze drifts from your round face to the sensible cut of your blouse, the garment buttoned nearly to your throat. Anything less would be considered lewd given the size of your breasts. He wets his lips absently, adjusting himself to sit a little straighter.

He’s completely lost track of what you’re talking about in favor of watching the way your hips sway each time you walk from one end of the board to the other, tactfully engaging each observer. You have a resonant voice, commanding attention without sounding harsh. With a rack like that, you must have to fight to have a word you say heard by anyone with even a passing interest in a good pair of tits.

Not that the cheap fabric of your bra is doing them any favors. Silk would be better. He’s always liked the shine of it. Softer, too. It wouldn’t scrape against your shirt the way he can hear that cotton blend you’re wearing is doing. 

Curious, he focuses his vision to peer through your blouse. Your undergarments are plain and sensible. Boring. Still, it elicits a distinct pang between his legs. His mouth waters slightly. Even from where he is, he can smell you, fresh and clean, slightly sweet smelling–like vanilla. Your clothes may be pedestrian but at least your perfume is nice.

Letting his gaze slide lower, he admires how the curves of your body flow into one another. He can tell just by looking at you how soft you would feel against him, under him. How good you would feel to grip and hold in place, sink into and lose himself in. Your voice has a soothing quality to it that lets him easily imagine you’re breathlessly singing his praises instead of rattling off bullet points in a presentation.

Fuck, he’s getting hard, his cock throbbing lightly against the cup of his suit. It’s the only thing that allows him to fantasize as freely as he does. The best part of it is that he’s fairly certain he can sense something warm and wet throbbing between your thick thighs.

He suspects he’s not the only one fantasizing.

The room is quiet for a second too long, and Homelander abruptly tunes back in to realize you’re staring directly at him, expectancy in your gaze. He pulls a blank, realizing he hasn’t processed anything you’ve said. “Say again?”

There’s a flicker of irritation in your eyes before you tightly school your expression back into polite professionalism. His lips slowly split into a devious smile that he consciously fine-tunes to be more neutral. How close you came to some sort of heated response was kind of… cute. It makes him want to give your proverbial pigtails another tug just to see what else he can evoke.

The thought of pulling your hair is good. The thought of you pulling his hair is better, though.

“I asked if you have any feedback for our campaign leading up to the premiere,” you say, though Homelander finds himself more interested in the flash of your tongue he gets as you run it along your teeth afterwards. Your temperature is up a notch, too. You must not be used to such direct attention from someone like him.

“Nope,” he says glibly, turning on one of his patented knock-out smiles. “Looks good to me.” At that, he pointedly looks you up and down, meeting your gaze with a quick wink. 

Judging by the slight tic at the corner of your mouth, you aren’t charmed by his response. Still, he waits in preemptive satisfaction for you to appease him by returning his smile.

You don’t.

Instead, you say nothing more than a terse “Wonderful,” the singular word barely passing for civil, let alone professional. You move on, and Homelander finds himself taken aback. You don’t meet his eye for the remainder of the presentation, and while that gives him plenty of opportunity to ogle you, it bothers him.

Towards the end of your time, he clears his throat. Everyone looks at him.

Everyone but you.

“Thanks so much for your time,” you say to the committee, smiling, finishing your piece with a small incline of your head. You go sit, and there’s a slightly awkward pause before the next presenter takes center stage.

Homelander sits in stunned silence. The idea that you, some fresh faced nobody, think you’re in any position to blow him off is laughable at best. Who cares if he didn’t pay attention to your little presentation? That’s not his job. You’re lucky he’s even here, lucky that someone like him would think to give you time out of his day.

By the time the meeting concludes, you haven’t spared him so much as a glance. Indignation builds hotly in his chest. He’s had more than enough of being snubbed lately. He’s not going to tolerate it from the likes of you.

You should be on your hands and knees begging for his attention.

He watches a handful of your peers congratulate you on your first presentation, though plenty of others cast him wary glances and decide not to approach you. They know better. They know who’s really in charge around here. Naturally, they all skitter away like roaches when he strides towards you.

“Not bad for your first presentation,” he tells you, his smile toned down into a thin, lopsided smirk.

You look around yourself, no doubt taking note of how the other little insects around you have scattered. Maybe now you’ll realize your mistake.

“Thank you, sir,” you say, your body angled slightly away from him, as if you’re ready to bolt at any second.

“Got a lot on my mind, though, so I don’t think I absorbed as much as I could have,” he says, laying on that boyish charm a little thicker than usual. “Would really appreciate it if you could stick around and run that by me one more time.”

Your gaze flickers away from him–he wishes you would stop doing that–to the others who’re filtering out of the room, slowly leaving the two of you behind. “As I said during the presentation, all the documents will be available online,” you say, finally looking back at him. You actually have the audacity to look annoyed that he’s talking to you.

“I don’t have a computer,” he replies, his own voice beginning to flatten.

“I’m sure someone in IT can help you with that,” you say, undeterred by his attempts to corner you. 

His smile tightens minutely. “Do you have some kind of problem with me?”

Your heart jumps. He finds satisfaction in that, at least.

“No, sir,” you say sharply, a barely discernible hitch in your voice. “What I have are deadlines. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to meet them.” With that, you manage to squeeze by him. Despite the steady confident tap of your shoes against the floor, your heart races rabbit-like in his ears.

He contemplates you as you go, momentarily stupefied by your flagrant disregard for him. You weren’t entirely unaffected by his presence, though. If you’d had less of an avenue for escape, would you have been so flippant? He continues to focus on the beat of your heart as your steps carry you further from him. It doesn’t slow. You’re still full of adrenaline, the scent of it lingering alongside your perfume. He inhales a slow, deep breath, the leather of his gloves creaking as he curls and uncurls his fist.

Homelander finds himself wondering what your agenda is, what makes you so desperate to break from the norm and catch his attention. It’s clear to him that’s what you want. Why else would you be so stubborn where anyone else would yield? He scoffs to himself. 

God, it’s so obvious in hindsight.

He has no doubt that your brazen attitude would shatter if he pressed in closer, if you felt the heat of his breath on your lips. He could part your soft thighs and paint the face of God on the ceiling above you with his tongue inside you. You couldn’t dismiss him so easily then, could you?

You’re so determined to be noticed that it’s almost pathetic. He shouldn’t reward this kind of behavior, and yet he feels strangely inclined to commend it. What you’ve done is brave in a way. Insolence and sycophants he can’t abide, but a touch of bravery? Well… That can be rewarded.

Your heart thunders in your ears as you make a beeline for your office. You can feel a terrible burn crawling up your chest and into your cheeks, the reality of what just happened finally allowed to sink in. You had spent all morning preparing yourself for presenting your work in front of not only your new peers at Vought, but in front of the world’s most prolific superhero. You were solid, you were ready.

Until you felt the gravity of his gaze on you. The weight of it made you stutter where you shouldn’t have, lose your train of thought mid-sentence. Every time you dared to look at him, he was looking at you like he was going to swallow you whole. Never have you felt more acutely aware of yourself than you did beneath his stare, feeling the way he was picking you apart as keenly as you would feel his hands undressing you.

It left you as furious as you are flustered.

That arrogant bastard!

You close the door behind you with a rough breath, closing your eyes. You can’t even sit, you have to pace your office instead, shaking your hands out as you walk. You know you weren’t imagining it. He confirmed as much for you when it took a solid eight seconds of silence for him to tear his gaze up from your chest, smiling as wickedly as any devil and caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar.

You couldn’t look him in the eye after that. It was humiliating to be reduced so thoroughly and obviously in front of your peers. Worst of all, he seemed damn pleased by it. 

Though that isn’t the only reason your heart is still racing. You’re not quite ready to address that yet. You’re fairly certain if you’d been forced to speak to him any more than you had, you would have said something that would cause you to lose your job. You just need space to breathe, to collect yourself, to–

There’s a brisk knock at your door. Great. What now?

“Just a m–” You’re stopped dead in your tracks by a familiar flash of red, white and blue as Homelander lets himself into your office, closing the door securely behind him. 

“Howdy,” he greets. He looks cartoonishly wide and brightly colored against the neutral colors of your office, even more larger than life than he’d seemed in the conference room. He has a smile that looks like it belongs in the mouth of a shark about to take a bite of you. It sets you off kilter completely–not that you’d been much on it to begin with.

You gawk a moment before managing to close your mouth. “Homelander,” you say, your voice curt in your own ears. You have no idea how to address him, still frazzled from not only the presentation, but your interaction that followed it. You should ask him what he needs. 

“What’re you doing here?” That came out ruder than you meant it to. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. Still, you’re trying to keep this job.

“Are you always this pleasant?” He asks, cocking his head slightly as he comes to a stop in front of you, his arms held behind his back beneath his swaying cape. “Or did I catch you on a bad day?”

Is he serious?

“Your conduct today was inappropriate,” you say flatly, settling your hands on your hips.

Homelander scoffs lightly. “Oh, relax. You gonna ‘#Metoo’ me over a wink? Christ, you’re done up tighter than that blouse of yours,” he says, his gaze dipping. A chill rolls up your spine as you watch his tongue roll along his teeth. He’s like an animal anticipating a meal.

Your jaw drops, cold shock settling in your gut alongside that blistering heat. Of all the things you had prepared yourself for before coming to Vought, Homelander being a misogynistic sex-pest hadn’t been on your list.

Well. Not the sex-pest part, anyways.

You point to your office door. “Get out.”

He blinks, zero comprehension in those deceptively charming baby blues. His smile turns incredulous. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand what’s happening here,” he says, his tone taking on a precarious edge. He lets out a breathy, mirthless laugh. “You know, most people in your position would be begging for my attention.”

There it is.

You suck a noise through your teeth, nodding slowly. "Oh, I understand exactly what’s happening here,” you say, shifting your weight like you’re winding up for a pitch. “I know you think you're special because you're famous, or a supe, or both. I know you think I should be grateful that you’d even look at someone like me, but you’re not special, and I’m not grateful. The reality of the matter is I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick–and I can get it without being humiliated at my job.”

The silence in the room is deafening. Homelander looks stupefied, but you decide that you’re not done.

“You're not blessing me by making entitled passes and crude remarks while I'm trying to work. You’re being a nuisance,” you say, your heart beating in your throat. “So please, would you kindly leave?” You ask, voice firm despite the friendlier nature of your phrasing.

Finally, Homelander is the one left gawking. He looks like a fish with the way his mouth keeps opening and closing, but it’s the dismissive, aborted little scoffs he makes in between that really sell his wounded bewilderment. You can see tension lurking just beneath the surface, an anger that skulks in the creak of his leather gloves.

Fear begins to creep up the back of your throat, burning like bile, but you hold steady as he seems to be deciding what he’s going to do with you. The longer the quiet stretches on, your focus entirely on the subtle spasms in his expression, the more sweat begins to prickle at the back of your neck. You refuse to fill the space, you refuse to back down.

For all his power, he’s still just a man.

Eventually, he swallows. “Okie-dokie,” he says, his tone unlike anything you expected. He sounds confused–a little dazed, even. He walks to the door, and after one hesitant look back at you, he leaves.

The door closes with a soft click that still makes you flinch, the sound of it loud in the silence of the room. You blink several times, the abruptness of his departure making the whole encounter feel like some sort of fever dream. 

What the fuck just happened?

You’re not special.

The impact of those words struck Homelander’s ears like a loud, painful ringing that follows him as he walks out of your office. He feels off balance, each step leaning slightly to the right.

It’s a ludicrous statement. Objectively wrong. Who in the fucking world could be more special than him? He’s a literal god, and you’re no one. A faceless, nameless cog in Vought’s mechanism that hoists him to the top of it all. That’s your job. To elevate him. Worship him.

Instead you spoke to him as if he were nothing. He could have cut you down where you stood for that. He could have put your head through your office window, snapped your neck, held your skull and burned your eyes out of–

He shakes his head sharply, swaying. He all but stumbles into the bathroom, surprising one of the worker drones washing their hands. “Get out,” Homelander says gruffly.

“Uh, sir–”

“Get the fuck out!” He snaps, startling the man so badly he immediately rushes off, fumbling with the door on his way out. Homelander slams it shut and lets out a ragged breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, then his temples as he paces the bathroom. His reflection taunts him from his peripheral vision.

He hasn’t been able to look himself in the eye since he snapped his Doppelganger’s neck while he knelt before him.

That’s what he wants from you, isn’t it? Mindless desperate praise and worship. Why, then, does the thought od it make his stomach churn so violently he can taste the burn of bile? He tugs compulsively at his suit collar, the press of it against his skin uncharacteristically hot and itchy.

“I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick.”

He shamefully palms himself through his suit, confusingly hard amidst a swirling turbulence of contradicting thoughts and feelings. He could be good for you, too, if you’d fucking let him. He knows he could make you crumble, take apart that carefully constructed demeanor of professionalism and make you see him for what he is. He can prove himself to you. He will prove that you’re wrong about him, and then you’ll show him the love respect he deserves.

Hurriedly, he unzips his pants. His eyelashes flutter as he shoves his hand into them, roughly grabbing hold of his cock. He braces his forearm against the bathroom door and lets his head drop forward, watching his crimson glove pump the leaking head of his dick. His mind bounces between scenarios. He imagines himself in your place, fully on display for you to ogle. He imagines you’re watching him even now, staring him down with that unaffected look of indifference, of irritation, of disgust.

He bites back a whine, gritting his teeth. He wants so badly to imagine his face buried in your soft tits while he fucks the plush space between your thighs, but he knows you won’t let him. Not right away. You’d make him earn it, wouldn’t you? You’d make him watch you please yourself before he ever got so much as a taste.

The glassiness in his eyes begins to sizzle, the moisture burning away as crimson light flares up in them. Would you laugh if you could see him now, or would you scold him for touching himself without your permission?

Homelander comes hard, tipping his head back with a loud moan as he paints the bathroom door with ribbon after ribbon of come. He barely manages not to blow a hole through the ceiling, the light of his eyes flaring and softening in time with each euphoric wave of release. He pants through it, head falling forward and thunking lightly against the door, resting there while he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he exhales eventually, sighing. He wipes his hand on the wall and then carefully tucks himself back into his pants, his mind swirling hazily on the best high he’s had since…

Clearing his throat, he puts himself back together before leaving the bathroom. Clearly, the thing that he’s been missing is a challenge. 

Luckily for him, you’ve kindly volunteered yourself.

( chapter two )

[cupcakeeees]

“Falling For You (On and Off the Ice)”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: two people, one ice rink, zero skating skills, plenty of falling - for each other.

word count: 1k

The idea had seemed romantic in theory. An ice rink in the middle of London, fairy lights strung overhead, the scent of roasted chestnuts in the air - it sounded perfect.

Lando had been the one to suggest it, of course. He’d pitched the idea with his usual confidence, promising you a “magical winter experience.”

What he hadn’t mentioned was that he couldn’t actually skate.

“I didn’t think it would matter!” he argued, gripping the edge of the rink for dear life as you tried, and failed, to stifle your laughter.

“You thought it wouldn’t matter?” you echoed, circling around him with ease. “Lando, you’re like Bambi on ice!”

He shot you a mock glare, his cheeks flushed - not from the cold, you suspected, but from embarrassment. “Alright, show-off. How about a little help instead of all the sass?”

You skated closer, holding out your hands. “Fine, but if you pull me down with you, it’s over, Norris. No more hanging out, ever.”

He grabbed your hands instantly, his fingers curling tightly around yours. “Deal. But for the record, I’m totally getting the hang of it.”

As if on cue, his feet wobbled beneath him, and you had to plant your skates firmly to keep him upright. He let out a startled laugh, his grip on your hands tightening.

“Getting the hang of it?” you teased, your voice light.

“Relax, I was just testing you. See if you’d let me fall..” he replied, grinning despite himself.

It took another ten minutes - and at least three near-collisions with other skaters - before Lando finally managed to shuffle away from the edge. You stayed close, your hands brushing occasionally as he found his balance.

“You’re doing great,” you said, genuinely impressed.

“Yeah?” He glanced at you, his expression hopeful.

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “At this rate, you might even make it a full lap without falling.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t let go of your hand.

You didn’t mind. In fact, you found yourself holding onto him just as tightly, the warmth of his palm a welcome contrast to the biting cold.

By the time you finished your lap, the rink was bathed in the soft glow of snowflakes, drifting lazily from the sky and catching in Lando’s curly hair. He looked up, his face lighting up like a kid’s.

“Look at that,” he said softly.

You followed his gaze, smiling at the sight. It was beautiful, the kind of moment that felt like it belonged in a movie.

“You know,” he said, turning to you, “this was actually really fun. Even if you’ve been bullying me the whole time.”

Before you could respond, he tugged on your hand, pulling you closer - and just like that, you were falling.

The two of you hit the ice with an unceremonious thud, a tangle of arms and legs and uncontrollable laughter.

“I told you not to pull me down!” you exclaimed between gasps of laughter.

“You’re fine! I softened your fall..” he shot back, grinning like an idiot. “Are you laughing or crying?”

You shoved at his shoulder playfully, but he didn’t budge.

Instead, he stayed where he was, propped up on his elbow and looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“What?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice softer now. “Just.. you’re pretty when you’re happy.”

Your breath caught, the laughter fading as the moment stretched out between you.

Snowflakes melted against your cheeks, and his eyes - bright and warm - held yours.

“I am happy,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“..and pretty,” he said, smiling again.

“And pretty!”

“Good.”

Neither of you moved right away. The world around you seemed to blur, the laughter and music from the rink fading into the background.

Just the two of you, lying on the ice, suspended in something that felt a lot like magic.

The spell only broke when someone skated by and called out, “You two alright over there?”

Lando grinned sheepishly, scrambling to his feet and holding out a hand to pull you up. “All good!” he said, a little too loudly.

You took his hand, and he helped you steady yourself, though he nearly lost his balance in the process.

“Smooth,” you teased.

“Hey, I got you up, didn’t I?”

Later, as you sat in a nearby cafe sipping hot chocolate, your cheeks still pink from the cold (and maybe from something else), Lando nudged you with his elbow.

“For the record, I think I did pretty well today.”

“Oh, definitely,” you said, unable to hide your smile. “You only fell… what, five times?”

“Three,” he corrected, pointing a finger at you. “And one of those doesn’t count, because it was your fault.”

“My fault?”

“You distracted me!”

“But you like me anyway.” you said, his grin softening.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I really do.”

[wintrwinchestr]

obedience | part 1

summary: you decide to act out after feeling neglected by joel for over a week. it doesn’t go quite according to plan, but his punishment does help you unlock a new kink or two.

warnings: 18+, smut, no outbreak au, daddy kink, d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, brat tamer joel, degradation/humiliation (use of slut, whore, 1 use of bitch), orgasm denial/edging, boot riding, pet names (baby, babygirl, darlin’, sugar, sweetheart, honey, puppy), entering petplay territory??, finger sucking, one face slap but she likes it (and so do i), taking/sending nudes at work, subspace, hair pulling, joel cums on reader’s face, cum eating, two idiots who finally communicate and apologize to each other, gets soft at the end bc i’m a woman of many interests, reader can be carried by joel but no other physical descriptions, winter’s limited knowledge of what contractors do, pic of girl in the moodboard is for bra imagery only, reader looks just like you!! :)

word count: 4.1k

a/n: this is extremely self indulgent so please don’t look at me!!! lil shoutout to @pascalisbaby for inspiring me to write something just so i can use “puppy” bc their love’s gonna get you killed series has fucked me up extremely bad.

divider by @saradika

(read part 2 here)

It’s coming up on nearly a week and a half of Joel working long days and late nights at the latest suburban McMansion he’s been contracted out to. Each and every time he creeps into his side of the bed after you’ve already gone to sleep, never failing to wake you up in the process, he always has a different excuse. “My concrete guy was out sick today”, “the vendor gave us the wrong size rebar”, “the landscapers were in our way all damn day”, and other similar eye roll-inducing anecdotes that were followed up with sleepy apologies.

Tonight, you’re almost certain, will be just the same.

Slogging through yet another slow and uneventful day at your corporate nine-to-five, you’re practically counting down the seconds until you’ll be able to escape your drab little cubicle for the day. You aren’t exactly looking forward to going home, though, either. You know that all you have waiting for you will be another lonely night of heating up a frozen dinner, watching reality TV reruns until the ten o’clock news comes on, and then tucking yourself into a cold bed.

While you’re waiting around for a coworker to message you back about something painfully unimportant, you decide to get up to kill some time in the bathroom on your phone and stretch your legs a bit. You stand up from your rolling chair, grabbing your phone in the process, and head down the hall to the one single-person bathroom in the building that you know of.

You step inside and click the lock shut behind you, looking forward to having a rare few minutes to yourself without the threat of your manager lurking over your shoulder. You inspect your makeup in the mirror and address some flyaway hairs before leaning back against the sink and swiping your home screen into view. Your heart soars at the discovery of a text notification from Joel, but settles just as quickly when you read the words across your screen.

A couple of my dumbass guys fucked up some measurements again. Gonna be another late one. Sorry baby. 

You let out an exasperated sigh and turn around to face your reflection again, bracing yourself on the edge of the sink and trying not to cry. How much fucking longer are you going to have to put up with this? You'd been getting through it alright so far, but his sterile text had ignited a raging fire deep in your stomach that made a scorching heat climb its way up the back of your neck.

You’re determined to get his attention tonight, one way or another. Even if it means pushing some of his buttons, riling him up, making him feel a few licks of that very same inferno. You’re feeling fucking bratty.

You undo the top few buttons of your blouse and shimmy it off your shoulders, exposing the blushing lace of the bra you had chosen when you were getting dressed this morning. Using one arm to hold your phone up to the mirror with the camera app open, you use the other one to prop yourself up against the sink and assist in pushing your tits together. As a final touch, you pull down one of the delicate cups along with its accompanying strap, exposing an already peaked nipple. Meeting your own eyes in the reflection and forming your glossy lips into a faux pout, you snap the picture and attach it to your text conversation with Joel. You type out a coy little message to go along with it and send it off.

that’s okay daddy. just sad i wore a rly cute bra today for nothing :(

While you anxiously wait for his response, you take a few more lewd photos to tease him with later, and make your way back to your desk after you button yourself up again and smooth out your skirt.

Sitting back down at your cubicle, you check your notifications to find a response from Joel, sent just a few seconds ago.

What’d I tell you about sendin me shit like that when I’m at work? Put your fuckin tits away babygirl. Not in the mood today.

Despite his harsh words, you know your plan is already working in your favor. You can’t help but giggle to yourself as you attach another one of the photos you had taken in the bathroom, this one of your matching lace panties pulled aside to expose your bare pussy to the front camera. You type out another flirtatious message and tap the button to send it.

idk what u mean daddy :( just miss u is all. she misses u too :((

You promptly turn off your phone and place it screen-down next to your mousepad, resigning yourself to a mere ten minutes of work before you can’t resist temptation anymore and pick it back up again to check for a reply.

Last warning babygirl. I got enough shit to deal with today, don’t need your slutty pictures distractin me. I’ll see ya tonight.

whatever. u don’t pay attention to me anymore anyway :/

You begin to regret your message as soon as you send it, worrying you might have taken things too far. But it was true; you’re upset, in a bratty mood, and feeling neglected. And, maybe you did want to work him up enough for him to take it all out on you, to fuck the attitude out of you the way you know he likes to do every so often.

A few seconds after you power off your screen to do a few more minutes of work, it illuminates again.

Oh I don't? When I get home tonight you better be kneelin in front of the door waitin for me undressed like a good girl. Not like the fuckin brat you’re actin like. And we’ll see about payin you some attention. Now pull your fuckin panties up and get back to work.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you read his text, now feeling exhilarated that your plan is officially in motion. After you’ve read his words through a couple of times, squeezing your thighs together and stifling a whimper as you did so, your trembling fingers type out a simple reply:

yes daddy <3

The remainder of your work day seems to pass by in slow motion, every minute feeling more like five. You can hardly bring yourself to focus on any of your mundane tasks, your mind constantly drifting to what you might be in for tonight. Will he spank you and leave red handprints on your ass for days? Will he fuck your face while you sputter and gasp around him? Will he work you over with his tongue until all you know how to say is “I’m sorry, Daddy”? As you shake yourself from your trance and try to focus your eyes again, you wonder why you hadn’t thought to act up like this earlier in the week. You keep your eye on the little digital clock in the corner of your monitor for the last five consecutive minutes of your work day, and as soon as 4:59 flashes to 5:00, you practically sprint out to your car in your hurry to get home.

–

You’re cuddled up on the couch underneath your favorite fleece blanket, already stripped down to your peony-colored underwear set like Joel had requested. The past couple of hours have been spent cycling between all of your streaming services and social media apps, trying desperately to find something to occupy yourself with until he gets home. You’re half-tempted to get up and walk some laps around the house, but around 10:30, you finally see the scanning headlights of Joel’s pickup as it turns into the driveway.

You immediately spring up from your little nest on the couch and prance over to the front door, kneeling a few feet in front of it just like he ordered.

In your excited anticipation to see him, you tune your ears to pick up every little sound you hear as he makes his way to you: the slam of the truck’s driver’s side door, the dull thud of his work boots heading up the walkway, the prolonged jingling of his keys as he fumbles with them to unlock the door. You’re sure he’s fidgeting with them for a few seconds longer than usual, just to tease you and keep you waiting. A shiver runs up your spine and you can feel your heart pounding against the walls of your chest as he finally turns the lock.

He calmly steps inside and closes the door behind him, dropping his dusty work bag onto the floor and stripping himself of his canvas tool belt. He stalks over to where you’re knelt on the hardwood, wrapped in your dainty lace for him like a little doll. There’s something arousing about the contrast between your barely-there feminine attire and his dark, practical clothing.

“Well, whaddya know, she can be good after all… Waitin’ for me all nice and pretty just like I asked. All it takes is an order from your Daddy to get you actin’ right again, ain’t that right, babygirl? Obedient lil’ thing…” He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he speaks, keeping your eyes trained on his. You nod up at him, doe-eyed and dazed, already feeling yourself beginning to slip into that familiar saccharine headspace.

Every time you had previously tried your hand at bratting, it never lasted very long, and tonight was already proving to be no different. He was right, after all, it doesn’t take more than a command, a look, a gentle grasp of your chin, to remind you of your desire to be good for him.

“What, Daddy doesn’t get a proper greetin’ after a long day o’ work? You already that far gone f’ me, can’t use your words proper like a big girl?” 

“H-hi, Daddy… Missed you today,” you half-whisper, your voice sounding a little higher and further away than it did earlier in the day.

“Yeah, I know y’ did… I’ll bet your lil’ panties are ‘bout soaked through already, bet you left a wet spot on your fuckin’ desk chair just from daydreamin’ about what I was gonna do to you tonight, hm?”

Another silent nod accompanied by a pitiful little whimper. The blazing fire in your gut from this afternoon is quickly being replaced by something much more easily tamed, something more akin to a flickering candle flame than a wildfire. You struggle to keep your eyelids open as they begin to feel heavier with submission.

A stern look and a ticked jaw is enough for you to correct your wordless response.

“Y-yes, Daddy…”

“And what is it that you think I’m gonna do with you tonight, babygirl? Speak up, now…”

You rack your brain for a moment, suddenly unable to remember any of the depraved fantasies you had been conjuring up all day instead of replying to emails. You eventually land on a relatively straightforward answer.

“I th-think you’re gonna… gonna fuck the attitude outta me, t-teach me a lesson… right, Daddy?”

He lets out a dark chuckle, releasing your chin from his hold to give your cheek a couple of condescending pats instead.

“Aww, dumb lil’ thing… you thought Daddy was gonna touch you at all tonight, make that pathetic lil’ pussy cum after the stunts you were pullin’ today? Nah, I don’t think so… Open that slutty fuckin’ mouth.”

You’re reeling, taken aback by his harsh words, words that were certainly not in any of the countless scenarios you had been imagining at work. There’s a long beat of silence as you struggle to process his command.

You hear the smack across your face before you feel the heated sting of it, and it prompts a debauched mewl to spill from your parted lips.

“I said open your fuckin’ mouth…”

Your jaw falls slack in an instant, your pulsing cunt releasing an ashamed wave of wetness at the degrading slap. Joel shoves his thumb inside your waiting mouth, and you wrap your lips around it obediently as you swirl your tongue along its calloused landscape. It tastes salty, a little dirty, and you like it.

“Good girl, suck on Daddy’s thumb, tha’s it… dumb whore’ll suck on anything Daddy puts in her mouth, won’t she? Desperate lil’ thing… Bet you wish it was this fat cock instead, don’t you baby?”

You whine and nod around him, your hole squeezing around nothing as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Well… that’s just too fuckin’ bad, ain’t it? Tonight’s not about what you want, you can gimme that sad puppy look all you like, sugar, not gonna change anythin’...”

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, and your slick lips try to chase after it until he wipes it clean on the side of your face. His hands make quick work of opening his stained work jeans and freeing his stiff cock from his briefs, taking it into one hand and beginning to pump it with languid strokes. He grabs a fistful of hair at the base of your skull with his free hand and taps the leaking head of his length against your cheek, adding to the dampness there from your own saliva.

“This what you want?” Tap tap tap. “You want Daddy’s cock? Hm? This what you been thinkin’ about all day, dirty girl?” He rocks his hips back and forth as he speaks, smearing his arousal along your skin.

You can’t help but squirm as a humiliated heat begins to pool in your tummy.

“Yes, Daddy, please let me have it, wan’ it so bad…” you beg.

He releases your hair and pulls his cock away from your face, making a show of massaging it and taunting you with what he won’t let you have.

“Nah, you ain’t gettin’ any of Daddy’s cock tonight, baby… In fact, I’m gonna stand right here and take care of m’self, and you’re gonna find somethin’ to rub that soakin’ cunt on while I watch…”

As the last of his words leave his lips, he steps one foot forward and nudges it between your thighs, looking at you expectantly. You lower your head to face his steel-toed work boot, covered in dust and dirt from his day at the construction site. Your mind still too deep in the clouds to understand what he’s asking of you, you lift your eyes back up to him for guidance. He juts his chin out in a silent “go on, then”, and you return your confused gaze back to his boot, the toe of which is positioned just in front of your aching heat. Your breath hitches and your eyes go wide as you finally realize: he wants to pleasure himself to the sight of you getting yourself off on his boot.

All at once, it falls into place how he wants the night to unfold. He wants to deny you. Deny you of his touch, his cock, even the privilege of making him feel good yourself… all because you acted out, disobeyed him, tested his limits.

“We understand each other, darlin’?”

“Y-yes, Daddy…” You meet his eyes as you speak, voice coming out a little unsteady. Any confidence you had while you were teasing him this afternoon is long gone, fully submitting to him now and completely at his mercy. He didn’t need to fuck you in order to put you in your place, he knew plenty of other much more degrading ways to rid you of your bratty attitude, to remind you of who you belong to.

You position your cunt over the filthy toe of his boot, the gusset of your lacy panties now completely saturated with your wetness. Your hands planted on either side of his leg, you try an experimental grind onto the leather-covered steel. A bolt of electricity shoots from your swollen clit to your fevered cheeks, burning with the eroticism of being made to humiliate yourself like this. He allows you to wrap your arms around his calf, using his sturdy form as leverage to rub yourself harder and faster against the solid material. 

“Look at you, humpin’ my boot like a fuckin’ dog… that’s just what y’ are, ain’t it? Daddy’s lil’ puppy…” he teases, spurring you on with his words and the indecent sounds of his wet fist working along his thick cock.

You let out an involuntary yelp at the new pet name, which he’s quick to catch with a huff through his nose.

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she? Y’ like that, sweetheart, bein’ Daddy’s good girl, his obedient lil’ puppy? Yeah, I know y’ do… I got you trained good, don’t I? Do just about anything I want, won’t you? Got you rubbin’ that slutty pussy on my fuckin’ boot, for Christ’s sake, barely even had to ask… fuckin’ pathetic.”

The degradation makes your stomach swirl with a cocktail of embarrassment and pleasure. Your cunt flutters as you continue your frantic movements, releasing broken whimpers that sound something like uh huh and yes, Daddy. You’re sure that your slick has to be dripping down his boot by now, soaking straight through the leather and pooling onto the hardwood. You wonder if he might punish you for that, too, for making a mess of him and your freshly mopped floors. Just the thought of it has your hips picking up the pace, desperate to reach your high.

Your eyes are shut tightly as you pursue your orgasm, but you can still hear the shallow pumps of Joel’s fist and his stuttering breaths that indicate he’s close to his own release.

“Yeah, grind that sloppy fuckin’ puppy cunt on Daddy’s boot, there ya go… lookin’ like a goddamn bitch in heat… desperate whore… c’mon, puppy, make a fuckin’ mess for me…”

“I’m gonna cum, Daddy, gonna–”

Just as you feel yourself about to crest the wave of your climax, he pulls his foot out from under you and yanks your head back by another fistful of hair.

“Open up, puppy,” he groans as he splashes his hot release all over your face, aiming most of it around your mouth as you cry out from the denial of your own pleasure.

“Look at you, filthy girl… So pretty for Daddy, all covered in me,” he coos as the last few milky drops land on your cheek. Before any of it can start to drip, he scoops it up with his thumb and feeds it to you a bit at a time, and you continue to suck his finger into your eager mouth once again.

When your face is fully cleaned of his spend, he pulls his thumb from between your lips for a final time with a pop, and you stick out your tongue to show him you’ve swallowed everything he’s given you. 

“Good girl,” he praises, petting the side of your hair in soothing strokes. “What do you say to Daddy, hm?”

“Th-thank you…” you choke out, still trying to steady your voice.

“And what else?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “And… I’m sorry, Daddy,” you relent.

“For what, sweet girl?”

This was always your least favorite part, the part you struggled with the most: admitting that you were wrong. 

“For being a brat today, for not listening and disrespecting you…” Your posture deflates, wondering if you should continue your confession. You remember one of the ground rules that was laid out when you first entered this dynamic with him, the one about how important communication is, and decide to keep going. “I jus’ feel like you’ve hardly paid any attention to me the past few days…” You start to sniffle as you speak, the overwhelm of it all finally catching up with you.

“Oh…” he breathes sympathetically. “Here, can you stand up, babygirl? C’mon, come sit on Daddy’s lap for a minute.”

He offers you his hands, and you use them to push yourself up onto shaky legs, feeling like a newborn foal. You wrap your arms around his neck and he scoops you up, carrying you bridal-style back to your cozy spot on the couch. He situates you in his lap, wrapping you up in your blanket again, and you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between his shoulder and neck. You inhale through your nose, smiling to yourself and sighing contentedly when your senses are flooded with his natural comforting smell.

“I know I’ve been workin’ some real late nights recently… I’m sorry about that, honey,” he apologizes, rubbing comforting circles around your upper back. 

“‘S okay, Daddy, ‘s not your fault,” you say into his skin.

“But I shoulda made more of an effort to give you some lovin’ anyway, I shouldn’t have had to wait for you to brat on me… Look at me, baby.” You lift your head and meet his sincere gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“I’m sorry too, Daddy.”

“I know y’ are, sweet girl, I know…”

You exchange warm smiles, and he curls his pointer finger under your chin to pull your face toward his, placing a delicate kiss to your lips. He settles both of his large hands on either side of your face before breaking the kiss to press your foreheads together. You close your eyes and try to match his breathing, enjoying this moment with him.

After a minute or so, you break the silence. “So… puppy, huh? That’s a new one,” you giggle.

He laughs and releases your face from his hold, meeting your eyes again. “Jus’ wanted to try somethin’ new, I guess…” He snakes a hand under the blanket, thumbing over the damp crotch of your panties. “And judgin’ by this lil’ mess down here, I take it you liked it. Hm, pretty girl?”

Still sensitive from your earlier denial, you let out a high pitched little whine and an involuntary buck of your hips into his hand.

“See? Even sound like a lil’ puppy… Daddy’s good girl. You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

“Uh huh, yes, Daddy, please…” Your face is buried in his chest as you rut into his hand, squeezing it between your thighs, back to the same place you were just before he pulled his boot out from underneath you.

“Daddy was so mean earlier, wasn’t he? Not lettin’ you cum, punishin’ you for actin’ up… But I think you’ve learned your lesson now, huh puppy? C’mon, sweet girl, let go, soak Daddy’s hand…”

And you do. With his permission, you cry out, muscles spasming and cunt twitching as you finally ride out the climax you’ve been chasing all night. You’re panting by the time you start to come down after what feels like several minutes, exhaustion hitting you hard all at once. When some of your awareness has come back to you, you realize that Joel is gently rocking you back and forth on his lap, petting the back of your head and gently shushing in your ear.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright, babygirl, I gotcha, Daddy’s gotcha… So good for me, baby, my precious girl…”

When your breathing evens out once more, you muster the strength to lift your head from its place against his heart, and he chuckles at the sleepy and sated look on your face as you blink slowly at him.

“My lil’ puppy’s all tuckered out, huh? Let’s get you up to bed, darlin’, Daddy’ll tuck you in.”

He stands up with a groan, cradling you in his muscled arms, and carries you into the bedroom. You’re already drifting off to sleep when he sits you on the bed, carefully stripping you of your ruined underwear and helping you into a clean, sensible pair of cotton undies. He retrieves one of his oversized “Miller Contracting” shirts from his drawer and slips it over your head, helping your weak arms through the sleeves. Brushing your hair away from your face, he places a scruffy kiss to your hairline and helps you lay down onto the cool sheets. He pulls the covers up all the way over your shoulders, the way he knows you like, and smiles to himself when you burrow yourself into the sheets.

He takes a quick shower to rid himself of the grime and grit he collected on his skin during the day, and slips into bed beside you. Another private smile and a small shake of his head when you instinctually turn to face him and snuggle into his warm body, wrapping your arms around the breadth of his upper arm and inhaling the masculine cologne of his body wash.

He reaches across his chest to gently scratch at the top of your head, prompting a dreamy little noise from you. “Just like I said,” he whispers to himself, “a lil’ puppy.”

He wouldn’t have you any other way.

not really sure who to tag for this one, gonna use the same list from my last fic if that's okay!! anyone else please let me know if you'd like to be tagged on my future fics!!

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @gracieispunk @iamasaddie @rebel-held

[penkura]

No One Better

Note: Ahh I didn't know how to go about this, but here it is! It's another in the OP Men as Dads series, but this one is ONLY Zoro and his son. I just had this idea after seeing this OC template on Pinterest, and I had to do it, I couldn't not. I have thoughts floating around for other characters in this same vein of calming down their children, and I will post them separately like this most likely! For now, please enjoy Zoro being a wonderful, soft dad to his little boy. 🥹 I want to have his babies so bad, where is my irl Zoro omg

Your son may be Zoro’s child too, but he’s a big crybaby when either of you are missing from his sight. He could be happily sitting in your lap or on Zoro’s chest, but when Keitaro notices one of you isn’t around, he immediately pouts and begins to cry. At first it’s legitimate tears, until he learns that he can get you with crocodile tears because that’s your baby boy, of course you’re going to run to him when he cries! You figured it out quickly when he instantly started to smile and coo at you the first time he cried crocodile tears to get your attention, Zoro didn’t believe you for a few weeks until your ten-month-old did it to him too. He just loves you and Zoro so much, he wants you both around him all the time.

Zoro is able to calm him down very easily, just by talking to Keitaro gently. An older woman on an island you stopped at was surprised to see how easily Keitaro calmed down and went from nearly sobbing to happy little giggles when Zoro just took him from you and started asking him what was wrong, why was he so upset all of a sudden (he couldn’t see Zoro standing nearby, that was the problem). The woman was highly impressed and said her own husband hadn’t been that good with their children, it made you smile and thank her for the compliment, since you knew Zoro would never.

Keitaro is big enough to sit up on your lap during a party between your crew, the Heart Pirates, and the Kid Pirates when the three of you run into each other. Members of your (now permanently) allied crews coo and fawn over your son, the youngest of all the crews, and he adores the attention he receives from all these new people. Once everyone goes back to drinking and playing games, you choose to stay to the side with Keitaro, keeping him from the alcohol and making sure he stays happy while everything goes on, and he does, looking around at everyone and giggling when he sees Luffy do something funny.

Keitaro is happy and calm until he realizes he doesn’t see Zoro anywhere, making your nearly year old son start to pout and fuss. You try your hardest to calm him down when he really starts to cry and kick his legs because he’s frustrated, quietly speaking to him and placing kisses on his little head to help.

“Hey, little guy,” you feel beyond relived when Zoro comes over, resting his arms on your thighs and getting nose to nose with your son, which starts to calm him down, “What’re you crying for?”

Keitaro slowly calms down, looking at Zoro cross-eyed at first before his eyes fully focus on him, starting to smile and coo again as he puts his tiny hands on Zoro’s face. It makes Zoro smile in return as he takes your son from you, intending to give you a small break.

“Let’s give mama a few minutes to enjoy the party too, yeah?” Zoro gently tosses your son in the air a few times, Keitaro letting out squeals and giggles in response.

You slip away to the girls for a while, Ikkaku giving you a smile and telling you how lucky you are with Zoro, causing you to look back at them with your own smile. Keitaro has his thumb in his mouth as he lays against Zoro’s chest where he can see you, content and slowly falling asleep, while your husband rubs his back to help him relax.

“He’s really the best dad to Keitaro, I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

[onehundredelevven]

Pt. 2 of this

---

“WHERE THE HELL IS HE?”

The nurse flinched, clutching the clipboard as you screamed through another contraction. Your grip on the hospital bed’s side rail could bend metal at this point. Toji, your ever-so-reliable husband, was nowhere to be seen.

“I-I’m sure he’ll be here soon, ma’am,” the nurse stammered, glancing at the door like she half-expected Toji to burst in and make things worse.

Oh, he would.

Another wave of pain rolled through, and you let out a groan so guttural it felt like you were summoning demons. Just as you were about to demand Toji’s head on a stick, the door slammed open.

In he came, looking harried, out of breath, and… holding a bag of snacks?

“Babe, I’m here!” he announced, as if you hadn’t just been swearing his name to the high heavens for the past ten minutes. He tossed the bag onto the counter, ignoring the judgmental stares of the hospital staff.

“Where the hell were you?!” you snapped, glaring at him with all the fury of a woman in labor.

“Vending machine was broken. Had to shake it down,” he replied nonchalantly, cracking his knuckles as if this were a normal day in his life.

“You LEFT ME for SNACKS?”

“To be fair, I got you something, too,” he said, holding up a candy bar like it would earn him redemption.

The nurse cleared her throat awkwardly. “Mr. Fushiguro, your wife is fully dilated. It’s time to—”

“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!” Toji bellowed, panic flashing in his eyes.

“It means we’re having the baby, now,” you snarled.

His face went pale. The man who once faced off against cursed spirits without breaking a sweat now looked like he might faint.

“Wait, wait—like, right now? Right now?”

“Yes, Toji!” you yelled, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him close. “And if you don’t stop acting like an idiot, you’ll be the one who needs medical attention!”

That seemed to snap him out of it. He quickly took his place beside you, gripping your hand as the doctor and nurses prepared for delivery.

Toji was silent for all of three seconds.

“Holy crap, is that the head?”

“YES, Toji!”

“Damn, that’s… that’s kinda gross.”

“Shut UP!”

The delivery room descended into chaos. You screamed, Toji swore, the doctor gave orders, and the baby decided to make its grand entrance in the middle of it all.

“Push, push, push!”

“You’re doing great, babe,” Toji said, though his expression screamed What the hell is happening?

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, this is all YOUR FAULT!”

“Yeah, yeah, blame me later,” he muttered, wiping sweat from your forehead with his sleeve.

And then, at last, the wailing cries of a newborn filled the room.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor announced, holding up the squirming, crying baby for you to see.

Toji froze. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again like he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing.

“…That’s mine?” he asked, voice unusually soft.

“Yes, Toji,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “That’s our son.”

The nurse handed the baby to you, and you cradled him against your chest. Toji leaned over, his large hand brushing against the baby’s tiny fist.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “He’s… perfect.”

For a moment, everything was quiet. The chaos of the delivery room faded away, replaced by the soft coos of your newborn and the warmth of your husband by your side.

Then, of course, Toji broke the silence.

“He looks like me. Poor kid.”

You snorted, exhausted but unable to help laughing. “He’s already got your big head.”

“Hey, watch it,” Toji said, though his smirk betrayed his amusement.

The nurse stepped forward, gently taking the baby to weigh and clean him. Toji followed her like a hawk, grumbling under his breath about how they’d better not drop his kid.

When he returned, holding the now-swaddled baby in his arms, the sight nearly broke you. Toji Fushiguro—big, rough, intimidating Toji—was holding your tiny son like he was made of glass.

“Hey, kid,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I’m your dad. And, uh… I’m gonna try not to screw you up too bad, alright?”

Tears welled up in your eyes again. “Toji…”

He looked at you, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Thanks for this, baby. For him. For everything.”

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “We did this together.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Yeah. And we’re gonna kill it as parents, even if the kid ends up with your weird-ass cravings.”

“Hey!”

The baby let out a tiny, gurgling cry, cutting off your retort. Toji chuckled, bouncing him lightly in his arms.

“Guess he’s hungry already. Kid’s got my appetite.”

As the three of you settled into this new chapter of chaos together, you couldn’t help but think: If Toji could handle vending machines and ramen monstrosities for you, he could handle fatherhood just fine.

[hyunebunx]

saw the soft thoughts post and i hope i’m not late >.< please forgive my typos or grammatical errors love i just woke up 🥹

soooo imagine a lazy saturday morning with hyunjin where you both just wanted to sleep in and cuddle on your shared bet until late in the morning. apparently you had to force yourself to get up because you were getting hungry and hyunjin—being a clingy boyfriend—is sticking to you like glue, and be like “noooooo don’t go!!!” because he doesn’t want to get out of bed but you had to drag him up. he became a pouty baby while being clingyyyy maybe a backhug when you were cooking, a stolen kiss when you were about to eat, helping you wash the dishes but he put some soap bubbles on the tip of your nose, asked you to go out and the spend the rest of the day with him outside maybe stroll around the city, an art museum date, go to a café and watch him sketch/paint you~

ughh to be loved by an artist bro i’m still half asleep so i hope i’m making sense... anyway have a good one deni ! 😽🩷

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff and a loooot of kissing, you've been warned lol

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: my love <3 this is the cutest idea ever!! thank you so so much for trusting me to write it hehe <3 listen, this got quite steamy in the middle, idk what happened i blacked out fgsdgkj can't help myself when it comes to this man apparently. anywayss, hope you'll enjoy it <333

Mornings spent sleeping in with the love of your life, all cuddle up and intertwined, were truly your absolute favorite, a blessing you didn’t take for granted. You were both busy people, with busy lives that accommodated one another like it was the most natural thing in the world, fitting together like the last two pieces needed to complete the puzzle which revealed your love story.

Hyunjin was a heavy sleeper, clinging to every thread, no matter how thin, that transported him to dreamland to rest a little more. Just five more minutes, that turned into ten, fifteen, which ended up stretching into half an hour on good days. On the bad ones, when he was more tired than usual, nothing could get Hyunjin out of bed before the afternoon rolled around. You understood – he needed his rest – but it didn’t make missing him and his bright smile any easier.

You never knew you could miss someone even while they were dozing off next to you, blissfully unaware of how your heart almost jumped out of your chest to slip under his shirt just to feel his beating, desperately searching for confirmation he felt the same. And he did, of course he did, how could he not when your name and sweet face were constantly spinning around in his mind like some sort of live wallpaper, making him unable to concentrate even on simple tasks?

Though right now, neither of you was sleeping, cuddling to Hyunjin’s chest with one leg over his lap as you caught him up on the latest work gossip. You’ve been awake for almost two hours now and for once, the universe seemed to be on your side as no sunray managed to peek through the small crack left in the curtains, allowing you to continue lying around in peace.

“Anyway, so the printer caught on fire and that was Kim’s last straw. She threw all the papers on the floor and then proceeded to plop down on them and cry. I felt so bad.”

Despite his empathetic nature, Hyunjin lets out a short laugh, voice still husky and laced with sleep as his fingers tangled in your hair. “How did she even manage to do that?”

“It wasn’t her fault.” You yawn, hiding your face in his chest briefly. “Jay used the printer last to scan pictures of his cat’s toe beans and I guess some fur got stuck in there and ruined everything.”

He slowly shakes his head, whistling. “See, that’s why I’m a dog person.”

Prompting your chin on his chest, you look at him with raised eyebrows. “Ok Mr. meows at cats because he wants to get into their good graces.”

“That was one time!”

You giggle and he joins soon after, staring deeply into your eyes until the laughter dies down and every thought leaves your mind like it wasn’t even there to begin with. Dark eyes dart between yours and your lips, subconsciously licking his plush bottom one and telling you exactly where his train of thought has stopped. Patience was not one of Hyunjin’s virtues, so the hand in your hair moves lower to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as you quickly adjust, both hands sprawling on his chest to help you lean down and finally connect your lips.

The kiss is slow, lips merging perfectly as neither of you is in any rush, content to take the time to taste each other. However, it quickly gets messy, tongues meeting and complicating the familiar dance, making it hot and breathy but oh so delicious. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you’ve been waiting for this ever since he woke up, constantly thinking about his rosy lips and driving yourself crazy as whatever he was saying faded in and out of hazy memory.

Hyunjin kissed you like no other, like kissing was an art he invented just to practice on you. One he managed to master throughout the years of your relationship but couldn’t get enough of, obsessed with the idea of improving and finding another unexplored corner he could take over and claim as his own.

A cold hand slides easily under your top, gripping at your waist in an effort to bring you closer, almost causing your arms to give out. You break away from the kiss and Hyunjin whines, displeased but still helps you settle on top of him more comfortably, guiding your body as you straddle his hips.

This new position allows for better access to what you’re both desiring, with Hyunjin wasting no more time in bringing you back down again, capturing your lips. With both hands on exposed thighs, the shirt he gave you to sleep in barely covering anything, Hyunjin loses himself in the taste of you, licking into your mouth and lightly biting on your bottom lip as your hands move lower over his stomach, needing to discard him of the annoying clothing.

You make to pull away but his lips follow, causing him to sit up and move one of his hands on the small of your back for support, not allowing you to slip away from him. With a mind of their own, your hands quickly abandon his shirt and move around his shoulders, meeting at his nape to deepen the kiss and lick at his bottom lip which he appreciates by the groan he lets out.

You feel him everywhere, hands groping and squeezing every bit of your body in the exact way he knew you loved, turning you to putty into his hold. By now, his dark hair is a mess from all the pulling – your fingers needed something to anchor onto.

“Hyun.” You inhale deeply, his lips moving down your jaw, restless.

“Yeah, baby?” He mumbles, barely hearing you.

“Breakfast.” You gasp out as he lightly bites the skin, quick to soothe it with his tongue. “I’m hungry.” Mostly true, you’ve been lying here for hours after all, who wouldn’t be hungry? But also because you knew if you didn’t stop him now, neither of you would get to eat anything before dinner time rolls around.

Hyunjin pauses, hot breath fanning your neck as he slowly tilts his head to look at you, his wet and swollen lips distracting. He’s speechless for a moment, almost like he can’t believe you interrupted him, like a child whose favorite toy is abruptly taken away. When it clicks in his head you are actually serious, Hyunjin barely registers the way you peck his lips as he rolls his eyes.

“Wow, ok connoisseur of romance. What a way to ruin the moment.”

You giggle as he gently lays you down on your back, knowing he could never be truly upset, no matter what kind of stunt you pull. He was most likely thankful you said something, surely hungry himself.

Scooting towards the end of the bed, your feet barely get to touch the hardwood floor before Hyunjin’s arms circle your middle once again, pulling you to his warm chest without a word.

“No, don’t go!” He whines, burring his head in your shoulder in protest.

Your heart squeezes in your chest, pounding from all the love you carried for your other half, the man you couldn’t imagine life without.

“Baby.” You coo, softly running your fingers over his hands on your stomach in a way to coax him. “How am I supposed to cook us breakfast otherwise?”

Hyunjin sighs, squeezing you to his chest for two more heartbeats before releasing his hold and allowing you to stand up. When you turn to face him, one of his big hands has already brought yours to his lips to plant a feather like kiss on your knuckles.

“Don’t go without me.” He mumbles, pouting slightly, and you almost explode like a piñata, staining him with your love and adoration that will surely trap him in this apartment for days trying to get it out. Not like he’d ever mind if that were possible, proudly showing off and talking about your feelings for him to anyone who’d listen, right after talking their ear off about the love he holds for you.

So, that morning, you waddle together to the kitchen like two penguins with Hyunjin refusing to stop hugging you from behind even when you started cooking. And after that, spoon feeding you on the counter and forgetting all about his needs until you threatened to take away his cuddles.

He caved in immediately.

[wooziorgans]

How will ji take care of his pregnant female wife ll pregnant male omega hubby

— pregnancy w jihoon

…. i am not an omega verse kind of guy so this is just how jihoon takes care of his pregnant partner. w some texts bcs yeah.

warnings: childbirth. suggestive. pregnancy. all that fun stuff. dilf jihoon. girl dad jihoon.

definitely super overwhelmed the SECOND you find out your expecting but so so sooo happy and excited to start a family with you.

it was definitely unexpected.

after your honeymoon, you started to feel a bit sick, and jihoon just thought it was the food not sitting well with you, or the different germs from traveling catching up. but then you were late and the hot flashes started and you had a suspicion.

while he was at work, you went to the store and bought one of each kind of pregnancy test, just to make sure. all of them came back positive.

when jihoon gets home, he finds you curled up on the couch with a mountain of blankets, which isn’t unusual.

but then he sees tear tracks on your face and he’s immediately worried. he sits beside you and you reach for his hand, but he sees you smiling softly and then it’s just pure confusion.

“baby, what’s going on? you were crying. are you okay?” he wipes at your the remnants of your tears with his thumbs. his brows are furrowed and he looks so worried about you that it makes you suddenly super emotional. god damn hormones.

“ji, i’m pregnant.” is all you say to him, and he feels like he’s going to pass out.

he starts crying almost instantaneously, and the tears don’t stop for a good ten minutes.

you haven’t seen him this choked up since he read his vows at your wedding, and this might be worse in terms of intensity. it makes you emotional, and so you both just cry in each other’s arms

when he calms down, he’s peppering your face with kisses, holding you close as he tells you he loves you over and over and over.

you’ve talked about having kids before, ands it’s always just been a kind of “if it happens, it happens” thing, even if jihoon started dreaming about having a family with you a year into your relationship.

okay maybe jihoon has wanted this more than he let on.

every preventative measure to make sure you didn’t get pregnant wasn’t one hundred percent, and it’s not like you stopped them. but you did spend days of your honeymoon going at it. and the time difference fucked both of you up, and then the pure need for each other lasted another week after your honeymoon.

so it was quite likely that you would’ve gotten pregnant, given the circumstances.

jihoon all but carried you to bed that night, cuddling with you all night long as you discuss your worries for the next chapter of your life together. his hand rubs soft circles on your stomach the whole time.

jihoon sits with you the next morning as you call the make a doctors appointment.

he’s with you at every appointment, wanting to make sure both you and the baby are healthy.

jihoon is no stranger to cooking; he cooks often and he’s quite good at it. but now he’s cooking every meal for you, making sure you eat well. he says it’s because you need to rest and stay off your feet, but really, he just wants to take care of you.

it eases his anxiety around being a dad if you let him control certain things like meals, so you let him.

pregnancy is weird though. you can’t eat certain foods that you used to love, and crave combinations you would’ve never imagined eating together before.

jihoon just indulges you; he’ll pick up your weird food combinations for you and when you suddenly feel queasy after he sets a plate of food in front of you, he’ll just kiss your forehead and make you something you can eat.

as you get further along, he checks in with you more often. he’ll call you when he has free time and starts to work from home more often.

as soon as you start to show, it’s like his hand never leaves your stomach. he rubs it, puts his head on it, kisses it.

the first time he feels the baby kick, he’s over the moon. so so so happy. it makes you cry a little.

he gives you massages all the time, even on days where you’re not that sore. definitely the kind of partner to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.

neither of you were bothered by knowing the gender of your baby, but when it’s time for the appointment, jihoon’s practically vibrating in his seat.

you get the ultrasound and learn you’re having a girl, and jihoon immediately spends hours learning how to braid hair.

he’s so knowledgeable on pregnancy. he spends so much time researching the best ways to support you and the baby. he calls his mom at least once a week to ask questions.

pregnancy sex goes so fucking crazy with this man. he’ll spend all evening making you feel good out of pure appreciation for all that you’re doing. if the position you’re in isn’t working, he’s putting more pillows under your back to make sure you’re comfortable.

decorating the nursery with you is his favourite thing ever. you both decided it would be better to put crib in your room for the first little bit just so the baby is close. he buys a spare crib and changing table for his studio aswell.

he stocks up on all the things you need months in advance.

he’ll lift your bump up to give your back a few minutes of relief. he’s strong, so it’s nothing for him.

a month before your due date, he goes on hiatus to make sure you’re absolutely taken care of. he never leaves your side, opting to order things you need instead of going outside for them.

the second your water breaks and the contractions start, he’s dialling every single member until one of them picks up so they can give you a ride to the hospital. even thought it’s four in the morning, he does not care.

eventually seungcheol picks up, and rushes over. jihoon swears he’s not panicking, but he hates seeing you in pain, even if the result of that pain is something you’ve both been waiting for.

in the hospital, he’s holding your hand, letting you squeeze the hell out of it with each contraction. once you’re in the hospital, his anxiety eases up because you’re surrounded by professionals. now he can focus on you and relieving your anxiety.

after hours and hours of contractions, you finally go into labour. jihoon is right there with you, holding your hand as he tells you that you’re doing so good. just a little bit more.

when your daughter is finally here, jihoon cries. seungcheol comes back with the bag jihoon left in the midst of the chaos, at a more reasonable time after getting a few more hours of sleep. seungcheol gets to witness jihoon holding his daughter for the first time, shirt discarded for some skin to skin contact.

jihoon had read that skin to skin contact was important for bonding, and the second he’s able to hold your daughter, his shirt is gone. once he knows you’re doing okay, all he feels is joy.

postpartum, he does everything he can to make sure you’re okay. the first few days spent in the hospital, jihoon doesn’t leave you for a single moment. your emotions are quite strewn, mostly joy, but there’s some issues adjusting to no longer being pregnant.

jihoon takes most of the load, though you still need to care for your daughter. one by one, the members visit you in the hospital to make sure both of you are doing okay.

jihoon’s parents come to help you out when it’s finally time to take the baby home. it gives you a little bit of time to relax with each other and recover. the way his mom coos at your daughter is so heart warming. his father just looks proud of both of you.

jihoon is surprisingly good at being a dad right out of the gate. it takes him a while to figure out what your daughter needs but once he has a solid list to go through, he’s efficient. he takes care of her when she cries in the night, whispering to you softly. “i’ve got it, baby. go back to sleep.” you can’t fall back asleep until he’s back in bed, baby peacefully back in her crib.

fatherhood looks good on jihoon. you often find him passed out on the couch, shirt somewhere else with your daughter on his chest. his hands are always so carefully holding her, supporting her neck. he’s started wearing his glasses more often. even though you just gave birth, the prospect of another child isn’t off the table when your husband looks like that.

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

00.1. the first time you saw quinn hughes.

➴ chapter warnings: mentions of shitty family.

➴ word count: 1.08k

💌 from me to you: this has been sitting on my drafts for days because i wasn’t brave enough to post it. but this story is very important to me and i promised myself i’d stop doubting what i write and just go for it. i hope with all my heart u guys like this ♡

౨ৎ

2013, SEPTEMBER.

THE first time you saw Quinn Hughes you were eleven years old.

Your family had just bought the house next to his, a beautiful four bedroom house with lots of space and a beautiful backyard— the perfect house for a family of four.

It was a week after you all settled in, your Dad as a Sports Medicine Physician working for a Hockey Canadian team, the Toronto Maple Leafs— the whole reason why you moved in the first place— your Mom as a Editor-in-Chief for the Fashion magazine, one of Canada's leading fashion publications, featuring content related to fashion, beauty, culture, and modeling and your brother, Peter, in High School as a freshman.

You were sitting on your porch, while you waited for Peter to be back so you could convince him to play football with you. He always said no, but you didn't give up. A few minutes later, Peter got out of your neighbor’s house, alongside another boy, who was slightly shorter than Peter.

You watched as they both walked towards your house, talking about something you couldn’t hear. You remember being so enamored with the sight of the boy that you couldn’t stop fidgeting your hands.

They stopped right in front of you, and while Peter was ready to ignore you and move on with his day— he’d been doing that more and more since he started High School— the other boy stopped and looked right at you.

“You didn’t tell me you have a sister.” The boy said, looking at your brother for a second before turning back at you.

“Oh, yeah,” Peter shrugged. “That’s Madison. She’s ten.”

“I’m eleven,” you corrected, voice soft and quiet.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, grabbing his keys so he could open the front door.

“Can you play with me now?” You asked, getting up from your seat, finally noticing how tall this other boy was. “I have the ball with me already.” You pointed at the ball that sat on the same couch you were also sitting not a minute ago.

“No, Madison. I’m with Quinn now.” Peter said, pointing at the boy beside him, who was now frowning at your brother.

Quinn. That’s a funny name, you remember thinking.

“We can play with her, I don’t mind—” the boy, Quinn, said, already reaching for the ball.

“Nah, bro. She’s annoying as hell. Once you pick that ball up, you won’t be able to let it go for like, three hours.” Peter replied, already opening the door.

You felt yourself tearing up and even though you hated crying in front of your brother, you couldn’t help it. Growing up, he was your best friend. Your hero even, when your parents decided that arguing during dinner, in front of their children, was a nice thing to do and he would make funny faces at you across the table just so you could laugh. When he pretended to yell at the monster under your bed or when he let you paint his nails with your pink nail polish.

But somewhere between turning fifteen and entering High School, he changed. And you hated every inch of this new Peter Carter.

He entered the house, shouting something, probably announcing to your mom that he was home. And you stood there, looking at your hands.

“Next time, I’ll play with you, okay?” Quinn, who was still standing in front of you, hesitated, looking as devastated as ever.

You felt embarrassed and you got out of there as fast as you could, running back inside and nestling yourself between your covers and plushies.

౨ৎ

YOU didn’t think Quinn had meant what he had said the other day, so you were surprised to see that he showed up the next morning, when both of your parents were at work and Peter was asleep in his bedroom upstairs.

“Hey,” he greeted you, stepping on your backyard patio and looking around. “Nice place you got here. We can play for a long time without risking throwing the ball in Mrs. Wright window.”

You giggled, remembering Mrs. Wright's funny wig.

“I’m Quinn Hughes.” He introduced himself after a while.

“I know that,” you whispered, watching as he laughed. “How old are you?”

“I’m thirteen, but I turn fourteen on October 14th,” he said. “You’re eleven, right?”

“Yes. My birthday was in February. I got this ball,” you raised the ball you were holding so he could see it better. It had your name on it. “And I also got new clothes for my plushies.”

“That sounds nice,” he nodded. “I’ll probably get a new stick on my birthday.”

“Why would you need a stick?” You asked, not sure what he could do with a stick. A tree’s stick. At least that’s what you thought a stick was.

Maybe he wants to put it on his fireplace.

“I play Hockey,” he answered and you still didn’t understand. The only thing you knew about Hockey was that it was the reason you and your family moved to Toronto. So it probably wasn’t a good thing. “And I need a new one.”

“Well, if it makes you happy, then I guess it’s fine,” you shrugged, poking your ball. “But that will probably be boring. You should ask for something cooler.”

He laughed again, sitting on the grass beside you. “I’ll think about that. Thank you for your advice.”

You puffed your chest a little, happy to feel useful for once.

That morning, you and Quinn didn’t end up playing; instead, you talked for hours, with you both asking each other questions about literally everything. From what’s your favorite color to what you wanna be when you grow up.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest every time you stared into his blue eyes that sometimes morphed into a light green shade, but you didn’t understand why. Quinn was being nice, he was treating you just like Peter did before you moved to Toronto and it felt so, so nice.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” You asked, right before he left for lunch at his house.

“I think so.” He smiled, quickly patting you on the head. He gave you a short wave before moving back to his home.

And you just stood there, counting the seconds so that maybe tomorrow would come faster, and you’d finally have a friend again.

[steddieas-shegoes]

7:28

this post by @footburn inspired me in that 'you must type this out before you can do anything else' way so here. this was literally from brain to computer in about 20 minutes.

rated m this is literally just the softest and sweetest fluff, with some implied sexual content discussed

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

"Eds."

"Hm?"

Eddie's sleepy voice whispered against Steve's ear, his breath sending a shiver down his spine.

Steve turned his head as his hand reached over to cup the back of Eddie's head, his fingers gently gripping the frizzy strands of hair sticking out.

"Gotta get up," Steve mumbled.

The alarm clock would be going off in two minutes, a stark reminder that the real world was just outside of their bedroom and unfortunately required putting on clothes and going to work.

If he could, he'd stay like this all day, every day, for the rest of their lives.

Next to Eddie, on top of Eddie, under Eddie, any way he could possibly have him. As long as the sunlight kept streaming through the window and the warmth of Eddie's soft, sleepy smile was in view, Steve would be happy.

"Mm-mm," Eddie shook his head once, nuzzling closer so his next exhale made Steve's eyes flutter closed.

"I have to open today."

Eddie's hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing once before falling away again.

"Stupid."

"What is, baby?" Steve smirked as he watched Eddie's brows furrow as he finally started to wake up.

"Work."

Eddie's eyes fluttered open.

The alarm clock switched to 7:29.

"Call out," Eddie's eyes blinked slowly.

"I can't. It's just me today. Robs would kill me."

"But it'll kill me to watch you get out of bed," Eddie pouted.

Steve sat up, leaning on his elbow, and looked down at Eddie.

Eddie looked back up at him with those wide eyes, bottom lip out like it would actually convince Steve to stay.

The alarm clock showed 7:30.

Steve reached over to shut off the alarm as soon as it started beeping.

He leaned down to kiss his head, then his heart tattoo, then the scar on his side.

"Pleeeease?" Eddie whined. "I have today off. We could sleep and not sleep."

Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but want to give in.

They had so few days like this: where one of them didn't wake up screaming or crying from a nightmare, where they weren't in pain the moment their eyes opened, where someone wasn't needing them the moment the sun rose.

It was tempting to take advantage of this moment, of this day, see where it would lead if Steve just settled back down in bed, see if they were able to sleep for another couple of hours.

Maybe wake up with lips against skin, or hands against chests or thighs.

Maybe eat breakfast in bed and make more than one type of mess.

Maybe only get up to take a shower together, scrub off the stickiness of syrup and body fluids.

Or maybe they'd get a call in 15 minutes from Dustin, who should know better than to call before ten in the morning on weekends, but does anyway because he won't admit that he misses them.

Maybe Robin would show up to shove Steve out the door for the shift he's supposed to work, pissed that he'd even try to get out of it.

Maybe Wayne would finally remember to bring that cake recipe he found in an old family cookbook and insist on helping him make it since he knows the secret.

Or maybe Steve would kiss Eddie's lips once before getting up and doing the thing he doesn't want to do today so they can enjoy their peace tomorrow.

Maybe Steve can look at the alarm clock that now reads 7:31 and think about how sometimes love is getting out of a cozy bed and going to work so you have money to pay for those concert tickets that are gonna be the best birthday present he's ever gotten.

"Love you so much, Eds," Steve whispers as he pulls away from Eddie's mouth, already longing for another kiss.

"Love you too, sweetheart. Bring ya lunch?" Eddie's eyes were getting heavy again as he turned his head into the sheets, breathing in the scent of Steve, of them.

"See you then."

At 7:32, Steve managed to go into the bathroom to shower and get ready for his day.

At 7:56, Steve kissed Eddie's forehead as he slept, careful not to wake him.

At 8:02, Steve left a note for Eddie on his way out the door, the same note he wrote for him every morning, left on his favorite mug so he wouldn't miss it when he made his coffee.

Love you, miss you, want you - your Stevie

[cyborg-franky]

Comforting their partner

I think I needed this myself, who knows.

MODERN AU - SFW Ace x GN Reader Marco x GN Reader Rosi/Corazon x GN Reader

Ace

You’d been exchanging texts with Ace all day, and he knew you weren’t in a good place—stressed, tired, and burnt out. He spent most of his day sending you pictures of Stefan, his father's dog, and a large selection of dumb selfies and memes he’d collected.

It made you smile, made everything just a little less heavy to know he was right there for you even if you couldn't see him. You were so swamped with your chores and work that free time slipped through your fingers, leaving you further fatigued. 

You lay in bed, staring at your TV, feeling so sorry for yourself. Things just kept piling up, and you were about to burst from how much you stuffed down and pushed aside. Tears prick the corner of your eyes. You bit your lip, not wanting to just burst into tears. You looked at your phone and saw nothing. Ace hadn’t replied in over ten minutes.

Maybe he’d finally passed out or was playing another game with his brothers.

You could feel the sadness creeping in until there was a tapping on your window. You opened your eyes and stared at your curtains. The same tapping happened again, and you sat up, pulling them open and almost jumping. 

Ace was outside your window, having climbed the tree. He was waving with a huge grin on his face.

“The fuck, Ace?” you huffed at him when you opened the window, and he slid in, getting his foot stuck and falling onto the bed below with a laugh and looking up at you. “Well, sounded like you needed a shoulder to cry on,” he shrugged from where he was making himself comfortable on your bed, kicking off his boots. Both of you wincing when they thudded to the floor. 

You sighed, your anger melting away as he held his arms up. He made grabby hands as you slowly leaned in, letting Ace grab you and pull you down against him. He cuddled you up to his side, your head against his chest, and you heard the rumble of his voice and his heartbeat. You closed your eyes when you felt fingers running through your hair.

“You wanna talk about it some more?” he asked, and you shook your head, draping an arm over his waist and sighing, breathing in his smell. It was always comforting, like a warm fire on a cold night.

“Alright, wanna watch funny videos?” he suggested, and you nodded. He got comfy, arm around you, and phone in a position you could both watch. 

The night ended up in your boyfriend's arms, just the two of you, silly videos to entertain you and take you away from your troubled thoughts.

Marco

He’d been texting you when he got a spare moment at work and worried about how you felt. He felt bad he couldn’t duck out of work to come, scoop you up in his arms, and kiss the bad thoughts away.

But he listened to you, let you vent, and even gave advice when you asked for it.

Thanks to Marco, you were currently watching a comfort show, curled up on the sofa and cuddled up in blankets as you tried to let the show distract you enough. Every so often, you’d message him. He checked in on his breaks, and although Marco wasn’t here with you, you felt connected and cared for anyway. He spoke so soothingly and calmly, like a soft breeze.

It was evening by the time he came over, knocking on the door andamiling at you, his half-lidded eyes full of love as he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Come on, let's go for a ride,” he said, his car still running on the drive. You could hear his music faintly from the open window.

“Okay, where?” you asked as you grabbed your phone and keys and locked up. “Just around.” 

The wind ran through your hair, his hand on your thigh, and you both listened to your music as you cruised through the peaceful evening. You were just happy in one another's company, letting the night and his comforting aura chase away the sadness. 

He knew how much you needed to get away from the noise of the world around you, driving a little ways from the city, where the stars twinkled in the sky brighter than you were used to.

You soon pulled up to a late-night food place. Marco killed the engine, the music shutting off as he nodded for you to get out. “Let's get something to eat, or at least a coffee, yoi.” Marco smiled at you before getting out of the car.

Sitting in a quiet corner of the cafe, you both shared a plate of fries, not feeling super hungry. You sipped your drink of choice as he drank his coffee.

“So, want to tell me about what happened today?” he asked, his hand reaching across the table to find yours. The weight of his larger hand on yours calmed your jumbled mind enough to pick through the mental clutter. “Well… so this happened today, and I just am struggling with it… It’s silly though.” You said with a dry chuckle, thinking he would judge you for how dumb it was, how it didn’t feel like a real problem.

“Hey,” he squeezed your hand. “If it upset you, it’s not silly, okay?” You paused, thinking his words over, seeing the warmth of his smile. “Okay,” you nodded and talked it out with him.

Rosinante

He knew you’d had a rough time at work today; everything that could go wrong had. You were tired, exhausted, and struggling to deal with it. You messaged him on your lunch break, not wanting to vocalize what was wrong, just taking comfort in his messages.

All the heart emojis and silly selfies of him making a half-heart with his fingers, his big charming grin filling the screen as he beamed brightly. You sent one back, completing the heart he was sweet.

When you got home, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders, the bad feelings dragging you down, making your feet feel heavier. You opened the door and took a deep breath, trying to feel better about just being home and away from the job that stressed you out,

“Hey!” Rosi said, a smile on his handsome face as he stood up, towering over you. He pulled you into a hug, keeping you close and not letting go. He didn’t want to pull away first. He wanted to give you the hug you needed.

When you managed to fight the urge to cry, you peered up at him and got a kiss on the forehead.

“I have something to cheer you up…” He said with a wink. Pulling away, he nodded to the basket on the table.

You looked through it: comfort snacks you loved, a movie you wanted to see for ages, and other little bits and pieces that he knew you loved, including a plushie you held to your chest and smiled back at him. “Thank you so much, Rosi. I love you.” I love you too, and I hope it helps even a little!

You spent the evening cuddled on the sofa, happily eating your snacks, wrapped in a blanket, watching the movie he’d bought. Rosi gently rubbed your leg, trailing fingertips up and down your skin to keep you relaxed and calm.

He knew you’d talk about it when you were ready. He was never the type to push or ask, knowing that when you felt up to it, you’d talk it out with him, and when you were ready to share, he was ready to help you. He took your hand and brought it to his face, kissing your knuckles. “How do you feel?”

“Much better, thank you.”

[sexsylexi]

Better late than never

Wally West x reader

It was very likely for him to forget. Wally West had a lot on his plate – superhero duties, training with the Team, and his never-ending thirst for adventure. But when it came to you, you always came first. You were his anchor, his calm in the midst of chaos. Which is why, when he promised to take you out for your anniversary, he swore he wouldn’t be late. Again.

You waited at the restaurant, dressed in your best. The evening light cast soft shadows through the window, and you tapped your fingers against the table, trying to stay calm. Ten minutes turned into twenty, then thirty, and the tiny pinpricks of disappointment began to grow. The server passed by, offering a sympathetic smile that only made things worse. By the time an hour had gone by, you were done.

He was late. Again. Your chest tightened as you gathered your things, leaving a note for the server to send Wally your way when he finally showed up – if he ever did. You could feel the sting of tears in your eyes, but you blinked them away. You were not going to cry over this. Not again.

Wally felt the wind whip past his ears as he ran, each step pounding with urgency. He was late. He knew he was late. And this time, it wasn’t just a few minutes. He skidded to a stop outside the restaurant, breathless but hopeful. But the moment he stepped inside, his heart sank. You weren’t there.

He looked around frantically, searching for your familiar face, but all he found was an empty chair, an untouched glass of water, and a note left with the server. He grabbed it, barely able to focus on the words:

“Went back to my parents' house. I’m done waiting, Wally.”

The words cut deeper than any villain's blow. He cursed under his breath, blaming the latest mission for keeping him so long, but he knew that was only part of it. He always thought he had more time, that he could make it up to you somehow. But time wasn’t something he could race against forever.

Without another thought, he sped off, heading straight for your parents' house. The flowers he had picked up along the way were still clutched tightly in his hand, a small bouquet of wildflowers – your favorite. He could only hope he wasn’t too late.

---

You sat on the porch of your parents’ house, a cup of tea cooling in your hands as you stared out into the fading sunset. The sound of crickets filled the air, but your mind was elsewhere. You felt a familiar ache in your chest, one that came from loving someone who was always just out of reach.

Your mother had offered kind words, telling you that Wally was a good man and that he loved you, but right now, it didn’t feel like enough. You knew Wally’s heart was in the right place. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough to hold on to when you felt like you were always the second choice.

Just as you were about to head inside, a gust of wind blew past you, and there he was – Wally, looking slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed, and a hopeful expression in his eyes. He held a small bouquet of wildflowers in his hands, slightly crushed from his speed but still beautiful.

“Y/N,” he panted, trying to catch his breath. “I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You stared at him, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. “You’re late,” you said simply, not bothering to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“I know, I know,” he pleaded, taking a step closer, “I tried to make it on time, I swear. But there was a mission and–”

“There’s always a mission, Wally!” you interrupted, the frustration boiling over. “There’s always something that keeps you away. And I understand that you’re a hero, I really do, but…when does it end? When do I get to come first?”

His face fell, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But then he knelt down, holding out the flowers with a sincerity that made your heart ache. “I don’t know when it ends,” he said quietly, his green eyes filled with regret. “But I know I want you to be the first, always. I’m just…still figuring out how to balance everything.”

You sighed, the anger and hurt still fresh, but the sight of him looking so vulnerable, so earnest, softened you. “It’s not that I don’t understand, Wally. It’s that I’m tired of feeling like I’m always waiting.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. And you shouldn’t have to wait. I don’t want you to wait.” He held the flowers out a little further. “I got these for you. I know they’re just flowers, and I know they don’t make up for me being late, but…they’re your favorites.”

You looked at the flowers, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “They’re a little crushed,” you teased.

He laughed, a nervous, relieved sound. “Yeah, well, I was in a bit of a rush.”

You took the flowers from his hand, feeling the soft petals under your fingers. “You always are.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “I promise I’ll do better. I want to do better. Not just for you, but for us.”

You met his eyes, searching for any sign that he didn’t mean it, but all you saw was the boy you had fallen in love with – the boy who always wanted to do the right thing, even when he messed up. And maybe that was enough for now.

“Alright,” you said softly. “But this is your last chance, Wally. I mean it.”

His face broke into a grin, and he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair. “I promise, Y/N. I won’t let you down.”

You leaned into his embrace, letting out a sigh. “You better not,” you murmured, closing your eyes as the familiar warmth of his arms wrapped around you.

After a moment, he pulled back just enough to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “So, how about we go celebrate our anniversary? I know I’m late, but…better late than never, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his persistence. “Alright, speedster. But this time, no more running off. Deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

And as you stood there, under the soft glow of the porch light with Wally by your side, you realized that maybe some things were worth waiting for – especially when they came with flowers, a sincere apology, and a boy who was always trying his best to keep up with you.

The evening had cooled as Wally and you walked side by side through your parents' neighbourhood. The wildflowers were tucked safely in your hand, a gentle reminder of the bond you shared with Wally despite his lateness.

“Where are we headed?” you asked, trying to shift the mood back to a more positive note.

Wally’s eyes lit up. “I figured we could go somewhere that’s special to us. Remember that little ice cream parlor we used to go to? The one with the blue roof and the old-fashioned jukebox?”

You smiled at the memory. “Of course. I haven’t been there in ages. Are you sure it’s still open?”

“Only one way to find out,” he said with a grin. “Come on.”

As you walked together, the silence between you was comfortable, not strained. Wally’s hand brushed against yours, and you let him hold it. The familiar warmth of his touch was soothing, and despite the earlier disappointment, you felt a spark of excitement.

The ice cream parlor came into view, its quaint charm still intact. The blue roof was faded but welcoming, and the flickering neon sign promised a scoop of nostalgia. Wally held the door open for you, a gesture that felt both familiar and reassuring.

Inside, the smell of waffle cones and vanilla greeted you like an old friend. The parlor was as you remembered it: cozy booths, a small counter with a glass display filled with colorful flavors, and the jukebox playing softly in the corner.

You slid into a booth, and Wally joined you, slipping into the opposite side with a playful grin. “So, what’s your flavor tonight? I’m thinking of going wild and ordering the triple chocolate chip.”

You laughed. “Sounds about right. I think I’ll go for something more classic—mint chocolate chip.”

Wally waved to the server, who greeted him with a friendly smile. “Two scoops of mint chocolate chip and one of triple chocolate chip, please.”

As the server went to get your order, Wally leaned back in the booth, his eyes locked on yours. “You know, I was thinking. If I’d been on time, I would have taken you to that fancy restaurant downtown. But honestly, this feels right. This is us.”

You looked around the parlor, taking in its nostalgic charm. “It does feel right. Sometimes it’s not about the fancy places but about the simple moments we share.”

Wally’s smile softened. “I’m really sorry I messed up tonight. I never want to take these moments for granted.”

Before you could respond, the server returned with your ice cream. Wally immediately dove into his triple chocolate chip with gusto. You took your first bite of the mint chocolate chip and closed your eyes, savoring the taste.

“I’ve missed this,” you said, looking at Wally. “And not just the ice cream. I’ve missed us.”

He nodded, his expression serious but tender. “Me too. I’ve been so focused on trying to keep up with everything that I forgot to slow down and appreciate what I have. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. “We just have to find a balance. I know it’s not easy, but I believe we can make it work.”

Wally’s eyes softened with gratitude. “I’m going to do my best. For us. I promise.”

The rest of the evening passed with lighthearted chatter and laughter. You both indulged in more ice cream than was probably wise, but it didn’t matter. The joy of being together again, of sharing simple pleasures, made everything else fade into the background.

When you finally stepped outside, the night air was crisp, and the stars shone brightly above. Wally walked you back to your parents’ house, his arm around your shoulders, his warmth comforting.

At the doorstep, he paused and took a deep breath, looking at you with an expression of hope and sincerity. “Y/N, I know I’m not perfect. I know I mess up sometimes. But I’m willing to work on it, to be better. Because you’re worth it.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. “And you’re worth it too, Wally. We just have to keep reminding each other of that.”

He leaned in and kissed you softly, his lips warm and reassuring against yours. “Happy anniversary, Y/N.”

You pulled back, looking up at him with a smile. “Happy anniversary, Wally.”

As you pushed the door open and stepped inside, you felt a renewed sense of hope. The challenges of your relationship were far from over, but for tonight, you allowed yourself to enjoy the peace and happiness that came with simply being together.