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Hi, I was thinking about a prompt where Sam and Tara remember it's their mom's birthday. Sam feeling guilty that Christina isn't in Tara's life because of her and just thinking about that all day. Tara being moody all day because it's reminding her of how poorly Christina treated her and bringing up feelings she tries to bury. Sam thinking Tara's in a bad mood because of Sam. Then a big talk where they both just mutually breakdown and blubber to each other.
Also love your writing :)
âCutsâ
went a little off the tracks.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââ-
âI donât love you. I donât love you. I donât love you,â Tara whispered, tightly shutting her eyes.
She was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the condensation from the steamy shower dripping down the glass. She found it easier to talk to herself when she couldnât see her reflection staring back.
It was August twenty-second. A muggy, rainy day. It was her motherâs birthday.
Well, she wasnât her mother, just by blood. But Sam said that didnât matter because the family could be chosen. Like how the twins were like her siblings, Gale and Kirby, her aunts.
But that didnât wash away the years of abuse and neglect. It didnât remove the scars permanently etched into her skin and heart.
She wishes that Christina didnât have such a hold on her. She hoped to let go of the past and move on like Sam had done. Tara honestly had no idea how her big sister had done it. It was like Christina was a leech, sucking the life out of Tara no matter where she went.
It is only on your motherâs birthday do you realize that you have no idea who your mother truly is.
It was funny. She hadnât felt like she had a mother for years. There was a period when she didnât have a sister either, where she learned she couldnât depend on anybody. People will always leave and find a better thing. Tara was never that thing- she was the stepping stone that led people to what they wanted.
Her mother was something she could never quite get over. Her therapist had told her that she had been grieving the loss of a mother for years, unknowingly. Every time Tara felt healed from her grief, her mother crawled back, infecting every part of her. A motherâs love should be warm and stable. Christina had bruised Tara enough to know that love was cruel and cold.
She knows that at some point, she had to put down the shovel she used to bury her relationship with her mother. But it was as if the shovel was glued to her hands, and she couldnât stop digging until nothing was left. Yet there she was, still searching in hopes that one day, she wouldnât have to love her mother anymore.
It wasnât love. But it was. There was nothing left for Tara to hold onto. She hadnât seen her mother in years. She hadnât felt loved by her mother in a decade. So why did she need to hold on so tightly to someone who didnât care? She had scars across her back and chin from nights of abuse, and her heart was a pulverized piece of flesh that didnât beat right.
Please tell me what I did wrong. Please tell me what I must do to fix this. Iâm sorry. I want you to be proud of me. I want you to be my mother again. Why donât you want me? Iâm sorry I cried a lot. Iâm sorry that Sam left. Iâm sorry you were stuck with me. Please love me again. Please.
There was no reason to love Christina Carpenter. There was nothing to salvage. But she couldnât fucking let go.
It was her mother. Her mommy. The person who birthed her and helped raise her for a little bit. Blood of her blood. Kin of her kin.
Reaching over, Tara wiped away the condensation on the mirror, gasping at the person she saw.
Christina Carpenter stared back at her, sad eyes and all.
One could never run far enough from the truth, the person they were meant to be. And even though Tara tried her hardest to forget about her mother, she still found her wherever she went.
âIâm sorry, Mom. I canât love you how I want to. You canât love me how I need you to. I guess weâre stuck here again. Alone and estranged,â she whispered, touching the warm glass.
Her mother didnât say anything. She didnât even touch Tara back. They just stood there, watching each other. Waiting for one of them to let go.
Neither did.
ââ-
Tara was taking a long time in the shower. But she was allowed to. It was their motherâs birthday anyway.
Sam wasnât stupid. She saw the regression of her sister in the days leading up to this date. Tara had become more irritable and closed off and slept less. More often than not, Sam would wake up and find her little sister staring out the window- waiting for something that would never come.
If she was honest, Sam didnât quite understand the need Tara had to be loved by someone who didnât want her. Christina Carpenter couldnât care for anyone but herself. She didnât love or need anybody but herself- maybe alcohol, but thatâs it. Sam learned that at the age of eight, her parents were not trustworthy people. They were not people that she could depend on.
It was harder for Tara. Sam took over and tried to erase the memories and image of Christina in her little sisterâs head- but she couldn't do a good enough job for Tara to forget. She wished she could shake Tara by her shoulders and scream that you donât need her! Iâm here now! You need me! Not her!
But she couldnât. It wouldnât be effective. And it wouldnât be enough. It was hard for Sam to admit that Tara needed more than her. More than her big sister. More than the person who loved her and cared for her when nobody else could.
Sam would tear apart Christina if it helped Taraâs heart beat better. She would kill her, quick and easy, if that were what Tara wanted. Sure, Christina was her mother too, but she was dead to Sam. That woman was nothing but the rotting corpse that plagued her sisterâs waking nightmares and reality.
She knows Tara has been in Christinaâs fist since they were little- and she knows theyâre both bound to their mother by blood. But it was all relative. Tara didnât owe her mother shit, and Sam desperately wished she could shake that into her little sister.
Here and now, Sam was here. Not their mother. Sam cared for Tara, kept her warm and fed, and put a roof over their heads. She loved Tara like Christina never could.
Only if Tara knew that Sam would do anything, she asked. She would hunt down their mother and rid her of this planet. She would do anything her baby sister asked for.
Tara just needed to ask.
ââ
Finally exiting the bathroom, Tara tried to make a beeline to the bedroom. She needed to be alone. She needed to wilt from the memories of her mother. Unfortunately, she was stopped by her sister.
Sam leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, with a neutral expression. Tara tried to push past her, tried to ignore her.
But Sam wouldnât budge.
âJust fucking let me pass, Sam. I donât want to do this now,â she gritted out, trying to hide the wobble in her voice.
Again, Sam didnât budge. Instead, her big sister pulled her into a hug against her wishes. She tried to struggle against the touch, feebly pushing back at Sam. Her sister didnât let go, only held her tighter.
âI know you miss her. I know what today means to you. Come here and let me love you, please,â her sister murmured, kissing the side of Taraâs head.
A muffled sob escaped her mouth, and Tara felt her walls crumble. Her sister always knew what she needed. She always knew how to care for Tara.
She wrapped her arms around her big sister, letting her sobs wrack her body, and her tears stained her sisterâs shoulder.
As Sam held her, Tara remembered all the times Sam was there, and her mother wasnât. There was a picture somewhere of Sam teaching Tara how to walk; Samâs little face lit up with glee as Tara toddled over to her. There was another one of Sam teaching her how to write a bike, Tara's pigtails flying in the wind as Sam ran next to her.
Realistically she knows that Sam is the only one who has been there for her, the only one who has truly loved her. She knows her need for a mother hurts her big sister and cuts her deep. And she also knows that nobody will ever love and protect her as Sam does.
She knows that her mother did a number on them. She knows Sam canât sleep more than four hours a night, and Tara canât handle criticism. There were more scars from their mother than acts of love. And there always would be. That would never change.
But she hoped that Sam knew how much she loved her. How deeply she needed her. No matter how much Tara missed their mother, it wouldnât change how Tara needed Sam.
âI love you, Sammy,â she whispered, her voice muffled against Samâs shoulder.
She could feel her sisterâs breath catch in her throat, choking a bit on the emotions. Tara only hummed and curled her fingers deeper into Samâs middle, grounding her big sister.
Sam eventually found her voice; although it was choked up and watery, Tara would never stop craving it.
âI love you too, so much. Iâm sorry that she still has a chokehold on us. You know I would do anything for you, right?â she thickly said.
Tara nodded against her sisterâs chest. âI know. Iâll always need you more than I need her, okay? I promise,â.
Her big sister didnât say anything, her body shaking with silent cries. It didnât matter to Tara. She would hold onto her sister until the end of time if it meant she would stay forever.
#scream#sam carpenter#tara carpenter#carpenter sisters#ao3 author#my writing tag#mommy issues galore#just. sad.#AU: a house in woodsboro
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He called him peppermint...
#nasty red dogs#hes being so sweet and everyday I remember the author warning us that Something Bad and Sad Will Happen and he implied itll be#Gaueko's fauuuuulltttt like he will be the one fully in the wrooong thereeee ... or maybe itll be a galore crimson situation and its very#unfortunate series of events leaving one party to be easily blamed bc how could anyone trust âit was an accident honestâ
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right so, summer term is in less than a week and in the words of another tumblr post, this is for the wiggles; i need to get this out of my system before i implode. enjoy :)
greetings yall. this is essentially a list of my current ocs that live their own lives in their respective universes in the back of my mind. ill start out with a list and expand elsewhere later to avoid overwhelmingness
i will update this with links to individual oc fact files and posts in the future inshallah
ïŸ*.ïŸâ§ .ïŸ*ïŸ
⧠le fandoms and their respective established characters as of writing:
harry potter: anisa (tbc)
percy jackson: Hilal
the apothecary diaries: Maymuna
demon slayer: Siham
my hero academia: yamama (tbc)
⧠fandoms ive dabbled in that dont have established characters (yet):
spy x family
bungo stray dogs
hunter x hunter
the anne shirley serires
detective conan
inuyasha
the addams family
more that ive temporarily forgotten lol
⧠fandoms that dont get ocs for various reasons :
hamilton and other musicals
real life people (i find it weird)
childhood favourites like movies, shows, etc. (like tmnt, coraline, disney princesses, spacetoon classics like romeos blue skies...)
please kindly note that the way my hyperfixations work in terms of fandoms is that when i come across said fandom, i obsessively read every wiki page in existence and watch compilations and scour the interwebs for memes and sometimes fics, and proceed to avoid (for reasons unbeknownst to me) actually consuming the media itself (original books or its adapted versions). i believe its because i dont have the capacity to be emotionally attached to new characters and suffer, but whos to say :P
also note that these characters are in many ways inspired from my own experiences and i occasionally draw from people and places im familiar with, so in instances where things 'wouldnt work' for whatever reason, (firstly im aware, hence their existence) remember that these are works of fiction, and that with the right writing (mostly) anything works. and creative liberties mwahahaha >:)
this is one of the reasons this blog exists; for me to dump the contents of my mind to make way for other (hopefully more useful) stuff, so if u stumble on here feel free to partake (as per the guidelines stated in the pinned post), otherwise move on. this before anything else is for me and my amusement, i wont be catering to anyones interests.
this post and its contents is sponsored and made possible by maladaptive daydreaming and my other less than healthy coping mechanisms :)
me @ this post
#oc galore#yay i did it#this is going to be fun#and also emotionally draining#whatcha gonna do#ngl it does feel a lil vulnerable to have my children in the wild#but i trust they will thrive in their new homes#with their found families#bc it is *the* best trope#shoutout to whoever wrote the spacetoon list of programs wikipedia page complete with airing dates thank u for ur service#i just found out the difference between oc and persona#welp#im still calling them ocs becasue they arent me#although i read personas arent self insert theyre just versions of the authors identities personified (abridged)#im using oc bc they are fully fleshed characters where i as the writer benefit from my background and experiences to make them come to life#yes literally all of them are middle eastern hijabis#but thats because i want the representation lol#thats where the similarities end#hopefully#because i havent written anything since 2014#oc#looking forward to see how my writing grows :)#if u see typos no u didnt#my brain is melting
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The last two posts were meant to be scheduled for tomorrow, oh well onto todays anniversaries....
January 17th 1883 saw the birth of the writer Compton Mackenzie.
I've explained in mainy posts that just because you weren't born on Scottish soil, it doesn't mean you are not Scottish, well I'll leave it to the Scottish writer Andro Linklater this time tp exoplain Compton Mackenzies credentails, not that they should be needed. Liklater penned a biography on Mackenzie, so is more than qualified;
â(He) wasnât born a Scot, and he didnât sound like a Scot. But nevertheless his imagination was truly Scottish.â
Edward Montague Compton Mackenzie was born in West Hartlepool in 1883 and raised in London. His was a theatrical family â many of whose members used Compton as their stage name. His grandfather Henry Compton was a well-known Shakespearean actor of the Victorian era. A history graduate of Magdalen College, Oxford, the young Mackenzie published his first novel in 1912 but his writing career was stalled by the outbreak of war.
He quickly signed up and saw action at Gallipoli. In 1915 he was recruited into the fledgling Secret Service and was posted across the eastern Mediterranean. Although he would later be awarded a knighthood, Mackenzie was no darling of the British establishment. In 1932 he was hauled before the courts and fined for breaching the Official Secrets Act for writing Greek Memories â a candid reflection of his time as a spy. At a time when the British public was scarcely aware of the security services, Mackenzie freely outlined its organisation. It was withdrawn from sale and was only published in full as recently as 2011.
In 1933 he took revenge on the Secret Service with Water on the Brain, an obvious swipe at the Service. Despite its satirical cover, he managed to include a few genuine morsels â such as the fact that the chief of the Service always wrote in green ink. At storyâs end, the location of the Secret Serviceâs headquarters is revealed in a spy thriller and the spooks have to move out. The building becomes an asylum for âthe servants of bureaucracy who have been driven mad in the service of the countryâ. By this point Mackenzie was already resident in Scotland and had become close friends with the poet Hugh MacDiarmid and the influential writer, thinker and adventurer Robert Cunninghame Graham. Together they helped establish the National Party of Scotland in 1928, which emerged in 1934 as the modern SNP.
Mackenzie settled on the Hebridean island of Barra and concentrated on his most ambitious project, The Four Winds of Love. Gavin Wallace, another of his biographers, later wrote: âThe Four Winds of Love, published in six volumes between 1937 and 1945 and containing almost 1 million words, is one of the most ambitious Scottish novels of the twentieth century, an enormous historical odyssey which anatomizes the politics of peripheral nationalism both throughout Europe and in Britain, again through semi-autobiographical character development.â
But it was Mackenzieâs comic novels that won him wider fame and fortune. Whisky Galore, based on a real-life incident in Eriskay in 1941, was first adapted for the big screen by Ealing studios and released to popular acclaim in 1948. The enduring appeal of the novel was later summed up by one Scotsman literary critic:
âSo what if it perpetrates the old, cliched âBrigadoonâ myth? Scots, English, American or Martian, no-one can resist this tale of ill-gotten whisky gain on a Scottish island in wartime. Itâs simply hilarious.â
Such was Mackenzieâs status as an elder statesman of letters he was knighted in 1952 and remained a much-respected cultural commentator for the rest of his life. In later years he lived in Drummond Place, in Edinburghâs New Town, where he died from cancer aged 89, in 1972, he is buried on Barra.
Lavish tributes followed. Dr Robert McIntyre, president of the SNP and the first Scottish nationalist elected to parliament, described Mackenzie as âthe Grand Old Man of Scotlandâ. Novelist Eric Linklater said he was a âconsummate stylist, who, unlike most writers, also lived with style.â
There are many Mackenzie quotes I could call on, but my favourite is
âLove makes the world go round? Not at all. Whisky makes it go round twice as fast.â
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hello ms. esther! sorry for suddenly intruding, but i've seen you a lot on my dash n just wanted to say hi! and, well, to also give this tiny brainrot about u and wanderer in offering haha:
i don't know much about your personal lore, but seeing your art for throwaway-yandere's wood vs salt fic had me Thinking Thoughts. do you remember how in the beginning of wanderer-era, before he got his memories as scaramouche back, wanderer was pretty calm and nice? a little ditzy or, well, easily distracted sometimes, yes, but generally, he seemed like someone safe (or at the very least, like he wouldn't suddenly stab you in the back).
what if he met you while in this state? before the traveler found him and brought him back to the sanctuary of surasthana? what if he saw you and felt some dim, compelling force in the hollow of his chest where his heart should be (the lingering influence of irminsul, the all-encompassing obsessive love that scaramouche had for you you youâ) when he sees you, a passing visitor in the grand bazaar, and quietly wonders if he's met you before.
now, this could go in many different ways depending on whether or not you remember him (even with irminsul's deletion of scaramouche's existence) and if he decides to do anything about that. one such timeline, like the wood vs salt-esque au, would be so interesting because, well, he doesn't remember pantalone ever being that close to you before. he doesn't remember you working for alhaitham either.
but you still look the same. still smile the same. still blush, huff, and laugh the same and wanderer can't help but cling to that (can't help but listen to the snake-like whispers just behind his ear to hold onto you, tighter this time, and make sure you'll never leave again).
some things are different. some things are the same. and all these unwanted anomalies are easy enough to correct, with or without his vision.
he's learned from the best, after all.
aaa this is very messy n all but i hope i got the idea across! if this isnt ur cup of tea that is very fine wdyhdbd but if nothing else, i would like to say ur art is very cool n ur ebg lore (at least the little i saw of it bc i had pre-mids that week) is very :eyes:
the object of my thoughts.
tags: wanderer, self-insert, situated inside @throwaway-yandere's Apotheosis on Your First Feast...kind of??? maybe??? an AU of sorts.
a/n: omg brain go brrrrr? welcome to my humble blog ajnsbvkjbhlka don't be shy to interact i don't bite- btw this fic is probably nothing like the ask aaaaaaa words: 1,072
The Grand Bazaar is as bustling as ever. Her nose gets hit with the damp, yet fresh air of the hidden city nestled underneath Sumeru's Great Tree.
At once, Esther hears the quiet, lively atmosphere of the merchants, the lingering tune of a song in Zubayr Theater (Sadly, Nilou will not be dancing today.), and the smell of freshly-made street food, minus the bugs that so happens to linger on the stalls.
This place almost ticks all her checkboxes of a "safe space".
almost.
She found herself sitting beside a food stall, waiting for her order to arrive. In Esther's defense, the food was quite tempting. Scented Meat Balls always have a thing going for her mouth. One moment it's there, the nextâŠan empty platter and greasy hands.
A very pleasant experience, 10/10.
With nothing better to do, she rummaged for her shoulder bag and pulled out a small notepad. Some of the signatures are falling off, the purple yarn barely holding it together, and the handmade cover is dirtied with charcoal stains.
Carefully tightening the seams with a sigh, she then looked around, looking for someone to draw. She wouldn't want to ask someone for permission, no. She has to be discreet; quick, yet accurate.
The last time she got "caught", Esther was quite embarrassed, although her subject at the time was quite flattered and even offered some good critiques at her pose anatomy before being dragged off by Alhaitham, of all people.
Alhaitham, your current boss, and the current Acting Grand Sage of Sumeru. Who assigned you to Varanara, just six hours ago.
Vanarana, the supposed home of the Aranara, the children of the Lord of Verdure.
âŠthe Lord of Verdure, and the successful rescuing of Sumeru's future.
A rescue that I refused to join in.
Esther shook her head in an attempt to dispel the frankly annoying and intrusive thoughts in her head. Quickly putting her notepad, aside, she thanked the waitress and tested the waters on the meat balls, still smoking.
Ow. Too hot.
Her eyes roamed around the bazaar like a camera, looking for interesting people to draw. Interesting poses to draw. A merchant selling fruits, a vendor calling for customers. Quite banal.
I spy, with my eyesâŠ
I spy, with my eyesâŠ
there!
Her hands fly towards the notepad, leaves ruffling as she attempts to find an empty page.
The slight off-colored white invites her in to draw the first line, to fill it up with her lines, to see the figure of a person, the someone she chose to draw.
Reaching out again, she tests if the balls are too hot. Feeling the warm, crumbly texture of the finger food, she eats one whole and quickly focuses on the task at hand.
She looks quickly.
He's not looking at her. Perfect.
She quickly dismissed the hat in her drawing. That thing is a pain to draw quickly, she thinks, instead opting for just an ellipse with shaded points.
She quickly deconstructs his relaxed figure, filling it up with more details as the platter beside her grows more and more empty with each passing hour
He doesn't look like he's from here, Esther figures as she draws the man's robes- kimono, she corrects herself- hanging loosely on his figure, making for quite the focus on his high-collared undershirt-
Esther chokes on a crumb. Coughing, she hides her face on her arm and shakes her head again. Taking a bite out of the meatballs, carefully this time, she erases the quite scandalizing abs on her drawing, scolding herself for theâŠdistraction.
She tries to finish the figure without looking this time. A large gold ornament on his left chest⊠hair shaped like a weird bowl cutâŠred eyelinerâŠ
hang on.
She glances again. He did not seem to notice, and was still facing away from her, talking to what she presumes is his boss. how did i know his eyeliner is red?
Her gaze lingers on the drawing, slightly smudging the freshly-drawn face as she traces its jaw. She thinks hard, her eyebrows furrowing, the tapping of her pencil serving as a pendulum for her thoughts.
think, think, think.
She tries to chase the thought, but it slips away from her grasp like a falling leaf amid a strong breeze. Whatever the thought is... she deems it not important.
Esther looks at her drawing again, and her grip makes a dent in the notepad. This drawing, this pathetic croquis of a figure...it's too ugly. It doesn't even shine a light on the guy. This drawing of hers is too disgusting to see the light of day.
The left arm is too long, the face is off, the torso is contorted unnaturally, the fingers are unproportioned, the face is off, the eyes are off, the eyes are off, the eyes are off-
âŠ
She tears off the page, throws it on a random garbage bag, and leaves the bazaar in lower spirits than when she came. so much for relaxation.
If she dared to look back, the subject of her interest has filched the torn paper.
Behind the tree, his errand remained forgotten, the fruits on the forest floor as he traced every uneven line that captured his inhuman self, marvelling at the seemingly glorious art in his hands.
Why did she discard it? he can only wonder as he gingerly holds the paper like it's a treasured possession of his. He does not understand. Why did she throw it away?
Should he find her? He thinks about it, but then considers his chances. An unknown person asks for her, saying something about knowing her vaguely and asking to come with him? He might as well parade around Sumeru City with the biggest hat he could find, yelling loudly.
What name would he give her when she asks for it?
He is a shugenja; a wanderer, as he calls himself. A tree with no roots. Somebody with no home, no kin, no destination. Someone with no name, no identity to hang on with. Trekking across Teyvat to train himself...it's just an excuse.
That's how absurd this is.
So why is he so hung up on this one person who drew him in such a human fashion? What is there to her that piqued him?
Have we met before?
He sighs, and folds the paper, tucking it in his hat. He picks up the sunsettias on the ground, and makes way to the nearby river to wash it.
#word vomit galore#i just got lost in the ask and???????????? damn#also OMG AN ASK????????? IN MY SPACE?#wanderer: é»éł„#genshin impact#wanderer: tinuvion#wanderer#author: kester#kestchat: bl-inkstone#also nooooooo you arent intruding at all!#your ask got some of my brain juice go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr#astronetwrk#totally did not draw experience from my drawing
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The fact that this series isn't that well-known pains my heart because it is just amazing. (Cover of The Case of the Spring-Exclusive Strawberry Tart)
#the case of the spring-exclusiv strawberry tart#no romance just pure friendship vibes#with a side of#mystery#cosy mystery#more specifically#it's also written by#Honobu Yonezawa#the same author of#hyouka#the koten-bu series#and more#anyways#brainrot galore for these characters' personalities#they are so well written#like i can't recommend the writing enough#book recommendations#books#book reccs
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The Candy Mare + Muffins Side Story would be an interesting if odd story, especially with Minkie's proclamations of being ready and willing to meet her end.
HUUUNGRRYY!!!!!
#gore#creepypasta#candy mare#minkie pie#cw gore#cartoon gore#grimdark#two horror powerhouses face off#Who will win?#In one corner we have Minkie!#A character from a story admitted by the author to be padded#woth plot armor galore!#In the next corner; The Candy Mare!#An unholy ghoul incapable of dying but eaglr to incor death whereever she may go!
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Summertime Fun and Sales Galore
Summertime is supposed to be about fun for a lot of those under 18. For everyone else is just the time we might be taking a vacation for a week but all the rest of the days are just our normal routine. Other than the fact that it is dang hot. I have classes that I need to take, customers to help, readers to find and sell my own books to and writing other stories to share in the future. For myâŠ
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#Discounts on Lillian J Greens Online Store#Free Publicity for Authors#North Florida Writers Tour#Sale on Southern Women Crafts#Sale on Workamping in Florida Onlien Store#Sales on Jolenes Online Bookstore#Summertime Fun and Sales Galore#Webs and Blogs for Writers
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miss pretty
{single dad!katsuki bakugo x kindergarten teacher f!reader}
summary: katsuki bakugo has never liked mess and always made sure his son and his life reflected just that. with years worth of a sparkling clean and organized home, toys put away and not once scattered about, and a barking knack over any calls of disorder in his lifeâ meeting you, his sons sweet and sugary kindergarten teacher who was the definition of pure and who was for some reason turning his fiery heart into complete gooâ was altering his boring strict cycles of no messes around⊠and for the better.
warnings: cursing, FLUFFF GALORE MY GAWD??, no smut but a lil steamy something, slight angst, afab!reader, katsuki thinks you are an ANGEL, sunshine x grumpy trope, mentions of abandonment, WHOLESOME AFFF, use of y/n, all characters are aged up.
word count: 11.4k
authors note: THIS MAKES ME WANT TO BE A MOTHERRRRR omg this one is sickeningly sweet and iâve gotten a few requests to do sunshine x grumpy with sir katsuki and i WAS ALLL OVERRR ITTT i hope i fulfilled!!! <333 THANK YOU THANK YOU AS ALWAYS FOR ALL OF YOU BEING SOOO SWEETT TO MEEE I LOVE YOUUUU MWAAAHHH :] <33333
katsuki bakugo hated messes.
âoi!â he grunted, his sonâs little head turning to look at him as he munched on his gummy fruit snacks from the backseat. âyou better not leave that wrapper in here. take it outside with you when i drop you off.â
âkaaayyy!â his son dragged out happily, completely unphased by his dads snappy personality as he contemplated on which color fruit gummy to eat next.
ïżœïżœïżœand wash your hands too. ask your teacher.â
âmhm!â he chirped.
âand donât be a brat. pay attention.â
âyup yup!â
and for the most part, his life reflected that almost entirelyâ raising his son to always clean up after himself and not make bombastic huge messes around the house, begrudgingly understanding that heâs a small growing human, that a little spill of apple juice or two is basically guaranteed⊠but he just hated mess, and heâll be damned if he doesnât raise his son right to be a clean and organized man even at five years oldâ katsuki keeping everything in his life practically spotless.
that was of course, until he met you.
katsuki shoved through the other parents in line as he went up to the front desk in the main office with a grip on his sons little hand, not giving a damn about the glares and huffs of bewilderment he got as there was no way in hell he was gonna wait like an idiot with the rest of them.
the lady at the front desk raised a quizzical eyebrow.
âcan i helpââ
âwhere the fuck is room twenty four.â
her eyes bulged open as the rest of the parents in line softly gasped and murmured.
âeâexcuse me?ââ
he rolled his eyes.
âroom twenty four.â he pushed. âwhere is it?â
âsirâ if you need me to help you iâd like you to wait in line untilââ
âhah?! absolutely not.â he spat. âif i wait in that fucking line my sonâs gonna be late why canât you just tell meââ
âuh sir if you couldââ
katsukiâs son giggled as he continued to spout profanities at the poor front desk lady.
ââsir please no foul language there are children aroundââ
âi donât give a shit! just tell me where room twenty four is what the hell is so hard about that?!ââ
âoh! thatâs my class!â
katsuki snapped his head over, fiery red eyes shooting towards the voice until they landed on yours.
âis he one of my kids?â you smiled sweetly, eyes coming down to look at his son.
âohââ he let his shoulders relax just a tad as he watched you fix the strap of his sons backpack on his shoulder. âi meanâ if your class is twenty fourââ
âit is!â you beamed, nudging your head. âiâll show you where!â
âhiii miiiissss!â his son greeted, happy and silly as he followed you down the hall.
âhi honey!â you gushed, just as excited as he was as you patted over his blonde scruffy hair. âwhatâs your name?â
âmilo!â
ânice to meet you milo! are you excited for your first day?â
âyeaaahh!â he cheered, smile bright as he grabbed your hand.
katsukiâs eyes widened.
âmilo!â he snapped lowly. âwhatâd i tell ya? you canât grab her hand like that you have to askââ
âoh itâs alright!â you dismissed, smiling. âi donât mind it at all! the other kids do it too.â
milo snickered and stuck his little tongue out at his dad, and katsuki rolled his eyes.
âis he yours?â you asked kindly, tilting your head.
âwho else would he beâŠâ he grumbled.
âi guess youâre right!â you giggled. âhe looks just like you.â
katsukiâs eyes flickered to yours before dropping back down, a permanent furrow in his brows as you all rounded the corner.
âhere we areââ
âooo! ooo!â milo hopped up and down. âmiss you have race cars?! dad can i please go?!â
he looked over, a mountain of toys scattered about in the classrooms play area, little kids already making a damn mess and the school day hadnât even officially started yet.
âthe hell you asking me for? ask your teaââ
âmiss miss can i please go play with the race cars?!ââ
âof course my love! go! go have fun.â you smiled, gently ushering him on before milo zoomed over to the play area and crouched down with the rest of the kids.
âoi!â katsuki barked. âput them away when youâre done!â
he huffed under his breath as he watched his son give him a thumbs up and fucking dump the entire bucket of race cars down on the âabcâ play rug, taking one in each hand and dragging them across floor.
âheâs so cuteee.â you grinned. âiâm glad heâs not afraid being itâs his first day.â
âoh fuck no.â he mumbled. âmilo doesnât care. the little runt doesnât have a filter and does whatever the hell he wants without askinâ sometimes.â
he leaned against the doorsill as he watched milo converse with another kid and share a car, satisfaction in his chest that his son was sharing and being nice.
âbut i guess he gets that from me.â he finished off.
you nodded. âbut thatâs a good thing, isnât it?â
he pursed his lips.
âin my experience, not really.â
you hummed.
âi think itâs definitely a good thing⊠iâd rather be assertive of things and not be afraid of what the consequences will be.â
katsuki looked at you, properly this time.
âwhatâs a kindergarten teacher afraid of?â
you shrugged, a slow playful grin spreading across your face.
âparents.â
he snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and you quickly had to look away, a pink buzz to your cheeks at the way his big built arms flexed.
inappropriate inappropriate inappropriateâ
âi donât know how you do it..â he spoke lowly.
âdo what?â
âtake care of little shits all day.â
you laughed loudly, reeling over a bit as he watched you out of the corner of his eye.
âi donât take care of them! i teach them.â you quipped cutely. âtheyâre small, but this is when their brains drink up the most knowledge⊠and i love to see the progress from the beginning of the year compared to the end! i love it all really.â
pure.
katsuki curtly nodded, your sweet positive ambiance throwing him completely off, as he doesnât think heâs ever met or surrounded himself around someone whoâs directly emmitted the feeling of sunshine and rainbows and candy as much as you did.
and his cheeks flared up for some reason.
âoh!â you looked to the time on your little wrist watch and walked inside your classroom. âitâs almost time to start! i have to wrangle them all in their seats heh!â
katsuki swallowed and nodded.
âmilo!â
he turned and upon seeing his dad wave him over, milo dropped his toys and bounded to him.
âdonât give her a hard time alright?â he spoke sternly, nudging his head over at you for emphasis. âlisten. listen and learn and be the best one in there.â
âkaaayyy!â
âand you let me know if any of the other kids mess with you or you deal with it yourself. you already know howââ
âbeat the crap out of them!â he cheered loudly and katsukiâs hand flew to clasp over his sons mouth before his frantic eyes looked at you.
the last thing he needed was someone to call up fucking child protective services on him.
âheâs joking! heâs jokingïżœïżœïżœ fuck.â
you giggled hard and clutched your stomach, your pretty smile sending katsuki for a loop.
âno youâre absolutely right!â you waved your hands in front of your face, reassuring. âtreat others the way you want to be treated, so if someoneâs being mean to you, bite back milo, okay? and also let me know first though!â
katsuki gave you a wobbly tiny smile amidst his branded serious face, looking at his son then and ruffling up his hair.
âokay, go.â milo ran off. âand donât let me pick you up with dirt all over your clothes ya hear me?!â
âbyeee daaaddd!â
you could tell that behind his harsh exteriorâ the slight purse of his lips, stiff frame and bouncing leg gave away that he was only worried about his kid and his first day of school, a sight youâve seen time and time again since you started working as a kindergarten teacher, and one that never failed to warm your heart.
âdonât worry!â you sweetly smiled, and katsuki switched his gaze over to yours. âiâll watch him especially⊠okay? to ease the nerves.â
he softly snorted, attempting to play it off but internally relieved as he pushed himself off the doorsill and nodded, thankful that the teacher milo got was as kind as you.
âumâŠâ he mumbled. âkatsuki.â
you tilted your head. âkatsuki?â
âitâs my name idiot.â
âoh!â you giggled, a blush rising in your cheeks again as you tried to simmer it down. ânice to meet you katsuki! iâll see you after school then with milo?â
he stiffly nodded, the way his name sounded so sugary off your tongue something heâd never heard before in his life or was used to at all.
ââŠya gonna tell me yours or what?â
âsorry!â you sputtered, laughing nervously. âsorry it justâ flew! you knowââ
you stuck your hand out and offered it to him.
ây/n!â
katsuki untangled his arms and firmly shook it, grip strong and one that nearly made you stumble forward as you caught yourself and smiled.
âiâll see you katsuki!â
out of all of the kids youâve taught, milo was by far the cutest one.
the little man was like your personal assistantâ a little bee buzzing around as he followed you everywhere in the classroom and helped you clean up after the rest of the kids that didnât, âyellingâ at some of them to and cutely scolding them whenever heâd catch them leave some things behind, and was always on watch for you like a security guard with his little balled up fists on his hips, surveilling the classroom for any misbehaving kids or messes that youâd missed throughout the day.
all traits you no doubt knew he got from katsuki, even if you had just met him. it was pleasantly obvious.
âthanks for helping me out today, milo!â you gushed, pushing another students chair in as they all sat down and chattered for lunch. âyou made my job a lot easier!â
âreally?!â he squealed, big glimmering eyes beaming up at you before he happily chowed down on some apple slices.
and you noticed then miloâs lunch was insane, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut up and molded neatly into the shape of panda bears, his watermelon and apple slices shaped like stars with carrots and celery lined up with a little wedge of lemon if he wished, tiny rice balls on the side for a little snack you figured in case what he had didnât fill him upâ all so considerate and carefulâŠ
âwow!â you exclaimed, kneeling down next to him. âyour lunch looks so yummy my love! did your mommy make this?â
ânuh uh!â he shook his head, cheeks filled with watermelon. âmy dad did!â
you faltered.
âkatsuki made this?â
âwhoâs katsuki miss?â he asked curiously, sipping on his little juice box after swallowing the fruit in his mouth.
you giggled. ânothing! nothing. enjoy your lunch okay?â
you went to stand, but miloâs hand shot out and caught your wrist.
âcan youâ can you eat lunch with me?â he mumbled shyly, fiddling with some carrot pieces in his hands. âplease.. i always eat with my dad but heâs not hereâŠâ
your eyes softened and you quickly nodded.
âof course! let me just go grab my lunch and ill bring it over! sounds good?â
âyaaaayyyy!â he cheered happily, arms up as you scooched a tiny chair over from a nearby table and sat with him, laughing at his cute expression.
you knew you shouldnât use a little kid to pry⊠but you were guiltily curious as to know if katsuki was married or not for reasons that made you ridiculously flustered and red in the face over.
and you wanted to be respectful in case he was⊠since the ogling you did at his muscles this morning through his black ribbed tank was the most embarrassing moment of your career and one you hadnât seen coming at all, it catching you off guard and feeling horrible if katsuki indeed had a wife.
but he didnât have a ring on his fingerâŠ
âmilo?â you spoke up softly.
he smiled big. âyes miss!â
âdoes your mommy make you lunch as well or just your dad?â
he shook his head. âjust my dad! i donât have a mom.â
your shoulders deflated.
he didnât have a mom⊠at all?
you slowly reached over then and patted his blonde hair, smiling warmly as his cheeks went pink. âthatâs alright! iâm sure your dad makes you lunches like this every time huh?â
âyeah!â he gasped excitedly. âyesterday he made pizzas and cut them into dinosaurs! it was so cool! and then!â and then this morning for breakfast i had waffles that looked like dynamite blasts!â
âoh my goodness!â you giggled, your heart absolutely thumping over the fact that katsuki was so dedicated to his son like that. âman, i wish my lunches were as cute as yours!â
his little eyes snapped to yours.
âiâll tell him!â
your brows furrowed confusedly. âwhaââ
âto make you lunch! iâll tell my dad to make you lunch!â
your eyes widened and you frantically shook your head, cheeks blazing as you laughed. âoh no my love! thatâs totally okay donât worry about me sillyââ
âiâll tell him iâll tell him iâll tell him!ââ
âmilo itâs okay! iâm a big girl.â you grinned. âiâm supposed to make my own lunches.â
milo grumbled and plopped a carrot in his mouth, begrudgingly chewing as he sat there in thought.
ââŠwill you at least let me share some of mine?â
you pouted at his generosity, wondering how a kid could be so sweet as you nodded and held your hand up.
âof course sweetie! whatever you waââ
milo plopped all of his peanut butter sandwiches in your palm and grinned, earning a gasp from you.
âmilo this is too much i canâtââ
âeat it! eat it! eait it!ââ
by the end of the day, you managed to get milo to take back his sandwiches in exchange for one singular watermelon star piece, him still doing his regular duties of being your little assistant and helping you clean up after everyone before the final bell rang signaling the end of class, you carefully making sure each kiddo got their designated backpack (as there was often a mix up) and art pieces they made for their parents to take homeâ a permission slip for the end of the year field trip tucked away inside their bags.
and the minute you stepped outside with the rest of the kids, you were surprised to see that katsuki was one of the first parents there as he stood directly across from your classroom with crossed arms, an angry usual scowl on his face that made you laugh to yourself as you led your kids to sit down on a bench in a single file line until their parents physically came to get them or their vehicles pulled up.
âmilo!â you tapped his shoulder gently. âyour daddyâs over there!â
âDAAADDD!!â
milo jumped up and ran across the grass, his tiny arms out as katsuki smiled softly and crouched down to pick his son up and settle him on his lower abdomen, you wringing your fingers behind your back and walking up to them.
âwere you a brat?â he grunted.
ânope!â
âdid any kids mess with you?â
ânope!â
âdid you leave a mess?â
ânope!â
you giggled, and katsukiâs eyes snapped in your direction.
âhow was he?â
âhe did so good!â you gushed, patting miloâs back as he grinned. âwas my little helper and everything! didnât leave a single mess behind and helped me clean up after everyone else⊠he even made sure everyone was paying attention and not misbehaving.â
âyeah! yeah! see dad?â milo poked his dads cheek. âi didnât lie!â
ânever said you lied you little runt.â he scowled. ââŠbut good job.â
âthanks!â
katsuki set him down after milo started kicking his legs and saying something about the swings, him instantly running towards the playground and to the slide.
âdid he actually do all of that?â he spoke up.
âoh yes!â you quickly nodded. âiâve never had a kid do that before so it was really nice of him to!â
you detached your fingers from around your back and fiddled with them.
âyou teach him well katsuki.â
he scoffed and turned his head, cheeks pink as he tried to regain his composure.
âdamn right i do.â
you giggled then, the memory of milo telling you he didnât have a mother suddenly popping into your mind as you watched him happily slide down the blue slide head first.
âhey i donât mean to um..â you timidly began. âi donât mean to pry butââ
katsuki raised a brow at you and you snapped your mouth shut.
ânothing! nothing nevermindââ
âspit it out.â
âno itâs alright! sorry iââ
he glared and you cowered, smiling bashfully as you bit your bottom lip.
âmilo⊠milo mentioned that he didnât have a mommy? i was justâ wondering if that was trueâŠâ
âtchââ he shook his head. âthatâs what you were afraid of askinâ me?â
âi told you iâm scared of parentsâŠâ you slumped cutely, and he chuckled.
âitâs just me and him.â he answered. âhis momâs never been a part of our lives.â
your heart sunk a little, eyes sad as your gaze shifted to milo playing and racing around with another kid.
âdonât do that.â
you jumped and looked at katsuki.
âdoâ do whatââ
âlook all sad and shit.â
he hesitantly reached over and planted an index finger to the crease between your brows, the feeling rough as he tried to gently drag it down and smooth over the lines.
âitâs fine.â he grumbled, letting his arm fall to his side. âit doesnât bother him. at least i donât think it does.â
âno!â you spoke quickly, a crazed blush on your cheeks. âit doesnât! and milo speaks so highly of you⊠especially the lunches you make him.â
his brows furrowed. âhis lunch?â
âyeah!â you nodded excitedly. âyou prepare it so so well! how do you get his sandwiches to look like little bears? and his fruit?! every time i try to cut mine into stars they always break in halfâŠâ
he huffed out a laugh, finding your little whine funny as he reached over and ruffled up your hair, you smiling cheekily in response.
âdo you use molds?â you asked politely. âto shape out the bear?â
âfuck no.â he scoffed. âi do it myself.â
your eyes flew open.
âwhat?! so thatâs really just you? and the dinosaurs too? the pizza dinosaurs? and the waffles? the ones that looked like dynamite blastsââ
âjesus christ how much did that kid tell you?â
your face grew hot as you smacked a hand over your mouth.
âsorry!â you giggled. âi just was thinkingâ that his lunch was really cute and thoughtfulâŠâ you took your hand away from your face. âiâm really glad that you do little things like that for milo to make him happy.â
katsuki stared at you, your swarm of compliments and sweetness and sunshine and butterflies almost suffocating as you looked at him with those pretty doe eyes, his throat oddly closing up the longer he stared right back and allowed you to pull him into your world of wonder and abc blocks and puzzles.
but it wasnât suffocating in a bad way, not at all.
and⊠maybe he did want you to pull him in.
âdad dad dad!â
milo ran over, sweaty and red faced as he reached the two of you.
âthereâs a dead lizard in the slide!â
âa dead lizard?â you laughed, surprised as you reached for his little water bottle from his backpack on the ground and uncapped the lid, handing it over and ushering him to drink.
katsuki didnât know why the domestic sight of you doing that made him melt a bit.
a bit.
âyeah miss! it was big and gross.â he breathed out after gulping some of his icy cold water. âbut i buried him!â
his dads red eyes snapped down to his and narrowed.
âdonât tell me you touched that thing milo.â
âi did!â he giggled.
âoh my fucking godââ katsuki snatched his hand and started pulling him to the car as milo giggled and stuck his tongue out.
âitâs a prank! some other girl in my class did⊠but i helped with the dirt!â
you chuckled softly as you watched katsuki stop and roll his eyes, coming back over to you with a hyper milo.
âsay bye to your teacher ya little runt. and youâre still taking a shower when you get home!â
âbut i donât wanna take a showeerrr!â milo whined, letting go of his dads hand and running to you, you crouching and extending your arms big with a pretty smile.
âbye my love!â you hugged him tight as he giggled. âiâll see you tomorrow okay? and give your daddy a break. no more digging up dirt and playing with dead lizards.â
âkaayyyy!â
you both let go and he stepped back, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before bouncing back to his dad.
katsuki choked on his spit.
âoi!â he barked. âyou canât just kiss her cheek milo the hell is going on with you?!ââ
âitâs okay donât worry!â you smiled kindly. âheâs just being sweet is all! i donât mind.â
âyou sure?â he pushed, milo snickering. âiââ
you waved him off and wrung your fingers behind your back, leaning forward.
âiâll see you tomorrow morning kats!â
and he froze, nodding hard as he quickly took miloâs hand and backpack before walking to the car, his heart completely aflame in his chest and cheeks red as he led his babbling son further into the parking lot and inside the car, buckling him up in his car seat before hopping in himself and starting the engine, unbelieving that he had barely just met you and he was already thinking and acting like a fucking dumbass.
âand then we learned the days of the week! oh!â and we learned numbers! i can count to fifteen dad!â
âthatâs good milo.â he responded, pulling out of the schools parking lot and craning his neck to see if he could catch a final glimpse of you and settling once he did, you so pretty and conversing so nicely with another kid until he was out of the lot.
âdid you eat all of your lunch? y/n tells me ya shared with her.â
âi did! i did share with her.â he grinned. âshe liked my lunch!â
âgood.â katsuki gave him a thumbs up through the rear view mirror. âthatâs good that you always share. especially with her.â
âyup yup! sheâs preeettyyy.â
he rolled his eyes, but a small smile grew at the corner of his lips as he nodded curtly.
âthat she is.â
katsuki continued to drop off his son personally at your classroom every morning before school.
even when it had been a couple of months into the year, at this point many students already used to their route to and out of class and their parents just dropping them off and leavingâ them not even allowed on campus as security rounded every corner and told any parents who wished to go in that they werenât supposed to, as per policy.
but not katsuki.
katsuki didnât give a fuck as he stormed through the main office and ignored the calls of the front desk lady, her already used to the rude asshole who came through the building every morning as he strode by and down the hall to class twenty four⊠wanting to see youâ his sonâs pretty kindergarten teacher that was sweet and joyful and someone who was everything he wasnât, his mind curious and filled with your giggles and smiles throughout the time that heâd gotten to know you and chat with you in the mornings and the afternoons, loving the way you were with milo and treated him like he was literally your ownâ always watching over him and making sure he had had enough to eat and drink and that his hands were washed when he wasnât around.
and even katsuki himselfâ you bringing him candy bags from their classroom parties or donuts that were passed to faculty in the mornings and saving yours for him, treats he always took and ate with no questions asked even though he wasnât a fan of sugary shit and junk food, always making the exception for you.
he had never experienced honest help like that⊠heâd never experienced someone caring enough about him and his son like the way you did so perfectly every single dayâŠ
and katsuki feared that he was a little obsessed.
âoh! miss y/n!â
âyes honey?â you responded kindly, opening a juice pouch for another student and handing it to them carefully during lunch.
milo dug into his lunch pail and pulled out a small container, sticking his hand up and offering it to you.
your brows furrowed, taking it from him.
âwhatâs this milo?â
âitâs from my dad!â
you stopped, heart dropping to your ass as you recounted his words.
from katsuki?
âyourâ your dad?â
âmhm!â
you shakily popped the lid of the container open, eyes widening and filling with hearts once you saw a mix of star shaped strawberries and watermelon and papayas, drizzled over with sparkling strings of honey and singular little blueberries scattered about.
âfor me?â you asked softly, crouching down next to milo. âmy loveâ are you sure this isnât for you? i think your dad cut these up for youââ
ânope! for you!â he gave you a big toothy smile before stuffing his mouth with crackers. âhe told me not to eat it and to give it to you.â
he swallowed and reached up, you tilting down your head so he could pat it just like you always did for him.
âi hope you like it miss! they look like the ones you told me looked cute!â
âiâ i love them milo.. thank you!â
you picked up a papaya piece and ate it, entirely dazed and love struck as your tastebuds savored over the sweet velvety thick honey, literally blinking back tears at how thoughtful and kind katsuki was.
he didnât have to do this at all⊠yet he took the time anyways out of his morning to do this for you.
and your heart nearly fucking gave out.
after school once you got your rowdy kids to sit neatly on the bench and wait for their parents, you extended a hand for milo and he hopped off the bench and took it, you both walking up to a waiting katsuki as he stood there with a soft smile on his face.
âhi kats!â
âhey.â he picked his son up and settled him over his abdomen, miloâs arms clinging around his neck and chin propped up on his dads shoulder as he was exhausted from a days worth of playing and learning.
âi wanted to umââ you peered up at him. âi umââ
his brows furrowed, and just as he was about to bark about you stumbling over your words, he stopped.
your bottom lip was trembling.
you hurriedly wiped your eyes.
âi wanted to thank youââ hic! âfâfor the star shaped fruit this morningââ
âwhy are you crying dumbass?â he mumbled, reaching over and wiping some tears with his rough fingers.
âbecause it was so nice!â you sobbed, shoulders shaking as you let him wipe your cheeks. âandâ and you put honey over it too! you didnât have to do any of that for me!â
âtchââ
he flicked your forehead softly, not enough to hurt you but enough to get you to snap out of your hiccups as you sniffled.
âitâs just fruit y/nââ
âbut itâs not.â you wiped your eyes again. ânot to me anywaysâŠâ
katsuki slowly lowered his arm, gaze tracing over your pretty face and perfect hair and the way you cried over something so stupid, his brain unable to process the fact that an act as simple as cutting fruit up for you could make you this happy, and it made him want to see what you saw for onceâ how you saw the world for exactly what it was and appreciated it regardless of how big or small things were, not snippy or angry or spiteful over everyone and thinking everything was out to get him and his son.
âcrybabyâŠâ he grumbled. âiâm glad you liked it though.â
âi did kats.. a lot. thank you.â you wiped the last of your tears and smiled. âiâm sorry i cried.â
what a pretty sweet girlâŠ
he shook his head and hoisted milo up, him completely knocked out with drool coming out of his mouth as katsuki felt it run down his shoulder, barely even noticing that though as his entire focus was trained purely on you.
was it okay if he⊠asked you out? would it be weird? would you tell him to fuck off?
katsuki internally rolled his eyes at his stupid fucking high school boy thoughts, though it didnât alleviate the gnawing feeling that if you did tell him to fuck off⊠that heâd be angrily mortified at his fail and probably lose the right to talk to you since itâd be too awkward to.
but you were just so fucking sweet. all of the time.
âlisten uhââ he cleared his throat, face growing hot. âi was wondering if ya wanted to eat dinner with me⊠sometime.â
you stared, eyes big and shocked and katsuki took it defensively and entirely the wrong way.
âforget it.â he snapped. âforget it i didnât say shitââ
âno! no noââ you quickly shook your head. âno itâs okay i would!â
he stopped.
âyou would?â
âof course!â you expressed sweetly, cheeks hurting from how big you were smiling as you tried to simmer down your giddy squeals. âiâd love to have dinner with youâŠâ
his tense shoulders slowly relaxed, an eventual small smile growing on his face.
âaâalright uhâŠâ he sighed. âiâd prefer to take ya somewhere nice but i donât really have anyone to watch miloââ
you shook your head again, brows pinched. âoh no katsâ we donât have to go anywhere at all! we can order something in at your place and eat with milo? orâ or my place?â
âmy place.â he replied. âand iâll cook.â
he cooks?!
âokay!â you giggled, your hand reaching up and patting over miloâs sleepy head gently. âsounds good!â
katsuki and you agreed on the details of the date after and bid each other bashful goodbyes, swooning as you watched him walk away into the parking lot with a sleeping milo in his arms and feeling like none of this was fucking real, for you couldnât believe someone as handsome and cool as katsuki would ever be interested in someone like you.
and funnily enough, he felt the complete opposite, stressed and extra snappy as he cleaned the house from top to bottom (though it barely needed it), unnecessarily fixed the positioning of the furniture and made milo put away his toys, him not even whining or protesting like he usually did solely because the little man knew you were comingâ pretty miss y/n with the pretty smile and the nicest lady he had ever met, and one he secretly hoped would be his new mommy every time he saw you and his dad converse before and after school, thinking you would fit the role perfectly.
especially after his dad had given you those fruits as a present!
âmilo!â katsuki called. âcome âere!â
his son ran into the kitchen, toy race car in hand. âwhat!â
âbe good today, ya hear me?â he pushed, face stern as he flipped a kitchen towel over his shoulder and sautĂ©ed vegetables in his frying pan. âplease milo. donât try to be funny and do somethinâ to scare y/n off.â
milo gave him a look.
âscare miss y/n off? dad youâre gonna scare her off not me!â he giggled. âsilly.â
âyeah..â he grunted. âyouâre probably right but iâm just sayinâ. iâm thinking of the time grandma came over and ya put that fake rat in her purse to try and be funny.â
âohhh yeeeeah!â he doubled over in little fits of laughter, holding his stomach as he did. âi did do that!â
âsee what i mean?â katsuki grumbled, snatching the kitchen towel from his shoulder and throwing it down on the counter top, stepping back to peek in the oven. âyou better not do that with y/n please.â
âi wonât!â he grinned. ânot when sheâs about to be my new mommy!â
katsuki choked as his spit went down the wrong pipe, bending over and coughing uncontrollably in his elbow before spinning around and looking at his son with wide eyes and pink cheeks.
âthe hell you just say?â
âwhat!â milo tilted his head. âthat y/n is gonna be my new mommy?â
his eyes grew even wider as he dropped the pan he was holding on the stove and leaned back, running his hands over his face.
âoh you little runt please donât say that in front of her, alright?â
he pouted. âwhy not?â
âyouâll scare her off! worse than when you put that fake rat in grandmas purse!â
âboooo!â milo stuck his tongue out and crossed his little arms over his chest. âwhatever.â
âoi!â
âwhat!â
katsukiâs doorbell chimed and milo booked it to the front door.
âmissss preettyyyy!!ââ
âmilo get your ass back here!ââ
katsuki swung the door open and swooped his son in his arms just as he was about to pounce on you in midair, you giggling and covering your mouth as you watched the scene unfold before you.
âiâm sorryââ
âhiii misss y/nnn!â milo greeted happily, dangling off of his dad as katsuki tried to stop him from wiggling out of his grip. âiâm so exciteeeddd!ââ
âhi my love!â you gushed warmly, smile wide as you extended your arms and walked forward, taking milo in your arms and setting him on your hip. âhow are you? you excited to hang out with meee?â
âyes! yes!â he vigorously nodded. âi wanna show you all my race cars!â
âoh i canât wait to seeee!â you bounced him on your hip and he giggled, you turning your attention and smiling at katsuki.
âhi kats!â
âthe little brat is hoggingââ
milo blew a silly raspberry at him before wrapping his arms around you and shoving his face into your neck.
you laughed and ran a soothing hand over the little manâs back, katsuki rolling his eyes before stepping to the side and letting you in, shutting the door behind him and leading you over to the kitchen.
and jesus christ you looked beautiful, him noting that pink was what you mainly wore on the day to day as he eyed your small rosy cardigan, you walking through his home and looking around and oblivious to the way he was staring at you like a fucking creep.
katsuki bit the inside of his cheek as he watched your eyes scan your surroundings, stupidly nervous about what youâd think of his house and furniture and minuscule decorations, and annoyed with himself that heâd even give a shit about something like that, trying to occupy himself and ignore it as he looked in the oven and lifted lids of various pots and pans, checking over tonightâs dinner.
âiâm sorry iâm behindâŠâ he grumbled and waved his hand around. âhad to clean the house and shower milo since he decided to play in the fuckinâ mud this morning.â
âoh you donât have to apologize for that kats!â you looked at him worriedly. âyou donât have to apologize for anything i totally understandâŠâ
you hoisted milo further up your hip and grinned. âiâm just happy to spend time with the both of you.â
katsuki felt smoke puff out of his red ears as he nodded and scratched the back of his neck, turning slightly and lifting the lids from his pots and pans again.
âmiss preettyyyy!â milo whined. âwhen can i show you my race cars?!â
katsuki scowled and you laughed.
ânow honey! but how about we move some of your toys to the living room so i can spend time with both you and dad? how does that sound?â
âyayayay!!â milo cheered, bouncing on your hip as you smiled cutely and set him down, him running off down the hall and you quickly following after him.
milo talked you through his entire collection of race cars as you both sat down on the living room rugâ telling you the model of each and every one, what they did, how fast they went, they places theyâd gone, and which were his favorites as you excitedly talked to him about his cars and shifted conversation between him and katsuki, a task he was surprised you did so efficiently, but then quickly realized that that was literally your fucking job everyday dealing with little brats talking your ears off and you attending all of them at the same time.
and when it came around to dinner time, you helped katsuki set up even through his snapping and huffing that you absolutely shouldnât, you giving him a silly little face as you assisted anyways and set up miloâs booster seat, picking him up and sitting him down before buckling him up while katsuki placed your dishes on the tableâ
and gourmet fucking dishes at that.
you were bewildered. absolutely bewildered as you gawked over the lasagna platter he set before you, it delicate and fancy looking as he had even draped sauce on your gray ceramic plate in gourmet intricate designs, knowing that katsuki had mentioned to you he was a chef over the several months youâd gotten to know him, but you didnât know exactly to which extent that chef occupation stretched to.
âkatsâŠâ you murmured. âwhat do you do for a living.â
âi told you idiot.â he passed over a couple of napkins and you gratefully took them, taking one then and wiping down miloâs mouth as he messily ate his cut up pieces of lasagna. âiâm a cook.â
âyeah but what kind? where?â
âwhy?â he gruffed. âdoes it look like shit?â
âno!â you giggled. âabsolutely not the opposite actually! this is probably the most beautiful lasagna iâve ever seen in my life.â
âduh.â he responded, but sent you a small smile as he ate. âiâm an executive chef down at a restaurant in the city.â
your jaw dropped. âthe city?! youâre so cool kats! oh my goodness!â
his face flushed.
âmy dad says his boss is a piece ofââ
âdonât say it!â katsuki snapped at his son, eyes wide as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing, not wanting to encourage the little man any further.
âmilo i told ya not to cuss until youâre tenââ
âten?!â you giggled loudly and let your hand fall, sticking your fork in your lasagna and eating. âas long as he cusses with you and not at you⊠i think it should be fine!â
katsuki stopped.
you get it. or you rile up his bad cussing habit. either or he might as well have found his fucking soulmate.
âmiss pretty!â milo called.
âyes my love?â
âdo you have a boyfriend?â
katsuki smacked a hand on his forehead and you snickered.
âi donât!â you grinned. âwhy milo?â
âbecause i want you to be my newââ
âmilo if ya shut your mouth right now iâll buy you two new race cars tomorrow.â
his son gasped dramatically and pursed his lips shut, eyes big and excited as he tried to contain himself and do as told.
âhis new what?â you tilted your head cutely, katsukiâs heart hammering against his rib cage as he stuffed his mouth with food.
he shrugged. âthe fuck should i know?â
âbut i wanna know!â you pouted, taking your final bites of your yummy dinner.
he swallowed.
âdo you want dessert?â
you gasped. âoh my god yes! i do!â
âthen i suggest you shut your mouth too.â
you laughed over the table, quickly nodding as you pursed your lips like milo and pinched your thumb and index finger together, running it across your mouth and twisting your wrist like a pretend lock before dropping your hand in your lap, giddy and excited over dessert.
katsuki playfully rolled his eyes and stood, collecting all of your plates and stacking them on top of each other before taking them over to the sink.
âdad!â milo called as he bounced in his seat, katsuki grunting in response.
âwhatâd you make for dessert!â
âmochi.â
âyaaaayyyyy!â he cheered happily. âcan i eat it with y/n in the living room?â
katsukiâs brows furrowed. âthe living room?â
âyeah!â milo exclaimed. âso i can keep showing her my race cars!â
he struggled for a moment before eventually nodding. âalright⊠but donât make a mess i just cleanedââ
you and milo ended up building a fucking fort once he gave you the all clear, you both saying something about it adding to the ambiance as you used the couch cushions for makeshift walls and miloâs choo choo train sheets for the roof and tent, katsuki before he knew it his entire living room a fucking mess as the three of you sat amongst the scattered about pillows and blankets eating your bits of mochi, milo mainly inside the little tent you made for him as you and katsuki were too big to fit inside with him.
his living room was a mess⊠but he didnât mind.
katsuki didnât mind the mess.
your way of living was entirely different from his, as yours had everything to do with mess due to your full time job with kidsâ paint all over your hands and face, marker stains on your clothes and sticky glue residue and pieces of cut up construction paper somehow in your hair, all things katsuki despised for years and made sure his house never reflected any of that.
but in that moment, with his living room in complete disarray and the positioning of his couches utterly fucked up? the dishes still in the sink and the table still set?
katsuki didnât fucking care.
because he had never seen his son so happy. he had never seen him so excited and hyper as you helped him set up and somehow tie fairy lights that katsuki had somewhere up in his attic for holiday seasons around the fort, you looking fucking gorgeous under the dim dark lightning as you read milo one of his favorite childrenâs books you got from his little shelf in his roomâ âthe very hungry caterpillar,â one of your favorites too as his son followed along with you and giggled whenever youâd make a silly joke only a five year old would find funny.
and katsuki felt warm⊠thatâs all he ever felt when he was around you.
is this what it was like to be a family?
âoh my goodness i almost forgot!â you quickly sat up and handed milo the book, him taking it as you crawled over and reached for your bag. âi brought something for you honey!â
milo gasped and sat up. âreally?! what?!â
you pulled out a ceramic cream colored globe with hollowed out stars, a small bulb inside as you scooched on your knees back over to a curious katsuki and milo.
âwoah..â his son whispered. âwhat is it?â
you smiled and reached for the nearest outlet, plugging in the little globe and flicking a switch.
the darkened room illuminated itself then with the soft murmur of a lullaby playing, star shaped shadows slowly shifting around the entire living room as milo gasped and stood, frantically pointing at each moving shadow and gushing while his little mind was trying to process how cool and fascinating this was.
and all katsuki could do was stare at you.
stare at the way you sat back on your ankles and pointed with milo, counting how many stars you could see before it shifted and repeating that for fun, stare at the way both of your eyes glowed with wonder and curiosity, and stare at the way you smiled so gracefully and looked unreal now under the starry lights, his heart on overdrive at how gentle you were and how much you cared about his son.
about him.
and katsuki was sure then he was absolutely sick over you.
you all settled after a while of playing games and eating more mochi, especially milo, the little lullaby knocking him out as he snored next to you in his fort, you and katsuki laying down next to each other as you stared up at the shifting stars.
âiâm sorry i made such a mess in your living room..â you whispered bashfully. âi promise iâll pick everything up before i leave.â
he shook his head. âdonât worry about it i can pick up. itâs fine.â
you smiled at him warmly before looking back up at the ceiling, feet planted on the blanketed flooring as your mindlessly moved your propped up knees side to side.
âwas it hard raising milo on your own kats?â you asked softly, fingers wrung together neatly on your tummy.
âit was at first.â he mumbled. âbut i got used to doinâ it on my own.â
you frowned, not particularly happy with the idea that katsuki had to raise a human being on his own without any help or guidance, wishing that he wouldâve had someone there to help him every once in a while, or just be there for him.
âyou did an exceptional job, okay?â you began. âyou should know that... milo is such an honest kid⊠and heâs so precious too.â
katsukiâs eyes softened, and he couldnât bring himself to look at you in fear of you noticing his stupid flustered face as he opted for keeping his gaze glued to the starry ceiling, your sugary peachy perfume not fucking helping as he decided to sit up instead.
âhe is.â he grunted softly. âdonât know how his mom didnât see that.â
you faltered and sat up with him.
âwhat do you mean?â
katsuki eyed you before looking down, hands flat behind him propping himself up as he thought.
âah⊠milo happened because of some random hookup i had in college.â he mumbled. âdidnât love her or anythinâ, i barely knew her but still told her iâd support her and the baby obviously.â
you nodded, encouraging him to continue.
âi was there through her entire pregnancy and when milo was born⊠but the minute she got discharged from the hospital and took him with her, i woke up at four in the morninâ with a knock on my door and milo left abandoned on my doorstep.â
you gasped, hand hovering over your mouth.
âare youâ are you serious?â
katsuki nodded.
âshe wouldnât answer my calls, my texts, nothing. i went to her house and found out she took the first flight she could to fuck knows where.â he shook his head bitterly. âbut i didnât give a shit about me iâll raise him i donât care. it was never about me.
he looked at you. âit was about milo. i didnât want him to know that his âmomâ left him behind like that, and i didnât want him to think it was his fault or anythinâ⊠shits ridiculous.â
katsuki shifted his gaze back up to the ceiling. âstill donât know how she could ever do something like that.â
the sound of a hiccup make his eyes widen and snap back to you, your eyes filled with fat tears as your bottom lip wobbled, hands coming up to cup over your mouth and nose as you tried to keep it in.
âyouâre crying?â
you nodded, squeaky slight sobs slipping past your throat as you strained to keep everything down.
âthatâs so cruel.â you cried softly, embarrassingly drowning in your tears in front of him yet again. âyou didnât deserve that at all kats⊠milo didnât deserve that you both shouldâve had such a good mommy andâ and a good support systemââ
katsuki pushed himself up and wrapped his big arms around your shoulders, pulling you in and rubbing a hand up and down your back comfortingly.
âyou cry over everything y/n.â
âsââ hic! ââsorryââ
he laid the side of his head on top of yours as you shook, somehow feeling guilty of what he told you just because of how much you were crying.
more than when he gave you those star shaped fruits.
âoiâŠâ
katsuki pulled back and looked at you, reaching up and wiping your tears with his thumbs.
âdonât cry babyâŠâ
baby?!
you funnily sobbed even more and shoved your face in his chest, him chuckling as he wrapped his arms back around you and gently swayed side to side.
âstop it idiot.â he mumbled. âitâs fine. it happened years ago nâ milo and i have always been alright on our own.â
âŠbut he wanted you now.
now that he knew what it was like to be softly cared for by someone precious like you, to feel what it was like to be warm and fuzzy and sunshine and rainbows and candy all of the time⊠and katsuki wanted you so. bad.
âi know..â you hiccuped. âand iâm really glad but i just wish you had someone.â
you pulled away and quickly wiped your wet cheeks. âmâsorry i cried all over your shirtââ
âdonât give a fuck.â
you breathed out a laugh and dropped your hands in your lap, looking at your fingers as you sniffed.
you were always crying for him.
ây/n.â
âyeah?â
he looked to the side with a blush to his cheeks.
âthanks for cominâ today.â
you smiled brightly and nodded.
âof course kats! how could i not?â you looked behind you to a sleeping milo, reaching over and pulling his blanket a little further up his shoulders. âi want you to know that i wanna be there for you and miloâŠâ
he shifted his gaze to you as you turned back around.
âwhetherâ whether you wanna keep seeing me or notââ you gnawed nervously at the inside of your cheek. âwhich i hope you do! butâ but if not thatâs totally fine i just want to be there for you bothâŠâ
how were you so pure? so thoughtful?
âwhy the hell wouldnât i wanna keep seeing you?â he huffed, grumbly and embarrassed as he pursed his lips. âiâd be stupid as fuck not toâŠâ
you blushed, happy shiny eyes looking at him eagerly like he was everything and more, and he wasnât used to people looking at him like that whatsoever as your gaze flickered down to his lips and back up.
and you were so pretty.
ây/n.â
âmhm?â
he slowly leaned closer.
âwould you be mad if i made a move on youââ
âof course notââ
katsuki lunged and planted his rough lips on yours, you tasting like straight sugar and honey as he placed his big hands on the sides of you head and held you like a piece of delicate glass, kissing and sliding your tongues in each others mouths rather quickly and breathy as he moved one hand from your pretty face down to your waist to grip it.
you placed your hands on the blanketed floor and slowly crawled over to him during the makeout, him reaching and wrapping the rest of his built muscly arms around your waist and pulling you to straddle his lap as he ran his hands up and down your sides and back, wanting to feel you as much as he possibly could and squeeze you tight as he gulped your little self down, brows furrowed and lips red.
katsuki pulled away and ran his fiery wet mouth across your jaw and to the spot right below your ear on the side of your neck, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as he bit and sucked and still squeezed you, manhandling you in a way and eating you up.
your eyes fluttered open once you heard a slight rustle, your line of sight catching milo shifting a little in his sleep.
âkâkatsââ you breathlessly whispered, pushing a little at his shoulders.
he grunted.
âmiloââ you pointed. âheâs waking upââ
âthe fucks that gotta do with usââ
âkats!â
he groaned and pulled his mouth from you, scowling over to see his son only shifted positions and was now directly facing the both of you, tiny eyes closed as he drooled and was probably dreaming about race cars and his dads shark shaped pb & j sandwiches.
âthe little runt is fineââ he shoved his face back in and gnawed at your neck again as you gasped.
ânooo!â you whined and giggled softly. ânow iâm scared heâs gonna wake upâŠâ
he huffed and officially pulled away this time, red eyes dilated and half lidded as he looked over your pinky cheeks and shy face, the purple and blue mark he made on your neck making the right side of his lips curve up into a little prideful smirk, you too distracted to notice over the way he clutched and loosened up the hold on your waist repeatedly.
katsuki kept you on his lap and scooched himself down, laying on his back and head on the pillow as he nudged you to lay on him completely over his chest and body, you more than happy to do so as you settled your head on his pecs and got comfortable with his strong arms around youâ feeling so safe and looked after.
and you hadnât expected to sleep over⊠but you just didnât wanna leave, and katsuki sure as hell didnât want you to either as you softly and quietly talked over the small tinkling of the lullaby and miloâs soft breathing, shadowy stars still slowly shifting around you as you easily switched between various topicsâ ranging from serious to silly as you ran a loving hand over his chest and his on your back, the both of you subconsciously lulling each other to sleep until you were just as passed out on the floor as milo.
since then, katsuki didnât wanna let you out of his sight.
as if he wasnât already involved enough with miloâs school activities because of you, this man became a fucking member of the pta and volunteered himself for every single event so as long as you were there, helping you out especially with fundraisers and bake sales as his desserts always sold out quicker than anything else and made bank as he snickered and boasted at the other parents that werenât selling as much, you giving him a silly glare that never failed to shut him right up as he wanted to be good for you and not upset you.
the front desk lady even went from hating him to loving him, katsuki grumbling and chucking her a bag of leftover fundraiser chocolate chip cookies on her desk as he passed by to drop off milo in the mornings, serving as a ticket way in and to get her to shut up now instead of yelling at him from down the hall.
and he continued to give you yummy star shaped fruits.
except now some days they looked like hearts or little flowers, and he always made his fruit assortments different so you wouldnât get tired of them and added different dippings like caramel or chocolate hazelnut, you gushing and nearly bawling literally everyday whenever youâd open the container and milo giggling at you during lunch.
you also never went a day without stopping by or staying over at katsukiâs house since your first initial date, your days so much fun and filled with love as you ate lunch or dinner with the two of them, laughing at miloâs sporadic comments or katsukiâs barking and scolding while you either played with milo, helped katsuki clean up the house and him the kitchen or you the kitchen and vice versa, or simply cuddle on the couch with kisses shared amongst you and katsukiâ the three of you with milo seated peacefully and comfortable in the middle while you watched a movie or lulled the little man to sleep.
and katsuki had never felt so complete as he started leaving messes behind without even realizing or stressing about it, and he didnât know when the fuck it was that he turned so soft and sappyâ the change a bit strange to those who knew him as he was just a teeny weeny less explosive and angry over small things, and more so when it came to you and his son.
âmake sure you keep your little bucket hat on honey, okay? itâs hot today and i donât want you to tire yourself out milo.â
the end of the year field trip for the kindergarteners this year was a voyage to the local wildlife sanctuary, a gorgeous exhibit that sat right next to the national science museum in your city, its main attraction being the 25 foot koi pond and butterfly wonderland that housed various butterfly species and their little habitatsâ the kids field trip assignment being to count how many they see throughout the day and pick one koi fish and butterfly to draw on their journals.
katsuki, of course, volunteered as a chaperone.
âsingle file line please my loves!â you called, hand by your mouth. âand donât seperate from your friends okay?! everyone stay where i can seeââ
âoi!â katsuki barked, snapping and pointing at a rogue kid who decided to break free from the line and run across the grass. âthe fuck do you think youâre doing!ââ
âkats!â you breathed out a shocked laugh. âyouâre gonna get me fired if you talk to the kids like thatââ
âshit! sorryâ iâm sorry baby hold onââ
katsuki booked it across the grassy lawn and caught up with the running kid on the other side, the rest of your class giggling and cackling as katsuki swooped him up with one arm and dangled him upside down while he kicked and swung tiny punches to his abs, katsuki not even flinching.
âdo that again and see what happens brat.â he spat, the little kid not having a single care in the world as he giggled with the rest of the class, all of them deviously planning to piss katsuki off as much as possible since his outbursts were just funny.
âokay okayââ you smiled apologetically at him before taking the dangling boy from his arm and setting him back down, fixing over his clothes and backpack before patting his head and standing upright.
âno more running alright?â you placed your hands on your hips. âdonât we wanna see some cute little fishies and butterflies?!â
âyeeeeaaaahhhh!!â the babies cheered excitedly, each of them immediately returning to their designated spots in two lines as you grabbed your line leaders tiny hands and started the walk down the grassy field to the sanctuary.
âlemme help ya with one line babyââ katsuki went to grab one of your line leaders hands until they burst into a crying fit.
âno! no! i wanna hold miss y/nâs hand!â
katsukiâs eyes narrowed. âwhatâs so bad about me hah?â
âyouâre ugly! miss y/n is pretty!â
the rest of the kids ruptured, laughing as katsuki sent death glares to a literal child, about to spout something nasty until his eyes flickered to your pleading face, his muscles instantly relaxing as he casted his gaze to the ground with a grumble.
you giggled and gave him a sweet kiss to his cheek in gratitude, his face flushing as he eyed your deep blue overalls and pinky shirt and the way your sunglasses sat pretty in your hair on top of your head.
âwhat honey?â you tilted your head.
ânone of your business.â
you snickered and nudged your shoulder with his, looking over at milo from somewhere in the line to make sure he was okay before walking up the front gates of the sanctuary.
the wildlife guide met you once you all were cleared and inside the greenhouse, your kids absolutely restless as they âlistenedâ to whatever the guide had to say and just wanting to break free and run around to look at all of the fishies and butterflies like you had promised, and you not even listening either as you drooled over the way katsukiâs muscles looked under his t-shirt.
âany questions sweetheart?â
âhuh?â your eyes snapped to the guide, cheeks pink as you quickly shook your head. âoh! no not at all! thank you maâam!â
âalrighty then! just please make sure to tell your studentsââ
suddenly your two perfect lines broke apart as the kids started running around and pointing at fluttering butterflies and screaming, the guide looking like sheâd seen a ghost as the usual quiet and serene sanctuary was now the epitome of noise.
âiâm sorry! iâm sorryââ you guiltily apologized. âmy kids will settle down theyâre just excited is allâŠâ
the guide kindly waved you off before walking back to the main office, you turning and expecting to see katsuki standing next to you, but faltering once you saw he was on the other side and pulling one of your kids down that had climbed up the gates of one of the sanctuaries closed off exhibits.
âoh god..â you mumbled, about to make your way over until you spotted milo in a corner alone, staring at one of the koi ponds.
âmilo?â you called softly, walking up to him.
your heart sank once he turned and you saw his little tear filled eyes and wobbling lip.
âoh no!â you gasped, crouching down and taking his tiny hands in yours. âwhatâs wrong my love? are you okay? is it too hot?â
you pushed some of his spiky blonde bangs back from his sweaty forehead as he shook his head.
âi canât draw!â he sniffled. âand the koi fishies keep movingâŠâ
your shoulders relaxed in relief.
âthatâs okay!â you took his journal and pencil, wiping his wet cheeks as you smiled sweetly. âas long as weâre patient with the fishies, theyâll swim back and you can draw them again!â
you opened his journal and flipped to a new blank page, the both of you waiting quietly until a big chubby koi fish swam by.
âthere!â milo whispered and pointed, and you quickly drew what you could, just making out the shape of the body before it disappeared again.
âand now we wait!â you grinned up at him. âthe fishy will come back around and youâll be able to draw it again.â
âkayyy!!â
âand you can draw milo. iâve seen your artwork in class, remember? you always get a gold star!â
he giggled. âi do miss pretty!â
you ran a soothing hand over his back before passing his journal back.
ânow you try honeyââ
âi love you.â
you froze and looked up, katsuki standing there with a sincere and vulnerable look in his eye.
you stood from your crouched position and looked at him wide eyed.
âiâm notâ iâm not good at this kinda shit at all and i always say somethinâ dumb but i do.â
âkatsââ
âand iâm sorry it took me so long to say it but i tried to make it obvious with my stupid shaped fruits nâ shit⊠and i always thought you kinda just knewâŠâ
milo was too busy focusing on catching glimpses of the koi fish to draw with his tongue peeking out to even realize what was going on next to him.
âyouâre so patient baby. the way you are with me⊠the way you are with my kid. i need that in my life and i canât live without it at this pointâŠâ he spoke genuinely. âyour fuckinâ fault.â
you giggled and covered your face with your hands, face hot to the touch and bashful at everything he was telling you.
âcome here.â
you listened and walked forward, dropping your arms as you wrapped them around his abdomen and his around your head, squishing you in his big chest as he propped his chin up.
âdo you love me too or what.â he frowned. âcause if not this is shitty and embarrassingââ
âno i do!â you giggled, pulling away and giving him a cheeky smile. âi do kats you know that⊠i love you. so much.â
he smiled and pecked your lips. âgood, miss pretty.â
katsuki had heard the entire conversation you had with his son, your words seeping with such tenderness and care, and he almost passed the fuck out when he thought about how much of a blessing you were, something heâd be a fool not to snatch up and take as he nearly fucking proposed to you in the middle of the sanctuary like an idiot, not knowing at all how a person that pissed people off for a living was loved by a woman who was the definition of pure.
because how the fuck did an angry dunce like him, get lucky with an angel like you?
âoh my god that dumbass kid is climbinâ the fence againâ oi!â
katsuki quickly kissed your cheek before flying to the other side of the sanctuary, you doubling over in laughter as you watched him fight and tug and pull, your student not budging at all whatsoever and the rest of the kids laughing at how red katsuki was getting in the face.
âmiss pretty!â milo tugged at your overalls, and you looked down to see him holding up his open journal, a cute wobbly sketch of a koi fish on the page as he smiled big. âi drew it! do you like it?!â
âwow milo!â you gushed, crouching down to his level and taking the journal, examining his artwork. âthis is beautiful my love! see? i knew you could do it!â
âthank youuu!â he responded sweetly, his little cheeks blushing as he looked at you like he had another thing he wanted to say.
you tilted your head. âdo you wanna tell me something else?â
âyeaaahhh.â he dragged. âplease love my dad⊠i know heâs mean butâ but he doesnât mean it!â
your eyes softened as milo looked down at his shoes.
âand love me too⊠because i want you to be my new mommyâŠâ
you quickly blinked back tears as to not alarm milo, surprisingly successful at preventing them from slipping down your face.
âi do love your dad honey⊠and you. the both of you i love so so much.â
he beamed. âreally?!â
you nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. âand i thought i was already your mommy milo!â
the little man gasped and flung his arms around your neck.
âYAAAYYY!â he yelled. âmiss pretty is my mommy! i have a mommy now!â
ever since you came into katsukiâs life, his way of living materialized into something completely different.
because now instead of his house being plain and boring and organized from top to bottom without a single thing out of placeâ it was warm now⊠happy. and never went a day without smelling like cookies and vanilla as you and katsuki baked with milo any chance you could, set up more pillow forts and tents with starry ceilings, and slept with milo in his room as he snored content in his little bed, you sprawled directly on top of katsuki like he always had you as you both every day intended to leave after putting his son to rest, but ending up falling asleep on the floor each time.
the three of you were a little family.
and katsuki didnât know why he hated messes so much in the first place.
because mess signified that something had been there, something sunny and tender, something that signified family as you peppered kisses over both your boysâ faces everyday and katsuki drowning you in his rough onesâ your man squeezing you so tight all of the time and anywhere, as milo wasnât just his son now but yours too as you took him to the park or to the aquarium on your days off, the three of you gently living as both of miloâs small hands were occupied now instead of just one.
katsukiâs life looked like it had been generously cherished and lived in for a change.
and katsuki bakugo loved messes.
so as long as they were from you.
taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):
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#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#boku no academia#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki x you#mha bakugou#bakugou x reader#bnha#mha#mha x reader#bnha x reader#izuku midoriya#mha izuku#bnha izuku#izuku x reader#izuku x y/n#katsuki x y/n#katsuki bakugo fluff#mha fluff#bnha fluff#kirishima x reader#kirishima eijirou#mha kirishima#bnha eijiro kirishima#shoto todoroki#mha shoto#shoto x reader
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Story Prompt 12
In a world draped in the elegant fabric of the past, where the air resonated with the timeless notes of a grand piano, two souls found themselves entwined in a delicate dance of emotions. Their gazes spoke volumes, a silent symphony echoing the unspoken words that hung in the air like sweet perfume.
She, adorned in the grace of a bygone era, moved through the opulent ballroom with a quiet allure. Her eyes, pools of mystery, met his across the room. He, a gentleman of quiet strength and refined manners, reciprocated the gaze with a subtle nod. The music, a tapestry of emotions, guided them through the uncharted territories of their unspoken connection.
As the violin weaved a tale of longing and desire, their eyes met again, the subtle acknowledgment growing into a silent pact. Each step towards the other was a note in the sonnet of their shared understanding. The chandeliers overhead cast a warm glow, accentuating the gentle curves of her silhouette and the strength in his stance.
Their hands brushed in passing, a fleeting touch that sent ripples through the air. The crescendo of the music mirrored the building tension between them. A waltz of unspoken confessions unfolded under the glittering lights, revealing a story only they could decipher.
In the shadows of the dance floor, they found a refuge, a secret alcove where the symphony of their hearts played in harmony. The moon, a silent witness, bathed them in its silver glow. His hand found hers, fingers intertwining as if completing a musical chord that resonated in the depths of their souls.
The dance continued, a celebration of the tacit understanding that bound them. Each glance, a stanza; every touch, a verse. The timeless beauty of their connection unfolded in the grandeur of the ballroom, where the only witnesses were the notes that lingered in the air long after the music had ceased.
As the final chords faded away, they stood in the quiet aftermath, the echoes of their unspoken romance lingering in the air like a soft melody. Without uttering a single word, they had composed a love story, a masterpiece that transcended time and space, leaving an indelible mark on the pages of their shared history.
#story prompts#creative writing#writing inspiration#plot ideas#writers community#prompt challenge#imaginative writing#story ideas#writers block cure#fictional prompts#inspire writing#character development#writing challenge#unleash your imagination#plotting ideas#storytelling prompt#writers life#get writing#author inspiration#word prompt#creative prompt#write away#story generator#plot bunny#am writing fiction#narrative ideas#story spark#writing prompts galore#plot building
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a word from our sponsors | knj
youâve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasnât stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistryâpeople have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny⊠until you canât stop thinking about it. đïž
pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)
Youâve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.
You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.
None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what heâd written his grad school thesis on and what heâd looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when itâs closing in on Friday night and heâs got a dateâhow much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.
You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.
Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.
Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.
Looking at him now, you arenât sure thatâs true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just⊠Namjoon. Heâs intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.
âThereâs another post about whether or not weâre dating,â you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.
sooo letâs be real here, we ALL think theyâre dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago
Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne heâd chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.
Itâs sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I donât even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) âł omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they arenât full on dating, but theyâve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so đ„đ„đ„ (+791) âł um how can namjoon be dating her when heâs already married to me đđ
(+3) âł For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women canât just be friends. (-51)
âHow come they never talk about how hot you are?â
You can tell by the look on Namjoonâs face that he hadnât meant to say thatâor, if he did, he didnât mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. âCursed to be ugly and dumb,â you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says youâd have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.
He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. âYeah, I donât think so, lots of people havenât slept with me.â Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, âHey, all that stuffâdoes it bother you?â
âWhat do you mean?â you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.
âPeople thinking weâre together,â he clarifies.
You shrug. âI dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshareââ
âHello?â
âIâm just saying,â you retort, hands raised in self-defense. âThere really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.â Namjoon looks affronted, like he canât believe youâd stoop so low as to bring that up. âOr that you lost your virginity at fifteen.â
âWe have a relationship podcast,â he states simply. âThatâs kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.â
You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. âNo one said it wasnât, I just said you overshare. Which you do.â
âAnd thatâs why thereâs a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not weâre dating? Because I overshare?â
âYeah, exactly. Thatâs the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think theyâre your friend.â He glares. âDonât give me that look, you know Iâm right. Itâs bad enough youâve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? Itâs like youâre begging for trouble.â
Another comment he doesnât even realize heâs making: âI donât beg. For anything.â
To this day, youâre not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.
His reasoning had been simple: âYouâre my best friend and we donât agree on anything.â Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldnât entertain, and you⊠do not, to put it simply.
Youâre not a cold person. Your fuse isnât short. Youâre just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoonâs right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldnât be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.
Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcastâwhich Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with forceâhad picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, youâre inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes itâs a little more serious. Thatâs where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.
âWhatâs on the agenda today?â he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.
Ah, Jungkook.
You arenât sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and itâs his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all youâve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.
âIâm in a silly goofy mood,â comes Jungkookâs reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and thatâs quite alright by you.
Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.
Thatâs the thing about Namjoonâhe takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. Heâs all skill and determination and youâre color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you arenât too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that heâs trying to solve and fix things that arenât his responsibility to solve and fix.
So he takes it really seriously and you donât take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.
Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, âAre you ready?â and does one last equipment check before he launches into, âWelcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. Whatâs new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?â
Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. âI see you almost every single day,â you respond dryly. âBut for the sake of entertainment, Iâm thinking about getting a cat.â
âA cat?â Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.
Youâve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but youâve known him even longer.
Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person youâd been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But alsoâYoongi, allergic to cats.
So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, youâre intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners donât even know your real name, let alone that youâd gone through a breakup a year ago.
âWhat kind of cat?â he continues, like his entire world hasnât just been turned upside-down.
You shrug. âEh, I donât know. Probably one thatâs been in the shelter a long time, I guess. Iâm not too fussy, you know?â
âRight, a cat is a cat,â Namjoon says, thinking heâs done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. âWhat? Why are you giving me that look?â
âBecause thatâs a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. Youâve gotââ
âBut you just said youâre not fussy,â he interjects. âAnd I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you canât have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, itâd never workââ
âWhat does that mean? Why couldnât I have a cool cat?â
âHey, all you cool cats and kittens,â Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks heâs done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. âAnyway. Do you have pictures?â
âYeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.â
âThatâs cute.â
âMhm,â you agree, âbut Casserole is a kitten, and Iâm not sure Iâm ready for that kind of responsibility.â
âThey do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.â
âAnd thatâs how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it youâve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.â
âSick name.â
âNumber three, Toddler.â
âToddler?â
âNumber two, Flat.â
âJust Flat? Understandable.â
âAnd, finally, number one: Human Torch.â
âYoooo.â Namjoon laughs. âYou have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.â You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. âOkay, for our listenersâHuman Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I donât know what thatâs called.â
âTabby,â Jungkook chimes in.
âJungkook says heâs a tabby. Heâs cute. Adopt him.â
You return your phone to your pocket. âMaybe. I still think I want an older cat, but Iâll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?â
Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced theyâre fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and itâs a little embarrassing kind of way.
âNot really,â he answers. âIâve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.â
âItâs a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?â
âThree?â Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. âSince when are there three? I havenât even seen one or two.â
âOkay, first of all, the original is a classic and itâs a crime you havenât seen it.â
âAnd second of all?â
âThere is no second of all. Repeat point one.â
He snorts. âIâm not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howlâs Moving Castle.â
ïżœïżœSubbed or dubbed, though?â
âAre you trying to get me canceled?â
âAbsolutely.â
âI like both,â he chickens out. âNow, letâs stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.â
âTalking about cats is a waste of time?â
âIâno, weâve just got a lot on the agenda today.â
âLike what?â
âWell, thereâs lots to talk about on the celebrity frontââ
Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when thatâs the case you know youâre in for a long evening. Youâve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.
But Namjoon loves it, so youâve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.
ââone should we start with?â
âWhatever you want,â you answer, because you havenât been paying a lick of attention and you arenât sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but heâs an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.
And even though you hadnât been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. âCool. Letâs start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarreââ
âWho?â
âWhat?â
âWho is Taryn Manning?â
Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkookâs arching an eyebrow at you. âAre you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.â
âThe Britney Spears movie?â
âYeah.â
âOh. Weird, okay. Continue.â
Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. âI will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she canât stand the manâs wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.â
âIâhuh, thought we werenât supposed to say that anymore. Alright.â
âBut wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quoteâand this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I canât stop thinking about it: âDonât you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.â Can youââ
âWhat? Namjoon, what in the fuckââ
âItâs crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.â
âNamjoon, this is a family show, you canât just talk about ass-eating unprompted.â
âNo itâs not.â
âWell, you still shouldnât talk about ass-eating unprompted. Itâs unbecoming.â
âYouâre unbecoming,â Namjoon fires back, because he canât help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. âSorry, that was out of line.â
You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. âUnbecoming, like I said.â Namjoon scoffs. âAnyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?â
âYeah. Apparently it was her friendâs husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.â
âJesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.â
âIt is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.â
âI saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, soââ
âCan you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?â
âI donât know, Iâm not an astrology girlie. Thatâs why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?â
âWhatâs that?â
âYour sun, moon, and rising signs.â
âHow do I find that out?â
âUgh,â you intone, âdonât worry about it, Iâll do it myself. What time were you born?â
Namjoon rattles off a time.
You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoonâs date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then youâre staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also donât make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. âBad news: it says youâre a virgin.â
âVirgo,â Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. âI already knew that.â
You scroll a little further down the page. âYour moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, theyâve got you pegged: âThe greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or beliefâââ
âHaaa, thatâs notââ
âââYou need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.â Yeah, thatâs you.â
âThat could apply to anyone,â he argues. âThere are seven-billion people on this planet; Iâd imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.â
âHm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know youâre a Scorpio rising?â
âNo. Iâm sure youâre gonna tell me all about it, though.â
You smile. âCorrect. âPeople with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.â Is that true?â
âYeah, youâre the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.â He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if youâre being honest. âI guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.â
âThat was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess weâre allowed to have faith in humanity today.â
To your left, Jungkook scoffs.
âAlright,â Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, âfirst up weâve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, âHi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good handsâand then he showed up to get me in a â67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didnât use my name once. Iâm torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agaiâââ
âNo,â you interject.
âCan I finish?â
âYou donât have to. This guy sounds greasy.â
Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. âAnd why is that?â
âIgnoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didnât use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? Thatâs really disrespectful.â
âSome people are just pet name people,â Namjoon argues.
âWith absolute strangers, though? Itâs really giving the impression that he didnât even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.â
âI agree it sounds a bit misguided, butââ
Ignoring Namjoon, you say, âSorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.â
And, just like heâs done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, âIf you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortableâif it didâand offer to pick him up for the next date. I donât think heâs completely destined for the garbage, yet.â
âYouâre just saying that because you donât have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. Thatâs probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?â
âThatâs a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, Iâll have you know.â
You groan. âOh my god.â
Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin
I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so Iâm glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) âł just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) âł Imagine caring about something like this when theyâre getting a cat together đ (+19)
You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.
Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea youâve ever had, and truth be told itâs been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.
Itâs justâ
Itâs a big commitment, and thereâs also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means youâre still Yoongiâs second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), heâs a lot like his father in a lot of ways.
Should I get a cat, you type out, and itâs only been in Yoongiâs inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture youâve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.
âAre you dying?â you ask, because Yoongi doesnât call you for much else.
And you already know what his response is going to be. âWeâre all dying.â
âLighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.â
Thereâs a split-second pause. âItâs nine p.m.â
âSure, but itâs before tomorrowâs noon, so it still counts.â
âWhatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.â
âYou going out of town again?â
âYeah. Shouldnât be long, though. A week at the most, five days if Iâm lucky.â
âThatâs fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeongâs busy?â
This pause is far, far longer. âNo,â comes Yoongiâs eventual response, but itâs slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. âHeâs, uh. Coming with me?â
Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. Youâve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. âThis is a fanfiction plot,â you accuse. âHot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.â
âIâthatâs notâmy apartment is not gaudy.â
âYes it is. Thereâs a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.â
âWeird bird?â he parrots. âItâs a swan.â
âI see youâre not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.â
âAm I on trial?â Yoongi retorts, and itâs such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I wonât ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and Iâd like for you to give me this.
So you lower your voice and soften the edges because itâs not really something to joke about, and you say, âNo, of course youâre not on trial,â and Yoongi knows what you mean. âAnd if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You canât lie for shit.â
Thereâs a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost donât catch it. âSend me pictures of the cats.â
Later on, once youâre freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de lâamour by Alain Badiou at Namjoonâs insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongiâ
Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: itâs a tie for me You: Okay well pick one đ Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If heâs now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesnât miss you anymore and heâs not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please donât drag me into this. Also I did not say âfuck offâ You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you
You shouldâve known something was going on with Jungkook, because itâd started like this:
(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.
Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back thenâNamjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but youâve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like heâs doing now.
âIs this really necessary?â Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. Heâs already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. âItâs a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.â
Namjoon scoffs. âAre you saying this isnât fun?â
âYeah. It sucks, actually. This couldâve been an email.â
And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkookâs bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkookâs way. âStop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like thatââ
âIâm not lounging,â Jungkook argues.
âYouâre manspreading all over the leather!â
âThis is how I sit!â
âWell, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think Iâm fun!â
Jungkook rolls his eyes. âSo you fuck on it?â
âWhat?â
âWhat other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?â
Namjoon blinks. âWatch⊠watch a movie?â
Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if heâs suffering a Victorian ailment. âJesus. No wonder you canât score a second date.â
âOkay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with meââ
âUh-huh. Anywayââ
You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer youâd taken from Namjoonâs fridge in the midst of his and Jungkookâs bickering. âNot trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, yâknow. You wouldnât mind speeding this up a little.â
âOh! Yeah, of courseââ
âOh, so youâll speed this up for her but notââ
Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. âShe,â he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, âisnât needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.â)
It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoonâs living room to come up with a rough draft for the following monthâs episodes. He couldnât do it over text because heâd fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldnât do it over email because heârightfullyâknew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoonâs personal emails to the trash.
But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:
âWhat is this?â
Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. âItâs fanfiction.â
âI can see that, but⊠why?â
This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldnât possibly be fucking with him. âWell, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and thereâs an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expliââ
âJungkook, this is fanfiction about me.â
You canât help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit youâve seen on the internet (and thereâs been a lot), fanfiction of people you knowâyour friendsâwas something youâd managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.
But you shouldâve known. You really, really shouldâve known.
âOh my god?â
Youâre not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you thatâs met with a shrug. Youâre in uncharted territory now, too. âWhere did you even find this?â you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. âAnd why did you print it out?â
âBecause Iâm going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then Iâm going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.â
âItâs a podcast,â Namjoon deadpans, âhow can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?â
âItâs the internet,â you concede. âThe lore possibilities are endless. Donât tempt them.â
Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. âYeah, thatâs how you end up with shit like 4chan.â
â4chan? Thereâs Space Jam porn on there.â
As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. âSometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFsââ
Namjoon scoffs. âIâm not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.â
Wow, Jungkook mouths. âAnyway, back to the fanfictionââ
âI donât want to talk about it,â Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. âItâs weird, right? Like, itâs weird that people have written this about us?â
About us.
Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. Itâd just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, heâd said, and you hadnât been included in that. Now itâs written about us and youâre included.
âIâwhat?â
âItâs about us,â Namjoon repeats.
Jungkook rolls his lips. âItâs about the two of you fucking, to be specific.â
âCan you notââ
âFucking a lot,â Jungkook continues. âSo much fucking.â
Namjoon looks at you, and itâs all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe itâs a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselvesâabout the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sexâis weird. Not something you can unread.
And maybe itâs because youâre so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, âIâll need a couple drinks, but Iâm down.â
Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoonâs face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkookâs schemes, but itâs rare that you follow suit.
As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you shouldâve said no.
Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.
The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the pointâhe knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You canât say he isnât efficient.
The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that heâs the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.
âNo,â Namjoon repeats for the nth time, âno way. Iâll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.â
And thatâthat doesnât bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?
There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study himâthe way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his handsâyou wonder if thatâs the reason heâs being so weird about this.
Itâs just a story.
Fiction.
Most people donât have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, itâs a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, donât they? Itâs literally the reason youâre in this predicament.
Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little âu guys wonât believe what the next patreon ep is lmaoâ that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isnât overwhelming.
Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.
Namjoon gets caught up with work and isnât available until the weekend, so youâre forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but youâre nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. Youâre well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.
What will they know of Namjoon, though?
Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when itâs raspy with sleep and when heâs fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?
And youâve known him a long timeâlong enough that there are few secrets between you, but you donât know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.
Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?
No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like youâve been burned, and neither will you.
Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and youâve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. Youâre not going to do it, too.
Maybe thatâs why youâre kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. Youâd necked it without a second thought and now youâre here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.
âHowâs the shot look?â he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasnât allowed to be involved.
Itâs a completely normal question.
Itâs a question youâve asked and answered a million times.
Exceptâthereâs something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. Heâs always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you canât remember it ever being this obvious.
And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.
You swallow. Hard.
âLooks fine,â you manage to say. Heâs still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like youâre on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoonâs sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. âMaybe a tiny bit to the right if weâre being picky,â you tack on, hoping itâll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.
It works. âTo theâthe right, yeah, makes sense,â he rambles.
He moves it an inch to the left.
â
Things are tense, to say the least.
Recording hasnât been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. Youâre sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, thereâs just silence.
âShould weâŠ?â Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. âSorry, are youââ
âIâm fine,â he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. âIâll just⊠yeah.â
Showtime.
You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when youâd grown so nervous, too, because youâd been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.
Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoonâs back. Or his biceps.
Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also donât think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. Itâs only because heâd been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.
ââJungkook had. Right, Piper?â
Now itâs your turn to startle, and thereâs not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because itâs bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance youâve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you wouldâthis is a blatant display of⊠affectedness.
âSorry,â you say, âI wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?â
Youâre expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because thatâs what you usually get. But thereâs nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if youâre okay. Saying, âIs thisâthis is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldnâtââ
An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so thereâs absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, âNo, no, itâs fine! I think Iâm just a little, uh. Drunk?â
âAre you sure? We canââ
âItâs fine, Joon,â you insist. âBesides, itâll be good content, right?â
âGood content,â he parrots. âYeah, for sure.â He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. âIâll grab us some water.â
You faceplant onto the table as soon as heâs out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?
But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.
Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episodeâs going to be about. âSomeone wrote fanfiction about us,â he says, scratching at the back of his neck. âItâs, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought itâd be funny if we read it.â
You snort. âHe might get fired, depending on how this goes.â
âHe should get fired regardless,â Namjoon deadpans. âAnyway, we have permission from the author to read this so donât come after us, and, as always, weâll put all the credits in the video description.â
âSpecial shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.â
Namjoon laughs. âIâm sure heâs having plenty of fun at home.â You both pause. âThatâs notâIâm not implying anything with that! I just meantâyou know, like. Heâs hanging out and enjoying his day off.â
âUh-huh.â
âMoving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?â
You grin, wicked and wide. âNah, just read it to me.â
âMaking me do all the work,â he huffs. âTypical.â
âThereâs a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.â
Itâs clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think youâd be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, âI guess weâll see.â
It sounds like a challenge.
Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoonâs shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if youâre ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like theyâre some old lecture notes, and theyâre conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.
And then Namjoon reads, âA louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name personâif heâd call her âhoney,â or âgummy bear,â âbabe,â or âbaby,ââ and you choke.
âGummy bear?â
Namjoon laughs along with youâthe weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. âYou want me to call you gummy bear?â
âI want you to call me a Lyft,â you snark. âIâm leaving.â
He continues:
And thatâs how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingersâthe first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesnât beg, but she does⊠Well, sheâs a little ashamed. Sheâs apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.
His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. âOr maybe youâd prefer baby?â
âFuck off.â
Weeks after that first time, itâs become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. Itâs confusing and a little mortifying and itâs starting to affect her in ways she hadnât expected. When they record, she feels fidgetyâsheâs jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesnât he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook canât hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. Itâs terrible, and itâs only made worse by the way heâs doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks sheâs not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way sheâs caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly.Â
Youâve completely forgotten how to breathe.
Namjoonâs staring again. You need to salvage this. Heâs only on paragraph three and youâre already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. âWell? Do you stare at my lips?â
It works. âNo,â he scowls.
âYou sure?â you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.
âWeâre never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.â
âYou started it,â you point out. âGo on, then.â
Thereâs some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you havenât been as subtle as youâd thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you havenât been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.
Then he readsâ
And then he kisses her. Itâs greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoonâs lips curve into a smile against her own. Itâs better than sheâd been imagining it, really. Heâs a good kisserâfirm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if sheâd want to move, anyway). When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. Itâs intimate in a way she hadnât expected, and he looks at her as if sheâs the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, âWhatâre we doing, Piper?â His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the questionâsheâs too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing andâŠÂ âKissing,â she says finally. âWhat do you want?â he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isnât an answer to his question⊠âWhatever youâre willing to give,â she replies. It feels like sheâs wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, itâs hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.
âand everything goes right out the fucking window.
Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. âThe rest is, uh. Porn.â
âThat is why weâre here.â
âLast chance to back out.â
âIâm not scared,â you lie. âAre you? Youâre the one who keeps stalling.â
He huffs. âYouâre a pain in my ass,â he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.
Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. Heâs barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, âWhen he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,â because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think heâs ready to keel over and die when he reads, âNamjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.â
âThat was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.â
âThis is so embarrassing,â he whines.
You roll your eyes good-naturedly. âGimme. Iâll finish it.â He hands over the papers immediately.
Except you regret it immediately. The words youâre staring at are not words you ever thought youâd read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. âOh,â you say instead.
âSee? Not as easy as it looks.â
âThis is really embarrassing,â you confirm. âI might need another shot.â
âY-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.â
Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe itâs different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, sheâd do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how heâll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. âLook at you,â she whispers, âsuch a needy boy.â He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. âPlease, PiperâŠâ he whines.  âPlease what?â âPlease let me fuck you,â he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. âShould I?â she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. âDo you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?â Namjoonâs cock twitches, and he begs, âIâIâll fuck you so good, PiperâŠ. I know how, I promise. Just⊠please?â
âOh my god,â the two of you say in unison.
You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what heâd do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someoneâs had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.
But you canât ask because itâd be weird, so you keep reading.
âHow do you want me?â she asks softly when their lips part. Thereâs a wild look in his eyes, like heâs processing all the possible options out of everything heâs considered. And then it occurs to her. âHave you imagined this before? Thought about how youâd fuck me?â she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. âYes,â he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. âTell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how itâs done, to let you lay back and ride you so you donât have to put in any work?â Namjoonâs breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion.Â
âI told you!â you shriek, laughing in between the words. âI told you IâdâŠâ And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.
âAll of that,â he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. âWant all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.â Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadnât considered the microphone, hadnât considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someoneâs voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, âWhatâre you waiting for?â she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.
This is⊠not good. Youâre never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.
This is very, very bad.
Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa thatâs less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No oneâs going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.
âI should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?â
âMhm. Yep. Yes, please.â
Donât say please, you almost say. You canât take it; not after what youâve just read.
So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and thatâs with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.
Maybe youâll have another one, too, if the author is nice.
Itâs sweet, she thinks, the way heâs easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes heâs not always like thisâhopes heâll give as good as he takes, hopes heâll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. âStill okay?â He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt. âYeahâwant you, Joon.â âNever thought Iâd hear you say those words.â âI never thought youâd record them,â she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her. Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. Heâs whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how sheâll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does. She hates that heâs right. Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper canât even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides. Itâs perfect. Every time she thinks sheâs getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up⊠Itâs driving her crazy. âCome on,â she whines. âIâm so closeâŠâ At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, heâs breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. Heâs moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster. âOh, fuck, Piper,â he groans, âGonna cum.â One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing. When she comes, itâs with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.
You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didnât even groan when you had to read the word âcunt,â and thatâs a feat in and of itself.
âIs it over?â Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.
âNot quite,â you answer. âThereâs some aftercare, and at the end you ask if Iâll piss on you.â
Namjoon gags. âI asked you whatââ
âTodayâs episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-comââ
HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THEREâS NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasnât sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the âshippers,â but now Iâm pretty convinced. (+423) âł weâve been telling yâall for YEARS đ€ (+197) âł Glad youâve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) âł ugh. they werenât messing around before and they arenât messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoonâs been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if theyâve had something going on for âyearsâ that means theyâre both cheaters, and thatâs a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook âwasnât allowedâ to be there? (+314) âł So they could fuck lmao itâs so obvious (+329) âł because itâs awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) âł the âitâs awkwardâ excuse is sooooo lame heâs the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, heâs gonna see it regardless. (+15) âł Tbh Iâm more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)
You do not get through recording unscathed.
You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.
Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoonâs expense which is par for the course and shouldnât have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someoneâs given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew youâd failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.
It both helps and doesnât that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.
The two of you had sex.
Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way youâre feeling. The way youâre avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.
In a bad way? You arenât sure. Itâs not like youâre mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel⊠off. Itchy from the inside out, and thatâs far from the norm in your and Namjoonâs friendship. In all the years youâve known one another, youâve never once avoided each other, including the time youâd set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.
(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)
Maybe itâs because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You arenât of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, âHey, youâre Min Yoongiâs girlfriend, right?â because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.
Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongiâs off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and youâre on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.
âIâm gonna get a cat,â you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesnât offer any input, of course, and heâs a lot like his father in that way. âI canât believe you have a stepfather. Youâre a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.â
There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoonâs new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because âsomething came up at work,â one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.
You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.
Thatâs how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoonâs work issue lasts four days. He doesnât offer an explanation and you donât ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.
Youâve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.
The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoonâs living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.
Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.
You can hear Jungkookâs witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoonâs exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkookâs late gym day, so heâll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.
So you walk in and Jungkookâs in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.
Except it isnât.
Because Namjoon looks⊠different.
Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because heâs either going to or coming from campusâfitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if heâs feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.
Today, he wears none of those things.
No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. Heâs wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, heâs also wearing his glasses.
According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when heâs wearing glasses.
You avert your gaze, convinced youâll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and thatâs a ribbing youâd rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, whoâs talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.
Jungkook asks a question you donât catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and itâs not a direct mention of sex but itâs close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just⊠too much.
So he barely gets out an, âAre you oââ before you choke down whateverâs left in your mouth and cut him off with a, âYep, all good!â before youâre scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.
It doesnât get any better.
Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoonâs work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.
Thirty-five minutes back home.
Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what youâre going to do if you canât get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; youâll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you canât imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.
But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.
Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, âPlease let me fuck you,â he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.
You groan, head thunking against the train window. Youâll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.
Thatâll cure you.
You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesnât work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and donât think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.
Needless to say, nothing cures you.
But itâs a new day, and youâre determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because youâre so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.
Exceptâyouâre not.
Jungkookâs there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times youâve shown up and Namjoon wasnât already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.
âWhereâs Namjoon?â
Jungkook shrugs. âDunno. Not here.â
You roll your eyes. âSuper helpful, thanks.â
Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. âYou donât pay me enough to also be his handler.â
You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means youâve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesnât know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadnât only texted him to say why he was running late because he didnât want toâor couldnâtâtalk to you.
So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isnât really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasnât shown up and he hasnât said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.
Youâre halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.
âI am so sorâI broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently theyâre not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then IâŠâ
You donât catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you couldâve survived this. A week ago you wouldâve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.
You are fucked beyond belief.
Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. â...even paying attention?â You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isnât looking at you. âThis is so sad to watch,â Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully itâs only loud enough for you to hear. âLike some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.â
Well, you canât really argue with that, now can you?
But youâre a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and youâre surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. Thereâs just⊠nothing.
âAre you okay?â you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. âI donât think Iâve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.â
âI forgot them.â
âDonât think Iâve ever seen you do that, either.â
Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoonâs jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, âWere you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning Iâve had?â at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, âOh fuck, Iâm so sorry, that was rudeââ
âYeah, it was,â you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you donât want to be here anymore. âItâs fine. Letâs justââ
Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, âIâyeah, okay.â
This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face thatâd drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where heâd say what have you been up to, Pipe, and youâd try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.
Thereâs a red light on your microphones that indicates youâre recording. Itâs on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesnât use that cringey nickname. He doesnât say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. Whatâs worse is that you know exactly why he canât speak, because youâre thinking about it, too.
âSo, uh,â you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. âCome here often?â
Namjoon ignores you. âRight, right, the introâŠâ He sucks in a breath. âWelcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, Iâmââ
âJoonââ
âNamjoon, and my co-host here isââ
âJoon, thatâs notââ
âPiper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?â
âThatâs not the name of our podcast.â
âHuh?â
âYou said Put Him in the Trash.â Namjoon just blinks. âItâs Place Him Gently in the Garbage.â
âIs it? Since when?â
âSince forever?â
He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. âIs she right?â
A beat of silence. âI canât do this,â he half-shouts, half-whines. âAre you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, Iâm quitting. Iâm so serious. Iâm gonna quit. I canât take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.â Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. âForget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is soâIâm seriously gonna quit.â
Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.
Yijeong isnât with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that heâs dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you canât even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.
He, however, has no such hang-ups. âYou look like shit.â
âWeird way to say thank you.â You click your tongue and look down at Holly. âDo you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.â
âMy son would never. But also, thank you.â He flops onto the sofa. âYou do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?â
âNot with you, preferably.â
âOh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?â
âIâno.â You pause. Itâs not a dating thing, but you still feel like youâve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that Iâve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.
No fucking way.
âYou look like youâre holding in a fart.â
âYou know, Iâm getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?â
He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. âWeâre okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?â
âNo,â you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. âWeâre fine, and if youâre happy, then Iâm happy for you.â He still looks doubtful. âYou want me to start singing âI Will Always Love Youâ or something? Itâs just⊠weird work stuff.â
âDepends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?â
âPodcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.â
Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. âLike, the podcast with Namjoon?â He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. âNot gonna lie, I didnât think that was possible.â
âLike I said, itâs weird. It wasnât, like, an argument or anything.â
âHow weird?â
âYouâre so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like youâre so distinguished and above drama, but really youâre just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.â
He shrugs. âIâm not denying it.â
God help you, youâre going to rip off the band-aid. âSomeone⊠Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone⊠wrote? Fanfiction? About us.â
âAbout you and Namjoon?â
âYeah.â
âOh my godââ
âAbout us⊠uh. Having sex? Specifically.â
âOh my godââ
âJungkook found it and thought itâd be funny if we read it for an episode.â
âOh my god?â
âSo we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because Iâve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now⊠I donât know. I canât stop thinking about it? And now we canât even be in the same room as one another.â Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. âSo our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize somethingâs up, and it was Namjoonâs podcast to begin with so obviously Iâll get firedââ
âOh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.â
Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like youâve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. âNo,â you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. âNo, no. No. Itâs just because it was weird.â
âDid you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.â
âYouâre telling me you wouldnât be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?â
âNot if I didnât actually want to fuck them, no.â
âYouâre a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.â
Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way youâve ever had someone pat you on the back. âLet me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.â
Min Yoongi is a bastard.
Unfortunately, as you come to find out, heâs also a correct bastard.
You want to fuck Namjoon.
Which is⊠not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide youâre going to take this to your grave. Youâre going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and youâre going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. Youâre going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isnât it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I donât think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.
Youâve got it all planned out. Youâre going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. Youâre going to look nice, if not a little pretentiousâmaybe a nice sweater. Youâre going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesnât have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.
And then someone knocks on your door.
You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.
Has he always been this tall? You canât remember. You canât remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now hereâs the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his⊠height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though thereâs an unfortunate amount of distance between you.
âUh, hi.â
You blink. âHi,â you parrot, and itâs a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. âNamjoon,â you tack on, not awkward at all.
âSorry to just show up,â he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. âItâs justâmy phoneâs still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.â
Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you donât think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You donât think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what itâd be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or theâ
You cough. âDo you want anything to drink?â
âOh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.â
If you have it. What kind of person doesnât have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.
âI havenât been here in a while,â Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up heâs sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some heâd lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. âYou ever wind up reading this?â
The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after heâd read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your headâthough, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadnât written your biography.
âItâs good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.â
âYeah, of course,â you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoonâs still looking through your books, isnât looking at you, so it feels safe to say, âYou wanted to talk?â
âYeah.â He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until heâs comfortable. Thank god he canât see the look on your face. âI just wanted to make sure weâre alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.â He coughs. âThing.â
âRight, yeah.â You realize heâs waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, âWeâre fine, Joon.â
âAre you sure?â
Yeah, youâre sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. Itâs tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. Youâll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.
âIâm sure,â you assure him. âThe⊠thing⊠was weird, but itâs fine. Temporary.â
âDo you think we shouldnât have done it?â
Thatâs the million-dollar question, isnât it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasnât a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.
So, should you have done it? There wasnât a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.
The problem is staring you right in the face. Itâs sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universeâs secrets, and itâs no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but youâre wondering what itâd look like from on top of you.
The problem is that youâve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and youâve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.
And you canât say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so youâre going to keep your mouth shut. Youâre going to say, âI think itâs okay that we did,â and leave it at that. Because it is okay.
Because youâre the problem.
It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, âOkay, good, because I think so, too.â
âIt made us a lot of money,â you tack on.
Namjoonâs eyes widen as he laughs. âRight? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?â
âAbout ourselves. I think that was the selling point.â
He stands. You do, too. âNever thought Iâd be doing that,â he says, returning the book to where it belongs. âDefinitely the most embarrassing thing Iâve done for money.â
âBeing a man with a podcast wasnât embarrassing enough?â
He snorts. Gets closer to the door. âHey now.â Youâre going to survive this. âThanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried weâd fucked it all up.â
Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and youâll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe heâll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.
And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness thatâs crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, âHaaa, like youâd actually piss on me, right?â
Except it sounds like heâs got a mouth full of marbles.
Itâs no wonder you mishear him.
Because he says like youâd actually piss on me but you hear like youâd actually kiss me, and there isnât a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, âYeah, Iâd kiss you.â
Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. âWhat?â
Your entire body is on fire. âIs, uh. Is that not what you said?â
âI donât think it matters anymore what I said.â
âIâd argue that it does, for the sake of my digniââ
âYouâd kiss me?â Namjoon⊠doesnât look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. âYouâd kiss me right now?â
Thereâs also no explanation for the way you say: âItâs only been an option for ten seconds and youâre already begging for it?â
Youâd say thereâs no explanation for the way Namjoonâs jaw clenches, the way he repeats I donât beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.
All that fixating youâd done on Namjoonâs thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.
And youâve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches youâgentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.
No piece of fiction would get it right, the way youâre unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoonâs kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How youâre so overwhelmed you canât decide: unsure if you want to waste the time itâd take to get to your bedroom, but if itâs only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.
So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you canât wait, canât control yourselves, well.
But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like thereâs nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why itâs so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.
âShould I do it the way we did in the fic?â Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. âDo it like this?â he questions, pushing you gently until youâre on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.
Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. âWhatâd you say you wanted?â
Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what youâd read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before heâd sank to his knees in front of you. âWhatever youâre willing to give,â you answer.
Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. âThatâs right, baby.â Christ, you think, because thereâs another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.
The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. âMay I?â he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. âFuck, look at you,â he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.
âYou want me to do it the same way? Hm? Youâre being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,â he chides.
Because youâre short-circuiting. Namjoonâs on his knees, just like youâd envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what youâd read and the way heâd reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.
âAre you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?â
He blinks. âJesus Christ.â
Thereâs precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldnât get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so itâs a lot to live up to, but it doesnât deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then heâs settling between your thighs and making you see stars.
Now you know what itâs like. Now you donât have to rely on fiction, and it doesnât matter because itâd never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, âFuck, you do taste good,â like thatâs a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesnât know exactly what heâs doing to you.
But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesnât leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way heâs doing to you, make sure theyâre slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before heâs adding a second.
In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, âJoon, fuckâNamjoon, waitââ as it builds and builds and builds.
You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks⊠stunned. He looks like he canât believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, youâre extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.
âUmââ
âHoly shit.â
âNamjoon, thatâs notâthatâs embarrassingâcan you grab aââ
He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, heâs desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.
âI need to suck you off later,â you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. âRemind me.â
He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. âHow could I forget that?â
âDonât know. Didnât know if this would be the only time,â you answer. âDid you bring a condom?â Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.
He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he canât tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. Youâre about to tell him itâs fine, you donât have to do anything he doesnât want to, donât have to do anything at all, when he says, âIt doesnât have to be.â You just stare. âThe only time.â
Thereâs a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. Theyâll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.
You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like heâd tried to do earlier. âHas anyone ever called your cock stupid?â
He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. âNo. Wanna try it and see what happens?â
Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice youâd used. Repeat the lineââDo you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?ââand wait.
Thereâs a beat of silence, and thenâ
Namjoon swallows thickly. âI, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.â You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. âPlease. Please let me fuck you.â
You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. âDo you know how?â Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. âDo you promise?â He nods again. âOkay. Okay, come here.â
You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isnât. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then heâs leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.
Itâs dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words youâd probably be embarrassed to hear and heâd be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.
He bottoms out. âOkay?â he asks, and youâre rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.
But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. Youâve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.
Itâs almost a shame this isnât being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoonâs making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Donât want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you donât want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.
Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.
Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think youâre keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.
He doesnât think itâs very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. âWhatâre youââ
âYou were taking too long,â you snark. âFigured Iâd take matters into my own hands.â
âYeah? Shit,â he says as you begin to move. âFuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.â
You do. Donât change a thing, because Namjoonâs cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than youâd imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.
Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and thatâs what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.
Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.
âWas that okay?â
You snort. âYeah, Iâd say it was decent.â
âMaybe next time you could pee on me,â he jokes.
You whack him on the chest. âSure. Or we could record it.â
Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.
On Monday, you donât wear a pretentious sweater.
When you stroll in, Jungkookâs already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because heâs a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.
And then he realizes youâve got on Namjoonâs hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.
âWhat the fuck are you wearingââ
Namjoon appears at that very moment, and itâs so hard not to take credit for the way heâs glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoonâs face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. âReady?â he asks you, and you nod.
Itâs seamless.
No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. Itâs obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.
âHow was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?â Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.
So you play along. âNo, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?â
âOh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.â
âDid you? Howâd it go?â
âPerfect.â
Itâs a blessing Jungkook isnât filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isnât even a hint of hesitation in Namjoonâs voice, and although you wouldâve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. âWow. You gonna see her again?â
âYeah,â Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. âI think I am.â
who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit⊠Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but canât seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and Iâm sick to my stomach. (+2195) âł bro you and me both đ i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) âł Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone theyâre obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) âł I wouldnât worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this âdateâ on Saturday and that it wasnât anything serious. (+788) âł Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, itâs over. (+325) âł cannot believe him and piper arenât dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) âł this is unhinged lmfao i thought yâall hated piper? youâre in here bitching abt her being a âmisandristâ every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isnât dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)
Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ âĄ
#namjoon x reader#namjoon smut#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts x reader#namjoon fanfic#namjoon imagine#namjoon scenarios#namjoon x you#namjoon x y/n#bts imagines#bts scenarios#jewel writes
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Ok, question, fem! forced marriage au - how would Rafe react/feel if she brought up ANYTHING about separating, weather thatâs flat out divorce or doing it in secret - happy to the public but living in diff spaces/diff lives/maybe even having affairs(?)
Tied bonds || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
A/n: don't mind me going off slightly in the beginning when its talking about the legality side of it, i was literally studying trusts and estates law a couple days ago lol
Warnings: angst galore!
Word count: 2,801
MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)
divider by @h-aewo
The heavy oak doors of the estateâs study shut behind you with a quiet but resolute thud, isolating you from the rest of the world. The room, with its high ceilings and ornate furnishings, exudes both the security and suffocation of wealth. The scent of polished mahogany and aged leather permeates the air, a sensory reminder of the legacy you're bound to uphold and the responsibilities weighing on your shoulders.
The dim light from the tall windows casts long shadows across the room, making it feel as though the walls themselves are closing in, urging you to act before time runs out. You sit across from your lawyer at the broad mahogany desk. Heâs a man in his 50s, with silver-threaded hair and sharp, calculating eyes. His demeanour exudes quiet authority, the kind of calm that comes from handling the complex finances of wealthy families like yours for decades.
A briefcase sits open beside him, documents meticulously laid out in front of you. These arenât just numbers and figures on a pageâthey represent your childrenâs future, your security, and the small corner of independence youâre desperately trying to carve out for yourself. âNow, given the scale of your familyâs assets,â your lawyer begins, his voice smooth and professional, âitâs prudent to separate certain accounts. Some in your name, some under irrevocable trusts for the children. This will not only shield them from potential claims but also provide financial protection in the event of....unforeseen circumstancesâmarital or otherwise.â
You glance down at the papers, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. This was necessary, you remind yourself. You need some semblance of independence, some safeguard for your children. With Rafeâs unpredictable behaviour and the constant pressure from both families, you canât afford to let everything slip from your control. Your lawyer pulls out another document, sliding it across the desk.
âWeâre talking about setting up separate trusts for each of your children. These funds will be distributed to them upon reaching a certain ageâ18 or 21, depending on your preference. In the meantime, control of the trust can be vested in you alone, ensuring that no one else has access to or influence over these assets, including your husband.â
âAnd what about Rafeâs side of the family?â you ask, your voice quieter than you intended. âWould they have any legal claim?â The lawyer shakes his head firmly. âNo. Not if everything is properly structured. The trusts would be irrevocable, meaning no oneânot even your husbandâcould alter them once established. His family would have no legal right to interfere, regardless of any financial entanglements between the two of you.â
You take a breath, the enormity of it all settling in. This is exactly what you wantedâan impenetrable safeguard. A plan that ensures your childrenâs future remains under your control, untouched by the unpredictable tides of Rafeâs influence or the demands of your family. âThank you,â you respond softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the document, the weight of your decision pressing heavily on your chest. âI want everything arranged quietly,â you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of your decision.
âNo one else needs to know about this⊠especially my husband.â The lawyer gives a small, understanding nod. âDiscretion is key, as always.â You sign where indicated, feeling a mixture of relief and unease as you watch your name inked onto the page. This is the right thing to do, you remind yourself. For your children, for their future. Yet as you rise from the desk and collect your things, a sense of foreboding lingers.
The heavy oak doors creak open as you step out, and the estate feels impossibly vast around you. Despite the careful planning, you canât shake the feeling that keeping this from Rafe will lead to complications far greater than you anticipate. With every step you take, the sinking feeling grows. You only hope Rafe doesnât find out before youâre ready to tell him.
~
The moment you step through the front door of your home, the tension in the air is palpable. You pause, your coat still in hand, as your eyes land on Rafe. Heâs leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, an almost relaxed posture, but the intensity in his gaze betrays any notion of calm. His sharp blue eyes follow your every move, calculating, probing.
"You have a nice little meeting today?" His voice is cold, deceptively casual. But you can hear the edge in itâthe suspicion lurking beneath the surface. Your heart skips a beat, anxiety pooling in your chest. Of course, he knows. Rafe always knows. You hang your coat on the rack, avoiding his gaze, trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "I had a few things to take care of. Where are the children?"
You answer nonchalantly, hoping to steer the conversation away from any confrontation. "With Astoria, they wanted to play with their cousins," Rafe answers, his gaze sharp as he pushes off the doorframe, taking a slow, deliberate step toward you, his presence overwhelming as always. "Answer my question," His tone hardens, suspicion fully creeping into his voice now. "I know you met with your lawyer. What are you up to?"
Your pulse quickens as you hold Rafeâs gaze, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. Heâs already jumping to conclusions, constructing a narrative that fits his fears. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but the reality of it still unsettles you, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. "Itâs nothing that concerns you," you respond, keeping your tone as even as possible, despite the way your nerves fray under his scrutiny. "Just some family matters."
Rafe scoffs, the sound harsh and filled with disbelief. His jaw clenches as he steps even closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you, blocking any hope of retreat. His presence is overbearing, the heat of his anger palpable in the air between you. "Family matters?" His voice is dripping with accusation, dark and biting. "Donât play games with me. I heard enough to know this wasnât just about your parents or your siblings."
His words cut deeper as his tone drops, low and dangerous. "Youâre setting up trust funds. Inheritance management. Without telling me. What the hell are you planning?" His words slam into you, twisting your stomach in knots. His paranoia, the sharpness of his accusations, stings in a way you hadnât fully prepared for. Of course, you knew heâd react like this, but hearing it out loudâhis anger, his distrustâitâs worse than you imagined. You steady your breath, trying to keep your composure.
"Itâs for the children, Rafe," you say, your voice soft but firm, though the tightness in your chest makes it difficult to breathe. "I want to make sure theyâre taken care of, no matter what happens. Thatâs all this is." But even as you say it, you can see the suspicion lingering in his eyes, the doubt still gnawing at him, twisting this simple act of protection into something more sinister in his mind.
Rafe glares at you, his eyes dark and intense as they search your face for the slightest hint of deception. His presence feels overwhelming as he steps even closer, the space between you disappearing in an instant. Without breaking eye contact, his hand moves down deliberately, resting on the swell of your belly where your third child grows. His touch, firm and possessive, sends a chill through you.
"You donât trust me with that?" His voice is low, almost a growl, laced with an edge of disbelief and wounded pride. "You think I wouldnât look out for my own kids?" His words sting, but it's the subtle accusation in his tone that cuts deeper, as if he canât comprehend why you would feel the need to act independently. Your frustration bubbles to the surface despite your best efforts to remain calm, your emotions swirling between anger and exhaustion.
"Thatâs not what this is about," you snap, your voice sharp as the tension between you flares. You're trying to hold it together, but the weight of his misunderstandingâof him always assuming the worstâpushes you to the brink. "Iâm doing this to protect them. To protect us. You canât control everything, Rafe." For a split second, something flickers in his eyesâhurt, maybeâbut it vanishes quickly, replaced by his usual defensiveness. He steps closer, his voice lowering, cold and accusatory.
"Youâre doing all of this behind my back," he growls. "And Iâm supposed to believe itâs just for the kids? You donât set up secret meetings with lawyers for something as simple as trust funds. It looks more like youâre preparing for something else. Like maybe youâre planning to escape this all." His breath is hot against your ear now, the venom in his words unmistakable. "Is that it? Are you getting ready to leave me?"
His accusation hits you hard, knocking the air from your lungs. The vulnerability behind it cuts deeper than you expected. Itâs not just anger simmering in his voiceâthereâs fear too, buried beneath the suspicion, fear of losing control, of you slipping away. His jaw tightens, but his hand remains firmly pressed against the swell of your stomach, as if anchoring himself to you, to the life youâre carrying.
âAnd have our children without their father?â you ask, your voice sharp. Thereâs a flicker of something more beneath the surfaceâhurt, uncertainty. His eyes search yours, almost pleading. You blink, stunned by the weight of your own question. âRafeâŠâ you begin, your voice barely a whisper, incredulity lacing your words as you try to make sense of what youâve just implied. âIâm not leaving you.â
The tension in the room feels suffocating, as if the walls themselves are closing in. You take a breath, steadying yourself, as you step closer, your gaze softening despite the frustration swirling inside you. "This isnât about that,â you say gently, trying to reach him through the haze of his suspicions. âBut I need some control over my life, Rafe. Some protection.â Your voice wavers slightly, but you press on. âIâm not just here to be controlled or managed. I need to know that Iâm not just a piece in this game.â
You can feel his breath against your skin, heavy with unspoken fears, and for a brief moment, the façade of his strength cracks. The fear of losing control, of losing you, is palpable, and it clings to the space between you like a storm cloud ready to burst. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, pacing in frustration. "Control. Protection," he mutters under his breath, his movements sharp and agitated. "You think Iâm the threat here? You think I wouldnât protect you? Protect our family?"
You shake your head, stepping back slightly, trying to maintain some distance from the intensity of his emotions. "I never said that," you say, your voice softer now, trying to calm him. "But this is something I need to do. For me. For them." For a long moment, the two of you stand there, locked in a silent standoff. His breathing is heavy, and the anger in his eyes slowly shifts into something elseâsomething more conflicted. He turns away from you, pacing a few steps before running his hands through his hair again.
"This isnât how marriages are supposed to work," Rafe mutters, more to himself than to you. The words cut deep, piercing through the fragile layer of calm youâve been clinging to. Itâs a painful reminder of what your marriage has becomeâwhat itâs always been. The expectations, the compromises, the strain. This life⊠itâs not what either of you envisioned. You feel the urge to retort, to let loose the frustrations that have built up over the years, but you bite your tongue. Now isnât the time for that argument.
"I know," you whisper, though youâre not sure if he hears you. The admission feels hollow in the tense silence that follows, the weight of your reality pressing down on both of you. The room feels unbearably heavy, the air thick with unsaid words. Rafe exhales, his broad shoulders sagging ever so slightly, as though some of the fire inside him has been extinguished. He turns his back to you, the physical distance a reflection of the emotional chasm that has been growing between you both.
For a brief moment, you consider stepping closer, reaching out, bridging that gapâbut the weight of your decision, of everything youâve been trying to secure for yourself and the children, holds you back. Itâs a boundary you canât afford to cross right now. "You shouldâve told me," he finally says, his voice quieter, but still taut with lingering tension. Thereâs hurt there, beneath the anger, beneath his instinct to control everything around him.
Your throat tightens at his words, the soft accusation lingering in the space between you. "I didnât want this to turn into a fight," you admit, your own voice subdued, drained from the confrontation. The fatigue in your bones echoes in your tone. "I just needed to make sure everything was in place. For the kids, for their future." You pause, the weight of your decisions settling on your chest. "I wasnât trying to hide it from you."
Rafe turns back to face you, his expression a mixture of frustration, hurt, and something more vulnerableâsomething he rarely lets show. "It feels like you were," he mutters, the edge of accusation still present, though softer now. His blue eyes search yours, looking for answers, reassurance, something to ease the fear behind his suspicion. You hold his gaze, trying to convey the truth behind your words. "I need to feel like I have some control, Rafe," you say gently, your voice steady but laced with an underlying sadness.
"Our lives⊠theyâre not easy. And I know you want to protect us, but I need to protect them too. In my own way." Your heart beats heavily in your chest, each word an attempt to bridge the gap between you, a gap that seems to widen with every conflict. Rafeâs gaze lingers on you, the tension between you both crackling in the air. You take a tentative step forward, closing the physical distance between you, hoping it will ease the emotional one. Just as you stop inches from him, his expression softens slightly.
He reaches for your hand, his grip firm yet tender, and before you can say anything, he brings it up to his lips. The moment feels suspended in time as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. Itâs a gesture so gentle, so unlike the earlier confrontation, that it catches you off guard. The vulnerability in his eyes flickers, almost as if heâs silently asking for forgiveness or offering an unspoken truce.
You feel your heart ache, the gesture disarming you in a way his words couldnât. Itâs as though this kiss is his way of telling you that, despite his anger, despite his suspicions, thereâs something deeper binding you togetherâa love neither of you can deny, even in moments like this. âIâm not the enemy, Y/n,â he repeats softly, his voice rough but sincere, the earlier accusation tempered by this quiet moment.
His lips linger on your skin for just a second longer before he lowers your hand, though he doesnât let go. You swallow hard, your chest tight with emotion, your voice a whisper as you respond. "I know you're not." The air between you feels different nowâquieter, softer, though still tinged with the weight of everything unresolved. For that fleeting moment, it feels as though the two of you are in sync again, even if just barely.
Rafeâs hand remains wrapped around yours, and though the tension between you hasnât fully dissipated, itâs no longer suffocating. The kiss to your knuckles feels like a promise, fragile but meaningful. As he finally lets go and turns away, you watch him disappear down the hallway, the memory of his lips on your skin lingering long after he's gone. The weight of your choices still presses down on you, but somehow, in that brief exchange, it feels a little lighter.
You know this isnât over. Rafeâs suspicions wonât vanish overnight, and your need for autonomy remains unresolved. But for now, the confrontation is over. The weight of your decisions, the strain on your already fragile relationship, presses down on you like a heavy cloak. You did the right thing, you remind yourself. This is about protecting your children, about securing a future for them. For now, all you can do is hope that, in time, heâll come to understand why you did this. Why you needed to.
#rafe cameron x fem!reader forced marriage au#rafe cameron#drew starkey#outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#fanfiction#rafe cameron x you#obx fanfiction#drew starkey x y/n#rafe cameron fanfiction#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron au#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron blurb#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron imagine#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#outerbanks rafe#outer banks x y/n#outer banks x you
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HARD WORK.
summary: your grandmas retirement to hawaii finally let you escape the annoying city life. but as it turns out, being a country girl aint easy work. luckily a hot stranger with a truck full of rakes and hoes has taken a liking to you.
gardener abby x black!oc
warnings: I AM A FREAK FOR GARDENER ABBY. little bit of creepy perv behavior, stalking, SEX
wc: 4.6k
authors note: heyyy guys miss u đ if anyone gaf iâll post a part 2 cuz yk how i be⊠ts long as hell
abby noticed your presence about a week after you had moved.
she had recognized the yellow house, a familiar sight when she went on her drives to clear her head. it was certainly a sight for sore eyes. it was one of only three houses on the block, recognizable by the pale paint and the burnt orange front porch. she often wondered how the owners maintained it, as it was full of plants and trees. a big front yard with wildflowers, a cherry tree by the garage, and flower pots galore. its gorgeous. she also dreamed of what was behind the big door to the backyard, but she could see the faint sight of green trees from the top of it. its a beautiful house, no doubt. and the foliage was always kept perfect. bushes trimmed, lawn mowed, and the trees left the perfect shade for the summer time. sheâd love to work there, but it seemed that the owners had it under control.
until you moved in.
after a while, she noticed the lawn becoming slightly overgrown, the bushes losing their shape, and the tree was dropping cherries all over the adorable pink slug bug in the driveway. she had taken that the original owners had moved out, but she had no idea who had replaced them. and clearly, that replacement had no idea how to tend to that house.
and then, she finally caught sight of you.
it was around about 3:30, if she remembered correctly. give or take five minutes. she was on her usual drive, exhausted and irritated from having to tell a woman that her grass would take at least a month to grow back from its butchered state. a bad raccoon problem left the entire yard torn, holes and dead yellow grass everywhere. but she had that off her mind now. she turned on her car stereo, old dad rock silencing her thoughts as she drove. the road you have to take to drive by the house is basically inside the forest. big, green trees on each side, a bumpy gravel road, and big hills. it was always a smooth ride, and the cool breeze from her window was a relief after sweating for 5 hours straight. she always hung her left arm out of the window, so much so that its slightly tanner than the other.
when she finally got to the house, she forgot everything she was thinking about. she even forgot where she was for a moment, making her stop the car.
she finally caught gaze of .. you. bent over the grass, seemingly trying to weed the garden. all she could see of you was your ass, and she wasnât exactly complaining about the view. the denim shorts you were wearing left absolutely nothing to the imagination. along with the booty shorts, (the name very fitting), you had on a green spaghetti strap that clung to you like a wet suit. you had clearly been out there for a while, sweat pooling on the shirt and a drop sliding down the obvious cleavage in your shirt. she tried so hard to pull away, to leave you alone and not be a creep, but she couldnât. it was like everything was moving in slow motion as she was eyeing you, and she slowly made her way up to your face after staring at your tits for an inappropriate amount of time. you had thick, black curls, that were pulled up haphazardly into a high ponytail. probably to get it out of your way while you worked. its clear you take advantage of how remote your house is, sitting in the yard looking like that. its unsafe, what if a weird freak comes over and stares at you from his truck?
abby quickly realized that she was the weird freak in question. even with the headphones in your ears, you noticed the presence behind you. you felt the rumbling of the truck through the ground, given the fact you were barefoot. you turned around to look at her, moving a curl out of your eyes and behind your ear. you raised a brow at the truck, confused. you couldnât make out the person inside, with your glasses resting on the porch. you squinted and saw a rough image of some..blond person? you stared for a while longer, almost considering walking up to them . whatâre they looking at? were you that bad at gardening?
abby was frozen the second you turned around. she definitely stared longer than she should have, not even noticing that you were staring as well. you had a confused look on your face as you squinted over at her. it was almost as if you couldnât see her. when she thought the two of you made eye contact, she instantly started driving away. she tried to pull away slowly, to not be suspicious, but she zoomed down the road like a derby horse.
fuck. did she see me?
almost as soon as you saw the car, it drove away. they mustâve noticed you caught them and got embarrassed. who is that? you had seen a blob that sort of looked like blonde hair, but not much else. it was hard to discern anything from that, so you focused on what you did see. you felt like you had seen the car before, but then again, so many people have black pickup trucks around here. and its not like it had any significant details youâd remember it by, it was just a plain truck. not even a funny bumper sticker or something! its like the exact opposite of your car, the back of your beetle is covered in cute stickers, and you even got heart shaped rims. their car was different. it was soâŠrugged. whoever it is probably does some sort of hard job, like construction or something.
you shrugged off the whole thing, getting a bit too sweaty for your liking and heading inside. you wondered to yourself if theyâd stop by again, maybe you should keep an eye on your window!
while you were pondering over who the mysterious figure in the truck was, the figure herself was freaking out. she couldnât stop imagining you on that lawn, seeing your confused face and glossy pout as you stared at her. did you even realize someone was looking at you? did you feel weird and scared now? was that the absolute most pervy thing she couldâve done?? and most importantly, would you notice if she did it again? she shook the thought as soon as it came. she was practically berating herself, mumbling âdonât be weirdâ under her breath. she tried to think about other things. the smell of the trees lining the road. the tree in your front yard. fuck, this is difficult.
eventually, she settled on thinking about your yard. she tried not to focus on the image of you bent over in front of it, and her behind you, and she slowly remembered something. you could not garden for shit. you had missed a bunch of huge strips mowing, the bushes were lopsided, and you were knee deep in weeds. it was obvious you had no idea what you were doing, and she knew it would be so easy to fix it.
âlooks like you need some help.â she uttered from behind you on the front yard, and you turned around, puzzled.
âyou think so?â you stared up at her, doe eyes nearly punching her in the chest. you were still sweaty, in the same tank top.
âyeah, you look hot. let me cool you off.â and with that, she grabbed at the bottom of the shirt. âcan iâ-
âabby. cut it out.â she pulled herself out of the daydream, realizing she had stopped her car once again. thankfully, the road was completely empty, so she kept driving. there wasnât anything worth staring at over here, so she kept it pushing. freak.
she tried to push whatever happened earlier to the back of her mind all day. but its like she got hypnotized. she drove up to her house, and she stupidly expected to see you in her front yard. she went inside, and she wondered what the inside of your house looked like. does she have carpet? what color are her walls?
she quickly shut down the thought of âwallsâ as anâŠuntasteful image appeared in her head. she took a shower, a near freezing one, and she imagined what type of showers you like. or if you were even a shower person, maybe you liked baths. youâd probably shriek if you stepped into the shower and it was the wrong temperature. she imagined you sitting on the edge of the tub, letting the water run over your fingers until it was justtt right. she imagined you sitting down in the tub, and - nothing. she didnât imagine anything else.
she cooked herself some pasta for dinner, and sat down on her couch to eat. do you like spaghetti? she started thinking about that scene in the lady and the tramp, except you and her replaced the dogs. once again, she shut that down right after she started. she ate her food and threw her dishes in the sink, almost running to her bedroom. because she was tired. no other reason.
you had gotten a call from your grandma a little while after you went inside. you didnât necessarily want to talk to anyone right now, but you owed it to her after she basically gave her house to you for free. she talked for what felt like forever, about her new house, the beach, everything. and after a million âreallyâs and âoh wowâs, she asked you to show her the house.
you showed her around the inside first, panning around the living room, kitchen, and all the rooms, she was very satisfied with how clean you kept the house. its easy to take care of when its just you making the messes, and not an aggravating messy roomate. you felt like a lonely housewife whoâs husband left for war.
afterwards, you went out into the backyard. her smiling face turned into a confused grimace within seconds.
âhoney, who did the lawn?â she asked, so much concern in her voice youâd assume she just walked in on a crime scene.
âi did! doesnât it look good?â you chimed, confused on why she sounds like youâve just killed a man.
ââŠno. it looks like a hot mess. you missed like, three spots! and lord, what did you do to my bushes?â she let out a loud sigh.
ââŠi trimmed them?â your pride was wiped off your face, a small frown replacing it.
âi donât even wanna see the front. you know what, you need to find a gardener. someone. as long as its not you. ill pay for it myself, justâŠdonât touch anything.â
âat least my plants arenât dead and the grass is still green.â she mumbled under her breath, hanging up the phone.
where the hell are you gonna find a gardener?
with your spirits crushed, you sat with your computer and your glasses resting on your nose, âhow to fix a messed up lawnâ reflecting on the glass. r/lawncare said to leave it and let it re-grow before mowing it again, evenly. wait at least a week or two and keep watering it. but donât touch it.
so, you decided to listen. the gardener hunt could wait till later, you were sleepy. you ended up dozing off on the couch watching chopped, and you had forgotten all about it by the morning.
abby however, canât forget anything.
after a long, sleepless night, abby was running out of things to distract herself. why was she going borderline insane over some random girl? sheâs seen hot girls before. were you a witch or something?
she went through her day with the same irritating questions going through her head. what does she listen to when she drives? what does she order at the coffee shop? whats her name?
she realized by the time she was on her lunch break she needed to answer at least one of her questions. she already knew where you lived, whats the harm in knowing your name?
she had slightly known your grandma, only the fact that they owned the farm that was down the road from the house. and that it was named after their last name. small town advantage, am i right?
after googling the last name, a facebook profile showed up. presumably exactly who she thought it was. she scrolled through pictures of her at the beach, on family vacation, unfunny memes,and a post that made her chuckle for a whole minute.
she knew she was in the right place now.
after scrolling for a while longer, she found exactly what she was looking for: a picture of you and the woman, your arm slung around her shoulder. you looked like you were at a wedding, all dolled up in a green satin dress with your hair down. you were wearing glasses, too.
âso she probably didnât see me.â
you looked just as gorgeous as yesterday, and the picture was captioned âmy beautiful granddaughter r â„ïžđđđ„°â and there was many more of her old lady friends and relatives calling you gorgeous. didnât she know it.
she typed the name , your name, into facebook yet again, and there you were. the profile picture was of you as a baby, little black curls pulled into two pigtails as you grabbed at the camera with a cheesy smile. albeit, you only had two teeth, but it was definitely a smile. youâve just always been cute, huh?
she looked down at the bio, and found everything else she needed to know. whos idea was it to make people give facebook all their personal information?
it was obvious this account was just for family, as it was mostly just reposts of your relatives posts and pictures she would deem âfamily friendly.â but the pictures were mostly of things other than you, like cats and pretty buildings you saw. it gave off the perfect, innocent impression to anyone whoâd come across it.
but after finding your facebook, it didnât take her much longer to find your instagram. and your tiktok. and your tumblr from when you were in highschool? maybe she was digging a little too deep.
your instagram wasnât that stark of a contrast to your facebook. add a little more cleavage, and a much more active..social life, and it was basically the same. you hadnât posted much with your friends in a while though, only stills of your plane and you relaxing in your new home. tough time making friends over here?
she snooped even more into your following, and at first there wasnât anything really interesting. some music artists you liked, random cat accounts, and baking accounts. cute. but, after a while, she recognized something. the name of the place you worked at that she saw on your facebook. a veterinary office. the profile mostly had pictures of cats and dogs and some smaller animals, but when she saw a post about the offices pet fundraiser, she immediately recognized your face. cheesy smile, holding up a small kitten to your cheek. it was adorable.
she looked up the address in the accountâs bio, and she saw that it was a 5 minute drive from her house. perfect coincidence. alice would love to take a walk after work today, wouldnât she?
her snooping was interrupted by the alarm she had set for the end of her break. startled, she slightly jumped out of her seat before swinging her door open and plopping her phone in her back pocket. she knew what her plans for this afternoon were.
while abby was scheming up her stalkerish plans, you were just.. bored. you sat at the front desk, doodling one of the dogs you saw come in earlier with one earbud in your ear, fleetwood mac giving you soft background music to the emptiness of the lobby. with it being tuesday and all, it wasnât very busy. your shift didnât end for a few hours though, and you would rather be bored than busy.
you decided to people watch outside the window for a bit. you saw an old lady walking around with another old lady, holding coffee cups from the cafe down the street. they were engrossed in conversation, and you tried to lip read, but could only make up a few nonsensical words before they disappeared out of your view. a man walked by with his disgruntled teen daughter, headphones pulled over her ears with an annoyed grimace. once again, it looked like the father was saying something, but you had no idea what.
after a few more people walked past, you saw someone who actuallyâŠcaught your eye. it was a tall blonde woman, hair weaved neatly into a braid that rested on her right shoulder. she had on a black tshirt that showed of her toned arms, and grey cargo pants with green grass stains on them. you tried to glance at her face, but she was facing the side. all you could really see was the outline of her curved nose, and the soft shape of her lips. her side profile looked perfectly carved, like a statue. she had on black over the ear headphones too, and she was holding a leash to a big german shepherd. shes hot, and she has a dog? you subconsciously started fixing your hair, just in case she was walking in here. she stopped near the door, and you nearly pounced to greet her. but your excitement was cut short when you saw her walk slightly further, and pull out a small stack of papers and a roll of tape. was she putting up fliers?
you watched her place one on the light post outside your building, holding the tape in her mouth as she did so. you tried hard not to drool all over your desk as you watched her. you couldnt make out what the paper said as she walked away, and you wasted no time going outside to see what it was.
and when you finally approached it, you felt as god himself was giving you an offering. the flier read "abby anderson gardening services.â there was a small graphic of a pretty flower, and an even more captivating image of the woman who had put up the flier. abby, thatâs a sweet name.
you quickly ripped off one of the small pieces of paper on the bottom of the flier, placing it in your sweater pocket before skipping back into your work gleefully. a hot girl who was gonna save you from your gardening dilemma? somebody pinch you.
abby hadnât had the smallest confidence her plan had worked. her heart was practically beating out of her chest, and the questions kept on pouring in. did she even see? will she even notice? what if she did see, and she recognized me as the freak who was ogling her outside her house? she planned all this perfectly. she spent 3 hours last night making those stupid fliers. scrolling through a million different fonts, searching through her camera roll for good pictures, she needed it to be as believable as possible. she had parked her truck well out of view a few blocks away, carried extra fliers, and brought alice with her to try and hide her true intentions. normal gardener walking her dog and putting up fliers, thats all she was. definitely not a weirdo that saw a girl pruning her front yard and got so hot and bothered that she devised a whole plan that would maybe get her to call her.
she shook her head, practically trying to shake away her thoughts, and she kept on walking.
you were telling yourself that youâd call her right when you got off work.
and after sitting on your bed for 5 minutes staring at her number typed into your phone, it was tomorrow.
and then tomorrow, it was the day after that.
the fear made absolutely no sense to you. youâre calling a gardener! whats the worst shes gonna say? âoh no, im not gardening for you because youâre stupid and also im going to run you over with my lawn mower.â its her job to do this!! you had even saved her number in your phone as âhot gardenerâ so you wouldnât forget her.
you were silently hoping that youd see her around somewhere. sheâd approach you, start some dumb conversation, suddenly bring up the fact that shes a gardener, and then you get your âreally? iâve been looking for one!â moment. perfect meet cute.
but its like she vanished into thin air.
every time you went to work, or even out shopping, you were dolled up for no reason. wearing shirts with extra cleavage, making sure you have on lipgloss constantly, you were not taking any chances. even when you were doing the most mundane activities, you swiped on a layer of mascara before you left the house. just in case. but your luck wasnât striking you at all. does she not live in the neighborhood?
abby definitely lived in the neighborhood. after checking her flier and seeing a missing phone number, she spent the whole night waiting for her phone to ring. she did anything and everything to try and keep her busy, which included cleaning her entire apartment and stalking your instagram. you had posted a picture of your cat on your story. cute.
after almost 5 hours of waiting around, she was pacing around her living room like a tiger in captivity. every notification she got she pounced at her phone, but she was continuously disappointed. no manny, i donât want to go out tonight. dont ever text my phone again and also i hate you.
it was around 12:45 when her phone finally rang. she picked up instantly, barely letting it ring. she cleared her throat and tried to feign nonchalance in her voice. but instead of your sweet voice asking about her lawn, it was a telemarketer. she threw her phone on the couch and collapsed on her floor. it was gonna be a long night..
the next day, she knew she needed to check on you. what if something had happened? or, worse, what if you werenât even the one who took the phone number? she came back the same way she did the first time she saw you, driving a liiiittle too slow past the vet office. and low and behold, you were perfectly fine. sat at the front desk talking to some girl with a cat. and when she looked at the flier, there was still only one slip missing. maybe you forgot?
she drove away, a childish pout on her face. it was pathetic , really.
when she was at the grocery store on the second day of waiting , that she definitely didnât drive an extra five minutes to because it was close to you, she nearly had a heart attack when she saw you in the cereal aisle. cute hoodie and shorts on with your hair down. you seemed like you were having a hard time deciding between two cereals, holding the boxes next to each other and squinting. she imagined herself going up to you and delivering some smooth one liner about cereal that she was still trying to come up with, and carrying your groceries and you to your car. but as much as she wanted to, she kept her distance. heavily. she was looking around every five minutes like a shoplifter so she wouldnât bump into you.
but not touching didnât mean she couldnât look. she saw you finally chuck the fruity pebbles into your basket, squeeze half the mangos on the display before picking one, and you last minute deciding to buy a pack of gum when you were checking out. she tried her hardest to not be jealous of the scrawny bag boy you smiled at, and when she finally saw you check out, she remembered she was supposed to be getting stuff for dinner. shit.
and the day after that, when she stopped at the gas station by your street because it was âcheaperâ, she recognized your beetle in two seconds. she watched you step into the little mini market, clad in a pair of jean shorts and a random t shirt from a theme park , and she watched you walk out with a bag of hot cheetos as she pumped her gas. she had gotten a closer look at your bumper stickers, and she saw a small heart with a sunset flag. she couldnât help but do a little fist pump when she got in her car.
none of her research was giving her any clarity though. she kept driving past her flier, day after day, and not a single other person had picked up a slip. was it even you who took it? are you gonna hire some other stupid gardener you found on your phone?
and on the third day, she had stayed home. she was beginning to give up hope youâd ever call, and she would never make a move first. especially if you had accidentally seen her on one of her little ventures. so, she cleaned her house again. she even dusted, thats how bored she was. the thoughts of you were constantly plaguing her. she almost took up mannys offer to go out tonight, try and get her mind off things.
but her mind stayed in the exact same place. her mind replayed the memory of you in the lawn yet again. she remembered the sweat dripping down your chest, the way your shorts were riding right up your thighs. she shoved her hand down her pants and imagined that they were yours.
she remembered how nice and smooth your voice sounded on the videos she saw. even though you never said much, even her imagining it made her even wetter. she kept rubbing her middle finger up and down her clit, picturing you whispering in her ear.
âyouâre such a fucking creep. you keep watching me at work, following me around, and now youâre fucking yourself to me? weâve never even met. youâre acting like a desperate slut for some random girl, youâre not embarrassed?â
the dialogue she was imagining in her head was getting her further and further. she almost imagined you saying it, the voice being strange and inconsistent to her. still, she moved faster, hearing the noise her slick covered fingers made as she moved. she kept letting out heavy breaths, flexing her hips upwards onto her hand.
âyou know, you couldâve just come up to talk to me. how pathetic are you? canât even talk to a girl?â
she imagined your breath on her neck, watching her. if she focused enough, she could feel the indent in her bed of you next to her. she started moving even faster, letting out loud moans as she pressed down on her clit even harder. she arched her back as she did, pushing her head against her headboard. she could feel the pressure building in her lower stomach, and she was practically humping her hand. she got sweatier and sweatier, the blanket covering her lower half not making it any better.
âare you really this desperate? you could-â
abbys fantasy was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing next to her. right when she was close. fuck. she nearly abandoned the phone call, but then the thought crossed her hazy mind. what if it was you?
so she wiped her hands on her boxers , took a deep breath, and answered her phone.
she tried not to get her hopes up, worried it might be another telemarketer. annoyed at the fact that she gave up cumming for some random person.
âhello? is this..-abby?â
#HARD WORK.#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x black reader#abby anderson x y/n#abby anderson smut#abby x you#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson tlou2#abby tlou
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summary: your dad's birthday is coming up, and you want to buy something special, but you're short a couple hundred dollars. not wanting to change your idea for a gift you ask his best friend, Joel Miller, to help you out until you get more money. He agrees but surcharges. tags: pwp, dbf!joel, f!reader, afab reader, age gap (legal, the reader is 22, joel is in his mid forties), kind of slut shaming i dunno, fingering f receiving, head m receiving, dirty talk galore, pet names galore, p in v unprotected. (lmk if i missed anything)
/á - Ë -ăâ© authors note đŻ âż Woah i dunno what this was, kind of lame but i desperately need dbf joel to give it to me. 4.03k words but its mostly exposition. not proofread!!!
Your dad's birthday was just around the corner, and this year, you wanted to get him something that truly mattered. The usual giftsâgrilling tools, books, maybe a bottle of whiskeyâdidnât feel right. Youâd found something more special, something that spoke to him. It was a vintage guitar, similar to the one he had when he was younger, the one he used to play for you on lazy sunday afternoons. You knew it would bring back memories for him, and maybe, just maybe, heâd start playing again.
But there was one big problemâyou couldnât afford it. You were short. A couple hundred dollars short, and no matter how you shifted your budget, it just wouldnât work. Youâd gone over your options more times than you could count, and each time, you felt that pang of disappointment grow stronger. You werenât someone who liked asking for help. You always tried to handle things on your own, but this time, there was no way around it.
Thatâs when Joel came to mind. Maybe he could help.
Joel Miller had been your dadâs best friend for as long as you could remember. He was the one who was always around, helping out when your dad needed a hand with anything or just dropping by for a beer and a quiet conversation. Joel had a way about himâsteady, unshakable. Older, but not in a way that dulled him. His rough edges made him seem more dependable, like someone whoâd been through enough to know what really mattered.
Over the years, youâd noticed things about him. Little things. The way his voice, low and gravelly, would call out your name with a slow drawl that sent a small shiver down your spine and straight to your cunt. The way his hands, calloused from years of hard work, looked when they were fixing something or just resting casually on the steering wheel of his truck. Somewhere along the line, what started as casual observations turned into a quiet crush. It was ridiculous, really. He was your dadâs best friend, and you were way too young for him. But that didnât stop the way your heart skipped whenever you saw him or how your breath caught when he gave you one of those long, unreadable looks.
Youâd always had this childish, gnawing thing for Joel, even though you knew it was wrong. He was someone whoâd practically watched you grow up. But that didnât stop your mind from wandering in all the wrong places. Over the years, youâd caught yourself daydreaming about him, what he'd do to you, imagining what it would be like if things were differentâif you were his.
It wasnât just his looks, though those didnât hurt. Joel had that rugged charm about himâbroad shoulders, rough hands, and a way of carrying himself that made you feel safe and small in a way that made your mind spiral. you wanted to be at his mercy. You couldnât help but notice the lines that deepened around his eyes when he smiled, the slow, steady way he spoke, that gentle drawl making every word sound like it was meant just for you. And those moments when his gaze lingered a second too longâwhen his eyes would flicker over you in a way that made your pulse quickenâyouâd catch yourself wondering if maybe, just maybe, he saw you differently too.
But it was just fantasy. Joel was older, your dadâs best friend, and heâd never cross that line. You told yourself that over and over, but it didnât stop the thoughts from creeping in. Late at night, when you were alone, youâd let yourself imagineâ touching yourself while wondering. What if you werenât who you were, and he wasnât who he was? What if, in another life, he could be more than just your dadâs friend? Youâd picture his hands on you, the way his voice might sound close to your ear, the roughness of his touch, the warmth of his breath on your skin.
But every time, reality pulled you back. Joel would never see you that way. It was impossible. You were just the kid heâd known for years, nothing more. Still, the fantasy lingered, a secret you kept tucked away, knowing it could never become anything real.
right?
You hadnât planned on asking him for help. It wasnât something you were comfortable with, especially not from Joel. But as the days ticked by and you couldnât figure out how to make the money work, the idea crept into your mind more and more. He was reliable, and if anyone would help you out without making you feel bad about it, it would be Joel. You sat with your phone in your lap for what felt like forever, staring at his name on the screen. It took a few deep breaths before you finally hit call. The phone barely rang twice before you heard his familiar voice on the other end.
"Hey, darlin'," he spoke, the warmth of his voice instantly grounding you. "Somethin' wrong?" His concern was real. Joel wasnât the type to waste words, and for a second, you thought about backing out. But then you thought about the gift, about your dadâs face when he saw it, and the words spilled out.
"Hey, Joel. Iâm okay, just... I need a favor," you admitted, biting your lip, feeling the awkwardness rise in your chest. There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the line, the sound rumbling through the phone. "You? Ask for a favor? Must be somethinâ important."
You smiled despite yourself, already feeling some of the tension ease. âItâs about dadâs birthday. I found this perfect gift, but Iâm short a couple hundred dollars, and... I hate asking, but I donât know what else to do.â Joel was quiet for a moment, and you held your breath. Then, his voice came through, steady as always. "How much you need?" You blinked, surprised at how quick he was to offer. "Uh, about two hundred. I swear Iâll pay you back as soon as Iâ"
"Donât worry âbout that," Joel cut you off, his tone so casual it almost threw you. "Come by later, weâll figure it out."
And that was it. He hung up before you had a chance to protest, leaving you sitting there, a mixture of relief and something else bubbling inside you. Later came quicker than you expected, and before long, you found yourself driving out to his place. The sun was low in the sky, casting the road in golden light as you drove the familiar route. Joel lived just outside town, far enough out that it always felt like stepping into a different world when you visited him.
When you pulled into his driveway, his old truck was parked out front, dust-covered and reliable, much like the man himself. The air was warm, the sun casting long shadows across his yard, and for a moment, you sat in your car, your heart thudding in your chest. You didnât know why you were so nervousâthis was just Joel, after allâbut something about this felt different. It wasnât just about asking for money. Before you could second-guess yourself, you got out of the car and walked up to his front door. Your shoes crunched against the gravel, and the soft thud of your knock on the door sounded too loud in this quiet evening.
Joel opened the door almost immediately, like heâd been waiting for you all this time. He stood there, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes fixed on you. For a second, you were caught in his gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Hey, darlin'," he greeted, his voice soft but thick with that familiar gruff.
"Hi, Joel," you replied, stepping inside, trying to hide your apparent blush. The smell of wood and something faintly musky filled the air, and the room felt like it always didâwarm, safe. Youâd been here countless times, but today, something felt different. Maybe it was just you. You sat down on the couch, trying to calm your nerves, while Joel took his usual spot across from you, leaning back in his chair with that easy posture, his eyes still lingering on you. There was something about the way he looked at you tonight, something that made your skin prickle with awareness.
âSo,â he started, his voice low, âyou need a little help with this gift, huh?â You nodded, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. âYeah. Itâs more expensive than I thought. I didnât want to ask, butâŠâ Joel shook his head, cutting you off. âYou ainât gotta explain. I told you Iâd help, didnât I?â Relief washed over you, but then, as you glanced back at him, you caught the way his eyes hadnât left yours. There was something different in them nowâsomething that made your heart race a little faster. "But," Joel continued, his tone dropping just a notch, slower now, like he was considering each word carefully, "you know me. I donât do favors for nothinâ."
Your breath hitched. There was an intensity in his voice, in the way he was watching you, that sent a rush of heat through your body. You felt your folds dripping through your white cotton panties. He wasnât just talking about the money, and you knew it. The room seemed smaller, the air between you thick with something, your pulse plummeting under his steady gaze.
You swallowed, suddenly unsure of how to respond. Youâd known Joel your whole life, but thisâthis was different. The way he was looking at you now wasnât like anything youâd felt from him before, hungry, and it made you both nervous and excited, a dangerous mix you didnât know how to handle. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "So," he drawled, his voice like gravel, "whatâre you gonna give me in return?"
"A-Anything.." You spoke up, the words cascading out before you could even process them. "That so?" You see him smile, looking down at his hands. "You're a big girl... I think you know what i want." Your heart almost stops. Joel stands up, slowly inching himself closer. "Joel, Iă
Ą" you try to protest, not quite sure what to make of what he just said. "You think i don't know? think i dont notice how you look at me, always wearin' those skimpy clothes when 'm around...tryna' look innocent." the rhythm of your heart races, realizing what is really happening. you were to afraid to look up, afraid of what he'll say next, so you stuck to staring at the ground. "You think i couldn't hear ya touchin' yourself, moanin' my name, when I stayed over? God, woke up with the biggest morning wood ever that dayă
Ą felt like a fuckin' teenager." he chuckles to himself, rough fingertips trailing your shoulder, finally reaching your chin. he grabs a hold of it, turning your head harshly so you could look at him. your blushed skin burned, eyes wide with expectation.
"Joel, 'm sorry, pleaseă
Ą"
"Oh, so now you beggin'? could've come to me so long ago 'n ask me nicely to give it to you, sweet girl. Guess this is where you repay me for helpin' out with your dad's gift and for all those boners you made me power through." is this really happening? your eyes dart around the room, but he's quick to grab tightly on your cheeks, making your gazes meet. "You look at me when I'm talkin' to you, angel." His eyes were dark, intense, filled with something you couldnât quite decipher, but it made your stomach twist with a mixture of fear and something else you were ashamed to nameă
Ą you could try to deny it but the way your cunt pulsed when he talked to you that way was your biggest enemy. "Joel, pleaseâ" you started again, your voice shaky, but he cut you off with a low, humorless chuckle, his thumb brushing along your jaw, keeping you in place.
"Don't 'please' me, darlin'," he murmured, his voice dipping even lower, eyes now on your obvious cleavage. "You've been teasinâ me for years now, comin' âround lookinâ all sweet and innocent, actin' like you didnât know what you were doinâ. Always starin' at me with those big eyes, waitin' for me to make a wrong move." he was right and you hated to admit it. he held you firm, his grip unrelenting. " I didn't meanâ"
"Oh, I think you meant every bit of it," he said, his lips curling into a small smile, head lowering. "But now look where thatâs got you. You came to me for help, and I agreed to help, didnât I? Now itâs time to give somethin' back." your pulse thudded loudly in your ears, drowning out everything but him, his voice, the feeling of him so close. Youâd never thought it would be like this, not with Joel. You couldnât move, couldnât speak, caught between the fantasy you'd let grow over the years and the reality of what was happening now.
"You're gonna be good for me, aren't you? Gonna be a good little girl 'n let me have at you?" he asked, his voice a low rasp, like gravel scraping across your skin, the words sinking deep into your bones. "Yă
Ąyes." you say, voice was quiet, buried under the arousal, the want for more and his honey words. "Atta girl." Joel leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull back if you wanted to, but you didn't. You couldn't. Instead, you tilted your head up, closing the distance between you, your lips finally meeting his in a kiss. The moment his lips touched yours, it was like everything clicked into place. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty anymore. His kiss was slow but sure, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You sighed into him, hands instinctively resting on his chest, feeling the warmth of him, the roughness that made him like a drug to you.
a few moments pass, and joel pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips, one that he breaks when his rough thumb drags itself across your bottom lip. "pretty, pretty girl." you moan, you feel so pathetic. he's barely touched you, yet you feel the pool growing inside your panties by the second.
"p-please, joel.."
"please, what, angel cake? gotta tell me exactly what ya want." he smiles, prepping soft pecks onto your face. "t-touch me..please." you gather the courage to speak up, watching his eyes grow darker as he hears your request. "fuck, baby...what would your dad say if he heard you just then, huh? what if he saw what a cock desperate slut you are?" chuckling low, his fingers tangle themselves in your hair, making you whimper. "don't c-care.."
" 'Course you don't. Always knew you were a little whore. well, right now you'll be my little whore, right?" he tilts his head to the side, his thumb urging your mouth to open. "c'mon, girl, open." and you do as you're told, opening you mouth wide, tongue lulled out. he then gathers some spit in his mouth before letting the glistening droplet fall from his lips onto your tongue. "Swallow it. Let me seeă
Ą" its so overwhelming, so dirty, and he didn't even do anything. at this moment, it feels as if only a slight nip at your skin could send you over the edge. "You know your place, yeah, baby?" you hum eagerly, not sure what his next request will be but ready to fulfill it and give him your all. "tell me. you really wanna do this." Guilt clawed at your heart. Yet, you couldn't stop what you felt. it was wrong, but in this moment, it felt so right. "need you, Joel, please.."
"fuck, okay angel."
his large hands start to pull at your clothes, undressing you slowly, savoring and drinking you up with his eyes. your naked body was shivering, you didn't know if it was from the temperature or because of the anticipation playing with your heartstringsă
Ą you just knew you needed to give everything you had to Joel. make him proud. "i got you, babygirl." you feel yourself get picked up and placed onto the old leather couch in the middle of the living room, the cold surface making you jump a little. joel leans in, trailing soft kisses down the curve of your hip all the way to your mid thigh, as you try to bite back your moans. "Let me hear you, baby, don't hold back. you wanna make me proud, don't ya?" Oh, you do.
"gonna let me ruin you, angel girl?" and it feels like your heart could run a marathon. you nod away, eagerly. you feel so pathetic, all sprawled out naked under him, whilst he's still dressed. "words, baby. you that stupid already? I ain't even fucked you yet 'n you can't even say one word. tsk." he mocks you, twirling with your hardened nipples. "i'mă
Ą please, joel, please..." you almost cry. he laughs, fingers finally reaching your dripping folds and swirling around them "fuck, darlin', you're so wet. all this for me, hm? this pussy cryin' for an old man like me?" he teases "yes, only f-for you...please."
"that's right." Joel kisses the side of your neck, nibbling at the skin whilst he finally pushes inside of you one of his rugged fingers, making your back jolt and arch. you cover your mouth with your palms, shocked by the own sound you just made. "Keep moanin' for me, little girl. let me hear how good I make you feel.." his words flood over you, as the knot in your tummy tightly turns, Joel's cologne swirling in your nostrils and getting you drunk off of it and this feeling. "so tight, baby. can't wait to feel you 'round my cock." you choke back a pathetic whine. "you like it? like it when i fuck you with my fingers and talk to you like this?" you nod, pushing yourself further onto his digits. "filthy girl, s'it turn you on when you're fucked out on an old man's fingers?"
"yesă
Ą god, yes, please, joel, please, 'm so close." but then it all stops. you whine at the sudden lack of feeling, but you open your eyes and see Joel stand up.
your vision was hazy from all the tears in your eyes, and your heart felt stuck in your throat, but you watched the man discard himself of his clothes andă
Ą holy. fucking. shit. all of your fantasies of Joel couldn't prepare you for what was going to happen. he stood there, tall, gruff as he stroked himself. his length was girthy, almost too thick, veiny, with a pinkish, angry tip. he knew he was huge. That's what made it so exciting for him. watching you gawk at his cock, made him feel more powerful over you.
"c'mon, angel, it won't bite...open wide now. widee ă
Ą there you go...good little girl." he preaises, sliding his length between your lips. it was hard to adjust, and honestly, your jaw was hurting from the first couple of minutes you had him in your mouth. but the way his lips dripped with quiet moans, 'goodgirls' and 'thats rights', it made you push back the pain. it was bearableă
Ą it was worth it. "jesus christ, girl, you look so pretty, mouth full of my cock." the man laughs, pushing his length further down your warm throat that was constricting as you gagged around him. "shită
Ą gonna make me come already." hissing, he pulls out, leaving you gasping for air.
you look up at him, mascara smudged, lips swollen and blushed cheeks stained with tears and spit. "you're so gorgeous like this, baby. my gorgeous angel girl, begging for cock." he sighs, caressing you cheek before his hand slides down to wrap around your neck, squeezing it and making you light-headed. "gonna let me fuck you, darlin'? c'mon, answer."
"y-yes, please fuck m-me, Joel." joel scoffs, placing a little kiss on your forehead. with his other hand, he grabs his shaft and drags the tip along your folds, collecting all the juices that dripped from you. "fuckin' soaked for me, baby." and you hum a little 'only for you.' without stalling, he pushes in just the tip making you yelp as the sting spread through your pussy. you stare him deep in the eyes as he pushes in further, hushing you along the way. it was so bigă
Ą too big. but you loved it, you loved that it was all you dreamed about and more. "I know, baby, I know. You're a good girl, you can take it." with that, he pushes in all the way, ripping through you, his precum mixing with your juices that were flowing over his cock. he thrusts in you cunningly, gripping your hips tightly and licking long strips down your neck. all you could do is sit there and take it. take it and make him proudă
Ą you were paying him back, though.
"so pretty, angel, so, so pretty and tight 'f me, shită
Ą " joel moans, indulging further into you. your hips crash with his, and you try your best to say quiet as you feel his cock hit so deep, you're sure it reached your stomach. the room spun with you, you could only mutter little 'joels' as he pounded into you. after a few more pumps that familiar feeling was pooling at your core, causing you to tighten around Joel's length, which made him grunt and pull your hips flush to his "that's it, girl. come around my cock, let me feel ya squeezin' me."
you let go. bliss and pleasure take over you as your body contorts under joel, your walls fluttering around his shaft perfectly, eyes rolling to the back of your head. it doesn't take him long reach his orgasm, pumping a few more times into you before he take his cock out and paints your stomach and breasts with white, silky strands.
this all really happened.
After you both come down from your high, you cup his face in your warm palms, your stare tied to his. Joel's eyes were soft, warm, and filled with something you'd never seen beforeă
Ą something that made your heart swell even more and realize what just went down between you two. "Should've done that a long time ago," he said with a soft, crooked smile, his thumb brushing against your cheek, still a little out of breath. You laughed lightly, still caught in the moment. "Yeah, you should've." His smile grew, and he leaned in again, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You know this changes things, right?"
"I know," you whispered, feeling the truth of it all settle into your bones. "I want it to."
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel tlou#joel miller fic#joel x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller#dbf!joel#kinktober#the last of us#tlou fanfiction
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YOU ARE IN LOVE
summary â after a long day spent on the beach with your girlfriends, wanda and natashaâs love is loud enough to hear in the silence of your bedroom
warning(s) â established relationship, married wandanat, dom/sub dynamics, domestic dominance, mommy kink, daddy kink, exploration of subspace in nonsexual situations, fluff galore, fainest appearance of bratty reader, warning spank, wanda taunting natasha, hot mommy wanda in a bikini, sexy daddy nat on the beach in a bikini, dare i say more?
authors note â i combined like six different requests for this, so itâs quite a bit longer than my other summer oneshot! also, i canât believe how perfectly this title fit a soft little moment written towards the end, it wasnât planned at all but the full circle moment is beyond fulfilling!
The thin flamingo pink straps of your favorite summertime bathing suit made elegant crosses against your back whenever you allowed the unrelenting August sun to fall against you intimately. They were intricate enough that Wanda spent most nights tracing the evidence of once fairer skin with soft fingers, hot breath fanning tantalizingly across the nape of your neck as she spooned you in bed, but still simple enough that the lacy top didnât take any more than a few seconds to slip on while dashing to get ready and meet them by the front door before Wanda came up to find you herself. The vibrant bathing suit that had been purchased by Natasha brought out a spark in your eyes that was addictive, and frequently you found yourself reaching for it whenever a pool day had been declared by your girlfriends.Â
Today, Natasha had decided to do something different, and like many others that had fallen into the cycle of outdoor activities while the warmth of summertime lasted, you found yourself submerged in the waters of the Atlantic, granules of coarse sand embedded throughout your scalp while the aroma of salt air captivating your senses. The rush of people had died down since late June and early July, leaving mostly locals around you as you frolicked and splashed through the waves that crashed against your back. Droplets of water clung to your skin, creating racetracks and mazes out of your arms and belly as you bobbed in and out of the waist deep water, only tracking the location of your girlfriends sporadically when you thought youâd drifted too far in another direction.Â
Up higher on the beach, surrounded by granules of sand the color of a perfectly roasted marshmallows â in your opinion at least, Natasha was a freak who liked her smores black and charred â Wanda and Natasha on their bellies, their arms folded beneath their heads as they pleaded with the sun to allow them even an ounce of golden color to bear through the early weeks of approaching fall. Wanda had been more fortunate than Natasha in the months leading up to this impromptu outing, bearing a gorgeous bronze sheen against her limbs and face, while Natasha had burnt to a crisp within minutes despite every technique sheâd tried to use. It was endearing, but desperately you wanted them out here with you. Youâd spent three hours building sandcastles and pouring sand over Wandaâs feet whenever sheâd explicitly told you not to do that, but eventually sheâd sent you off to the water when your relentless energy grew to be too much to handle all at once.Â
You werenât sure how long youâd been out in the depths of the ocean for, diving into waves and body surfing back to shore whenever you grew tired of keeping yourself afloat, but as the sun faded farther into the horizon, you knew that at least a considerable amount of time had elapsed since Wanda sent you off to burn off some restless energy. With one final somersault into a massive wave, you trudged back up the expanse of sandy shorelines, marveling at the the endless abyss of blue that stretched on for miles above you. The cloudless sky had been a rarity in recent days, unpredictable sun showers and thunderstorms wreaking havoc on Westview like many other neighboring towns in New Jersey, but today had been a yearned for glimpse of peace that thankfully wasnât quite over yet, and while you would absolutely never admit it, you were glad that Natasha had woken you up sweetly at seven in the morning instead of letting you sleep like youâd demanded.Â
Your girlfriends were easy to spot, the large blue and tan umbrella one of the only ones that littered the shorelines. There was an endless array of color schemes spread across the beach, so much so that it was honestly an eyesore, but Wanda and Natasha had always preferred simpler things, and a refined palette of baby blues and muted tans made up most of their beach equipment. Everything had been custom made by a small boutique just a few blocks away; from their towels, chairs, umbrellas, down to the cooler packed with crisp waters and hard seltzer, it was all the same palette, which only made spotting two redheads on a beach full of bottle blondes and brunettes easier.Â
When you reached them, water dripping off your frame as the wind blew and developed you in a gentle chill, you made sure that you stood directly over top of Wanda, not only blocking her back from the sun, but getting her wet in the process. You grinned cheekily down at her, kicking sand up at Natashaâs ankles when the fleeting thought of her being left out crept up on you. The russian cursed beneath her breath, turning over to send you a very pointed glare, only to be ignored as you continued to grin down at Wanda, who refused to budge despite your ministrations.Â
âMommy!â You whined when you didnât get your way, shuffling your feet against the sand in a petulant fit, though her head was still burrowed into her arms as she lounged against the thick blue and tan towel that you decided now was your worst enemy. Your own head was fuzzy and light as a result of her constant babying since leaving the house that morning, having apparently discussed taking you out in subspace with Natasha while you were upstairs taking forever to get ready. Since that first time youâd gone to the aquarium and explored the limits of their dominance and your willingness to submit, youâd found an easy comfort in their domestic control, and that didnât falter for a second even on a crowded beach. You trusted them, and more importantly, they trusted themselves to steer you clear into a blissful haze of intimate submission without pushing you too far over the edge and sending you into a drop. So much of their effortless love and careful time had been poured into shaping your trust, it felt like another lifetime ago when Wanda had been the very thing you aimed all of your fears and insecurities at, but now she was the one thing that you wanted so unabashedly that you werenât above throwing a fit in public to get it.Â
You screeched in startled shock when she abruptly turned onto her back, emerald eyes narrowed into thin, unamused daggers before she was reaching up and grabbing your wrists, pulling you down firmly on top of her, hardly caring that your wet body made an impression against her own dry bathing suit. She was planning on getting in the water with you anyways, so the evidence of your frame against her front was hardly of any significance. You whined in shameful embarrassment when her palm crashed down against your ass in a strike of pointed warning, the initial clap of contact thankfully drowned out by incessant seagulls that swarmed a nearby tent where french fries had been spilled by a toddler. For a moment, you focused on how her skin was warm beneath your body, your mind already melting away into peaceful contentment now that you had her arms around your waist, but you were brought back to the chaos of the beach when her lips ghosted along the shell of your ear, her breath heavy and warm as it swirled around your skin. âYou throw a fit and we go home. Is that how you want today to go, little one?âÂ
You whined, shaking your head while a tear-filled expression came over your once radiant features. You absolutely did not want to go home, you were having so much fun pretending to be both a fishie and a mermaid, youâd begged Natasha all summer to take you down to the beach for a full day of activities and fun, but sheâd denied your request every time because of the unrelenting crowd of rude tourists that gathered in Westview like clockwork each year. You didnât want to lose all of this prematurely, so you mumbled a meek apology and hid your face within Wandaâs neck, on the verge of tears that sheâd admittedly seen coming.Â
Her hand rubbed your back soothingly, a weighted presence that brought a comforting peace over you easily, and comfortably you turned your head to look at the villages of sandcastles youâd built at the start of your adventure. Your fingers, ever unable to remain still, wandered over to the ones that were closest around you in disheveled clumps of beige, gravity having pulled them down over the hours that youâd spent in the water. Natashaâs castles still looked the best beside yours and Wandas, irritatingly so, and without restraint you smashed your palm down against her tallest one, careful not to damage the seashells that had sheâd so carefully pressed into the dry sand around it, but effectively bringing a calamitous end to her quaint kingdom. Wandaâs disapproval was not so quietly delivered upon you, and disapprovingly she gripped your chin between slender digits, her glare unwavering and able to easily undo you. A strained whimper fell off of your tongue, the sound soft and meek, reflective of your sensitive headspace that despite its newfound edge of brattiness, both she and Natasha adored.Â
âWhat is with the attitude?â Her voice is thin, edged with guarded dominance that has you whimpering and searching aimlessly for protection from Natasha, but the Russian at your side is in no mood to help you out, equally as curious as Wanda, and she merely narrows her gaze in pointed waiting as she nods just slightly back at her wife. You let out a soft grunt, teary eyes blinking up at your girlfriend as you attempt to press your face into her neck in embarrassed shame, but her fingers keep you still, only loosening when she feels your muscles go rigid with emotions you have no way to verbalize so far into a state of submissive bliss. âI thought you were going to be a good girl for Mommy.â She coos tenderly, shifting her approach as she watches you try to formulate a coherent answer to her previous question, effectively rousing yourself from that delicious state of bliss sheâd worked tirelessly to bring forth.Â
âBe a good girl for Mommy.â You mumbled, a soft pout pulling your lips downward as you stared deep into the kaleidoscope of greens that made up her dazzling emerald eyes. There was no easy color for her eyes to claim, but the glimmering appeal of a deep emerald hue was the most accurate, and a ring that typically adorned her slender fingers beside her engagement ring was a sparkling ring with a pristinely cut emerald that you had gotten her for her birthday. âRing gone.â Your pout deepened when your realized that the chill of metal that typically came with her hands on your face was missing, and the gleam of sunlight catching jewels was absent as well.Â
Wanda smiled softly, peppering your face in kisses that distracted you from your lapse in sadness. âMommy left them at home so theyâd be safe. Just like we left your ring at home, remember, sweetheart?â She laughed softly, brushing the pads of her thumbs against your sun kissed cheeks, softly tsking when she noticed just how pink youâd become since venturing down to the water. âI think somebody needs more sunscreen.âÂ
âNo!â You whined sharply in adamant protest, wriggling away from her chest in a futile attempt to avoid the reapplication of her coconut scented sunscreen all together, but again she held you tightly to her chest, and again she tutted in disapproval.Â
âBehave.â She warned lowly, accent seeping into the single uttered word. You whined, kicking your feet petulantly against the granules of sand that had been tickling your skin since sheâd initially pulled you down onto her. âMalyshka, Mommy has to put sunscreen on you. She doesnât want her little duckling to burn.â The added emphasis of her finger gently pressing against the tip of your nose did little to convince you, but the smallest part of your brain that still had the ability to think rationally warned you that there was no use in putting up a fight.Â
âDaddy do.â You negotiated, knowing that at the very least, Natasha wouldnât take the time to tease your already sensitive body like Wanda would, and did. Sheâd had you a blubbering mess of desperation before you left the house, her fingers having slipped beneath the fabric of your bathing suit on more than one occasion in a manner that was painfully suggestive.Â
Wanda rolled her eyes fondly, shrugging you off of her body and toward Natasha who was trying her best to muffle her amused laughter as she watched you with fondness etched into her soft mesmerizing eyes. If Wandaâs eyes were impossible to name, hers were forbidden. There was no color in the world that would ever even come close to the colors that swirled within her eyes each day, constantly changing as landscapes and outfits did. The sun had dried you almost entirely since youâd abandoned the high tides of the midday Atlantic, but still a towel was run over your limbs and exposed belly before Natasha smeared the dreaded white lotion across her palms, warming it up before she even tried to touch your skin, having learned from Wandaâs mistake that morning. You wriggled impatiently, huffed and whined throughout the entire process, but you let her do it, so neither she nor Wanda reprimanded your attitude.Â
âNow was that really so bad, utenok?â Natasha laughed teasingly, kissing the tip of your sunkissed nose affectionately before she turned toward the beach bag laid upright on the sand a few inches back from the towels, shaded by the umbrella that was practically useless as none of you had spent even a minute beneath its provided shade. Â
âDonât like.â You grumbled, sinking into Wandaâs lap when the Sokovian finally sat upright on her own towel, abandoning her plans of sunbathing, instead, patting her thighs in a wholesome invitation to cuddle properly.Â
âI know you donât like it, you make that very clear.â She mused softly against your hairline, tangling her fingers into the straps of your bathing suit, taking a peak at the tanlines that had darkened considerably since youâd first stepped foot outside. âWhat do you say we go play in the water some more while Daddy gets you an ice cream?âÂ
âIce cream?â You perked up, eyes shining brightly beneath the sun at the mention of your favorite summer treat. Youâd made it your mission to try every ice cream parlor in Westview, and being a beach town with an ample amount of tourism during the warmer months of the year, there were plenty to go through. Youâd nearly completed the list, all that remained was the small shop toward the front of the beach, where the line was almost always wrapped around the building.Â
âYes, baby, ice cream. I told you weâd get a treat, didnât I?â Wanda laughs at your excitement, eyes sparkling with elation as she reveled in the simple moments that were coming to a rushed end. In only a couple of weeks youâd be back at school, no longer living on campus but still away from home for hours upon hours in the already limited day, and to fill that time alone both she and Natasha would dive back into work. Theyâd delegated the minor tasks to trusted employees to spend the utmost amount of time with you as possible while they could, and as nice as it had been to take a much needed break and focus on their personal lives, they were itching to get back into the office, handling everything by themselves like theyâd been doing for years since starting their own company. âWhat kind do you want?âÂ
âStrawberry! With peanut butter sauce and hot fudge!â The grin that split your lips was wide and so addictive, Wanda couldnât help but allow her eyes to dance between your eyes alight with soft affection and your smile twinged with golden joy. You were the epitome of ethereal, lounging against her chest in a bathing suit that left little to the imagination, but still you looked so wholesome with your ass out for the residents of Westview to see, granules of sand clinging to your spankable cheeks.Â
âOh yes, how silly of me. I shouldâve known.â She teases, because truthfully, she shouldâve. You ordered the same thing all summer, and when Natasha suggested you try something else, knowing a handful of spots in Westview had signature flavors that tourists traveled just to get, youâd pouted and outright refused saying that was just as bad as you going around kissing other women. Wanda had spanked you for that, assuring that you remembered your place and that nobody could ever please you like she and Natahsa could. Still, you didnât get a different flavor. âMy little strawberry monster!â Wanda attacked your neck with kisses, her laughter mixing with yours as Natasha stood behind you both, phone out, capturing the sight of the both of you so entangled with love.Â
âOne strawberry ice cream for the little one, and what will you be having, Wands?â Natashaâs eyes glimmered beneath the sun, her red locks practically ablaze beneath the harsh kiss of daylight. She looked like something straight out of a portrait, but you doubted any artist could replicate her beauty by any standards.
âA bomb pop.â Was Wandaâs answer, and without any further questions, Natasha began the long walk up the beach, growing smaller and smaller as she left you behind. You waved at her retreating frame, hopeful that sheâd sense your affection and turn to wave back, but it never came, and tearfully you turned your gaze to Wanda, eyes wide and glimmering with feelings that were all the more powerful in your blissful state of submission. She kissed your pout away affectionately, tapping your thighs thoughtfully. âWhat do you say you show Mommy what you were doing in the water, huh? Should we go down and explore while we wait for Daddy?âÂ
âWant Daddy to come back.â You pouted, the sudden reminder of Natashaâs absence falling heavily on your sensitive heart. Wanda smiled sympathetically, caressing your cheeks with delicate affection.Â
âDaddy will be back soon, my little love. Come on, up you get.â Wanda gently eased you off of her lap, taking your hand in hers the second her feet were planted on the hot sand. She grimaced slightly, unprepared for the coarse granules to be so warm beneath the soles of her feet, but she didnât let it deter her. Instead, it only hastened her speed, and you giggled as she pulled you along the beach, weaving in and out of families and couples that lingered on the shorelines.Â
You mustâve been down in the water for nearly an hour and a half, splashing at Wanda and diving into her chest whenever a wave rolled through and rocked you into her, the sun truly beginning to fall beneath the tide now and turn the sky a breathtaking sight of divine orange and sweet pink around you. Your hair was a tousled mess on top of your head, held out of your face by a hair tie that was surely knotted in place by now. The Sokovian would have to meticulously untangle it before you fell into bed, but that was always something she adored doing, and you enjoyed it just as much. You whined when her playful ministrations came to an abrupt end, her fingers no longer digging into your ribs as she tickled you in the waist deep water that splashed and lapped at your upper torso. Her eyes had been searching the shorelines for any sign of Natasha since youâd ventured into the abyss of salt water, but now they narrowed in on one thing, something that you hadnât noticed just yet.Â
When you did notice, Wandaâs soft fingers tilting your head in the direction of the beige and blue umbrella, you booked it to shore without so much as a glance back at her. Natasha had seen your attack coming from a mile away, and had somehow been prepared for it when your body crashed into hers, your lips, soft from the granules of sand that you had face planted into a couple of times, peppering kisses on any inch of exposed skin that you could reach. She laughed, pulling you away only to connect your lips in a soft embrace. When Wanda caught up to you, youâd piled in on the towels, eating ice cream as you watched the sun fall further and further beneath the blanket of endless murky blue water. The shorelines of Jersey werenât marvelously blue like the coast of Florida or the Maldives, but they were perfect for the simple moments you yearned to share with both Wanda and Natasha.Â
When ice creams were finished, yours the last to be scraped clean of soft pink goodness, Wanad had forced you still as she wiped off your face and hands, softly reprimanding you as you whined and tried to wiggle away. How youâd gotten ice cream on both your cheeks and your nose, she wasnât entirely sure because she had watched you use a spoon the entire time, but still your face was sticky and she doted on you lovingly all while Natasha began to pack away all of your belongings.Â
Youâd walked to the beach, pulling along a little cart that held the umbrella and the beach bag and cooler, and that morning it hadnât seemed like a far stretch, but as darkness covered Westview entirely and the long day of playing and vulnerability caught up with you, it felt endless. When you finally passed Agathaâs house, your feet dragging against the sidewalk as you held onto Naashaâs hand firmly (well more like she held onto you because you had a tendency to wander off anytime something caught your attention), your were absolutely certain that it had probably been at least twenty years, although Wanda would say it had only been twenty minutes and that was only because you kept stopping to whine and complain about being sleepy before Natasha started dragging you along again.Â
When you slipped inside of the house, the airconditioning sent a shiver down your side, and instinctively you stepped closer to Natasha, seeking out the warmth of her sun kissed body. Natasha hums, smiling softly down at you, taking in the sight of your pink cheeks and tired smiles. Wanda had pulled the cart into the garage to be dealt with tomorrow, and when she returned, she merely grabbed both yours and Natashaâs hands and guided you upstairs, where pajamas were picked out, and towels for the shower were grabbed. The water was warm as it cascaded down your body, and Wandaâs fingers were soft as she rubbed soap against your skin and scrubbed sand from your hair. Natasha stayed clinging to you whenever Wanda wasnât working on getting you clean, only fully separating when she wanted to be the one to rub strawberry scented body wash across her wifes body. It was a soft encounter, one full of delicate praise and affection, and slowly they were easing you deeper down, farther than theyâd done that morning before you set off for the shore.Â
Miraculously, the pajamas youâd picked for bed were a matching set, and one of your very own. The button up top was a soft blue color, printed with dusty white clouds and the smallest yellow duckling embroidered on the bottom left side. Natasha had done that for you one night, wanting to practice her skills, and while it was rather wonky and a little unproportional, you loved rubbing your fingers over the stitches as you fell asleep. She and Wanda had on the same style set, although Wandaâs were black and Natashaâs were a deep olive green. They matched in their own ways, and you couldnât help but feel like they were so indicative of your differing personalities.Â
Wanda had you sit at the vanity so she could brush out your hair and get it braided for you, all while Natasha rambled on the other side of the room, telling you and Wanda about the woman that had stood in front of her at the ice cream parlor and had decided to sample every single flavor, only to not get anything and walk out with a fuss. Wanda laughed, but you were too sleepy to really pay attention, your head falling backwards until it landed against her sternum delicately, your eyes closed and your breathing light as she secured the last braid together.Â
âCome on, sweetheart. Lets get you all comfy in bed.â She cooed softly, not giving you a second to protest before she was guiding you to the bed that Natasha was already laying in. You crawled into the middle, your head falling onto the Russianâs chest with practiced ease before your hand reached out to hold onto Wandaâs. âGet comfy, baby. Mommyâs right here.âÂ
âMommy.â You mumbled, eyes barely open, head resting heavily on Natashaâs chest as you listened to the rhythmic beating of her heart.Â
âShh, sleep baby. Mommy will be here tomorrow.â Wanda gently laid her other hand on your belly, her thumb slipping between the buttons that fastened your top, rubbing soft circles on your skin. It was only a handful of minutes before you were asleep, soft sighs slipping off of your lips as you snuggled closer to her warmth.Â
âSuch a Mommyâs girl.â Natasha laughed softly, brushing her thumb against your cheek before Wanda swatted her hand away, not wanting her soft affection to wake you up already.Â
âYou shouldâve seen the near meltdown she had when you left for ice cream. Iâd say you have yourself a little Daddyâs girl too. She just likes to push my buttons more than yours.â Wanda snorted softly, twisting onto her side, slowly pulling her hand off of your belly to instead intertwine her fingers with Natashaâs.Â
âOh donât I know it. I canât say I blame her either.â Natashaâs smirk was taunting, and Wanda rolled her eyes fondly.Â
âWatch yourself, detka. There are plenty of other rooms in this house where I can remind you of whoâs in charge. Or, maybe I should just take you here and make you be quiet. After all, I would hate to leave you unsatisfied if your desperate moans were to wake her up.â Wanda warned whimsically, and Natashaâs cheeks, already pink from the sun, grew crimson, her sudden silence a telling feature of her submission. âThatâs what I thought.â Wanda tutted, getting her own body comfortable on the large bed you shared.Â
âI love you.â Natasha whispered into the silence, her thumb rubbing patterns on Wandaâs cold hand.Â
âI love you.â Wanda whispered back before she turned her attention to you, peacefully sleeping, unaware of the banter that happened over your head. âI love you, moya utenok.â
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#dom!wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maxmioff comfort#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda maximoff fic#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#dom!natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff comfort#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff fic#wandanat#wandanat x reader#dom!wandanat x reader#wandanat comfort#wandanat fluff#wandanat fic#series: you are in love#minors dni à§à
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SLY FOX // DUMB BUNNY - ZENIN CLAN
ft. fox!toji, naoya, naobito, jinichi and ogi x bunny!reader
a/n: thank uuuu to @sqiim and @kaitkatme for beta'ing !!! another commission for @nexysworld :333 coolest gal out there on god đȘ gangbangs are... hard to write but... think i cooked???? fb and rbs appreciated !!
cw: 18+ content, gang bang, mxmxmxmxmxf!reader, knotting, dubcon, power dynamics, ooc naobito?, double penetration, breeding, creampies galore !!, mating press, doggy, biting, very small blood mention, size difference-ish, cockwarming, the zenins aren't nice, misogyny
word count: 2.6k words
Being a servant in the Zen'in family was difficult. Being a rabbit among a den of foxes was another thing entirely. You could feel narrowed, judgmental eyes following your every movement. You could sense their gazes on you at every moment, even when you thought you were alone.
Some of them liked to play with you for sport - tugging on your floppy ears, baring their teeth at you to watch you tremble or sneaking up on you to watch you jump. It keeps you on edge, but more than anyone, Naobito fills you with a sense of dread.
It's his silence - the way his watchful eye scours the compound. He does not discipline his family for their mistreatment of you, but he does not engage in the behaviour himself. If anything, he seems wholly uninterested in you, addressing you only when he sees fit.
You're tense when he approaches, every muscle fibre pulled taut in your body. His gaze is locked on you, but his movements are slow. Languid. Like he enjoys watching you squirm as he approaches.
âHere, little rabbit.â He orders, voice firm and unwavering, but not cruel. Your ears twitch at the authority in his tone, and you're quick to walk towards him until you're right in front of him. He nods his head to the side, turning and walking away. A silent command for you to follow.
He's silent as he leads you to the clan meeting hall. There's a few faces you recognise here - the next most eligible heads of the Zenâin clan, along with its very own black sheep, Toji. Naobito orders you to strip, and you shakily comply, shaking slightly under the foxâs heavy gazes.
âYou've all failed to produce any useful heirs to secure your place as the next head of the clan. Ogi has given us women, Toji - a bastard. My own son has not even produced a child, and as for you, Jinichi⊠I do not even wish to speak on the matter. You have somehow disappointed me more than your brother.â
Naobito kicks your trembling form forward, your body bare as you catch yourself before making contact with the floor. The wood is rough against your soft skin, your eyes flickering across the many faces of the Zen'in men staring down at you.
âA bunny. Not ideal, of course. But fertile enough I'm sure one of you will be able to fuck a useful heir into her by the end of today.â
The men are tense, gazing at each other for a few silent moments, as if eyeing up who gets first dibs. Ogi is the eldest, but seems thoroughly disinterested. Toji, although cocky, knows well enough that a fight will break out if he attempts to be the first to approach. The toss up is left between Naoya and Jinichi, who both look like they're about three seconds away from tearing each other apart.
Naoya steps forward first, which sets Jinichi off. He takes two large steps forward, his form dwarfing Naoya's as he squares up, determined to be the first to have you. Naoya's fur bristles, his tone conceited when he speaks up.
âI'm the rightful heir. It is my duty to breed her first.â He grunts, stepping in front of his cousin, glaring as he gazes up at the older man.
âYou're nothing but a spoiled brat. I could tear you apart in seconds, little fox.â Jinichi growls, thick brows pulling together as he pushes Naoya to the side, baring his teeth at his cousin in frustration. He kneels, his hand coming down to smack your clit harshly before he forces two thick fingers into your cunt.
âYour son is too arrogant, uncle. You should teach him some respect.â He grunts, scissoring you open. You're much wetter than fox girls he's been with, slick gushing from you eagerly, streaming steadily down his hand to his wrist. âBet a cock like that wouldn't even stretch out a tiny bunny girl like this, hmm?â
Naoya's tail bristles, a low growl forming in his throat as his lips curl back. âYou watch your mouth old man, or I swear I'll-â
âEnough. Both of you. I'm sharing the girl as a gift to our clan - a means for you to produce heirs. Do not think I won't keep her to myself if you don't behave.â Naobito cuts in, his eyes narrowing as he gazes at the other Zen'in's. Ogi remains silent next to him, but his gaze is harsh and unwavering as he gazes at Naoya, making his disdain for his attitude abundantly clear.
Toji, who has been too busy watching his brotherâs fingers splitting you open, scoffs at the eldest Zenâin. His eyes flick up to his uncle, and he cocks his head to the side. When he speaks, it's with barely restrained amusement. âYou think you can keep up with a bunny at your age?â
Ogi speaks up for the first time then, his gaze narrowing in on Toji. âYou should consider yourself lucky that a runt like you was even invited to join in on this.â
âRunt, huh? I'm bigger than you, ya old bastard.â He growls, ears pulling back as he straightens up, making himself appear bigger. You whimper as you gaze at the two men, but Jinichi doesn't stop stretching you out, leaving you mewling despite your discomfort.
Jinichi ignores their bickering in favour of pulling his fingers from your tight cunt, shedding his kimono and pulling his cock free. Your eyes widen as you get a lock at it, your chest heaving with nervous breaths.
âThat's not⊠it's too big.â You squeak, eyes wide as he grips the back of your thighs, folding you in half effortlessly. In return, you get another harsh smack against your cunt, one that has you jolting with a whimper. He bares down on you, forcing his thick length into your tight hole, bottoming out with a low groan.
The stretch stings, making you whine and squirm against his body. His grip is unwavering, not allowing you to pull too far back from him. He doesn't grace you time to adjust as he presses your thighs to your chest, the weight of his body keeping you pinned. He sets a brutal pace, fat cock rutting into you mercilessly.
âI'm sick of waiting.â Naoya growls, his ears pulling back as he glares at his cousin. Jinichi bristles as he approaches, body growing rigid as the younger man approaches. âLet up for a second, huh? âM just gonna join ya. Fuckinâ brute.â
Jinichi scowls, but relents, pulling out of you long enough for Naoya to lie down, lifting you so your back is pressed against his chest. He sinks into you with a whine, tail swaying contentedly under him. The larger man returns, slowly pressing his length in along his cousin's with a grunt.
âFuck⊠she's even tighter.â He practically purrs, continuing the brutal pace he set before. Naoya starts moving too, their cocks pistoning in and out in a rough rhythm that steals the air from your lungs.
Jinichi senses your discomfort, but the most he offers to soothe you is his tongue lapping at your skin, a soft growl rumbling in his chest. His head dips down to your chest, dark locks tickling your skin as he latches onto a nipple, sharp teeth grazing the fat of your breast. You mewl at the feeling, slick gushing from your cunt to aid in the movements of the cocks inside of you.
âSo wet. Acting all shy, but your body knows what you're meant for.â Naoya coos, a condescending tone underlying his words. He sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck as he fucks into you, the sharp pain making you cry out. He loosens his jaw, lapping at the blood spilling from the bite. âA bunny bitch acting like she wasn't born to be bred.â
The other clan members watch the exchange, but Toji is most notably affected. His eyes are hooded as he stares at the way your hole stretches around his brother and cousin, eyes narrowed in on your slick cunt.
Jinichi's thrusts grow sloppily as he reaches his peak. He feels his knot swelling, and he pulls back from your breast and grits his teeth to surpass the urge to force it past your tight ring of muscle. He growls as he spills inside of you, filling him with your seed.
âCan't keep up, cousin?â Naoya teases, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. Jinichi snaps at him in warning, easing his softening cock out of you.
âI'll rip your throat out with my teeth, you insolent brat.â He sneers, stepping away from you as Naoya continues to pound into you. Naoya rolls his eyes, his expression still smug as he rolls the both of you over and yanks your hips up so he can fuck you properly.
âPresenting all pretty fâme.â He teases, draping his frame over yours as he ruts into you desperately. âJust like a good breedinâ bitch, hmm?â
You whine low in your throat, bunny ears flopping limply by your face as you claw at the ground, pussy already sore from being treated so roughly. You do your best to roll your hips back to meet his thrusts, but you're already tired and your movements are sloppy and disorganised.
âGonna knot this bunny cunt.â He murmurs, brows furrowing as he fucks into your drippy cunt. His knot catches your entrance, and he forces it in with a hiss of pleasure, tail twitching behind him. You feel his cum filling you, joining his cousin's as he rides out his high. He sits back with a satisfied sigh, making you yelp as his knot tugs you back with him.
âDid ya have to knot her?â Toji growls, tail stiffening as he approaches. âBeen waitin' long enough as it is.â
âYou can wait longer.â Naoya huffs, stretching his legs out to get comfortable as he waits for his knot to deflate. The next few minutes are tense as Toji's gaze remains locked on his cousin, waiting impatiently for his turn.
As soon as Naoya's knot deflates enough for him to wriggle free, Toji steps forward. He's stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder, Ogi's face expressionless as he pulls him back.
âI'm not sharing with the runt.â Ogi says simply, stepping towards you as he frees his cock without bothering to disrobe. âAnd I'm certainly not letting his seed dirty my cock. He can wait.â
Toji lunges, clearly looking for a fight, but one firm look from the head of the clan has him stopping, seething as he steps back again to watch his uncle slide easily into your used cunt. You're already sore and tender, and you know you're not going to last long with the deep, slow strokes Ogi's delivering.
You whimper as you clench around him, cumming on his cock. Your eyes water, lash line gathering tears that threaten to fall down your face. Ogi doesn't speak, or so much as acknowledge you, using you for nothing more than his own pleasure. The overstimulating pleasure has your back arching, and you mewl as you squirt, release flooding his cock and coating his lower abdomen.
His face wrinkles in distaste, but he just continues rocking his hips against yours until his knot swells. He doesn't knot you - but he buries himself to the swollen base of his cock before cumming deep in you. He pulls back, putting his cock away before nodding once in the direction of his brother and leaving the room.
Toji steps forward, cock already aching and drooling as he approaches. He seems to soften at your fucked out, exhausted expression and twitching thighs, his features softening almost imperceptibly.
âShhh, it's alright, little one.â He coos, voice low as he nuzzles a floppy ear so only you can hear it. He knows what it's like used and discarded by the Zen'inâs, albeit in an entirely different way. âWon't make ya take my knot. I'll be careful.â
He sheaths his cock into you slowly, guiding each inch carefully into your swollen cunt. His thumb rubs circles into your clit, hoping to give you pleasure as he chases his own. He stays still when he's buried into you fully, the head of his cock twitching as it presses firmly against your cervix. He licks at your ears gently, coaxing you to relax before he starts fucking into you.
You whine and keen under him, lips open in a silent gasp as he fucks into you. You can barely keep your eyes open, lids fluttering as you peer up at him.
âKeep your eyes open, bunny.â He purrs, tail swaying behind him. âDon't pass out on me just yet.â
You whine softly, but force your eyes open. He grabs your hips, manhandling you so he can pull you back to meet his thrusts, bullying himself into your cunt with low grunts. âSo fuckinâ tight after beinâ stretched by so many cocks, lil bunny.â
The squelching sounds of your abused cunt fill the room with every shift of his hips, your moans and whines growing louder as your orgasm crashes through you once again, your walls tightening around Toji's cock. He growls at the feeling, thrusting shallowly before shooting hot ropes of white deep inside your trembling form. He stays buried inside of you for a few moments, nuzzling at your neck before pulling back, ruffling your hair between your ears.
Naobito gestures for everyone to leave once Toji redresses before he beckons your exhausted body towards him. You can't even walk straight, your body shaking with exertion as you approach him. Cum drips down your inner thighs, the sensation making you cringe.
He fishes his cock out - its hard and leaky, the tip flushed red. You whimper softly at the thought of being bred again, but he clicks his tongue to silence you. He hoists you onto his lap, ears twitching as he slowly slides you down on his length. He grunts as he bottoms out, nosing at your hair before his tongue darts out to run along the length of one of your ears.
âShh, little bunny. Just keeping you plugged, hmm? Making sure one of those useless bastards gives our family an heir.â He coos, uncharacteristically soft. His tail sways gently, greying fur brushing the soft skin of your thigh.
âYou're one of us now. Gonna be carrying Zenâin kits in you soon. I'll make sure you're looked after.â He murmurs, holding you close to his chest, large hands rubbing up and down your back.
He starts thrusting slowly, tongue coming out to lathe gently across your skin to soothe as he guides you up and down on his cock. He barely pulls out, only shifting you a few inches so it's more of a slow grind.
âYou're going to take my knot, little one. Then you can relax, and I'll have the servants draw you a bath.â He murmurs against your skin, nosing at the crook of your shoulder. He's old, and his stamina wasn't what it used to be, so it's not long before he pops his knot in you.
He holds you close as he floods you with his cum, your belly feeling full from all the loads you'd taken. He reaches up to stroke one of your floppy ears, running his fingers gently along your soft fur.
âSleep, little rabbit. I will personally see to arranging a chamber for you in the compound until we can find out who the father is.â He almost purrs, gently stroking your ears until you drift off.
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