#delightful kitchens and baths
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pseudowho · 1 year ago
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Nanami Kento treats his pregnant wife like the goddess she is.
Warnings: 18+, relentlessly fluffy sex
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You were thoroughly fed-up. About as pregnant as you could possibly be, you spent your days in permanent tiredness; belly too heavy and round, and hips too sore to be comfortable in any position overnight, you knew your wonderful husband Kento would take the aches and pains from you if he could.
Lying in bed on your side, pillows wedged under your bump, between your legs, and behind your back, Kento reached a reassuring hand out to stroke your waist as you grumbled to yourself; a full hour in bed now and no chance at sleep. Holding your legs together to support your aching hips, you heaved yourself up sideways, feeling your bones and muscles creak in protest. With a lump in your throat and tears burning in your eyes, you sat on the side of the bed to gather yourself.
You heard the bed creak behind you, and soft footsteps padded round the bedroom towards you. Warm, large hands cupped your cheeks and temples, stroking you gently. You leaned forwards, resting your nose and lips against his lower tummy, nuzzling and planting soft kisses there.
"I'm sorry. You can't get any sleep with me thrashing around. I can go to the spare room if you like," you reassured Kento. You felt his disapproval rumble through his abdomen.
"Don't ever apologise. I'm sorry you're so uncomfortable. For what it's worth, you're doing an amazing job. Not long left, I'm sure. We can get you through it. I'll run you a bath."
You hummed your approval, his hand lingering in yours as he walked towards the bathroom. You heard various containers being clicked, and the bath water beginning to run, before Kento headed back to you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He grasped your hands and helped you to stand, before helping you to remove your pyjama bottoms.
You felt pathetic, useless, ugly, watching your gorgeous husband help you undress. As if reading your mind, he kissed his way playfully up your legs, blew a raspberry on your bump, and pulled you to him.
"You are just as lovely, if not lovelier than you've ever been. Watching you grow our baby has been a total delight and I want you to know that I still find you completely irresistible." You scoffed at him, dubious, puffy-ankled and tearful. He grasped your chin gently and pulled you to look up at him.
"I mean it," he said, voice low and so sincere you felt your eyes prick with tears. Sniffling, you rubbed your nose. "Come on. Your bath should be about ready."
Kento led you to the bath, and held your hands as you stepped in and lowered your body, sighing as the almost too hot water sank into your aching hips. Letting out a satisfied hum, you lay back in the scented water, looking at your swollen breasts and belly rising like islands out of the water. Kento watched you fondly for a moment, before slipping away to the kitchen. You faintly heard the click of the kettle, and the clinking of mugs.
Eyes closed, and slowly inhaling the steam, you watched your belly roll and jump, as your baby tumbled inside it. Stroking your tummy, you didn't notice Kento returning with a cup of tea for you. He knelt by the side of the bath, chin on one arm, as he gently splashed water over your moving bump. When his heavy hand rested atop your bump, fingers tip-tapping, your baby stopped as if listening. Kento chuckled.
"Only moving for mama again? Hello, sweetie. We can't wait to meet you." A moment of still, before Kento received a pronounced thump against his fingers. Kento continued to softly brush water over your belly and breasts, watching you intently, utterly besotted, believing with absolute certainty that he would walk through fire for you and your unborn baby.
You felt Kento's eyes bore into you, and you shifted uncomfortably, still feeling like a shadow of yourself, body taken over by something wholly undesirable. However, judging by Kento's gradually darkening eyes as he scanned your body, wet and full, he certainly did not feel the same. You felt your heart squeeze as his fingertips grazed ever so lightly against your nipples, which instantly tightened and pebbled. Kento's mouth watered.
It hadn't been his intention to become so aroused by you. His sole priority had been your comfort, to make you feel good in your body, but he felt his pyjamas growing tighter and tighter as he watched your body in the water, a Romantic-era goddess who deserved to be awash in flowers and adoration. Biting his lip, Kento mentally shook himself off, not at all wanting to bother you with his desire, knowing you were uncomfortable and exhausted, until--
"Kento, I...feel like as much as I want you right now, I just...I--" you hesitated, stumbling on your words as he frowned lightly at you. You reached a hand over the lip of the bath to stroke his bare chest as you continued, "All I mean is, in my current state, there is nothing I could possibly do to make...to make me...an attractive experience for you." You finished weakly, your words falling flat as Kento's dark eyes continued to stare you down, now hungry and, apparently, stubbornly determined to prove you wrong.
Kento hummed to himself again, remaining, as always, a man of few words. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes," he mused, "because all I see is the love of my life, beautifully wet, carrying my baby, in a body I can taste in my dreams, telling me she's undesirable, while it's all I can do not to lift you out of this bath and sink my tongue and cock into you until you're too busy calling my name to continue thinking something so ridiculous."
You bit your lip, thighs squeezing together as you felt a familiar heat pool between your legs. Kento leaned into you, kissing you deeply, slipping his tongue into you and you gasped as he moaned at your taste. Without breaking contact with you, he reached down to the end of the bath, grabbing the shower head and adjusting its setting. You felt a warm water jet rush against your thighs, as he slowly raised it to the throbbing ache between your legs.
Your head fell back, mouth open in a silent cry and hands gripping the sides of the bath. The hot pulse of water on your aching clit hit you instantly and intensely, and Kento leaned half into the bath, taking your nipple between his teeth and holding your hips still with another hand. You whined and whimpered, hands tangling into Kento's hair, completely wordless with pleasure as he moved the shower head in small circles around your clit, licking your sore nipple.
Your tummy tightened almost painfully, as you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching, a violent one, overstimulated by the fierce rush of water and Kento's mouth on your sensitive nipples. Kento talked you through your pleasure, voice low and soft as velvet.
"Are you going to cum? I won't deny you. You've earned it. I'll make you fall apart a hundred times if that's what it takes for you to understand what you do to me." You gasped, hands furiously clutching his hair, his shoulders, his chest, your hip gripped tightly by him as you bucked and writhed in the water.
Kento pressed the showerhead firmly against your clit. "Cum," he ordered, and you shouted your pleasure as your orgasm hit you like a train, completely blinded by bliss, face screwed up and whimpering.
Throwing the showerhead aside and turning off the taps, Kento reached fully into the water and lifted you as if you weighed nothing, nose to nose with you before draping you onto your bed. Before you could protest about wet sheets, Kento dropped straight to his knees, bodily dragged your bum to the edge of the bed and placed your knees over his shoulders. You had barely a moment to gather your thoughts before Kento plunged his tongue between your folds and licked a fat stripe from entrance to clit.
You bucked, gasping, hypersensitive and senses on high alert. You craned your neck desperately as you felt Kento begin to suck on your clit, but were completely unable to see him past your bump. Your toes curled against his shoulder blades, hands reaching out, desperate to ground yourself with the pleasure overwhelming you, your second orgasm rapidly approaching, and you sobbed your pleasure into the dark warmth of your bedroom. As your hand reached down, Kento's hand reached up and his fingers laced with yours. You could have cried at the sweet intimacy of his thumb stroking your palm, as you came, crying out and twisting, calling Kento's name into the dark.
Kento lapped at you like a starving man, one hand already freeing his cock from the tight confines of his pyjamas. He couldn't help giving himself long strokes, squeezing at the tip and feeling pre-cum leak over his hand as his thumb swiped across his slit. He shivered, involuntarily groaning into your pussy, and he felt your thighs twitch around his head at the vibrations. By this point, he knew you could barely see straight, panting and gripping his hand, your anchor in the mist.
The thought of you writhing with pleasure above him spurred him on further, and, reluctantly letting go of his desperate length, he pressed two fingers deep inside your pussy, wet and fluttering, instantly able to locate the spongy spot inside you which would send you over the edge again.
You were a mess at this point, tears of overstimulation streaking down into your ears, gripping Kento's hand like a lifeline. You hadn't allowed him to pleasure you like this for weeks, feeling like your body didn't belong to you anymore, and guilty towards your unborn baby for feeling this way. So long had passed that you hadn't realised how desperately you had craved Kento while denying him and yourself.
"Please Kento I can't-- can't--" you babbled, completely incapable of stringing a sentence together. His hand squeezed yours reassuringly again, and you felt his fingers curl up inside you as his tongue flicked practiced circles over you.
Feeling your pussy clench around him again, and you whimpering weakly, thighs shaking around his head, Kento felt his thighs now sticky with his own precum. Squeezing the base of his cock as he gently brought you down from your high, he nuzzled at your thighs, planting light kisses and soft words of adoration. Kento tried to pant quietly, still unwilling to chase his own needs with your body, as long as you were sated and in full knowledge that he adored you still.
Kento felt his hand being tugged by you, insistently.
"Get up here. I'm not done with you." As Kento's face appeared above your bump, nose and chin glistening with your essence, you blushed at the mischievous look in his eyes. He crawled up the bed, hovering over you, caging you in, all broad planes of muscle and protection.
"Do you want to...I mean, I'm just happy if you're happy..." Kento stopped as you placed a finger on his lips.
"Just...help me flip over." Kento growled lowly in approval, and flipped you over onto your knees with ease. He reached up the bed to place pillows around and underneath you, until your bump was supported and your bum arched beautifully towards him. He ran his tongue languidly along the exaggerated 'S' of your back, before placing a playful nip on your bottom. You squeaked and waggled your bum at him, and he placed a firm slap on one cheek as you giggled. Warmth spread through him, delighted by your happiness.
Kento lazily fingered your folds, so wet and inviting, and you sighed, pressing back into his hands. He dipped one finger inside you again, using your wetness to lubricate his cock as he continued to pump himself at the view of you, so open and inviting before him. He leaned around you, caging you in again, now from behind, and you felt so deliciously vulnerable.
His voice, slow and sultry, rumbled through your ear; "let me know if I'm hurting you."
With no further warning, you felt every inch of Kento sheath within you, your swollen pussy sensitive and clenching instantly, and it took all of Kento's restraint not to cum right there. Holding your hips tightly against his, his head rolled back in bliss and he sighed deeply, grunting as he pulled out and sharply thrust back into you again, relishing your squeaks and gasps.
Kento wanted to hold himself back, but, desperate to show you exactly how desirable he found you, his hips took on a life of their own, slamming repeatedly into you. He groaned and panted, eyes fixed on where his cock sunk into you, watching your wetness coat his thighs until the room was filled with wet slaps and guttural moans. You had given yourself over to him completely, and lay prone, back arched and arse in the air, relishing in the deep aching pleasure of being utterly railed by the man who treated you like a captured goddess.
Kento felt so guilty that having only been pleasured by his own hand for weeks, through no fault of your own, he chased his orgasm like a needy virgin. Wordlessly, he arched over you like an animal, forearms caging your head. As you sank your teeth into one forearm, kissing, licking and mewling, he felt cum shoot through his cock with little warning, gasping and shaking as he came, feeling his seed drip out around your folds, so much after so long, and he was lost in a haze of pleasure for what felt like minutes.
Catching himself before he collapsed down onto your back, Kento gripped you to him and flopped sideways, still inside you as he spooned you, teeth sinking into your shoulder with unashamed worship. His lower arm snaked under your neck to rub lazy circles on your breast, while his upper arm cradled your bump, holding you, never wanting to let you go.
"I love, revere and adore you," Kento intoned into your neck, "even more so now you're sacrificing so much to give me everything I ever dreamed of." You felt tears prick in your eyes, completely awash with his sincerity. "So please, don't ever think you're ugly to me. I will love your body and mind with every change. I celebrate it."
Planting gentle kisses to your temple, Kento moaned as he slipped out of you. Lifting you into bed, he grabbed a soft cloth from his drawer and placed it lovingly between your legs before arranging your pillows with the skill of an expert, and covering you with a dry blanket.
You began to feel sleep roll over you as Kento replaced the wet sheets. As you began to drift, feeling your baby tumble within you, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Kento would love you, and your baby, through any and every storm along the way.
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I post this fic in celebration of being blissfully married to my own Nanami, in advance of the birth of my 3rd and final baby ✌️ Every woman deserves a Kento to worship her.
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lushuponatime · 2 years ago
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Absolute Delight Bath Bomb from Lush
My favourite thing about the Lush Kitchen is that it gives Lush customers the chance to try long-forgotten products from Lush’s product-archive. The Absolute Delight Bath Bomb is one of Lush’s older, original bath bombs and one I have always wanted to try. Fortunately, the Absolute Delight bath bomb made it into the Lush Kitchen Subscription box back in February of this year (2023), so I finally…
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rsepetals · 14 days ago
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nsfw + fluff! in which he’s whipped ♡︎
sweetheart!reiner who despite his demanding role as a firefighter, always finds time to prepare heart-shaped pancakes for you on his days off. rising early, he meticulously mixes the batter and pours it into the pan with the same precision he applies to his work. the kitchen becomes infused with a delightful aroma as he flips each pancake, a gentle smile on his face, fully aware of the significance these small acts of affection hold for you. even amidst his numerous responsibilities, he consistently seizes the opportunity to express his love through these simple yet profoundly meaningful gestures.
sweetheart!reiner who is incredibly clingy, always craving the warmth of your skin. whether it’s his hand resting on your thigh or his head nestled against your shoulder while he casually browses recipes to cook for you, he just has to be in contact with his beautiful girl. if you try to nudge his sleeping form away, he’ll complain, insisting he’s not asleep as he wraps his strong, tattooed arms around you, pulling you back into his sturdy embrace. his touch is a constant source of comfort, a tangible expression of his love. even in the dead of night, if you attempt to move away, he instinctively tightens his hold, softly murmuring sleepily that he needs you close.
sweetheart!reiner who always has daily baby fever, it’s truly a sight to see. he can't help but rub your tummy, whispering about how eager he is to watch it swell and grow with the life you two will create together. shopping with him is a challenge, to say the least. he constantly picks up baby clothes, holding them up with a sparkle in his eyes as he imagines your future child wearing them. you can almost predict his words before he speaks: “we could start tonight.” he’ll lift the tiniest onesies, his fingers gliding over the soft fabric as he dreams of the little one who will eventually wear them.
sweetheart!reiner who doesn’t get invited out by the boys anymore to drink. it’s always the same story: a few drinks in, and reiner’s eyes glaze over with that familiar lovesick look. he’ll start with how amazing you are, describing every little thing he adores about you with a goofy grin plastered on his face. eren, connie and jean roll their eyes, knowing exactly where the conversation is heading. “my wife is sooo pretty, and she has the best pus—“ just as he’s about to launch into another explicit detail, eren’s quick to intervene, clamping a hand over reiner’s mouth to save everyone from another round of tmi.
sweetheart!reiner who loves asking about your day, always so attentive. hands palming your feet as you two sit on opposite ends of the freestanding bathtub, he’ll watch intently as you talk, his eyes never leaving your face. the warm water surrounds you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy. occasionally, he’ll press a kiss against your foot, his lips soft and tender against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. his fingers work gently, massaging away the stress of the day as he listens, genuinely interested in every detail you share. the candlelight flickers, casting a warm glow on his face, highlighting the love and adoration in his eyes.
sweetheart!reiner, who’s anything but a sweetheart as you ride his dick in the bath.
giant muscles wrap around your frame, keeping you safe as his hands wander, stroking over your sides, your hips, the tops of your thighs. his dick is big, so big it takes your breath away and leaves you reeling. you know that if it wasn't for the gentle grip of your husband, you'd be bouncing. his cock is a solid pillar that's rubbing your velvety insides, pressing against all the good spots as you're forced to take him. it's a tight squeeze. a snug fit. a perfect, sinful pleasure.
his hips lift, pushing up and in, the water making you both weightless. the sensation is almost too much and you cling to his chest, moaning out your pleasure as the pace becomes brutal. the slap of skin against skin is barely audible over the rush of water in the tub, but the feel of it is there. it's a slight sting, a delicious ache that you can't get enough of.
"you're doing so well, honey," he tells you, voice a soft purr. "takin’ me so well."
you can only moan, eyes shut as you're overcome with sensation. the stretch, the feel of his dick inside you, his hands holding you. the press of his mouth against yours as he steals your breath. he's all you can see, all you can feel, all you can think about. he’s so pretty, thick eyebrows furrowed, blonde hair clinging to his forehead. you can see every freckle and scar on his body, from the one just under his eye, to the one just below his clavicle. you're mesmerized by him.
he's not even panting, not like you are, and that makes it all the more thrilling. his voice is calm and steady as he says, "squeezing me so tight, you close already baby?” you don’t need to answer, your body giving him the answer. you're shaking, gasping, your nails biting into his skin. he just keeps smiling at you, that sweet, lazy smile of his that you love so much.
"then let's make you feel good, hm?"
and then his arms are gone from around you and his hips are moving faster, harder, driving himself deep. you're helpless to him, a rag doll as he uses your body to find his pleasure. there's no mercy as his fingers dig into your hips, holding you still as his hips snap up and down. it's a blur of sensation. it's almost painful how hard he's taking you, but there's no way you're telling him to stop. no way.
the sounds coming from you are obscene, whorish, but there's nothing you can do. you can't help but scream his name, begging him to go harder, faster. to never stop. he does as he's told. his mouth is on yours, stealing the last of your breath away. "such a good girl," he purrs against your lips. "such a good girl for me. come on, now, give me what i want."
"r-rei, oh my god!" you're helpless. powerless. at his mercy as your body gives him exactly what he's asking for. "there you go, baby. just like that," he says as he continues to pound into you. he's not done. you can't come again. you're going to die. "one more time."
"i-i can't-"
"sure you can. don't make me beg."
"i-i can't, fuck-"
his voice drops low, dangerous. "then i'll keep fucking you until you can. you'll be my cocksleeve if that's what i have to do." oh god, oh fuck, yes, please. he does. he keeps fucking you until you're seeing stars. he fucks you until you can't breathe, until your whole body is shaking and jerking with the force of his thrusts.
when he's finally done, when the aftershocks have stopped and the mess has been cleaned, the two of you end up in the bed. reiner’s casually laid between your thighs, reading a novel, humming as you wrap golden strands around your fingers. the silence is comforting, the sound of him turning pages nice. it's peaceful.
you sigh, closing your eyes. you don't even notice when he stops reading. "hey," he murmurs, voice low and rumbling. "i love you." and that's how you end up making love on the floor.
sweetheart!reiner who cried into your chest when you presented the positive pregnancy test weeks later.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ dedicated to @wintrrxxo
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wonsters · 1 month ago
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⠀⠀𓈒⠀⠀𓏸 ⠀WAiTiNG ROOM : FRUTiGER-AERO⠀𓇼
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This isn’t just a place to wait—it’s a place to be. Somewhere that exists outside of time and space, built entirely to serve your desires. The air hums with the soft buzz of infinite possibility as your thoughts shape the world around you. Here, relaxation is an art form, indulgence is encouraged, and everything is at your fingertips. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀bars that cater to your whims ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི The air hums softly with the clinking of delicate glasses and the murmur of your favourite melodies in the background. The bartender—perhaps a charming stranger, a famous actor, or a friendly AI in human form—knows your every preference without a word. Drinks appear like magic, tailored to your every mood: sparkling fruit spritzers that dance on your tongue, creamy milkshakes topped with edible gold dust, or dark, rich coffees brewed just so. Every sip feels like a new discovery, a little celebration of you. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀kitchens overflowing with endless delights ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི The kitchen is no ordinary room; it’s a sprawling paradise where the scent of fresh bread, simmering spices, and buttery pastries dances through the air. Counters gleam in polished marble, cupboards stretch endlessly, and every drawer holds a surprise. Say the word and a feast appears—perfectly plated sushi with intricate designs, steaming bowls of soul-warming ramen, and a cake so decadent it could make angels weep. There’s no limit. Want a perfectly nostalgic home-cooked meal like your mom’s? Or a creation plucked from your wildest culinary dreams? Done. The fridge hums happily, never empty, and the oven is always warm. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀bedrooms crafted for rest and dreaming ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི
Here lies the softest haven in existence, where sleep becomes an art form and dreams feel like journeys. The beds are immense, swathed in silk sheets and duvets that feel like a cloud’s embrace. Pillows mould perfectly to your head, each one cooler than the last, and the air smells faintly of lavender and rain. There’s always the perfect playlist for relaxation—soft whispers of the wind, delicate piano, or the gentle patter of rain against the window. And when you close your eyes? You drift effortlessly into dreams of golden fields, starlit skies, or anywhere your heart longs to wander. Even just lounging here feels like a rebirth. Time doesn’t matter—here, you’re held. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀rituals of serenity and liquid escapes ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི Step into a realm of ultimate relaxation, where the bathroom and swimming areas blend into a sanctuary of indulgence. The bathroom is a spa-like retreat, with chrome surfaces glowing under soft, golden light and the scent of lavender and eucalyptus in the air. Rainfall showers offer endless settings, while deep clawfoot tubs invite you to soak away every worry. Beyond, the swimming areas unfold like a dream—an infinity pool shimmers beneath a glowing dome of stars, while a hidden heated lagoon nestles among lush greenery. For playful moments, a vibrant pool awaits with slides, waterfalls, and floating loungers fitted with snack trays. Whether it’s the silk-like flow of water in the bath or the crystal-clear embrace of the pool, every corner invites you to escape and rejuvenate. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀cinemas where anything comes to life ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི
A cinema beyond your wildest imagination sprawls before you: plush seats that recline into near-nests of comfort, buttery popcorn and candy appearing at the snap of your fingers. But what’s on the screen? Anything. You want to watch a book you love turned into a perfectly directed masterpiece? Done. A fanfiction visualized with your dream cast, every scene sculpted exactly to your taste? It’s playing now. Want to relive moments from a DR or watch your favourite actor perform just for you? All here. The screen is endless, the quality so crisp, that it feels like you could step inside. And you can—should you choose, the scenes could stretch around you, pulling you into worlds of your own creation.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀a phone that bridges worlds ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི Resting delicately on a nightstand or tucked into your hand like a lifeline is the ultimate phone—a device that bends to your will. Its surface gleams softly, showing apps that let you scroll through TikTok or Instagram with ease. Every post feels perfectly curated, and time itself stretches so you never feel rushed. Handle accounts across your DRs, text your CR/DR friends as if they’re right there beside you, and exist on the edge of reality. Call someone who lives in the place you’re headed, or scroll just for the joy of it. This phone doesn’t glitch, doesn’t die—just waits, pulsing softly with endless possibilities.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀mirrors that let you become anything ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི
Standing like a gateway to wonder, the mirror isn’t ordinary glass—it’s liquid, shifting, alive. Step before it, and the reflection stirs, waiting for you to decide. Want to see yourself with softer features? A bolder wardrobe? Hair like cascading waves of moonlight or skin adorned with radiant tattoos? It adjusts instantly, letting you try on identities and aesthetics without limit. Spin in gowns made of galaxies, suits cut to perfection, or casual looks that feel so you. Every tweak and change feels satisfying, a playful exploration of who you are and could be. The mirror never judges; it just shows you the endless, beautiful possibilities of you. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀໒⠀ ⠀the atmosphere itself ⠀⠀─── ა ྀིྀི Beyond the individual features, the very feeling of this waiting room is enough to make you melt. The air is a perfect temperature—just warm enough to hug your skin, with a breeze carrying the scents you love most. The lighting shifts seamlessly: soft and golden when you need peace, cool and vibrant when you want energy. Windows reveal scenes of beauty that change with your desires—sunlit forests, endless oceans, glittering cityscapes, or galaxies swirling with stars. Time bends and stretches here, never demanding anything from you. Also, the entire waiting room? Edible. Feel free to take a chunk from the floating sofa pod. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
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GOD OMG THIS TOOK ME LIKE 3 HOURS. IM SO PROUD :3333
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pedrospatch · 9 months ago
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splash
Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader
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snapshots masterlist
summary: You come home from your first day back out on patrol and find Joel giving your daughter a bath.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. GIRLDAD!JOEL. established relationship. this specific work does not mention reader’s age (other works in this series may mention she is younger than Joel), no physical description of reader, Rosemary comes with a slight physical description (she has Joel’s hair color/hair type and eye color, no mentions of her skin tone). brief mention of Sarah, brief mention of Joel being a single father pre outbreak, Joel and Ellie are fine because i said so and it’s what he deserves, okay? general fluff and a lot of cuteness, brief smutty themes, but nothing explicit. minimal editing.
word count: 2.3k
a/n: short little thing, but this feels like the cutest thing i have written in a while. if you enjoy it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment <33
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Joel sighs to himself as he scrapes the remnants of Rosemary’s lunch into the bin of food scraps beside the kitchen counter—the neighbor’s chickens were in for a real treat tomorrow morning when he dropped them off on his way to patrol. He had just about coaxed his two and a half year old daughter into eating the crust of her jam sandwich when Ellie walked into the kitchen with a soccer ball tucked under her arm, a trade he was fairly certain she’d made more for the toddler’s sake than her own.
She was sixteen now, spent more time with her friends than she did with her family lately, but her soft spot for the little girl always, always brought her back home.
“Hey kid, look what I’ve got,” Ellie had grinned, holding the ball out for the child to see. “What do you say we go out back and kick this thing around? Sound like fun?”
He frowned, the creases between his brows deepening.
“Ellie, can’t you see I’m in the middle of feedin’ her—”
But it had been too late.
Rosie’s dark brown eyes widened, and she squealed in delight. “Down! Down!” she had exclaimed, whacking her teeny hands down on top of her wooden high chair on either side of her plate. “Daddy! Down, want down!”
Joel decided to put his foot down.
Well, he had tried to put his foot down, anyway.
“Not ‘til you’ve finished every last bite, babygirl. Y’gotta finish your sandwich and eat all your carrots, alright?”
“M’all done,” she’d insisted, placing both hands on her belly. Although Joel would have preferred she clean her plate, you had taught him to honor her fullness cues.
“We have to listen to Rosemary,” you’d told him. “If she says she’s full, then she’s full. The last thing we want to do is force her to keep eating when she’s not hungry, Joel. Her relationship with food starts with us, after all.”
“You’re startin’ to sound like that goddamn child rearin’ book,” he had teased you, earning himself a stern glare.
He liked to give you a hard time about it, but the truth of the matter was, that parenting book you found in the library turned out to be pretty helpful for both of you—while this wasn’t Joel’s first rodeo, the last time he had been around a child this young was over three decades ago. With Sarah, he’d flown through her childhood by the seat of his pants, went through a lot more trial and error scenarios than he liked to admit.
Often, Joel found himself feeling guilty. He tried to give some credit to the clueless young man in his twenties, the one who had been left to raise his baby girl all on his own when her mom couldn’t take it anymore after one year. Things turned out alright, but whenever he sees you with Rosemary, takes in the way you pour your entire heart into being a good mother to yours and his daughter, he can’t help but reminisce on his first life, on all those moments he felt so hopeless—all of those moments when he didn’t know what to do, and had no one to turn to for help. No one to lean on.
Oh how he wished Sarah could have known what it was like to have both of her parents at her side.
Like Rosie does.
Sighing, Joel places her plate in the sink, along with his own. He turns and glances at the clock on the wall—it’s half past noon, and he knows your early morning patrol group should be arriving back to the town’s main gates any minute now. Sure, caring for Rosemary had served as a decent distraction, but every so often, his anxieties would creep up on him. He worried about you being out there on the other side of the wall. And if you being out there wasn’t bad enough, you were out there without him.
“I’m back on the patrol roster next week,” you informed him one evening while the two of you were cleaning the kitchen after supper. You winced when he dropped the plate in his hands into the sink, the loud clanking noise bouncing off the walls. You wasted no time in pleading your case. “It’s been almost three years, Joel. I have to get back to pulling my weight around here. As much as I’d love to, I can’t stay home forever, and you know that as well as I do.”
Slowly, he’d spun around to face you, the muscle in his jaw ticking—he wasn’t happy. “Find another job,” he bit through his teeth. “Somethin’ in town. Somethin’ safe.”
“Joel—”
“You’re a mother now!” he hissed, angrily.
“And you’re a father,” you’d countered without missing a beat. Knowing Joel’s reaction was only coming from a place of concern, you walked up to him and placed a hand on his heaving chest, right over his racing heart in an effort to calm him. “Look, I’m just capable of getting myself home safely as you are, alright? And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be partnered with Tommy. He’ll have my back.”
He’d found very little consolation in that.
Joel sighs again and reaches for the faucet.
“Uh, Joel?” Ellie’s voice comes from behind him.
“What?” He turns around, his jaw dropping open when he sees her standing there, carefully holding Rosemary out towards him by her underarms. She’s covered from head to toe in mud. “What the hell did you do to her?”
“You know how it was raining for like three days?” Ellie shoots him a sheepish smile. “The ball went into a mud puddle, and well, she sorta went in after it.”
“Jesus Christ, she’s filthy!” Exasperated, Joel narrows his eyes at her. “Why weren’t you watchin’ her?”
“I was, but she was too fast! Kid’s a little speed demon, man. Aren’t ya, Rosie?”
Rosie giggles and kicks her dangling feet, mud dripping off her tiny, leather oxford shoes and onto the floor with an audible splatter.
“She’s gonna be home from patrol any minute now,” he says, shaking his head. “If she sees Rosie like this, she’ll have my ass, and yours.” Carefully, he takes Rosemary from Ellie’s hands, holding her out and away from him. He jerks his chin towards the dirty floor. “Clean up this mess while I take her upstairs and give her a bath. We might just be able to get away with this.”
She gives him a thumbs up. “You got it, old man.”
“C’mon, Rosie Posie. Let’s get you all washed up before mama gets home and puts all three of us in a timeout.”
She gives him a wide, toothy smile. “Okay, daddy.”
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Groaning, you shove through the front door.
You had underestimated how difficult it would be to get back in the saddle of a horse after almost three years of not being in one.
It would take some getting used to—again.
“Fuck,” you hiss, closing the door and leaning against it for support. Your knees. Your thighs. Your lower back.
There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t aching.
After taking a minute to collect yourself, you push away from the door and toe off your old, brown leather boots, leaving them there near the entryway. You call out, “I’m home!”
“Oh hey!” From seemingly out of nowhere, Ellie comes speeding down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of you with her backpack slung over her shoulder. “Just the person I wanted to see! Mind if I head over to Dina’s for a while?”
“How long is a while, El?”
“She invited me to stay for dinner.”
You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Again?”
Flushing, Ellie nods. “Yeah.”
“Did you ask Joel for permission?”
“Aw come on, man! Do I really have to ask Joel?” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I can hear him bitching at me already.” Dropping her voice several octaves, she starts to mimic him, accent and all. “Y’been spending every fuckin’ night over there. Don’t you forget you’ve got a family, kiddo.”
Amused, you chuckle and lightly nudge her shoulder. “I have to take his side on this one, Ellie. It would be nice for the four of us to have dinner together. You know, like we used to before Dina came into the picture?” 
“I’ll stay home for dinner for the rest of the week,” Ellie swears, clasping her hands together. “Please?”
Sighing in defeat, you step aside. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll hold you to your word though, alright?”
“Thank you!” she grins as she breezes past you and out the door, slamming it shut behind her.
Shrugging out of your jacket, you hang it up in the hall closet and then head upstairs. “Joel? Are you up here?” There’s no answer. You pass by Rosemary’s room first and peek inside only to find it empty. Furrowing a brow, you head a bit further down the hallway into yours and Joel’s bedroom. That’s when you hear his voice coming from the en suite bathroom.
There, you find him kneeling on the tile floor beside the tub, his back to you as he gives your daughter her bath. Hours ahead of her normal schedule, you realize.
Casually leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, and quietly watch them, your lips already curling into a smile.
“What’s this?” Joel asks her, holding up a yellow rubber duck. It’s almost comical how small it looks in the palm of his large hand.
“Duckie!” Rosemary answers, enthusiastically.
He nods. “S’right, honey. It’s a duckie. And what sound does a duckie make?”
Craning your neck, you catch a glimpse of her sweet little face as she stares at him, her expression a mingle of equal parts curiosity and confusion.
“C’mon now, babygirl,” Joel prompts her, handing her the toy. “Mama taught you this already, remember?”
She looks at the rubber duck and thinks, thinks, thinks. 
After a minute, Rosie gasps and shouts, “Quack!”
“S’right! Good job, Rosie,” he praises. Leaning over the edge of the tub, he presses a kiss into her damp, dark brown curls. “That’s my girl. You’re so smart.”
“Quack!” Giggling, Rosie lifts her chubby arms over her head, bringing them down into the water with all of her might, splashing Joel. She does it over and over again, soaking his face and the front of his denim shirt as she chants, “Quack, quack, quack!”
“Alright, alright, alright!” Joel laughs, shaking his head. He lifts an arm, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “S’enough, my little duck. Daddy already had his shower today.”
Grinning, you saunter up behind him, and with a bit of protest from your back, you bend over to kiss the top of his head. You say in jest, “Without me?”
“Mama!” Rosie cries happily, reaching for you.
“Hi baby, I missed you!” Leaning down further, you kiss her cheek, the soothing, calming scent of her lavender soap invading your senses. Drawing yourself back up to full height, you glance down at Joel with suspicion. “Is there any particular reason you’re giving her a bath so early today?”
You can tell he’s contemplating lying to you. That is, until your eyes flicker over to her muddy clothes, which lie in a heap next to the hamper.
He’d forgotten to get rid of the evidence.
“Joel? What happened to my child?”
“We, uh, we had a little problem earlier this afternoon,” Joel explains, his ears burning red. “She was out in the backyard playin' with Ellie and she got into one of the mud puddles.”
“Rosemary Miller!” you playfully scold her. Placing your hands on your hips, you ask,“Is that true, young lady? Did you get into a mud puddle?”
Rosie beams. “Yeah!”
Rolling your eyes, you laugh and shake your head. “You silly girl.”
“Thought you’d be mad, darlin’,” Joel admits, peering up at you in relief.
“Joel, all that I ask when I leave her alone with you and Ellie is that I come home and she’s still in one piece,” you tease him.
Dipping his hand into the water, Joel splashes you, and of course, Rosemary decides to follow his lead and she does the same, bursting into another fit of giggles.
“Get her, Rosie, get her!” he encourages her. 
“Hey!” You jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet. “Cut it out! You’re getting water everywhere!”
About an hour later, once both Rosie and the bathroom floor are dry, Joel puts her down for her long overdue afternoon nap. He heads back into the bedroom where you’re digging in a drawer for a pair of clean leggings and a sweatshirt. He comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. He inhales deeply. 
“Ew, Joel, stop it! I’m all filthy,” you say, wiggling to get away from him. 
Joel holds you tighter. “Mm, I love it when you’re filthy, baby,” he smirks. “C’mon. She’s out for at least an hour. We’ve got some time to ourselves.”
“I’m so sore,” you whine. “From riding a horse all day.”
His lips find the shell of your ear and he whispers, “Too sore to ride me, darlin’?”
Biting back a tiny whimper, your head falls back onto his shoulder as wet heat pools between your thighs. He lightly nips at your pulse point, his teeth scraping your tender, delicate flesh.
“Jesus,” you breathe when he presses into you. You feel him against the small of your back—he’s already hard. “Can you at least let me bathe first?”
Joel hums. “I’ve got a better idea, baby.” Spinning you around, he reaches for the buttons of your shirt. “How’s about we save some water and shower together?”
“Thought you already had a shower today,” you remind him of what he’d said earlier.
He pushes your shirt off your shoulders and licks his lips. “I’m sure as hell up for another one.”
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divider credit to @/saradika 🩵
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mephisto-reporting · 2 months ago
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I Love You: Rafayel Edition
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Premise:
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Trope: Pure fluff Pairing: Reader x Rafayel Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship. but there is implied mutual attraction.My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)
Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition | Xavier Edition | Zayne Edition
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The door to Rafayel’s art studio creaked open with a low groan, revealing the delightful chaos you’d come to expect from him. The smell of turpentine and drying paint hung in the air, mingling with the faint trace of his cologne, still clinging to the fabric of his draped coats scattered across the furniture. Brushes were strewn across the floor like forgotten soldiers, and streaks of bright reds, blues, and golds marred every surface they could reach. His easel stood near the large bay window, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, but the canvas was blank—typical.
Your lips curved into a fond smile as you carefully balanced the takeaway bag in your hands, its fragrant contents filling the room with the rich aroma of saffron butter lobster, a delicacy Rafayel adored. You'd made the extra effort to get it from his favorite little corner bistro across town, knowing how particular he was about its preparation. You could almost taste it yourself, though you knew the real joy would come when you saw his face light up in surprise. The food was just the excuse; it was your way of showing you cared, in the only way you knew how.
Everything about this place felt so distinctly him: vibrant, alive, chaotic—and somehow, it always made your heart feel at ease. On days when the world seemed too heavy, when exhaustion clung to your bones like a second skin, or even on days when your heart was full to bursting with happiness, this was where you found yourself.
“Rafayel!” you called, your voice carrying through the disarray.
There was no response at first, just the faint rustling of papers somewhere deeper in the studio. Then, a muffled voice, drowsy and half-hearted: “Mmm… what is it? Just leave it on the counter…”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. “You know, one of these days, I’m going to walk in and find you buried under all this paint,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, as you set the bag on the counter in the tiny kitchen space, careful not to knock over an open jar of brushes.
You made your way toward his bedroom, following the source of his sleepy mumblings. The door was slightly ajar, and when you pushed it open, your heart stuttered in your chest.
There he was, curled up under a rumpled duvet, his face half-buried in the pillow, soft wavy locks falling haphazardly across his forehead. He looked peaceful, his usual sharp edges smoothed out in the quiet vulnerability of sleep. The rise and fall of his chest was steady, rhythmic, lulling you into a moment of stillness. Your heart gave a little lurch, and your fingers twitched with the need to touch him, to just feel close to him for a second. You slowly crossed the room, the soft creak of the floorboards under your feet the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Rafayel didn’t stir, still lost in the depths of his sleep.
“Rafayel,” you whispered gently, your voice barely above a breath, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment too harshly. He didn’t respond. Not even a slight shift in his posture. He was deep in sleep, completely oblivious to the world around him.
You crouched beside the bed, your hand hovering above his arm, hesitating for just a moment before you placed it gently on his shoulder. The warmth of his skin radiated beneath the fabric of his shirt, and your heart skipped a beat at the feel of him—so close, so tangible. Your touch was soft, just a light shake, meant to wake him without startling him too much.
But still, he didn’t wake. He just shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent, his voice thick with sleep. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you watched him, your heart swelling in your chest. This was him. Carefree, a little bratty, but so easy to fall for. Even when he was asleep, you could see that side of him that you adored so much—the part of him that no one else saw.
“Rafayel,” you repeated, a little more insistently this time, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face as you leaned down slightly. His features softened in his sleep, and for a moment, you simply watched him, breathing in the quiet, wishing you could keep him here, in this moment, forever.
He remained blissfully unaware, sinking deeper into his cocoon of blankets, a faint sigh escaping his lips. You huffed a quiet laugh, feeling the corners of your eyes prickle with emotion. The intimacy of the scene, the quiet domesticity of it, filled you with an aching sort of joy and longing.
You really were in love with him.
And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. The words tangled themselves in your throat, caught between fear and hope. What if he dismissed it with one of his trademark teasing quips? Or worse, what if he didn’t feel the same way?
But as you sat there, watching him sleep so peacefully, you couldn’t help but wonder—what if he did?
Sighing lightly, you shifted closer and sat at the edge of the bed, carefully brushing your fingers along his cheek. The familiar feeling of his soft skin, the heat of his presence even in sleep, made your chest tighten. You found yourself gazing at him, heart aching with the truth you hadn’t yet dared to voice.
This was it, wasn’t it? This was the moment. The moment you had been waiting for, even though it scared you.
You hadn’t planned for it. The words hadn’t been rehearsed in your mind, but they slipped out anyway, so natural and so real, as if they had always been waiting to be said.
"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, yet full of every emotion you had kept hidden for so long.
The words hung in the air, soft as the warm glow of the setting sun that filtered through the cracks in the blinds. I love you. The phrase had slipped from your lips almost without thinking, like it was always meant to be said in that moment. But as soon as they left you, your heart thudded in your chest, as if it recognized the enormity of the confession you had just made.
Your breath caught in your throat as a wave of panic washed over you. Had he heard? Had you really just said it out loud? The room suddenly felt too small, too intimate, as if the walls were pressing in, waiting for him to react.
You stood up quickly, a quiet flush creeping up your neck as you considered leaving the room before he could tease you about it—before the reality of your feelings could settle in. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but the last thing you anticipated was the sudden, sharp tug on your wrist.
With a startled yelp, you were pulled back onto the bed, landing softly on the plush duvet. A laugh—half playful, half lazy—escaped from Rafayel’s lips as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against him. His warmth enveloped you instantly, and his body pressed close behind you as he spooned you, his breath hot against your neck.
Your heart raced in your chest, pounding like a drum as your mind scrambled to catch up. He heard.
“I heard that,” he said, his voice low and controlled, a smirk lacing his words. There was no teasing, no mockery, just the barest trace of something... softer. “You… love me.”
You tried to pull away, your chest tightening, but his arm was an unyielding weight, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His fingers tightened around your wrist, holding you gently but firmly against him.
You froze, your heartbeat echoing in your ears as your skin prickled with both warmth and nervousness. You hadn’t thought he had heard it, not with how quiet it had been, how small your voice had been. You swallowed, unsure of what to say.
"Y-you were dreaming," you muttered, though it didn’t sound convincing even to your own ears.
He chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers through you. The next words that left his mouth were not teasing, not playful, but serious—intentional. "Then why does your heart feel like a fish swimming away in a current?"
The question was simple, but it made you freeze, your breath hitching as the truth of your feelings settled like a heavy weight in your chest. You couldn’t deny it. Not to him. Not anymore.
Before you could respond, his arm wrapped around you more tightly, pulling you closer until you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back. His face pressed into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp as he inhaled deeply, as if memorizing your scent.
He stayed there for a long moment, his body a comforting, grounding presence behind you. Then, with a soft, almost playful command, he spoke again.
“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice a little rough. “Say it again. I want to be sure.”
Your pulse raced. This was real now. There was no going back. His words, his presence, made the room feel smaller, but somehow safer, as if the world outside didn’t matter at this very moment.
You inhaled shakily, turning your head slightly to meet the fabric of the pillow, and in a breathless whisper, you said it again.
“I love you.”
The words felt different this time—stronger, more sure. As soon as they left your lips, you felt his arms tighten around you, pulling you into his chest as if he never wanted to let go. He buried his face in your hair once more, his lips brushing against your ear.
"It took you long enough to admit it,” he teased, his voice laced with a bratty affection. “I’ve been waiting to hear that, you know."
You laughed softly, a nervous, relieved sound that trembled at the edges, but his tone shifted, the playfulness slipping away. His voice dropped to something much softer, much deeper, as he whispered against your ear. "But I've been waiting to hear that... for so long. Waiting to hear you."
Your chest tightened, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his heart steady and strong beneath you. “I love you too, so so much. You have no idea the things I would do for you... to keep you like this., in my arms.” he said, so quietly, as though he hadn’t said it out loud for fear of it being taken away, yet there was no doubt in his voice, no hesitation.
You didn’t know how long the silence stretched between you, but it felt like time itself had slowed to a crawl. The only sound in the room was the rhythm of your breathing, and the sound of your two hearts beating in perfect harmony, as if they had always been meant to beat together.
But you shifted, just a little, as if instinctively trying to move, to pull away—something in you telling you to give him space, even though you didn’t want to. He wasn’t having it.
"I’m not letting you go anywhere, cutie…" Rafayel murmured, his voice low and possessive. You were about to protest, to say something, but before you could, he tugged you even closer, trapping you against him, his arm locking around you like a vice. You felt a surge of warmth sweep through you, a sudden softness, and his voice came again, teasing, but this time with a gentle, almost adoring lilt.
"You can be my plushie for tonight," he said, a playful, lazy grin creeping into his tone, even though the words were laced with the kind of affection you rarely saw from him. "And the next night...and the night after...and forever more."
You didn’t argue. You didn’t want to. For tonight, for as long as this moment lasted, you could stay here, wrapped in his warmth, his scent, his arms.
And as you settled back against his chest, your heart still fluttering, you knew, with complete certainty, that this was exactly where you were supposed to be.
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AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!
Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition | Xavier Edition | Zayne Edition
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another-lost-mc · 2 months ago
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When it feels like he's constantly competing with everyone else for your attention, Solomon's not going to let a rare opportunity go to waste.
A Stroke of Luck || Solomon x gn!Reader
Content Warnings: NSFW. Soft smut. Corny holiday jokes, pet names, sixty-nine position, fingering and penetrative sex (top!Solomon). Word count: 3.1k.
A/N: This has been in my drafts for a long time but I'm happy to finally share it for the holiday season. Happy birthday to the magic man.
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The sitting room of Purgatory Hall is bathed in the soft glow of the fireplace. Flames flicker and embers burn, filling the air with comforting heat and the crisp scent of firewood.
In the peaceful silence that's fallen over you like a blanket, Solomon nudges closer to you on the sofa. He mirrors your position and sits with a leg tucked underneath him. Your knees nearly touch while you chase away the night’s cool draft with each other’s company. Despite the chilly wind outside the comfort of Purgatory Hall that rattles the windows, you feel pleasantly warmed-through. There are two half-empty mugs of hot cocoa forgotten on the kitchen counter, and Solomon's sweetened breath fans gently over your face every time he leans in close to speak.
The dorm is surprisingly empty except for the two of you and there’s something profoundly intimate about conversing quietly long into the twilight hours without interruption. It’s a rare moment of privacy and you appreciate that none of your other friends are hovering nearby or demanding your attention for once.
Judging from Solomon’s rapt attention, his eyes darkening slightly when his gaze drops and lingers on your mouth more than once in the past few minutes, it’s obvious that he’s taking advantage of this rare opportunity too.
“It’s getting late," Solomon says softly, even though you’re both perfectly aware of the late hour. "I suppose I should walk you back soon.” His voice isn’t much louder than a whisper, as if he's scared that speaking too loudly will shatter this perfect moment. He’s certainly not rushing to get you out the door, not when he scoots closer to you instead.
Still, he knows he has to offer and despite the false half-smile he offers, there's a tremor of remorse laced through his words that tugs at your heartstrings. He would never ask you outright to stay no matter how much he might want to, but his body betrays the request he can’t bring himself to admit outright.
Don’t go. Please, stay with me. Don’t leave, not yet.
If he's too worried about being greedy with your company, it’s time to reassure him that he’s not the only one hoping tonight won’t ever end. 
“But…what if I want to stay here with you instead?”
The heart wants what the heart wants, after all. It’s easier to be honest about your own desires when it feels like you're both hiding together in this little sanctuary, watching as your shadows dance together along the walls while light from the fireplace casts you both in a soft glow.
In all the three realms and the cosmos beyond, the only place you want to be right now is here with him, and more than anything, you want him to know it.
Solomon's eyes brighten with delight even as he taps his chin and hums deep in his chest while he pretends to ponder your question, and he laughs when you swat lightly at his chest and whine his name at his teasing.
You’re so cute when you’re flustered, he thinks to himself with so much fondness as his heart swells to bursting.
“Oh, I suppose you can stay the night,” he concedes, but after a few moments, his cheshire grin softens into something more genuine. “I’ve missed you too much to want to let you go just yet.”
His eyes shimmer in the dim light like dark water underneath a full moon. You shiver softly when he reaches for your hand, the one resting in your lap. His fingers trace the seven small stars etched into your skin, back and forth so gently that it tickles, so he doesn't scratch you with his nails by accident.
“You know, the angels were called back to the Celestial Realm for their own celebrations this week.” His fingers circle your wrist and rub smoothly over your pulse point before he flattens his palm over your thigh and squeezes your leg. You can feel his fingertips through your pant leg like a searing-hot brand, as if there was no material there at all separating your bare skin from his. “We have the place to ourselves tonight,” he murmurs as he leans close, his voice grows thick and needy with the desire he’s kept under control until now.
A chocolatey kiss lingers at the corner of your mouth and he nuzzles his nose lightly against his cheek when he pulls back again to stare deep into your eyes. He smiles when he finds whatever it is he’s looking for in your expression. “We can do whatever we want.”
Your lips gloss over the edge of his smile when you return his kiss and delight at the faint pink blush dusting across his cheeks. “What exactly do you have in mind, hm?” 
“Oh, I can think of a few things." He grasps the back of your neck and a soft whimper escapes him when he finally pulls you close for a proper kiss, and with a slight tilt of his head his mouth slots perfectly against yours. He moves his lips slowly at first but deeper and with more urgency with each breathy sound that escapes you, the soft sighs and whimpers that haunt his dreams on nights when he tosses and turns in his empty bed.
He wraps his arms around you and his open-mouthed kisses turn greedy, all-consuming, and his tongue dips inside your mouth and he nearly moans at the familiar taste of you that he adores so much. His head spins and his heart pounds deep in his chest, overwhelmed with love and lust in equal measure, and deep in his gut, something claws at his self-control like he’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sustain him.
He craves you.
Solomon pulls back long enough to mumble an incantation under his breath before he presses his mouth against yours again, hungrier and more desperate than before. It takes a few moments for you to notice the subtle ripple in the air, the familiar sensation of magic that tickles your skin and you make a questioning noise that he swallows down.
As greedy as Solomon is for you, your fingers weave through his hair and cling to his shirt because you want him just as badly. It’s been too long and you can feel the eagerness in his soft, slightly chapped lips, and in the way he says your name with a hushed sigh or whiny moan. When you pull back to catch your breath, he sucks lightly on your bottom lip and nips it gently between his teeth before letting go.
You can hear his sharp inhale when you palm the bulge in his pants. He sneaks a thigh between your legs before he’s on you again, kissing you senseless while his hands grip the backs of your thighs and encourages you to grind against him. You rut against him mindlessly, squeezing his cock through his clothes, marveling at how thick and heavy it feels and salivating at the thought of guiding it inside you instead.
Without warning, Solomon breaks the kiss and your eyes blink open slowly when he detangles himself from your embrace and drops down to the floor. Underneath him is a large pile of soft blankets and fluffy pillows spread across the floor, summoned from his bedroom with the bit of magic he cast earlier so you can be comfortable.
(He might be desperate to spread you out beneath him, pounding into you with everything he has, but he's not so out of control that he won't ensure your comfort first before he takes you.)
Solomon’s heated kisses, the cozy nest he’s made for you on the floor, the thought of making love in front of the fireplace - it’s so perfectly him, the way he uses magic to create these whimsical, romantic moments when he can finally have you to himself. 
And who are you to deny him?
His half-lidded gaze falls to your naked chest when you pull off your shirt and toss it aside. He freezes for a moment like he’s stunned by the expanse of exposed skin suddenly on display for him, and his eyes flitter quickly over your chest and down the gentle slope of your belly.
You realize that he always looks at you like this, as if he’s utterly entranced by the sight of your naked body as though it were the first time.
You also realize that your dear sorcerer is still wearing far too many clothes.
He rushes to take his clothes off when you flick open the button at your waist, and once you’re both stripped down to your underwear, he pulls you down onto the makeshift bed he’s made and holds you in his lap. You’re warm and needy and he can’t resist the temptation to touch all the parts of you he adores  without all those pesky clothes in the way. His fingers dance along your spine and trail down your sides. His fingers curl over your hips and he nuzzles against your chest, smearing your skin with wet, lazy kisses while he enjoys the sensation of your hands carding gently through his hair.
There’s so many ways he wants to touch you, so many places he wants to explore with his fingers or his mouth, and he considers all the possibilities until he finally makes up his mind.
He leans back against the plush blankets and blinks at you innocently when he smooths his hands over the swell of your ass and gives your cheeks a little squeeze. You nearly lose your balance when he pulls you on top of him.
He traces along the seam of your underwear and dips underneath the flimsy cotton. Arousal pools between your thighs and it sticks to his fingers as he strokes you.
You try to coax his hand closer to where you’re desperate for him to touch you with more purpose but he clicks his tongue at your impatience. You pout your lips, but when you glance down between your bodies, a strange splash of colour catches your attention.
“Sol, what are you wearing?”
Solomon stammers nervously when you pull away and sit back on your heels between his legs. He’s wearing the type of soft black boxer-briefs he likes, but this pair has a large sprig of mistletoe embroidered on the crotch. The shape is distorted by his erection that tents the fabric slightly.
You tilt your head as if to ask, “Really?”
“It’s only a little festive fun, my darling.” He looks a little bashful and he wonders if this was a misstep. It was meant to be a lighthearted joke, a more creative spin on the human world tradition he’d like to seduce you with. The last thing he wants is to make you feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to.
His breath hitches when you trace over the shape of mistletoe as if you’re considering what to do with him. His cock twitches underneath your fingers as you tease him through the fabric.
The room is startlingly quiet except for his panted breaths and a log cracking in the fireplace. There’s an apology on the tip of his tongue because he doesn’t want this night to be ruined by his own silliness, but Solomon’s mouth falls open with a surprised moan when you suddenly bend low and nuzzle your cheek against his cock through his boxers. You tug impatiently at the waistband of his boxers and he lifts his hips obediently so you can pull them down his legs. They join the pile of crumpled clothing nearby when you toss them over your shoulder.
“T’is the season and all,” you murmur as you settle between his legs, pushing his pale thighs apart to give you more space. “And I suppose if you want a kiss from me that badly…” Your voice trails away as you lower your head again.
The sight of you on your knees like this is nearly enough to undo him. Your fingers wrap gently around the base of his cock and your lips are plump and shiny from kissing. He can feel your soft exhale across his pelvis when you lower your head so you can suck him into your mouth.
“Wait,” Solomon breathes out suddenly. You glance at him in confusion and he fumbles clumsily at your arms and tries to pull you up. When you hesitate, he licks his lips and his dark eyes bore into yours. “Turn around darling, I want to taste you too.”
His request surprises you. It’s not the first time he’s wanted to do this, but there’s a certain amount of nervousness that pools in your gut when you think about putting your body on display like that for him. What settles your insecurity is the undeniable truth that you trust him, with your heart and your body and your love and your vulnerability and everything in between. He’s selfless with his pleasure because he wants to please you too. After a few moments you slowly nod your head and the smile that curls his lips is downright naughty.
It’s awkward to maneuver your body the way Solomon wants but he helps keep you steady while you settle into place. Your limbs tremble slightly, but you don’t know whether it's from excitement or nervousness or both. He distracts you with whispered sweet nothings under his breath, a stream of babbled, soft-spoken praise about how gorgeous you are and how badly he wants you. His hands run up and down your thighs soothingly when you’re finally in position above him. 
His soft, snowy-white hair tickles your leg when he turns his head to kiss your thigh, then he grabs your hips and gently urges you down, down, down, closer to his mouth. He’s always so impatient, so eager to please you. He’s determined to make this worth your while.
His fingers spread you open wider for him, and when you finally kiss the tip of his cock and swipe your tongue lightly across the slit, his stuttered groan is lost between the apex of your thighs. The vibration shoots through you as his tongue laps greedily at your most sensitive spots, hot and wet and yearning for his touch.
The muffled sounds of your pleasure and his, growing in volume and frequency and desperation, are drowned out by the slick noises of lips against skin, a depraved symphony that he’s determined to coax from you over and over again.
His tongue flicks greedily at your entrance, teasing the tight rim with the slightest bit of stretch. His cock slips from your mouth when your lips fall open with a loud moan but he doesn’t mind - he wants to hear more of those sounds, and he pulls you down even more so you’re nearly smothering him with your body.
Solomon senses that you’re close when your hips start to move with the slow, grinding rhythm of his lips and tongue. There’s an endless stream of curses and pleas and whimpers tumbling from your mouth, punctuated by gasps and moans that rattle in your chest he pulls from you without mercy. It’s not long before a sharp gasp and a broken cry of his name when your body clenches around his tongue and your release spills across his fingers. He laves over the sticky mess between your legs and savors every delicious drop while he keeps you in place with an arm tucked over your thigh, and he doesn’t stop. Your body shakes above him when he pushes you towards that narrow ledge where pleasure and pain mingle together. Not enough slowly becomes too much and he lets you go when you squirm in his hold to break free from his grasp.
You settle on your back next to him with a soft sight that’s sweet and content, but without hesitation he follows you like being pressed side-to-side isn’t close enough for his liking. He rolls on top of you and he licks his lips with a wickedly satisfied hum before kissing you with all the pent-up desire that still thrums deep within him. His slick tongue pushes gently into your mouth where your scent and taste still cling to him most.
“I want you,” he murmurs against your lips, and though the words are muffled there’s no mistaking what he hopes for next. His erection is firm where it rests between your legs, smearing the faintest amount of stickiness on your skin as it bounces lightly with each twitch and subtle jerk of his hips.
“I want you, I want…can I? Please?” He breathes hotly against your ear as his raspy voice hitches, exhaling a shaky moan while he holds himself above you, waiting.
If you denied him this, you know he’d pull himself off you in an instant without complaint. His desire would ebb and fade away while he holds you quietly for the rest of the night, content with your company itself and any disappointment he feels is gone by morning.
His eyes are hungry and loving in equal measure and with him so close but not close enough, you realize how empty you are without him warming you with the weight of his body and filling you with everything he has. Words fail you but he doesn’t need to hear them, not when you kiss him back just as desperately while your hand reaches down between you and guides his cock inside. Trembling fingers dig into his sweat-slicked back as he moves, slipping over familiar pact marks as you hold him tight enough to bruise. His pace starts slowly at first but grows faster, each thrust filling you so perfectly, burying your cries against his shoulder and spurring him into a pace that loses its rhythm as the pleasure builds inside like a dam about to burst.
When he comes inside you for the first time that night (and certainly not the last), he whispers your name brokenly but with so much love that you can’t help but come too.
Later, much later, when you’re both limp with exhaustion and finally satisfied, Solomon curls protectively around you in a soft nest of bedding on the floor. His slow, rhythmic breathing and the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your ear lull you into a comfortable sleep. His body heat chases away the late night's cold even as the glowing embers of the fire nearby finally fade into darkness.
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Read More: Obey Me Masterlist
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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months ago
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Heart VI
Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader
Summary: You like Patri's birds
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It was sitting in a charity shop.
The camera that is.
It's an old camera, kind of battered from a life well used but still seemingly in working order.
Honestly, it's kind of retro and Mapi really likes the look of it.
She'd only been passing by, off to the shops to get Ingrid some chocolate and stock up on milk. She wasn't quite sure why she stopped to stare but she does.
It's sitting in a box with a roll of old photo film and a camera strap to wear around your neck.
She goes into the charity shop and buys the camera, a steal of ten euros with the roll of film and the strap included.
So, Mapi comes back to the house with Ingrid's chocolate, a pint of milk and a new camera.
"Hey, sunshine," Mapi says, patting the spot on the sofa next to her," Come here."
You sit with her happily and Mapi shows you the camera. She demonstrates how it works and shows you how it prints off the photo immediately like your more modern Polaroid.
"It'll take us a while to find some more film," Mapi tells you," But, here, I've got an idea. You've got maybe four or five pictures left. I want you to really think about what you like and what you want because what you take a picture of, me and Mama will buy it for you. Sound good?"
You nod.
"Good girl."
When Ingrid heard of Mapi's plan, she expected you to start taking pictures of everything right away.
You carry your new camera everywhere with you, the worn strap hanging around your neck.
But you don't take any pictures whatsoever.
You look like you want to but, with an impressive amount of control of a kid, you stop yourself.
You're waiting for something, Ingrid thinks.
You're good at waiting.
You waited for years for your Santa Heart. You can wait to take a picture too.
That's much easier than living in a hospital bed.
Your surgical site has healed up now, leaving only the sliver of a scar that Ingrid still finds herself compulsively checking over at bath time, just to check that nothing's changed with it.
Your check ups have decreased to once every three months now and you're coming along leaps and bounds.
"Patri!" Mapi calls out from the kitchen," Have you got anything kid friendly in here?"
Ingrid sits on Patri's sofa as the rest of the team mill around for team bonding.
Mapi had gone snooping in the kitchen immediately to get snacks for herself and you.
"Yeah, should be in the top cupboard!" Patri yells back.
She's much more preoccupied with bringing her two birds out of their cage to show you.
You're enamoured by them, oohing and aahing ever since you first saw them in the cage earlier.
"You need to be very careful with them," Patri tells you," They're nervous."
"They're pretty," You say," Pretty birds."
"Would you like to hold them?"
"Yes, please!"
These birds are the prettiest birds in the world. They're very sweet as they sit on your arms, making soft little chirping noises and demonstrating tricks for you to see.
It's hard to separate you from the birds for the rest of the day, completely enamoured by them and Patri seems both delighted and surprised that you love them so much.
They're all you talk about on the way home from team bonding and all you talk about during your bath and bedtime routine.
Ingrid's taken control of that for tonight as Mapi changes into her pyjamas and feeds Bagheera some treats.
"Mami?"
She turns with a smile.
"Have you come to say goodnight, sunshine?"
You nod. "Mama is choosing our story. She said I've got to say goodnight now."
Mapi crosses the room quickly, pulling you into a hug and kissing your cheek. "I love you."
"Love you," You echo, suddenly looking extremely nervous.
Mapi frowns. "What's up? Huh? What's wrong?"
"I...er...I...Mami I used my new camera."
"There's nothing wrong with that. That's what it's there for."
"No, I..." You nibble at your bottom lip. "I think I did it wrong. I took pictures of something you can't get me."
Mapi's frown only deepens and she kneels down to your height, hand going to rest on your cheek. "Why don't you show me?"
"I don't want you to be mad."
"How about this? I'm going to close my eyes and you can give me a picture and run off back to Mama and go to bed. We can discuss it tomorrow."
"Okay, Mami. Eyes closed."
The little Polaroids are placed into Mapi's hands and she waits until your footsteps have gone silent to open them again.
"Oh, sunshine," Mapi says to herself.
All five pictures are of the same thing.
Patri's birds.
One of them in their cage.
One of them pressed up against the bars.
One of them on Patri's head.
One of them on your arm.
One of them of you and them cuddled up together.
Ingrid inspects them that evening.
"I don't know what to do!" Mapi exclaims in bed, head resting on Ingrid's chest," She really liked Patri's birds and I told her that whatever she photographed she could have! But she seemed so nervous like she didn't even want to ask!"
"Mapi," Ingrid says," She was nervous because she thinks we won't want to buy her birds. You told her just last week that cats don't like birds and we do have Bagheera."
"Bagheera's lazy," Mapi replies," She won't care about birds."
"Then what are you worried about?"
"I...I don't really know. Are you okay with us having birds?"
Ingrid smiles, cheeks going slightly red. "I was already looking for cages."
It's been weeks since you first met Patri's birds and you're just as obsessed with them are you first were when you met them.
Patri seems to love it, endlessly bragging and showing off new pictures to you that you suitably coo over and secretly wish you had a pair of your own.
But you don't push Mama and Mami on it.
Bagheera is a cat and cats don't like birds. It says so in your storybook so you wish for birds secretly and clip the pictures you took of Patri's onto the soft fairy lights that hang around your room.
You wish you had birds of your own but that'll be something that happens when you're an adult like how Mami and Mama are adults and have Bagheera.
Ingrid holds you up on her hip as she walks from the elevator to the front door, easily carrying you, the shopping and unlocking the door all at the same time.
"Tia Ale wants a baby," You tell Ingrid," She told me so."
"That's because you're just so cute," Ingrid replies, fluttering kisses all over your cheeks," Alexia's got baby fever."
"But I'm not a baby."
"You're my baby," Ingrid declares," Mine and Mami's baby."
You giggle, the kisses tickling you.
"Now," Ingrid says, setting you down," Mami has a surprise for you in your bedroom, okay? You have to be very quiet and very responsible. Can you do that for me?"
You nod. "I can."
Ingrid gives you one last kiss on the cheek. "I knew you would be. Why don't you head in to see Mami?"
Mapi is standing by your bedroom door, giving you her customary kiss and cuddle before opening your bedroom door.
By the foot of your bed is a big cage with a blanket over it.
You gasp.
"Mami-?"
Mapi nods.
"I told you I'd get what you photographed. Do you want to meet your new birds, sunshine?"
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whisperofwonder · 2 months ago
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Oh, Baby | Part 2
part 1 is here - pregnant!reader
Haikyuu men as new(ish) fathers
Featuring: Miya Osamu, Kuroo Tetsurou, Kageyama Tobio, Sakusa Kiyoomi
You don't really have to read part 1, but these are set after those drabbles, and they each do call back to them in some way
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MIYA OSAMU
At the jingle of the familiar bell, Osamu looks up, smile breaking across his face at the sight of you walking through the door. Your son is bundled up in his carrier, sleeping soundly after all the excitement of his six week doctor's appointment. Osamu steps around the counter to meet you, reaching to grab the carrier as he steals a quick kiss. "How'd the appointment go?" He asks as you settle into your usual stool at the counter, situating the baby carrier next to you.
"Good," You nod, looking down at the peaceful face of your sleeping son, still drinking him in after all these weeks. "Everything is going well. He's growing so fast." You look up at your husband and catch him still looking down at the baby. You wonder if your emotions are as obvious as his, drawn so clearly across his face.
"Good," He finally tears his eyes away to look at you, softness still lingering. "Are ya hungry?" He asks next - the question you've been waiting for.
"Starving," You say emphatically. With the busyness of the morning, you haven't had time to eat much. The delightful smells coming from the kitchen are only making you hungrier.
"What're ya in the mood for?"
You know immediately. You usually do. "Spicy tuna."
"Ya sure?" He quirks an eyebrow. You frown as he leans in closer across the counter, a smirk growing on his face. "I mean, it sounds so normal."
"Oh, stop it!" You huff. "It's been months!" You aren't sure if he'll ever let you forget the bizarre onigiri combinations your pregnancy cravings had produced.
"Yer lucky I love ya," He says fondly, ducking back into the kitchen before you can make any kind of retort. It isn't long before he returns, setting the plate of onigiri in front of you with a flourish.
"Thank you," You say, tilting your chin up in invitation. Osamu glances around, the few regulars in the restaurant familiar enough with the two of you, before taking you up on the invitation, kissing you a little more deeply than he might have otherwise.
"Yer welcome," He says softly as he pulls away, "Better eat it before it gets cold." You don't need any more prompting, eagerly reaching for one of the onigiri and taking a big bite. You close your eyes in delight, savoring it. Across from you, Osamu rests his forearms on the counter, content to watch in silence as you enjoy the food he'd prepared for you.
You're nearly finished when the bell above the door jingles again, and Osamu greets the customers who have just entered.
"We should get going," You murmur to him, and he nods. You pop the last bite in your mouth and gather your things while he takes the order, stopping back by your seat after dropping it off in the kitchen.
"I'll see you both when I get home," He says, brushing his fingertips against your son's soft cheek.
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KUROO TETSUROU
"Go ahead," Tetsurou insists, "Go take a shower. A long shower. Or a bath, even. I've got this." He bounces your daughter in his arms, still fussing even though she's just been fed.
"But, Tetsu," You look down at her scrunched up face, the sounds of her unhappiness tugging at your heartstrings.
"She'll be fine," He says in a soothing voice - you aren't sure whether it's for your sake, or the baby's. "And you deserve it. When's the last time you've taken a shower that lasted longer than five minutes?" He asks pointedly.
"Dunno," You mumble, resting your hand on her tummy. She does seem to be settling down, just a little. "If you're sure," You say, beginning to relent.
"I'm sure," He says, in a tone you usually know better than to argue with. "I'll get her changed and all ready for bed by the time you're done," He promises.
You do as he says, taking an admittedly much-needed shower. You take your time washing your hair, even using the fancy hair mask and body scrub your friend had gifted you at the baby shower - a little something for you, she'd said with a small knowing smile. You hadn't even opened them until today.
You're surprised by how much better you really do feel, afterwards. You're warm, your hair is soft, and you smell good. Once you slip into your cozy pajamas, you're almost ready to fall asleep right then and there. You have to check on your husband and daughter, though.
They aren't in the nursery. The bedroom sounds suspiciously quiet. Slowly, you push the door open, not expecting the sight you're greeted with.
Your husband is lying on top of the covers, head tipped back against the pillows as he dozes. On his chest, your daughter is snuggled up, her pudgy cheek smushed against him, fist clutching a handful of his t-shirt. He has a hand resting protectively across her back, holding her close. For a few moments, you're frozen in the doorway, taking in the sight before you. You press your fingers to your lips as the emotions well up in your chest.
You must make some kind of sound, because Tetsurou soon stirs, turning his head to look at you. "Hey," He says blearily, "I was just resting my eyes."
You smile softly, finally making your way across the room to them now that the spell is broken. "Sure," You tease gently, not begrudging him the moments of sleep he'd managed to steal.
"How was your shower?" He asks as you curl yourself against him, cheek resting on his shoulder as you look down at your sleeping daughter.
"Good," You whisper. "Really nice. Thank you." He presses a kiss to the top of your head in response. You watch her in silence for a few moments, sleeping so contently snuggled against her daddy's chest. "You got her to sleep," You comment softly. It shouldn't come as a surprise - it's one of your favorite places to fall asleep as well.
"Yeah," He hums, "I think she just wanted some snuggles." He tucks the fingers of his fee hand beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing aimless shapes there. "Sounds a little bit like someone else I know," He adds with a soft chuckle.
"Well, we can't help it that you're just so snuggly," You murmur. You reach out to gently brush your fingertips against her fist. You don't want to wake her up, but you can't resist. You tilt your head up to look at him. "You help us feel safe," You add.
He shifts her on his chest, just enough that he can crane his neck far enough to kiss you. "Good," He murmurs against your lips.
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KAGEYAMA TOBIO
You wake with a start. It comes back to you - Tobio had gotten up to check on your daughter when she started fussing, and you'd been waiting for him to come back to bed. You must have drifted off, but he still isn't back in his spot beside you. His pillow is cold now, and you aren't sure just how long he's been gone.
The house is quiet, but you can't shake your concern. Slipping out of bed, you pad to the nursery just a few steps away. In the warm glow of the night light, you see him sitting in the rocking chair by the crib, arms folded on the edge of it and chin rested on his arms.
"Tobio?" He jerks his head up, turning to look at you. "What are you doing?" You move beside him, taking in the sight he seems so enraptured by. Your daughter is sleeping, her small chest rising and falling with her soft breaths. Her nose scrunches, just for a moment, then relaxes again. It makes your heart twist in your chest.
"Sorry. Got distracted, I guess," He whispers, lowering his head to his arms again. "I was just thinking, her nose looks a lot like yours. Doesn't it?" He turns to look at you.
"I guess so," You murmur back.
"It's a nice nose," He says matter of factly.
"I guess so," You repeat with a quiet laugh. "Don't you want to come back to bed?"
"Soon," He nods, "Just a couple more minutes." You both fall silent then, and he slips an arm around your waist, pulling you down onto the arm of the chair. Slowly, you lean your head against his. You find yourself thinking that you could stay like this forever - pressed up against him, looking down at the perfect little person that is your daughter.
Sure, you'll be tired in the morning, but what else is new?
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SAKUSA KIYOOMI
"That doesn't go in the dishwasher," You say from your spot on the couch, the one seat with a perfect view into the kitchen. You're feeding your son, and Kiyoomi is cleaning up.
"I know," He says evenly, turning and setting the bottle next to the sink with the others. "I'll wash them after the dishwasher is loaded."
"Oh," You say softly. It's been harder for you than you'll admit, accepting so much help from Kiyoomi. You'd been so confident that you could still do everything, even after the baby came, but it's proven to be much more difficult than you'd so naively anticipated.
"I'm sorry," You say with a sigh, watching as he rinses off the dinner plates before slotting them in the dishwasher. "You shouldn't have to be doing this. I could have done it, right after he's finished eating."
Kiyoomi stops, putting the mug he'd just picked up back in the sink. He crosses the kitchen, sinking down next to you on the couch. You put down the bottle, adjusting your son in your arms.
"Hey," He says quietly, dipping his chin to meet your gaze. "Don't do that."
"Do what?" You ask, tugging a wrinkle out of your son's onesie and using the action as an excuse to look down at him instead of into your husband's eyes.
"Think that you have to handle everything. We're a team, remember?" You make a sound that he could interpret as agreement if he wanted to. He sighs. "You're incredible, and I love you," He says, tilting your chin up with his fingertips so you have no choice but to look at him again. "A month ago, I watched you do the hardest thing you've ever done, and I couldn't do anything to make it easier for you. The least I can do now is wash a few dishes."
You want to smile. You want to cry. Hormones are stupid. "Kiyoomi," You say softly as his thumb swipes away a tear you hadn't realized slipped down your face.
"I'm going to keep doing my part, so you might as well accept it." He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple. "Okay?"
"Okay," You say, smile growing on your face. "Kiyoomi?" You add after a beat, when it's clear he isn't getting up quite yet, "The dishwasher isn't going to load itself, you know."
He opens his mouth, then closes it with a shake of his head, trying to disguise the smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes ma'am."
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norikuna · 1 month ago
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regular/modern!human x true form sukuna boyfriend headcanons for fun <3 mainly for my pookie @kasukuna bc that's who i think of when i think of bf!sukuna
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sees that men get their lovers cute things like flowers and chocolate and thinks its overrated. sukuna realises he needs to up his game with a romantic gesture, and thinks its cool to carve your name into a tree with his claws. you catch him picking bark from out under his dark nails.
saw that you made smoothies in the morning with breakfast and waited till you left the house to try it for himself (he always said he didn't care for them but he just doesn't want to admit). sukuna threw together a ripe banana, a loaf of bread and a whole METAL can of tuna and turned the blender on. you came home to a broken, smoking blender and a gross, banana-covered king of curses who acted like this was your fault.
no table manners, sorry. you think that the happiest you've ever seen sukuna is when you're back with the groceries and there's a raw leg of lamb wrapped up in butcher's paper. delights in the idea of a rare cooked steak, but prefers to eat them bloody.
if you study (say you're in college or university) he claims he doesn't give a flying fuck about what you learn, and doesn't understand the concept of degrees. he wonders why people just aren't allowed to practice their trade, and why they need a piece of paper first. but when you're not around, he reads through your textbooks and quotes them to you afterwards. but sukuna pretends he just already knew all that shit anyway.
absolutely no patience in the morning for lazying around. you figure a big, massive being like himself can sleep through sunrise. but he's got unblinking, freaky eyes and when you crack open your eyelids in the morning, he's already looking down at you, demanding that you get up and not waste your day. at first, you worry that he just doesn't even sleep. you need not worry about that, he can knock himself flat out like an elephant that bathed in nyquil.
you asked him to help with dinner one day. kind of annoying how sukuna's very good at malicious noncompliance. you know that he is an expert in all things sharp and weapon-like, and a kitchen knife is no exception. and yet, he decides to use his long claws to cut the parsnip, slicing through them very slowly in a way that drags and creaks agains the chopping board.
sukuna rages over mario kart and rainbow. has grown oddly obsessed with the leaderboard and claims that he will vanquish the player titled 'sixeyes1989' that keeps calling him rude names online.
thinks siri is mocking him and sulks the entire day at this automated voice that seems to not understand what hes saying. you ask sukuna to gently release the grip he has on your phone before he shatters it. again.
you mentioned something about how sweet it is that your friend's boyfriend leaves her little cute notes with love affirmations on it. the next day, you find sweeping yet scrawled foreign symbols on peeled sticky notes. turns out that his version of cute love notes are ominous, medieval runes that are protection spells against curses.
does NOT play fair in games night. sukuna burned all the monopoly money when you charged him rent for mayfair. invents random words and claim they're from his era in scrabble, and he insists they count. almost set something on fire during go fish and ate the cards. has sat on a chessboard just so you wouldn't win.
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callsigns-haze · 1 month ago
Text
What ruined this Christmas so quickly? Lies.
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Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x wife!reader
Summary: Just a few weeks before Christmas all goes downhill. You're left taking care of the kids and leaving work early and now your husbands brings up the topic of moving as soon as possible to San Diego. You're overwhelmed but he's willing to go no matter the lies he told.
Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, mentions of sickness, lies, overwhelmed reader, arguments
Word count: 8.4k
The soft hum of Bradley’s Bronco pulling into the driveway was a familiar sound, one that always made your heart skip. You glanced at the clock on the wall—6:45 PM.
He was home right on time.
The winter sun had already set, leaving the house bathed in the warm glow of lamplight. The faint scent of chicken soup wafted from the kitchen, where you'd left a pot simmering, just in case Judy's cold appetite returned.
Anna was perched on the couch, her tiny legs swinging as she clutched one of her plush animals to her chest. "Daddy's home!" she exclaimed, leaping up and running to the front door with the kind of uncontainable excitement only a four-year-old could manage.
You heard the front door creak open and then Bradley’s voice, deep and familiar, “Where’s my Anna Banana?”
Anna squealed with delight, her laughter echoing through the house as she threw herself into his waiting arms. Bradley lifted her easily, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Did you save me any trouble today, or were you full of mischief as usual?”
“Full of mischief!” Anna giggled, resting her head on his shoulder as he stepped inside and kicked the door shut with his boot.
"Of course you were," he teased with a smirk, glancing at you over her head. “Hey, hot stuff.”
“Hey,” you greeted, a soft smile spreading across your face as you leaned against the archway leading to the living room. “Dinner’s on the stove if you’re hungry.”
“Perfect. I’ll grab a bite after I check on Judy.” He set Anna down gently, ruffling her curls before heading toward the living room, where Judy was sprawled on the couch.
Your oldest was curled up under a blanket, her nose a little red and a tissue box within arm’s reach, vomit bowl to the side. Her favourite Real Madrid hoodie hung loosely on her small frame, the oversized sleeves nearly swallowing her hands. Her eyes lit up, though, when she saw her stepdad walk in.
“Hey, Jude,” Bradley said softly, kneeling beside the couch. It always warmed your heart the way he said her nickname, a perfect blend of affection and playfulness.
“Hi, Roo,” she croaked, her voice raspy from the cold. She reached up to tug on the front of his uniform shirt. “Real Madrid won today. Bellingham scored again.”
Bradley chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “I heard. Kid’s on fire, huh?”
Judy nodded weakly but managed a small grin. “I told you he’s the best. But he still takes weird pictures sometimes.”
That made Bradley laugh, a deep, warm sound that filled the room. “Weird pictures or not, I think your dad would’ve loved hearing you talk about Real Madrid like this.”
Judy’s face softened, her smile widening slightly at the mention of her biological dad. “You think so?”
“I know so,” he said firmly. “Now, how about we make sure you’re taking care of yourself so you can get better and keep watching him score goals?”
Judy nodded, leaning into his touch as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Deal.”
From the hallway, Anna peeked in, clearly feeling left out. “Can I sit with Judy, too?”
Bradley turned his head and grinned. “If Judy’s okay with it, sure.”
Judy nodded, patting the spot beside her, and Anna climbed up eagerly, snuggling under the blanket with her big sister. Bradley stood, stretching slightly before heading back to you.
“How’s Theo?” he asked, his voice lowering so he wouldn’t wake the baby.
“Asleep, for now,” you replied, tilting your head toward the baby monitor on the counter. “He went down about thirty minutes ago. Let’s hope it sticks.”
Bradley grinned and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re too good, you know that?”
You laughed softly, brushing a hand along his arm. “Sure. Now, go eat before the soup gets cold.”
As Bradley settled into his chair at the dining table, you brought him a steaming bowl of soup. He murmured a quiet thanks before picking up his spoon, glancing at you as you moved to lean against the counter.
“How was work today?” he asked between bites, his warm brown eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Everything okay with you leaving early?”
You hesitated for just a moment, your hand brushing over the edge of the counter. “It’s fine,” you said casually, offering a small shrug. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”
Bradley frowned slightly, setting his spoon down for a moment. “You sure? That’s, what, the third time this week? Last week you had to take a couple of days off because of Anna, too.”
You sighed, crossing your arms. “Bradley, it’s no big deal. It’s not like we’re behind on anything. I had everything under control before I left.”
He tilted his head, studying you carefully. “That doesn’t mean you can't call me, you know.”
You pushed off the counter with a small laugh, brushing past him to gather up Anna’s pyjamas from a nearby basket. “I’m fine, Rooster. Seriously. It’s not like I’m doing it alone—you’ve been pulling your weight, too.”
His lips quirked up in a small, understanding smile, but he didn’t push. Instead, he returned to his meal, watching as you disappeared briefly into the living room to remind Anna about her bedtime routine.
“Annabelle,” you called, leaning over the back of the couch. “Fifteen minutes until you’re brushing your teeth. No nap today means an early bedtime, remember?”
“Okay, Mommy,” Anna replied with a sigh, snuggling closer to Judy under the blanket.
“And Judy,” you added, brushing a hand over Judy’s head, “I didn’t forget our deal—you can stay up a little later tonight, but only if you rest here for now, okay?”
Judy nodded with a tired but satisfied smile. “Thanks, Mom.”
You returned to the kitchen just as Bradley finished his bowl, pushing it aside with a satisfied sigh. “That hit the spot,” he said, standing to place the empty dish in the sink.
“Glad you liked it,” you said, leaning against the counter as he moved closer to you.
Bradley turned, placing his hands on either side of your waist, and gave you a thoughtful look. “Once all the kids are down for the night,” he said softly, his voice dipping to that warm, familiar tone he used when something was on his mind, “I’ve got something to tell you.”
Your brows knit together in curiosity. “Oh?”
He smiled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “Yeah. Nothing bad, I promise. But… let’s get through bedtime first.”
Your lips curved up in a small smile as you leaned into him for a moment. “Alright, Bradshaw. But now you’ve got me wondering.”
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Patience, sweetheart.”
With that, he turned back toward the living room, his voice playful as he called out to Anna, “Alright, Bananas, let’s get those teeth brushed before your mom tells me I’m slacking.”
Anna’s giggles filled the house as she bolted from the living room, her tiny feet pattering up the stairs as Bradley’s playful growl followed closely behind.
“Anna Banana, you get back here!” he called, his boots thudding against the hardwood as he gave chase. “We’re brushing those teeth whether you like it or not!”
“You can’t catch me, Daddy!” she yelled between bursts of laughter, the sound so joyful it made you smile despite the exhaustion lingering from the day.
Shaking your head, you turned back to the kitchen and grabbed Bradley’s empty bowl from the table, rinsing it under warm water before adding it to the dishwasher. The soup pot still sat on the stove, its comforting aroma hanging in the air. You ladled the leftovers into a container, snapping the lid on before slipping it into the fridge.
Judy wouldn’t be eating any tonight—you knew her appetite was still weak from the cold. You sighed softly as you wiped down the counter, taking a moment to glance toward the baby monitor. Theo was still sound asleep, his soft snores faintly audible through the speaker. At least one of your kids was making bedtime easy tonight.
With the kitchen clean and quiet, you dried your hands and made your way to the living room, where Judy lay nestled under the blanket. Her Real Madrid hoodie was slightly bunched up, and her face was still flushed from her cold, but her eyes brightened when she saw you approaching.
“Hey, Judy bug,” you said gently, sinking down beside her. “You feeling okay?”
She nodded, scooting closer to you. “I’m just tired,” she admitted softly.
“I know,” you said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into your side. She fit perfectly against you, her small body warm and familiar. “But remember, we made a deal. You’re allowed to stay up a little longer, as long as you take it easy.”
Judy smiled faintly, leaning her head on your shoulder. “Thanks, Mom.”
You pressed a kiss to her temple, brushing some hair away from her face. “Anytime, Judy.”
For a few minutes, the house was quiet except for the distant sound of Bradley trying to wrangle Anna into brushing her teeth. You chuckled under your breath as Judy let out a small laugh.
“Rooster’s not very good at catching Anna,” she murmured, her voice raspy but amused.
“Nope,” you agreed, squeezing her gently. “But he’s trying his best.”
Judy’s giggle was soft but heartfelt, and you cherished the moment, knowing it wouldn’t be long before all three kids were asleep and the house finally settled into peace for the night.
Judy shifted against you as you tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders, her small hand reaching for the remote on the coffee table. The soft thud of Anna’s bedroom door closing upstairs brought a sense of relief; Bradley had clearly won the bedtime battle. You smiled to yourself, imagining how he’d probably managed to wrangle her into bed with one of his goofy voices or a quick rendition of a lullaby she insisted he sing.
From above, you heard the bathroom door open and the unmistakable sound of the shower turning on. That man earned his fifteen minutes of peace after chasing Anna around.
“What do you say we watch something before bed?” you asked, glancing down at Judy.
Her eyes lit up slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Can we watch The Grinch?”
“You’re still in a Christmas mood, huh?” you teased, but you didn’t mind. Judy had always loved the story, and it had become a tradition to watch it at least ten times every December.
She nodded, snuggling closer to your side as you leaned forward to grab the remote. It only took a few clicks before the familiar opening notes of The Grinch filled the room, and the glow of the television bathed the two of you in soft light.
As the movie started, you glanced down at Judy. Her eyes were focused on the screen, though you could tell she wasn’t quite as energetic as usual. Her cold was still zapping her strength, but she looked content, nestled under the blanket and leaning into you for warmth.
The two of you sat quietly, watching as the Grinch made his first grouchy appearance. Judy chuckled faintly at his antics, her laugh muffled by the blanket she’d half-pulled over her face.
Upstairs, you could still hear the shower running, the steady hum of water a comforting backdrop to the cozy moment. It was one of those rare evenings where, despite the chaos of the day, everything felt peaceful—just you and your daughter, sharing a quiet moment together while Bradley unwound upstairs.
You let out a soft sigh of contentment, wrapping your arm a little tighter around Judy. Nights like this, you thought, were what made all the hard days worth it.
As the Grinch grumbled on screen about Christmas cheer, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a call from work. You sighed, glancing at the number. It wasn’t unusual for work to call after hours, but it still pulled you out of the cozy moment with Judy.
Judy turned her head toward you, her brows furrowing. “Mom, do you have to go?” she asked softly, her voice still scratchy from her cold.
You gave her a reassuring smile and smoothed her hair back. “No, bug, I’m not going anywhere. I just need to take this call, okay? Roo will be downstairs in a couple of minutes. Can you hold tight until then?”
She nodded, though she still looked a little disappointed. “Okay.”
You kissed her forehead before standing and grabbing your coat from the rack by the door. Wrapping it around your shoulders, you stepped onto the front porch, the cold night air biting against your skin. The faint scent of pine from the wreath on the door lingered, and you pulled your coat tighter as you tapped to accept the call.
“This is YN,” you answered, your breath puffing in the chilly air.
The person on the other end quickly launched into their reason for calling—some minor crisis involving a data set that had apparently gone haywire. You listened intently, nodding even though they couldn’t see you, while mentally sorting through solutions.
As you paced the porch, the front door opened, and Bradley stepped out, fresh from his shower. His damp hair was tousled, and he’d pulled on a well-worn hoodie and sweatpants. He glanced at you curiously, then stepped back inside, letting the door click shut behind him.
A few moments later, you wrapped up the call, offering quick instructions and assurances that you’d look at the problem first thing in the morning. You hung up and exhaled deeply, allowing the crisp night air to clear your thoughts.
When you stepped back inside, Bradley was in the living room, crouched next to Judy. He’d wrapped an arm around her, his other hand resting on the blanket tucked snugly around her. Judy looked a little brighter already, smiling up at him as she pointed something out on the screen.
Bradley looked up as you closed the door, his warm eyes meeting yours. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft so as not to disturb the moment.
You nodded, offering him a tired smile. “Crisis averted. Thanks for stepping in.”
“Anytime,” he said, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “Come sit. We saved your spot.”
The warmth in his voice and the sight of your little family waiting for you melted the tension from your shoulders. You slipped off your coat, letting it fall onto the back of a chair, and joined them, ready to soak in the rest of the evening.
As the Grinch continued plotting on the screen, you noticed Judy start to rub her eyes. Her head had begun to droop a little, and not long after, she let out a soft yawn.
Bradley, ever observant, caught it instantly. A teasing grin spread across his face as he looked down at her. “Uh-oh,” he said dramatically, “sounds like someone’s ready for bed. What do you think, Judy? Time to head upstairs?”
Judy’s head shot up, her tired eyes narrowing as she frowned at him. “No, it’s not! My bedtime’s 8:30, and it’s only 8!”
“Hmm,” Bradley drawled, tapping his chin in mock contemplation. “I don’t know. That yawn says otherwise.”
“It doesn’t count!” Judy protested, sitting up straighter and fixing him with her best determined glare. “I’m not tired. I can stay up for The Grinch. You promised!”
Bradley chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You’ve got until 8:30. But if I catch you yawning again, we might have to renegotiate.”
Judy crossed her arms, trying to look serious but failing as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You’re so dramatic, Rooster.”
“Me? Dramatic?” he asked, feigning offense. “I’m just concerned about your beauty sleep, Jude. I’m looking out for you.”
Judy rolled her eyes, but you could see the playful affection in her expression. “You’re such a weirdo.”
Bradley laughed, pulling her close and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s me. But you love me anyway.”
She snuggled back against him with a small huff, her earlier defiance fading as she relaxed into his side. You watched the exchange with a smile, your heart full at the sight of their bond.
Bradley caught your gaze and gave you a wink, his hand resting gently on Judy’s shoulder. You could tell he was savouring the moment as much as you were.
Judy had just settled against Bradley’s side, her eyes fluttering back toward the screen, when he lightly placed his hand on her forehead. The smile on his face faded slightly, replaced by a look of concern.
“Hey, Jude,” he said softly, tilting his head to get a better look at her. “You’re feeling a little warm. Are you okay?”
Judy blinked up at him, her brows furrowing as if she hadn’t noticed it herself. “I think so,” she murmured, but then a raspy cough escaped her, and her body tensed.
You immediately perked up, your eyes scanning her face as she began coughing harder. “Judy?” you asked, worry creeping into your tone.
Before she could answer, her hand shot to her mouth, her face paling. Instinct kicked in, and you grabbed the bowl you’d left on the floor beside the couch earlier, knowing her appetite had been off all day.
“Here, sweetie,” you said gently, holding the bowl just in time as Judy leaned forward, the cough turning into a small heave.
Bradley’s arm stayed securely around her, his other hand moving to rub her back as she threw up into the bowl. His voice was soft and steady as he murmured, “It’s okay, Jude. Just breathe, baby girl. We’ve got you.”
You crouched beside them, one hand resting on Judy’s knee as you watched her closely. It didn’t last long, but her little body trembled with the effort, and when she finally leaned back, her face was flushed, and her eyes glassy with exhaustion.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered weakly, her voice barely above a rasp.
“Oh, baby, you have nothing to be sorry for,” you assured her, brushing a hand over her hair as Bradley wiped her mouth gently with the tissue you handed him.
“She’s burning up,” Bradley said quietly, concern etched into his voice as he pressed another hand to her forehead.
You nodded, already moving to grab a cool cloth from the kitchen. “Let’s get her cooled down and check her temperature again,” you said, your mind shifting into problem-solving mode.
Judy leaned heavily against Bradley’s chest, her small frame dwarfed by his protective embrace. “Daddy,” she croaked, her voice barely audible, “I don’t wanna be sick anymore.”
She rarely called him dad, but that was something else.
“I know, Jude,” Bradley said softly, his hand brushing over her hair. “I know. We’re going to take care of you, okay? Just rest for now.”
Judy’s little body eventually gave out from the exhaustion, her head lolling against Bradley’s chest as her breathing evened out into soft snores. You exchanged a quick glance with Bradley, nodding silently toward the stairs.
“I’ll grab the bucket,” you whispered, standing up and heading to the bathroom while he carefully adjusted Judy in his arms.
Bradley lifted her as if she weighed nothing, his large hands supporting her back and legs as he rose from the couch. He cradled her close, his steps slow and deliberate as he started up the stairs, making sure not to jostle her. The soft sound of her breathing mixed with the creak of the floorboards, and it tugged at your heart how small she looked in his arms.
By the time you reached Judy’s room, Bradley was gently laying her down on her bed, taking care to arrange her blankets so she was snug but not too warm. He brushed a hand over her hair, his thumb grazing her forehead again as he sighed quietly.
“She’s still a little warm,” he murmured.
You nodded, setting the bucket beside her bed within easy reach. “I’ll check her temperature again in a couple of hours, just to be sure.”
As you adjusted the bucket, Bradley glanced back at you, his brow furrowed. “She got sick last night too?”
You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I thought it was because she decided to have hot chocolate fifteen minutes before bed. She didn’t even tell me until after she’d already made it.”
Bradley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I didn’t hear a thing. She got sick, and I didn’t wake up?”
You smirked, placing a hand on your hip as you teased, “Roo, you’d sleep through a literal earthquake.”
He let out a soft chuckle, though there was a flicker of guilt in his expression. “Guess I need to work on that. I hate that you were dealing with this by yourself.”
You shrugged, brushing it off lightly. “It wasn’t too bad. Besides, the real fun was earlier today.”
Bradley straightened, his concern sharpening. “What happened?”
You sighed, leaning against the doorway. “She got sick at school. They called me about an hour after I got to work, so I had to come home early to pick her up. She’s been pretty out of it since. I tried feeding her soup earlier, but that didn’t go well either.”
Bradley exhaled deeply, his hands on his hips as he glanced back at Judy, who was now sound asleep, her face still slightly flushed. “Poor kid,” he murmured, running a hand through his damp hair. “She’s had a rough day.”
“Yeah,” you agreed softly, stepping closer to him. “But at least she’s getting some rest now.”
Bradley nodded, reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze. “You’ve been handling all of this like a champ. Seriously, YN.”
You smiled at him, leaning into his touch. “We’re a team, remember? You’ll take the next round if she wakes up again tonight.”
“Deal,” he said with a small smile, his eyes flicking back to Judy one last time before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
As you walked back downstairs with Bradley, the weight of the evening’s events still hung in the air, but your mind wandered back to his earlier words—I have something to tell you. You gave him a curious look as you both stepped into the kitchen, where he leaned casually against the counter, though there was an unmistakable tension in his posture.
“So,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the opposite counter. “What’s this big thing you wanted to talk about?”
Bradley exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that instantly made you wary. He was stalling. “Alright, don’t freak out,” he started, his eyes flicking to yours. “But there’s a chance we might be moving again… before the end of December.”
You stared at him, utterly floored. “You’re kidding.”
He shook his head, his lips pressing into a tight line. “I wish I was.”
“Bradley,” you said, your voice rising slightly in disbelief, “we’ve only been in this house for three months. Three months! And it’s almost Christmas! How are we supposed to pack up and leave—again?”
He winced at the exasperation in your tone, holding up his hands defensively. “I know, I know. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about the timing either. But I think this might be the last time. I mean it.”
You raised a sceptical eyebrow. “That’s what you said the last two moves. And the time before that.”
He nodded, his jaw tightening. “I know. But this is different. I got a call about going back to Top Gun—to San Diego. They need me there, and they’re offering some stability. A more permanent position, YN. I’d be working with my old crew again, the same people I did the uranium mission with.”
You blinked at him, your mind spinning. “San Diego?” you echoed, trying to process the implications. “Bradley, we’ve moved five times in the last four years because of your job. Every time, it’s been the same story—‘this is the last one, we’ll settle down here.’ How can you be sure this time?”
“I can’t be sure,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady. “But I know how much we’ve been through, and I know what I’m asking isn’t easy. But Top Gun feels like home to me. The team, the work—it’s different there. It’s something I know I can grow with long-term.”
You stared at him, still feeling blindsided. “And you think we can do this in the middle of the holidays? We’d have to uproot the kids—again. Judy’s been sick, and Anna just started getting comfortable here.”
“I know it’s asking a lot,” he said, stepping closer and placing his hands on your arms. “But I think San Diego could be a real chance for us. The base there is more stable, and I wouldn’t be deploying as much. I’d be home more—for you, for the kids.”
Your shoulders sagged as you took in his words. You wanted to believe him, but the exhaustion of endless moves, the packing, unpacking, and constant uncertainty weighed heavily on you.
“And this is all happening before the end of December?” you asked, your voice quieter now.
Bradley nodded, his expression apologetic. “There’s still a lot to figure out, but yeah. They need me soon. I just… I wanted to talk to you about it first. I wouldn’t make this decision without you.”
You let out a long breath, running a hand through your hair. “Bradley, this is a lot. I don’t even know where to start.”
He nodded again, squeezing your arms gently. “I know it is. Take some time to think about it, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”
You bit your lip, your thoughts still racing, but you couldn’t ignore the sincerity in his eyes—or the hope. Despite the upheaval it would cause, he truly believed this could be the fresh start you both needed. But whether or not you were ready to believe that too, you weren’t so sure.
You stared at Bradley, the frustration rising in your chest as the weight of his words truly sank in. Shaking your head, you stepped back from his grasp and crossed your arms tightly.
“Bradley, I’m going to say this right now—I’m not moving until after New Year’s,” you said firmly, your voice steady but resolute. “I refuse to spend Christmas in some lousy halfway spot, surrounded by boxes, trying to keep the kids from falling apart. It’s not happening.”
His brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to respond, but you kept going, your emotions spilling out in waves.
“This constant moving isn’t just exhausting—it’s unhealthy for the kids. Anna’s finally settling in here. She’s starting to make friends, and she’s getting used to the house. Judy’s already switched schools enough for a lifetime. It’s not fair to her to have to keep doing this over and over. She’s nine, Bradley! I thought mine and her fathers job at the start would make her need to move so much but truly it didn't. She needs stability, not a new classroom every year.”
He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he tried to meet your gaze. “I know it’s hard, YN—”
“No,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “You don’t know how hard it is, Bradley. You’re not the one managing school forms, paediatricians, or trying to help Judy settle in after every single move. You’re not the one cleaning up puke when she gets so stressed she makes herself sick. And on top of that, I have my own job to think about. Do you have any idea how much of a nightmare it is to move space labs? Or how hard it is to get rehired in the same field every time we relocate? What if they don’t even take me this time?”
He frowned, guilt flickering in his expression. “I didn’t think—”
“That’s the problem, Bradley,” you said, your voice softening but still firm. “You didn’t think. You’re chasing stability for yourself, and I get that. I do. But what about us? What about the kids? What about me?”
Bradley ran a hand down his face, clearly grappling with your words. “I thought this would be a good opportunity for all of us,” he admitted quietly. “I thought… maybe it could finally be the place where we can put down roots.”
You let out a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “If you want to go, fine. Go set things up. But I’m not uprooting this family in the middle of the holidays. The kids deserve a Christmas in a real home, not in a house we haven’t even unpacked yet. And I’m not putting them—or myself—through another rushed move until we know this is going to work.”
He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he absorbed your words. “Okay,” he said finally, his voice low. “We’ll wait until after New Year’s. I’ll talk to them, figure out a timeline that works.”
Relief washed over you, though it was tempered by the uncertainty still lingering in the air. You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I need you to understand, Bradley. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s all of us. And I can’t keep putting the kids—and myself—through this. And I will go insane if I'll be in another motel for weeks.”
“I get it,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I do. I just… I want to make this work. For all of us.”
You nodded, your gaze steady. “Then let’s figure it out. But after the holidays.”
Bradley’s arms stayed wrapped around you, but as you rested against him, he gently pulled back, his eyes scanning your face with quiet concern. He tilted his head slightly, his voice soft but pointed.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, his tone both curious and insistent.
You hesitated, your gaze flickering to the floor before meeting his again. You’d been holding back, trying to push through for the sake of the evening, but he clearly wasn’t going to let it slide.
“Honestly?” you said, exhaling deeply. “It’s not fine with me that you’re thinking of leaving so soon—especially after I had to miss work last week. I’ve already taken so much time off between Anna being sick, Judy needing to come home early, and everything else. I’m exhausted, Bradley. I’ve had enough.”
His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on your arms. “Then why didn’t you just say that when I asked earlier?”
You bit your lip, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Because I wasn’t about to argue in front of Judy and Anna,” you said sharply. “They’ve already been through enough tonight. Judy doesn’t need to hear us going back and forth on top of being sick with cruel stomach décor, and Anna’s finally getting settled. I didn’t want to add more stress.”
Bradley sighed, running a hand through his hair as he took in your words. “I get that,” he said softly. “But, YN, I need you to tell me these things. You don’t have to hold it in just to keep the peace.”
“I know,” you replied, your voice quieter now, “but I’m just… tired, Bradley. I don’t feel like moving again. Not until March at the earliest. I’m not ready to pack up, to sort through everything, to start over—again.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes softening as he processed your words. “You feel like you’ve hit your limit,” he said, more a statement than a question.
“Exactly,” you admitted, your shoulders sagging. “I’ve hit my limit. The idea of boxing up this house, pulling the kids out of their routine, and throwing myself into another round of uncertainty—it’s exhausting just thinking about it. I’m not bothered to pack up again right now. I need time.”
Bradley was quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your arm as he considered his response. “March,” he repeated, nodding slowly. “Alright. We can make that work. I’ll let them know we need more time.”
“Are you sure?” you asked, meeting his gaze.
“I’m sure,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to push you into something you’re not ready for. If March feels right, then that’s what we’ll aim for.”
Relief washed over you, though a small part of you still felt the weight of what lay ahead. “Thank you,” you murmured.
He pulled you back into his arms, holding you close. “We’ll figure this out,” he promised.
Before you could fully relax into Bradley’s embrace, your phone buzzed again on the counter, cutting through the quiet. You sighed, reluctantly pulling away to check the screen. It was another call from work.
“I should take this,” you muttered, already swiping to answer.
Bradley leaned against the counter, watching you closely as you murmured into the phone, your tone professional but clearly laced with frustration. He caught snippets—something about deadlines, a meeting you couldn’t miss, and some last-minute chaos that had you pinching the bridge of your nose.
When you finally hung up, you turned back to him, running a hand through your hair. “Looks like I’ll be driving down overnight,” you said with a resigned sigh. “I’ve got an early morning meeting anyway, and at this rate, I’ll barely get any sleep if I wait until tomorrow to leave.”
Bradley straightened, his brows knitting together. “Overnight? YN, that’s going to be rough. Are you sure that’s the best idea?”
You shrugged, already mentally planning the drive. “It’s easier this way. I’ll get there before the day starts, and I won’t have to stress about being late.”
He crossed his arms, his concern clear. “I’ve got the day off work tomorrow. I’ll stay here and take care of the kids. You focus on work.”
You blinked at him, a little surprised. “You have the day off?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed, stepping closer. “I’ll handle everything here. Judy’s already home sick, so I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure Anna and Theo are good too. You don’t need to worry about anything on this end.”
The tension in your shoulders eased slightly, and you nodded, grateful for his support. “Okay,” you said softly. “Thanks, Bradley.”
He gave you a small smile, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Just drive safe, alright? And text me when you get there.”
“I will,” you promised, leaning into his touch for a brief moment before pulling back to start gathering your things. As much as you hated the overnight drive, knowing Bradley would hold down the fort at home made it a little easier to handle.
Bradley climbed the stairs quietly, his mind still on your late-night drive and the conversation the two of you had just shared. But as he passed Judy’s room, a soft, raspy voice caught his attention.
“I don’t mind moving,” she said, her tone small but clear.
He stopped in his tracks, leaning slightly toward the open doorway. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he stepped inside, spotting Judy sitting up in bed, her blanket pulled up to her chest.
“Well, well,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Sounds to me like someone’s been eavesdropping.”
Judy’s cheeks flushed a little, but she gave him a defiant look, crossing her arms over her blanket. “It’s not eavesdropping, Roo. It’s overhearing. There’s a difference.”
Bradley raised an eyebrow, fighting back a chuckle as he walked over to her bed. “Oh, there’s a difference, huh?” he teased, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “Pretty sure your mom wouldn’t see it that way. She’d probably have my head if she knew you were listening.”
Judy smiled slyly, leaning back against her pillows. “Good thing she’s not here to find out.”
He laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re a smart one, Jude, I’ll give you that. But seriously—what are you doing awake? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
She shrugged, fiddling with the edge of her blanket. “I just… I heard you guys talking, and I wanted to know what was going on. Are we really moving again?”
Bradley sighed, his teasing expression softening. “It’s a possibility,” he admitted. “But nothing’s set in stone yet. Your mom and I are still figuring things out.”
Judy looked down at her hands, quiet for a moment. “I don’t mind moving,” she said again, her voice softer now. “I mean, I like it here, but… if it makes you and Mom happy, I’ll be okay.”
His heart swelled at her words, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”
She smiled shyly, her eyes still on her lap. “I try.”
Bradley leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Now get some sleep, okay? And no more overhearing—or eavesdropping—or whatever you want to call it.”
“Fine,” she murmured, already snuggling back into her blanket. “Goodnight, Dad.”
“Goodnight, Judy,” he said softly, standing and turning off her bedside lamp before heading to the door. As he glanced back, she was already drifting off, her little body relaxed and peaceful.
Bradley stepped quietly into Theo’s room, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a warm hue over the small space. Theo was curled up in his crib, his chest rising and falling in the rhythmic breaths of deep sleep.
Bradley leaned over the crib, brushing his fingers lightly over Theo’s soft hair. Despite his hesitation, he decided it might be best to have him closer tonight, especially with you driving through the night. Carefully, he slipped his arms under Theo and lifted him, cradling the boy against his chest. Theo stirred slightly but didn’t wake, settling back into his father’s embrace with a soft sigh.
Bradley carried him down the hallway to your shared bedroom. The portable baby mattress was already set up near the bed, and he gently placed Theo down, adjusting the blankets around him. The little boy stretched briefly, then fell back into his peaceful sleep.
Bradley crouched for a moment, watching him, his expression soft with affection. He reached out, tucking the blanket a little more securely before standing.
Moving quietly, Bradley made his way to the small desk tucked into the corner of the room. He sat down heavily in the chair, his elbows resting on the desk as he ran a hand down his face. The day—and the conversations—were catching up with him.
As Bradley sat at the small desk, the quiet hum of the house surrounding him, he pulled out his phone. The group chat with the Dagger Squad lit up with unread messages, the notifications buzzing intermittently.
Payback: So, Rooster, you coming back after New Year’s or what?
Coyote: Yeah, man, don’t leave us hanging. You know Hangman’s already bragging about how he’ll outfly all of us again.
Hangman: Correction, Coyote. I will outfly you all. Don’t need Rooster to confirm that. But hey, Rooster, don’t be scared now—you coming or not?
Bob: It’d be good to have you back, Rooster.
Fanboy: Yeah, you’re part of the team, man. We’re counting on you to bring the mustache magic.
Bradley smirked, shaking his head at their banter. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, debating how to respond.
Phoenix: Give him a break, guys. He’ll let us know when he can.
He hesitated. Phoenix was the only one who knew about his life outside the Navy—his wife, his kids, the constant balancing act he’d been navigating. He hadn’t told the others, not because he didn’t trust them, but because it never felt like the right time. Now, with their texts pressing him for a commitment, the weight of his promise to you settled heavily on his shoulders.
He’d agreed to wait until after the New Year to move the family, but they didn’t need to know that. If he got sent to Top Gun temporarily for a few days, it wouldn’t disrupt the plan too much—would it? He could handle a few days away, fulfil the request, and be back before you’d even finished packing the decorations away.
But then again, keeping this from you didn’t sit right with him. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he considered his reply.
Rooster: I’ll let you guys know soon. Still working a few things out on my end.
The responses came quickly.
Coyote: Come on, man, you know you wanna fly with the big boys again.
Hangman: “Working things out” sounds like code for chicken. You scared, Rooster?
Fanboy: Ignore him. We’re looking forward to having you back.
Bradley stared at the screen, his mind torn. He knew how much they wanted him back—and if he was honest, he missed flying with them, too. But you had made your stance clear. You didn’t want the chaos of a rushed move or the disruption to your family’s routine, and he couldn’t ignore how much you’d already sacrificed for his career.
The only one who truly understood the bind he was in was Phoenix, and as if on cue, another message from her popped up in the group chat.
Phoenix: Don’t rush it, Rooster. We’ve got time.
Bradley sighed, grateful for her subtle support. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation when the time came to tell you he’d been sent down for even a short stint. For now, though, he tucked the phone away, deciding to deal with it when—and if—it became official.
-
As you parked your car outside the lab, the faint buzz of your phone caught your attention. You glanced at the screen, seeing a text from Bradley pop up.
Rooster: Hey, just got an email—orders came through. I have to head back to Top Gun the day after New Year’s. Just for a few days to test some equipment.
You frowned, your fingers lingering over the steering wheel. He’d softened the blow, but the sting of his words remained. After all the back and forth, the long conversations, and the arguments about waiting until the New Year to avoid uprooting everything again, this felt like a sudden change. Still, you trusted him—if it was orders, there wasn’t much he could do.
A follow-up text arrived moments later.
Rooster: How was the drive? Everything okay? All the kids are down for the night. Theo didn’t even wake up when I brought him to our room. Judy’s still coughing a little but sound asleep. Let me know when you get a moment.
You sighed, the tension from the late-night drive mingling with the unresolved frustration of the past few days. Pushing it aside for now, you texted back quickly.
You: Drive was fine. Thanks for holding down the fort. I’ll call you in a minute.
Pulling your coat tighter, you stepped outside the car and dialled him. The phone rang twice before his familiar voice answered.
“Hey,” Bradley greeted, his tone warm but careful. “How’s it going? You get there okay?”
“I’m fine,” you replied, your voice steady. “Just parked. You said you got orders?”
There was a pause, just a fraction too long to go unnoticed, but he recovered quickly. “Yeah, it came through just a little while ago. Email straight from command,” he said, keeping his tone light. “It’s not a big deal, just a quick trip to test some new equipment. A few days, tops.”
You pressed your lips together, glancing up at the dimly lit lab building. “Funny how that just popped up, considering we were arguing about moving a couple of hours ago.”
He sighed, the sound crackling faintly through the line. “I know the timing sucks, but this isn’t about the move. It’s just work. You know how it is—they send orders, I follow them. It’s out of my hands.”
You leaned against the car, the cold seeping through your coat. “And it couldn’t wait until after we decided?”
“Apparently not,” he replied, his tone still soft. “They want it done now to prep for upcoming missions. It’s not permanent, YN. Just a few days, and then I’ll be back.”
Your fingers tightened around the phone. His explanation was logical, but a part of you still bristled. “It just feels sudden, that’s all,” you admitted. “After everything we talked about, it feels like the Navy’s always pulling the rug out from under us.”
“I get it,” he said gently. “I really do. But I promise I’ll make it as smooth as possible for you and the kids. And hey, once it’s done, we can refocus on everything here. I’ll help with the packing, with the kids—whatever you need.”
You exhaled slowly, the initial frustration easing slightly. “Alright,” you said finally. “If it’s orders, it’s orders. Just… don’t keep me in the dark about anything else, okay?”
“I won’t,” Bradley said quickly. “Promise.”
“Okay,” you murmured, glancing toward the building. “I should head in. Thanks for calling to let me know.”
“No problem,” he replied, his voice warm again. “Drive safe when you head back, alright? And don’t work too hard.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you said with a faint smile before ending the call.
As you walked into the lab, a flicker of doubt lingered in the back of your mind, but you pushed it aside. He wouldn’t lie about something like this—or so you believed.
-
Bradley sat back in the chair at his small desk, the glow of his phone screen casting a faint light across the darkened room. The group chat with the Dagger Squad had gone quiet for now, but his mind was racing. He hated lying to you, especially after the hard conversations you’d had tonight, but what unsettled him more was the creeping realization of how deep this would go.
A soft creak at the door pulled his attention, and he looked up to see Anna standing there, her favourite blankie draped over her shoulder and her teddy bear clutched tightly in her small hands.
“Daddy?” she whispered, her voice soft and sleepy.
Bradley immediately put his phone down, his heart squeezing at the sight of her. “Hey, Anna Banana. What’s wrong, baby girl?”
She padded over to him, her bare feet barely making a sound on the floor. “I had a bad dream,” she said, her bottom lip sticking out just a little as she rubbed her eyes.
“Come here,” Bradley said gently, holding out his arms. Anna climbed onto his lap without hesitation, curling against his chest as he wrapped his arms securely around her. Her blanket and teddy got squished between them, but she didn’t seem to mind.
He swayed gently in the chair, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. It was just a dream.”
Anna nodded sleepily, her head resting against his shoulder. “Are you going away again, Daddy?” she asked suddenly, her voice muffled.
The question hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, guilt twisting in his chest. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice thick. “But only for a little while, baby. Just a few days. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Anna pulled back just enough to look at him, her big, earnest eyes shining in the dim light. “But why? I don’t like when you go away.”
Bradley forced a small smile, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face. “I know, Banana. I don’t like leaving you either. But it’s part of my job, and I promise I’ll be home really soon.”
“Promise?” she whispered, holding up her pinky.
He hesitated for only a second before linking his pinky with hers. “Promise.”
Anna seemed satisfied with that, her little hand relaxing as she tucked herself back against his chest. He held her close, guilt gnawing at him. He hated that he was lying to her, too—that he wasn’t going because of orders but because of his own decision to go back to Top Gun for reasons he hadn’t fully shared.
Her small breaths began to even out, and Bradley knew she was falling back asleep. He carried her to the bed you both kept in your room for when the kids had restless nights, tucking her in with her blankie and teddy. She didn’t stir as he pulled the covers up around her.
As he returned to his desk, he stared down at his phone, the unanswered questions and unspoken truths weighing heavily on him. For a moment, he considered calling you again—coming clean about everything—but the fear of how you’d react kept his finger from pressing the button.
Bradley sat back down at his desk, the soft glow of his phone screen illuminating his conflicted expression. He glanced over his shoulder at Anna, curled up peacefully with her blankie and teddy in the bed. Her tiny chest rose and fell in a soothing rhythm, but the weight in his own chest didn’t lift.
He turned his gaze back to the group chat with the Dagger Squad, their earlier messages still sitting there, waiting for his response. He could hear their voices in his head—Payback's good-natured ribbing, Hangman’s cocky taunts, Phoenix’s steady, knowing tone.
His thumb hovered over the keyboard, hesitation coursing through him. You trusted him. Anna trusted him. But here he was, about to step back into the world he thought he’d left behind for good.
With a deep breath, he began typing.
Rooster: I’ll be there.
The replies were immediate, the chat lighting up in a flurry of responses.
Coyote: Knew you couldn’t resist!
Payback: Finally, the squad’s back together.
Hangman: About time, Bradshaw. I was starting to think you’d gone soft.
Phoenix: Good to have you back, Rooster.
Bradley leaned back in his chair, letting their messages blur together. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt as he reread his text. He hadn’t even said it out loud yet, but sending that message felt like crossing a line he couldn’t uncross.
He locked his phone and rubbed his hands over his face, the quiet of the room pressing down on him. This decision wasn’t just about him—it was about you, the kids, the life you’d built together. And yet, here he was, making a choice that might shake the foundation of it all.
For now, he’d focus on the days ahead. He’d handle the fallout later, even if it meant confronting the disappointment in your eyes when you found out.
Part 2
A/n: Maybe this is a mini series concept....
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sleepynoons · 3 months ago
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megumi x afab!f!reader (characters aged up), nsfw, 18+, not beta read
cw: unprotected sex, marathon sex, angry sex, slight degradation, senpai kink, slight subspace + dubcon, asphyxiation/choking just to be safe
notes: lmk if i missed any tags. anyway, had a megumi thought, and i had to write it out. reader is a little bimbo-coded, but really, i simply believe she's just too focused on fighting to notice her panties are showing and tights just feel too restrictive at times yk. anyway, this was truly just me writing with my clit, so don't take megumi's characterization too seriously.
megumi can’t believe the sight in front of him.
he’s imagined this hundreds – no, thousands – actually, millions – of times in his head, and even then, now that it’s finally happening, you’re more pliant and submissive and quiet than he had expected.
usually, you’re so energetic. always giggling at your phone or bantering with other sorcerers or humming under your breath, you’re so expressive, and you make sure your presence is known, intentionally or not.
and you’re especially relentless with him. since way back in high school, whenever he was in your view, you would race after him and give him the tightest hugs that would have him gasping for air. you would knock on his door in the middle of the night, just to drop off some extra snacks you bought at the convenience store. now, you blow up his phones with ridiculous memes and nonsensical drunk text messages, and he’s often supervising you after exhausting missions to make sure you don’t fall asleep in the bathtub.
but those aren’t his biggest concerns with your behavior. really, it’s that, for someone so strong and with such relentless stamina, you’re so… clumsy.
sometimes, you swing your sword so hard that you lose your own balance. he finds new bruises and cuts blooming across your knees and arms all the time. your butter fingers never cease to drop your water bottle, often spilling it on your white uniform and forcing him to give you his jacket so you can cover yourself up. there’s also the countless times where you’ve forgotten to wear tights underneath your skirt, inevitably flashing yourself… and the fact that he’s seen you only in a bath towel way too many times than he should, especially for someone who’s not dating you…
don’t you understand the uncomfortable position you’re putting him in?
well, tonight was his last straw. in the late afternoon, the two of you finally returned from a week-long mission. the mission was based in okinawa, so he was forced to share a hotel room with you (he’s still cursing the higher-ups for being so stingy). at least there were separate beds, but for all six nights, he had to restrain himself from brushing his fingers against your sleeping face. and as soon as the two of you got back, you invited him over to your place so the two of you could drink together in celebration of wrapping up.
no drinks have been touched. in fact, you didn’t even get the opportunity to enter your kitchen.
as soon as the two of you took off your shoes, he grabbed you by the shoulders to hold you still before dropping down to his knees in front of you.
“kick me if you don’t want this,” he said, looking straight at you.
you only gasped in delight before nodding enthusiastically.
since then, the two of you have been going at it for hours now.
at first, you reacted like he thought you would. loud, sultry moans, dramatic expressions, flailing arms and legs. but now that it’s been – three? four? – rounds, he’s shocked to see you acting quite the opposite.
with his forearms propped to each side of your head, he thrusts into you slowly. it’s hard for him to move when your legs are wrapped around his waist, forcing him close to you, but the slight friction that he can manage has you uttering soft sighs. you’re staring wide-eyed at him with a small, drowsy smile. your hands are holding onto the front of his t-shirt, and you seem to be drinking in the sight of his own flushed face and his abs peeking through.
“senpai, where’d all that energy go?” he asks.
you shake your head, before rubbing your cheek against his hand. you look so content, having his cock inside you, your lips kissed swollen, your tights utterly destroyed.
and at the thought, megumi’s angry again.
he sits up on his knees and adjusts your legs so that he’s holding them up in front of him. now that he’s not restricted, he’s slamming himself into you, hard, fast, without hesitation. you squeak, hands flying to dig your nails into your bedsheet.
he snarls, “at least wear a pair of shorts when you’re sleeping in the same room with someone else.”
you shake your head again and whine. “it’s not comfortable!”
he pulls completely out, before sheathing himself fully again. you finally let out a louder groan.
“i don’t fucking care if it’s uncomfortable - don’t do that shit around me.”
he knows he’s losing you a little, so he doesn’t even wait for a response. he’s broiling with frustration and annoyance, and nothing can stop him.
megumi rants. “i know you don’t even see me as an option, so you think you can do whatever you want around me. but think about my feelings, too. please. have you ever thought about how i’d react, seeing you prance around in nothing but your panties and a thin t-shirt? or your short skirt and sheer tights? would you still dress like that if you were on a mission with any other guy?”
he’s fucking you so hard now, hugging your legs to his chest and using all of his force when he rams his hips into your ass. you’ve fallen silent, again, but not because you want to. your tongue’s lolling out, eyes unfocused, fists unclenching – you’re experiencing the best orgasm of your life.
megumi doesn’t like that. he needs you to listen to what he’s saying. he needs you to understand that, regardless of whether or not you reciprocate his love, he’s teaching you an invaluable lesson, one that you should never forget.
so he turns you over, shoves his dick back into you, and locks an arm under your neck to hold you up.
he growls into your ear, “are you listening to me?”
you’re whimpering and sniffling and gasping, all while holding onto his arms for dear life.
“senpai,” he calls again, sternly, tightening his arms around you a little.
you’re really not able to think, but the tone of his voice forces you to look at him. megumi’s never looked so serious, so furious before, and you feel yourself gush at the observation.
“senpai, you can’t be tightening up like that,” he grits, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “i’m not your boyfriend, so you can’t keep holding onto my dick like this.”
you whine. you wriggle your hips, trying to take him in even deeper even though it’s not possible.
“what, senpai?”
delirious, you mumble, “wanna be your girlfriend. want you to be my boyfriend.”
all that anger – gone. just like that.
megumi knows he ought to be stricter with you, truly discipline you now that he knows you want him like he wants you, but maybe, just maybe, he’s also a little clumsy when it comes to you.
even though he should still be upset, he can’t be bothered to because you’re so sweet, so kind, so accepting. he’s been giving it to you all night, dishing out small punishments and overstimulating you relentlessly, yet you’ve been just taking it all willingly.
yes, he should be more guarded, consider the possibility that you’re just saying those words in the moment or some other rational thought, but he’s clumsy when it comes to you.
clearly, megumi’s losing it.
he flips you over again, grabs you by the face, and smooshes your lips together. teeth scraping, tongues sliding, the kiss is so messy and filthy, and you’re screaming into it when he slides his cock back into you at the same time. you’re going limp – from the intensity of the kiss or the lack of air, it doesn’t matter –, and megumi’s barely pushing through.
he doesn’t stop – doesn’t allow himself to – because he’s trying to give you the best loving of your life. 
“you’re always driving me insane,” he groans.
you clench so tightly at those words, heart overflowing with joy and pleasure, and megumi has no choice but to let go. he’s filling you up again, but this time, he’s giving all that’s left of him – his cum, love, sanity – to you.
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captain-hawks · 5 months ago
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“you’re so goddamn predictable,” atsumu barks out a laugh as he looks down at the tray of misshapen onigiri. 
osamu scowls at his twin, whipping his bicep with a rag before lifting his hat to run a hand through his hair, sighing as he glances down at his—admittedly—shoddy work. 
atsumu jumps and lets out an undignified yelp as he grins, “ain’t seen ya make a rice ball that sloppy since you got absolutely wasted and decided to make ‘em at three in the morning back at uni.”
“fuck off, ya unemployed freeloader,” osamu grunts, menacingly clapping a pair of metal tongs in his brother’s direction just as he grabs one and stuffs it into his mouth without asking. 
“just admit you’re a pathetic simp who can’t even focus on shapin’ rice when a pretty girl is in the restaurant,” his brother says around a mouthful of rice, gesturing through the serving hatch toward where you’re currently facing away from them on a stool at the window. 
osamu exhales noisily in annoyance, turning to wash his hands at the sink before stealing another glance over at you. his heart thuds insistently in his chest as you absentmindedly smile at the sight of someone with several excited dogs walking past on the street outside, the late afternoon sun bathing you in a soft, golden glow. 
“i even have to do free labor for your distracted ass,” atsumu calls out from where he’s now stepped out of the kitchen to ring up a customer, if only to rub it in his face even more. 
“s’not free labor when ya treat this place like an open buffet,” osamu grumbles when he walks out a few moments later, hip checking the blonde as he comes to stand beside him. “can ya even count?”
“the register does it for me,” atsumu smugly tells him, handing the customer their change and sticking out his tongue at his brother. “but the real math question here is, do you even know how to ask a girl for her number?”
osamu doesn’t bother to correct his brother on his completely illogical connection between the points. instead, he looks up as you stand from your seat, mouth curving upward as he mirrors the shy wave you offer to him on your way out. 
“it’s a real burden to be the sole twin blessed with all the game,” atsumu sighs wistfully, watching you leave. “bet she likes blondes better.”
osamu could tell him that you’ve been coming to onigiri miya for the past week on your lunch break, and none-too-subtly flirting across the counter in between customers—thank you very much. 
“kiss my ass,” he says instead, delighting in the frown of defeat that crosses his brother’s face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the carefully folded piece of paper you’d insistently handed him after he waved off your money when you tried to pay earlier. 
“hope ya didn’t serve her one of those ugly ass ones back there,” atsumu grins. 
osamu punches him in the shoulder and shoves him aside as the bell above the front door jingles and another customer approaches. 
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harryssyndrome · 3 months ago
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Best Brother Ever | h.s
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Pairing: Husband!Dad!Harry x Wife!Mom!Reader
summary: a sweet Sunday afternoon with the styles family and Alex being the best big brother.
Word count: 2.6k || MASTERLIST 𓇼🌊⋆🐚🫧
Posted On: November 7th, 2024
I got really inspired by a cute reel I saw on Facebook and since then this sweet fluff has been sitting in my drafts for months and I’m really happy with how it turned out! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do ♡ let me know your thoughts in comments! Like & reblog are truly appreciated 🥰 REQUEST ARE OPEN.
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It was a peaceful Sunday morning in the Styles household, and the cozy, familiar sounds of home filled the air. In the kitchen, YN moved around with practiced ease, stirring a pot, chopping vegetables, and tasting spices with a focused concentration. She’d been at it for a while now, determined to make Harry’s mom, Anne, feel right at home with her favorite dish. In the background, 18 by One Direction played softly, and YN found herself humming along, her voice a gentle echo to the lyrics.
Though the band had gone on indefinite hiatus years ago, and each of the boys had branched off into their own solo careers, YN hadn’t stopped listening. She was a Directioner through and through, and she knew in her heart she’d never let go of those songs—they were part of her story, her history with Harry, and her dreams.
Meanwhile, in the living room, their six-year-old son, Alex, was lying on the mat with Berry, their playful family dog, gently scratching behind Berry’s ears. Berry’s tail thumped in delight, and Alex giggled as the dog rolled over, waiting for belly rubs. The two were inseparable, each one the other’s partner in mischief.
After a few minutes, Alex felt a tickle of thirst, and with his usual burst of energy, Alex stopped scratching and said, “Oh Berry didn’t you get tired of all the scratching? I know, I know you were enjoying it but it’s time for a break, I’m thirsty. You don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone! Granny likes it when you’re a good boy.” He then sprang up and ran to the kitchen, tiny footsteps echoing across the hardwood floor.
“Alex, no running in the kitchen, remember?” YN gently reminded him, glancing over her shoulder with a smile.
Alex skidded to a stop, giving her an innocent look. “Sorry, Mama.” He then carefully walked to the fridge, his small hand reaching for a water bottle. After unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip, he paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.
Looking up at his mom, he noticed how she’d been working by the stove for a while. The warmth from the flames made the kitchen a bit stuffy, and in that moment, his little mind put two and two together. Carefully holding out the bottle to her, he asked, “Mama, do you want some water too?”
YN paused, touched by the thoughtful gesture. The little boy was caring just like his father. Her heart swelled with pride and warmth at her son’s understanding, and she leaned down to pull his cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
Alex beamed up at her, delighted by her kiss, and handed her the bottle with a shy smile. YN took a small sip, her heart feeling full in the best way possible. Moments like these, simple and unassuming, were what made her life feel so complete.
YN glanced around the kitchen, realizing she hadn’t seen Harry in a while. She turned to Alex, who was still grinning from her earlier kiss, and asked, “Where’s your daddy?”
Alex paused, looking thoughtful. “He’s giving Amelia a bath!” he replied brightly.
YN chuckled, wiping her hands on a towel. “Don’t you think he’s taking a little too long?”
Without another word, Alex took off down the hall, announcing over his shoulder, “I’m gonna check!”
YN shook her head, smiling to herself as she continued stirring the pot. But barely a minute later, she heard Alex’s laughter ring out, loud and delighted, carrying all the way back to the kitchen. Curious, she wiped her hands and followed the sound down the hallway, wondering what on earth could have him so amused.
When she reached the bathroom, she found Alex standing at the doorframe, giggling uncontrollably. YN peeked over his shoulder, and the sight before her was too good not to laugh herself.
Harry stood by the sink, almost drenched, his shirt soaked and clinging to him, while his hair, wet and messy, hung down in front of his eyes. Amelia, their 15-month-old daughter, squirmed in his arms, wrapped in a fluffy towel that he was struggling to keep around her tiny, wiggling frame. Amelia, completely entertained, let out a series of squeals and giggles, delighted by the whole chaotic scene.
Harry looked up, his eyes meeting YN’s as he tried—and failed—to blow a strand of wet hair out of his face. “She’s, uh… a slippery one,” he said with a helpless smile, shifting Amelia as she kicked her tiny feet, clearly thrilled by all the attention.
YN chuckled, stepping into the bathroom to take over. “I think you’ve gotten just as much of a bath as she has,” she teased, reaching for Amelia.
“Believe me, I know,” Harry replied, surrendering his squirming daughter into YN’s arms. As soon as she was safely in her mother’s embrace, Amelia nuzzled into YN, her little face lighting up with another round of happy giggles.
Alex, still laughing, tugged at Harry’s soaked shirt. “Daddy, you’re all wet!”
Harry ruffled Alex’s hair, a lopsided grin on his face. “Well, that’s what happens when you try to bathe a little mermaid,” he joked, winking at YN.
YN smiled, cradling Amelia close as the baby snuggled into her, finally calm. Glancing up at Harry, she added with a playful grin, “Maybe next time I’ll leave the bath duty to you again. You look like you’re having way too much fun.”
Harry raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Only if I get a raincoat next time.”
With everyone still giggling, the air filled with warmth and laughter. For YN, it was yet another reminder of how these simple, unplanned moments held the truest joy.
After drying Amelia’s soft curls and dressing her in an adorable denim overall dress, YN gave her a little pat, sending her off with Alex, who eagerly took her tiny hand. “Come on, Amelia! Let’s play in the backyard!” he declared, guiding her to the door as she toddled along, wide-eyed and giggling.
Meanwhile, Harry changed out of his soaked clothes and slipped into a comfortable hoodie and shorts. Feeling refreshed, he wandered back to the kitchen to find YN putting the finishing touches on lunch. She was focused, stirring one last pot, her face glowing with that contented look he loved.
“Smells amazing,” he murmured, slipping his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. She relaxed into him, smiling as she gave the pot one final stir.
“Thank you,” she replied, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze. “I wanted everything to be perfect for your mom.”
Harry pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “It already is perfect. Besides, Mom’s really coming to see you and the kids. I’m just… here for decoration,” he joked, earning a laugh from YN.
She turned to face him, resting her hands on his chest. “Pretty good decoration, I’d say,” she teased back, her eyes sparkling. “Can’t say I mind having you around.”
He grinned, taking her hand in his. “And I can’t say I mind this whole thing… you, me, the kids, Sunday lunches. I think we’re doing alright, don’t you?”
YN’s smile softened, her heart warmed by his words. “I’d say we’re doing better than alright.”
When lunch was ready, they carried everything to the living room and settled comfortably on the sofa, filling their plates and savoring each other’s company in the cozy quiet. Berry, their loyal dog, lay stretched out on the floor nearby, watching them with sleepy eyes, as though content to be part of their little family moment. But the peace didn’t last long; as soon as Berry heard the sound of laughter from the backyard, he was on his feet and bounding toward the door, ready to join Alex and Amelia in whatever adventure they were up to.
Harry and YN shared a glance, amused, and Harry sighed with a laugh. “Should we go see what they’re getting into out there?”
YN nodded, grinning. “Definitely.”
Hand in hand, they headed toward the backyard porch deck, hearts full and laughter on their lips, ready to join in on the joy of the afternoon.
Harry and YN strolled out into the backyard, enjoying the sight of Alex and Berry playing an enthusiastic game of chase. Alex was giggling as he kicked the ball across the grass, Berry hot on his heels, barking and wagging his tail, clearly in his element.
But their attention quickly turned to little Amelia, who was standing by the swing set, her tiny fingers gripping the seat as she attempted to climb up. She’d tugged it down a few times, her determination evident in her scrunched-up face, but every time she tried to lift her legs, they just didn’t reach. She let out a tiny, frustrated squeal, her cheeks pink with effort.
Alex spotted her from across the yard and immediately abandoned his ball game, trotting over with Berry following close behind. “I’m coming, Amy! I’ll help you,” he declared, a serious expression crossing his little face. The way he spoke, it was as if he were preparing to climb a mountain, not help his baby sister onto a swing.
He placed a comforting hand on Amelia’s shoulder, patting her gently. “Don’t worry, Amy. I’ll get you up there,” he reassured her. Berry sat down nearby, tilting his head as if watching the scene unfold with keen interest.
Alex held the swing steady, lowering it slightly to make it easier for her to grab. Amelia gave it her best shot, tugging herself forward and then clinging to her brother’s back, her small legs kicking as she tried to hoist herself up. But she kept slipping back down with a tiny thud, her face scrunched in concentration.
Seeing her struggle, Alex crouched down thoughtfully, tapping his chin with one finger like he’d seen his dad do when he was deep in thought. “Okay, hm… maybe try to use my back like a lil’ stool?” he offered, glancing up at her with a hopeful smile. “I’ll be like a step!”
Amelia’s eyes lit up, and she gave him an excited nod, as if this was the most brilliant plan she’d ever heard. Alex crouched down in front of the swing, bracing himself. “Alright, Amy, climb on!” he called out, his voice full of determination.
With a delighted giggle, Amelia leaned onto her brother’s back and clutched his T-shirt with her chubby little hands. She climbed as best as she could, trying to pull herself up—but her grip on his shirt only tightened as she clambered, her arms slipping around his neck. Alex winced, his voice coming out in a slightly strained laugh. “Amy… you’re kinda… choking me,” he gasped, though he kept steady, determined to help her however he could.
Harry and YN watched from nearby, biting back their laughter as Alex tried to be the perfect big brother, his determination and care making them both melt a little inside. Berry, still sitting close by, tilted his head again, ears perked as he followed every bit of the action.
Eventually, Alex, catching his breath, stood up, looking down at his sister with a thoughtful frown. “Alright, Amy, let’s try it another way,” he said, more determined than ever to help her reach her goal.
He pointed at the swing seat with a very serious expression, bending down to her level. “Just try to sit on it. Right here,” he said, gesturing to the exact spot where she should aim. “Watch, I’ll show you.”
With exaggerated care, he climbed onto the swing himself, wiggling around on the seat to demonstrate how to sit properly. Then he hopped off and held the swing firmly in place again, giving her an encouraging nod. “Okay, now you try.”
Amelia looked at him, wide-eyed with admiration for her big brother, and then turned back to the swing. She grasped it carefully with both hands, her face full of concentration, and this time, after a few wobbly attempts, she managed to pull herself up, finally plopping down on the seat with a triumphant squeal.
Alex’s face broke into a huge grin. “You did it, Amy!” he cheered, clapping his hands. “You’re a big girl now!”
Amelia giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and Alex gave the swing a gentle push, sending her gliding back and forth, her delighted squeals filling the backyard. Each time she swung forward, she let out a little giggle, her laughter filling the air.
Harry and YN stood side by side, their arms wrapped around each other as they watched Alex carefully push Amelia on the swing. Her joyful squeals mixed with the gentle creak of the swing, and Alex’s steady encouragement filled the air. Berry trotted nearby, tail wagging, occasionally glancing up as if to make sure everything was under control.
Harry tightened his arm around YN’s shoulders, pulling her close as he shook his head in admiration. “He’s… he’s really the best big brother, isn’t he?” he said, his voice soft with awe. “Look at him—so gentle with her, so patient. I can’t believe he’s only six.”
YN beamed, her eyes fixed on their son as she watched him push Amelia with such care, his face serious with concentration, as if he were on an important mission. “I know,” she replied, her voice warm with pride. “He’s amazing with her, isn’t he? Always looking out for her, always so sweet. I feel like we’re really… doing something right.”
Harry looked down at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, I think you’re doing most of it right,” he teased, bumping her shoulder with his. “I’m just here to make sure they know how to make a mess and have fun.”
YN laughed, nudging him back. “Oh, please, Harry—you’re their hero. Every time you walk in, they light up. You’re like their personal superhero.”
Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know about ‘superhero,’ but… seeing them like this, watching them take care of each other? That’s everything.” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked back at Alex and Amelia. “They’re so lucky to have each other. And I think… we’re pretty lucky to have them, too.”
YN nodded, her heart swelling as she took in the scene—their two little ones, working together, supporting each other in their own innocent, unfiltered way. “It’s moments like these that make it all worth it, don’t they?” she murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder. “All the late nights, all the messy meals and chaotic mornings… all of it. Seeing them happy, and kind, and just… them.”
Harry gave her a soft smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ve got a good thing going, don’t we?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t imagine a better team than this. You and me… and these two.” He gestured toward Alex and Amelia, his eyes crinkling with pride. “We’re doing something right, YNN. I know we are.”
Just then, Alex looked over his shoulder and spotted his parents watching. His face lit up with pride, and he called out, “Look, Mum! Dad! Amy’s swinging! I got her up here all by myself!”
YN and Harry exchanged a warm glance before waving back, beaming with pride. “You’re the best big brother, Alex!” YN called out, giving him a big thumbs-up. “Amy’s so lucky to have you.”
Alex’s cheeks flushed with pride, and he turned back to Amelia, giving her swing another gentle push. “Did you hear that, Amy? Mum and Dad said I’m the best big brother ever!” he whispered to her, smiling from ear to ear.
Watching him, Harry gave YN’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re raising some pretty great kids, aren’t we?” he murmured, his eyes sparkling with pride. “If nothing else, I’d say we’re getting that part just right.”
YN looked up at him, her eyes shining. “Couldn’t agree more.”
561 notes · View notes
hometoursandotherstuff · 3 days ago
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NOOOOOOOOO! Why did they buy this gorgeous, 6bd, 4ba, colorful 5,340 sq ft, Hood River, OR home for $1,964,700 and do THIS:
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OMG, let's revisit what it USED to look like before these charlatans bought it.
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I could cry. It was so delightful.
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There was a colorful, bright, dining room.
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And, I wonder what they did w/that stove.
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The kitchen had aisles of cabinetry with colorful cats capping the ends.
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Love this room.
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Look at the 2nd fl. addition they did.
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Fabulous.
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I don't even know if any of these architectural features remain.
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Such lovely glass rooms.
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So many light, sunny rooms with windows for great views.
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Lots of built-in shelving in the large primary bedroom.
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The home has shelves galore, which would've been perfect for an avid reader or someone with an extensive collection to display.
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There is a real library, too. Look at the stacks.
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This looks like a walk-in closet. Very elegant.
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Look at the tile in this bath.
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All of the bedrooms have windows w/beautiful views.
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There was a home gym in the lower level, plus a rec room.
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A colorful gazebo stood on the garage roof.
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Delightful deck facing the Columbia River.
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The evolution- When it was built in 1920, then it was renovated and colorful, and now, the latest reno in dark gray & brown.
https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/603-Sherman-Ave-Hood-River-OR-97031/84581523_zpid/?
google maps
262 notes · View notes
wannaeatramyeon · 6 months ago
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DG x Reader: Manager and their Idol
8.5k. G/N. Soft, colleagues to lover (guess I love this trope). Masterlists
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You had imagined life as a K-Pop idol manager to be much more glamorous.
You pity your young naive self. The one that envisaged schmoozing with stars and rubbing elbows with the movers and shakers, and instead set you on this horrid, lacklustre path.
What you didn't expect was the amount of time playing driver. Carting that stupid pink haired brat around. Waiting on him hand and foot during shoots and interviews, and being at his beck and call.
You have saved his ass more times than you can recall, ran through scripts with him, practised his stupid dances and moves alongside, protected him from unhinged fans and reporters and scavengers.
And yet you can count on one hand the amount of times he has thanked you.
Actually no, it didn't require any hands because he has thanked you exactly zero times for all your early mornings and late nights and for going above and beyond your duty.
Out of desperation, you had asked your boss if you could manage someone else and the request was declined.
"DG has taken a liking to you," she said, tone impressed as if that was something you should be proud of.
"Great," your smile comes out as more of a grimace.
And goddamn, this agency was so stupidly prestigious and the benefits and perks here really are second to none. Just why did Diego fucking Kang have to be their top idol.
.
.
The first time you crossed the threshold into his building, greeting the reception security guard and entering his penthouse keycode like you had been let in on the world's greatest secret, you had tiptoed around like a child in a museum. After all, this was DG's residence. The DG!
You had ooh-ed and aah-ed at every little thing. 
Taking delight in seeing his interior design of choice, the type of candy that he snacks on, the shampoo and conditioner he uses, the way he organises his desk. This is the chair DG sits on to eat. This is the sofa DG lounges on to watch TV. This is the bed he sleeps in, the bath he uses, the toilet he-
Any wide eyed innocence and awe evaporated after your first week working together.
Today, you stab in the entry code and let the door shut with a bang. 
You set his now cold coffee order on the kitchen counter and rifle with practised fingers through his unopened mail to see if there is anything you should draw his immediate attention to. You pick up his discarded clothes from the floor (and for fuck's sake, this suit jacket was on loan) and make your way to his bedroom where tufts of pink hair peeks out from under the cover.
"Good morning," you announce, locating the remote to open the blinds and letting in some sunlight.
Bedsheets rustle behind you.
"Good morning Diego," you repeat and give one warning, "I hope you're decent." With that, you throw the covers back to find the scantily dressed idol glaring up at you.
You remember the days when this sight would have made you weak at the knees. Seeing him half naked, in the flesh, freshly woken up with bedhead and half lidded eyes. It's what most of Korea dreams of, including yourself once upon a time.
Now all you feel is extreme irritation.
"Good morning," you say for the third time, plastering on a saccharine smile that you know DG sees clearly through because it is insincere as hell to anyone with half a brain cell. You let the fakeness shine through anyway.
For a split second, DG frowns as his eyes drop to your lips and then he pretends everything is good. Smiling back prettily, sharp canines on show and stretching. Lifting his arms overhead, showing a good stretch of pecs and abs and the line of muscle in a V pointing like an arrow straight down to his-
You roll your eyes.
"You're late." You throw the covers back over him and stride back towards the door. "We should have left half an hour ago." You leave out the part where you had been waiting downstairs in the car and after an hour of no show and no anything, you stomped your way up to his home.
DG, sensing your mood, adds oil to the fire with a smirk, "Why didn't you wake me then?"
If that idiot bothered to look at his phone, he would see a number of missed calls and unread messages from you.
Whatever.
"Hurry up."
.
.
DG has come across many people like yourself over the years. All cute and bright eyed, way too soft.
He never gave you any special treatment, for better or worse, and assumed that you would eventually burn out or give up and move on to something more worthwhile.
Unfortunately, in a rare turn of events, he had miscalculated.
Of course most people would be starstruck, it's only natural. But he mistook your sincerity and kind smile for ignorance and missed your sharp, observing gaze, and astute mind.
He's impressed, and he really can't remember the last time he was impressed.
In a matter of days of working together, you had managed to cut through the bullshit and within the month got him more compliant and docile than anyone else ever has.
Which should be a huge fucking problem, and raising red flags all over DG's mind.
...Except-
What's really troubling him right now, as he sulks in the passenger seat and you in the driver's, is that you have developed some sort of resistance to his charms.
Maybe a part of him does actually miss the you who he formed the first impression of. Who looked at him in wonder, with the same admiration that everyone else did.
Now that he knows you, he hates that he had thought that initial admiration was insignificant and worthless.
.
.
DG has a stash of candy in the car.
Or more accurately, you keep a stash of candy next to him to a) Shut him up and b) Keep him tolerable.
If DG wasn't so aloof, the fact that he has an incurable sweet tooth (and probably cavities to prove it) would have made headlines as a cute K-Pop fact and likely garnered sponsorship and advertising deals with all sorts of confectionary brands.
You had only found out during your adventures as his manager, rifling through his kitchen drawers trying to find his goddamn phone that he misplaced and you stumbled upon his stash of candy.
It really was a disgusting amount, something you'd expect a gaggle of grade schoolers at Halloween to hoard, not Diego goddamn Kang.
And then you also found out if he's not quiet and haughty in the car, making the atmosphere awkward, he likes to comment on your driving.
Who even sits in the passenger seat next to their 'chauffeur' anyway? He complains about you braking too suddenly and not accelerating fast enough. How you drive like an 80 year old with cataracts, and you're too slow when the light changes to green.
The turn in your relationship happened when you snapped at him to shut the fuck up after losing the final shred of your sanity on a three hour drive.
DG, to your dismay, didn’t miraculously lose his hearing and turns to you as you silently berate yourself for voicing the quiet thoughts out loud.
Although, you're in the deep end now. You're gonna get fired anyway, so if he says anything else you might as well give him a flick on the forehead or a pinch or maybe a punch to the face-
Instead, he laughs.
It's nothing like the laugh you have heard on TV and in interviews. The rehearsed and manicured 'haha' or cool chuckle that suits his shiny persona. It's kinda goofy and a lot endearing.
What's even more endearing is the way he does actually shut the fuck up for the rest of the journey. You like him a lot more after that.
So. You digress.
The candy is a way to keep the sweet toothed maniac quiet. Even if it doesn't work, at least it's harder to make out what insults he's slinging with a lollipop rattling around his mouth.
However, he has never ever shared any with you. Any of the candy that you stock, and pay for.
(That you technically claim back on company expenses, but you're trying to be self righteous here.)
Ever.
In all the months of working with him, he gobbles away happily even if your stomach is growling and you refuse to take any yourself out of principle.
Until-
"Here."
"Huh?"
Taking advantage of your response and open mouth, DG leans into your personal space and feeds you some chewy strawberry something or another (which coincidentally are his least favourite), fingers lingering on your lips for a fraction of a second.
Three things happen in quick succession.
The burst of sugar hits your tongue.
You nearly choke.
You narrowly avoid swerving.
"Careful now," DG grins when you get the car and yourself under control, and glance at him with a scowl.
Good. That proves you're not completely immune to his charms.
.
.
That bastard has now taken it upon himself to feed you candy at every opportunity.
You wonder if he's doing some sort of Pavlov experiment. The sweetness trying to erase any sourness you feel towards him.
It sort of works, and you consider biting his fingers off one of these days.
You hear the crinkling of wrappers, one for him that he pops into his mouth, and one for you that he gives without asking.
You angle your head towards him, and his fingers graze your lips every time.
Neither of you comment on the change but the intimacy drives you a little crazy.
.
.
And DG too.
Because intimacy works both ways and damnit his little gesture to keep the pretty blush on your face has backfired.
The only form of intimacy he knows comes from discreet hookups and low key links. Not someone who is around day in, day out. Or anyone that goes deeper than one night stands and booty calls.
You're there, you're always there. Of course you are, you're his manager.
But today, he feels under the microscope with you standing a couple metres away and keen eyes watching the camera monitor.
It's a no nothing day. Standard schedule where he shoots a fragrance commercial and he exits a pool all wet and sultry, white t-shirt clinging to his muscled body.
Then another scene where he writhes around slightly on a sunbed and eye-fucks the camera.
How it sells a fragrance, he never knows. The mystery of showbiz.
"Cut! More powder!" The director shouts out, the crew springing into action and DG knows exactly why.
He feels strangely embarrassed and flustered, which has manifested into his cheeks being flushed, and god he can't even remember the last time he has been like this.
It’s out of character and he needs to get his head together.
As the make up artist hurriedly dabs on some foundation, you make your way over to him.
"Are you sick?" you ask, concerned and reaching out to feel his forehead with the back of your hand.
"I'm fine," He says, turning away from your attentiveness and staring at a point in the distance.
.
.
With most people, if DG wants them out of sight, they stay out of sight.
But as his manager, and a very competent one at that, it’s harder to get you to leave.
Not that DG wants you to either, don’t get him wrong. 
The only constants he has around him are people who want something from him. And yes, he knows you’re only in his company because you work with him. However, he really can’t doubt the concern he always sees in your eyes. The compassion and empathy even when he makes you want to scream and tear your hair out.
His standoffish demeanour is not new to anyone. It’s part of his appeal to be quite honest. 
Yet he feels bad over the next couple weeks as he turns it up to eleven and tries to create some distance. He registers the hurt on your face as he is extra short with his answers and behaviour.
.
.
Pandering to overinflated celebrity egos and the insane Korean work ethic often leads to after hour shoots and dinner delayed until past midnight.
Honestly, this wreaks havoc on your sleep schedule and your skin.
"Here." You retrieve DG's takeout from the paper bag.
A double portion of delicious fried chicken with a side of kimchi and pickles. It's a change of pace from what most idols order, yet he doesn't give two shits about calories or sodium intake and to add insult to injury, somehow manages to keep his trim figure.
You lament your soggy salad sitting at the bottom. As if it’s not sad enough right now - once you arrive home, the lettuce will be wilting and room temperature and you will eat it in your dimly lit apartment with nothing to keep you company except the sound of the TV.
DG notices you turning to leave his penthouse, and his mouth moves before his brain can.
"Aren't you staying?"
"What?" You double take at the question.
DG's company is usually worse than your lonely meal for one. 
He’s annoying and you frequently want to slap him, but how he has been with you lately has been troubling and you actually feel a sense of relief at his offer.
(You had wondered if you might have been getting sacked up until this moment.)
Nevertheless, in all your time working alongside, you have never had a proper meal one on one together. Nothing more than you driving with one hand and the other hastily shoving a burger into your mouth as he looks on in disgust.
You would have dwelled on this more, wondering what's changed, what’s happened, but then-
"I'll share." DG nudges the box towards you, and the delicious scent of deep fried, battered goodness wafts along with it it
All your misgivings and your salad is forgotten.
.
.
Almost.
No, you were wrong.
Eating with DG, without any distractions such as traffic to navigate or other boisterous colleagues around, is unnerving. Disarming.
His haughtiness remains, but how haughty can someone be when munching on a drumstick.
All frostiness from the past weeks melts away as you both eat your way through his chicken.
He’s talking more tonight than you have heard in a while.
You find him funny, and really quite bitchy. Which you did know all along except it's much funnier now his slanderous comments aren't directed at you.
And has he always looked at you with such a piercing gaze? So intensely focused on what you have to say. Even if you're just complaining about your boss, blurring your lines of professionalism, he gives you his full attention.
You really can't remember the last time you have been in each other's company like this. 
You loathe to admit that even with what an asshole he is, DG's shine hasn’t dulled enough for you that you don't understand the appeal.
.
.
Leaning forward, DG whispers into your ear.
To anyone else, it looks like an over-affectionate idol with their manager. If they could hear his words, "I'm going to kill you," they would think otherwise.
Ok, so this one is your fault.
The good times have to come to an end and maybe you should have been more careful with his pride and joy - some ridiculously overpriced and over-specced vehicle.
Taking advantage of the clear blue Seoul skies, the pink haired menace was the one who drove you today in his fancy imported sports car, but the speed limits and the rest of the traffic was not on his side.
Already running late, even for him, he parked somewhere convenient and illegal then passed you the keys, leaving you stranded on the sidewalk, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, as he strode off to meet his music producer and choreographer and left you to park his baby elsewhere.
Why he entrusted you with it, you're not sure.
You would have done it anyway though, because when else are you going to have an opportunity to drive a supercar, if your boss didn't call at that moment. Questioning your expenses and DG's schedule and confusing you about the fitting at a fashion house and hair styling appointment that you knew like the back of your hand but when someone is so confidently incorrect, you start to doubt yourself.
By the time you got off the phone after pacing up and down the street and checking and double checking DG's timetable, you finally make your way back to the car-
And see it in the middle of being compounded.
You had begged and pleaded with the two men who were having none of it and you left, tail between your legs, to beg and plead with the other man who you knew would also have none of it.
Damn, you hate it when you prove yourself right in these instances.
You know DG won't really kill you, but he will likely make your life hell for the next couple weeks.
.
.
A normal person being pissed off at you would probably result in the silent treatment until tempers cool down.
DG does the opposite. Sort of.
He takes pleasure in making things as awkward for you as possible, until you're squirming in your seat trying to stay professional, thinking about your job and your rent and your bills; or torn between wanting the ground to swallow you up.
Around other people, your boss, your colleagues, his colleagues, he sidles up to you all smiles and soft looks. Slips purposely into banmal, and then oopsy, pretends that he didn't mean to be so informal with you around others.
Gossip soon stirs about your and DG's close relationship, if there's something else going on. Only you can see the mischief in his eyes and the malice in his smile and you think about yanking him by the ear and demanding to know what he is playing at.
Alone, he denies any sort of miscreant behaviour. Barely listening to you complaining and snapping at him. Ending with him outright ignoring you and you fume even harder.
This time, you're not sure the punishment even fits the crime. 
Any guilt soon dissipates when his car is returned in perfect condition within a couple days but his performance lasts for weeks.
.
.
Teasing you has always been fun for DG - when your cheeks dust angrily with pink and your eyes burn with fire.
The equivalent of a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails in the school yard.
.
.
Meetings with HNH Group usually do not involve you. If it does, at most you are waiting in the car.
Luckily, there are also an assortment of cafes and restaurants within a stone's throw and it gives you some time to debrief and catch a breather from following DG's hectic schedule.
The downside is you're never sure if a two hour meeting will be condensed to fifteen minutes or if a quick catch up with Charles Choi and other Executives turns into an all nighter.
There's been days where you have ordered a meal, then had to abandon it with a sigh and a longing look as you spot DG striding out of the building looking pissed off that you're not already there, or stayed in the vehicle with the engine running and your stomach rumbling as short appointments overshoot.
Maybe this is another consequence from DG being petty and irate with you for getting his car towed - you're left snoozing at the steering wheel of your runaround, the idol standard-issue luxury minivan, waiting for his return.
It's far too late in the evening for anywhere to be open, only the fluorescent lights of convenience stores and glare of the HNH logo illuminates the streets.
DG opens the sliding door, climbs into the back and slams it hard enough to jerk you awake and rattle the entire van.
He’s sitting by himself in the back, which is odd enough in itself.
As you blink away the dregs of sleep, in the rearview mirror, you notice the stiffness in his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw. His eyes stare vacantly out the window. DG is clearly upset about something, enough to crack through his aloof veneer.
"Are you ok?" You don't get a response, not even a passing glance.
Obviously something has gone wrong with the HNH Group meeting and the stress has manifested.
You wrack your brains thinking of something that might cheer up this asshole and you think of the only thing that improves your mood when you're on the verge of a breakdown.
(Usually due to the aforementioned asshole in your current presence). 
"Tteokbokki and beer?" You offer. It’s past your bedtime but a sulky DG for the rest of the week will also ruin your week too.
DG briefly looks at you before going back to staring at the window. It’s not a no.
You don’t get home until past 4am that night. 
At your favourite late night hole-in-the-wall, you eat far more tteokbokki than DG. On second thoughts, you don’t remember him eating any at all. You’re talking and downing beers to fill the silence, trying to perk up this silly celebrity. Loose lipped and spilling far more details than you would if you were sober, with him seated opposite and sipping on a soda. 
As the night ticks along, he thaws and a small smile settles on his face watching you gesticulate and ramble about your life.
You don’t get home until past 4am that night-
With DG driving, piggybacking you up to your apartment, and tucking you into bed.
.
.
DG can’t stop thinking of the weight of you on his back, arms slung over his shoulders, legs at his waist and his hands gripping your thighs.
You slurring drunkenly into his ear as he climbs the stairs in your building. It’s mostly nonsense. He can’t make out your words but remembers your breath tickling his skin.
And when he wraps your duvet around you, the brief moment of lucidity in your eyes as you look at him, softer than you ever have, you tell him, “Thanks Diego.”
Diego.
.
.
Nothing changes between the two of you after this. Not really.
You still find him an enormous thorn in your side. Incredibly stuck up and haughty and you continue to want to throttle him on a weekly basis but you are immensely grateful for him not leaving you a passed out heap on the sidewalk.
You’re in the middle of chastising him once again, dragging him out of bed as he is running late and being an absolute dick about it. Taking it easy as if he has all the time in the world. 
Well of course he does. He’s not the one that will be getting an earful from your boss or on the receiving end of the production crew’s complaints, as if trying to manhandle and cart this manchild around is easy.
“Diego Kang, I swear to fucking god-”
"James." He says, interrupting you as he picks out and pulls an eye-wateringly expensive jumper over his head.
"What?"
"Call me James when it's just us.” He checks out his outfit in the mirror, seemingly satisfied with it, before moving onto his hair. “James Lee. That's my real name."
DG, or James Lee, keeps his eyes on his reflection. Inspecting his non-existent roots, styling his fringe to make it fall just so and applying a liberal amount of hair product.
Nonchalant and casual even as he offers something desperately personal about himself.
"James," you say, trying out the sound for yourself. A name that seems at odds with his loud K-Pop shell but you imagine a time before the fame and the celebrity and the pink hair and it somehow fits.
"James," you repeat, and receive a small smile in return. Then it drops as you add, “If you don’t get your ass in the car in the next five minutes I will kill you.”
.
.
“James,” you think to yourself before you drift off to sleep that night. 
How peculiar.
“James, James, James.”
.
.
Celebrities these days are multi-hyphenates.
DG is an Idol-CEO-Actor, or at least trying to add the last one onto his resume. On looks alone, he would have already gotten his foot through the door. Add on his reputation and popularity, he is drowning in offers.
What you personally dislike more with K-dramas scenes though, is how long things take. How much it revolves around other actors and their managers whereas DG being in the studio or filming a music video is pretty much all him.
This K-drama is supposed to be the next big thing. 
With the biggest names attached, including DG who is making a cameo. The cameo that was also scheduled to be filmed five hours ago but you have both just been lurking in his dressing room since.
Along with some measly snacks and refreshments, which the crew has been kind enough to provide. 
However, the snacks are all but gone (thanks to you) and the refreshments are dwindling and there is no end in sight.
DG, or James, as you have started to call him in your head, is on his phone. He’s always on his phone. Scrolling through news articles, responding to important emails and messages.
There’s only so much news or celebrity gossip you can take. You have exhausted your own social media feeds and you have spent far too much money on your gacha games and the guilt has set in.
You twiddle your thumbs on the sofa next to him as he takes no notice of your presence and you decide to rest your eyes. 
Why not anyway? DG doesn’t need anything right now, work won’t be interrupting you, and there’s nothing for you to do. Just for a minute or five. Until someone from the production team knocks on the door and announces that it’s time for his scene.
DG side-eyes you when he notices your breath start to slow and deepen. Falling asleep on the job, really?
Then you let out a snore before smacking your lips together a couple times and he holds back a snort. He reasons that he should let you have some time to rest. After all, you’re the one that drives him around, his life is in your hands everyday and tiredness kills.
He’s on his phone for a few more minutes, reading through more emails on PTJ Entertainment and out of the corner of his eye he notices you drooping.
Body slowly slumping to slouch over him, until your head makes contact with his shoulder and you’re snoozing happily on your newfound pillow.
It’s equal parts inappropriate and cute.
Ugh, DG is 99% sure you’re drooling on him and the wardrobe department isn’t going to be happy when he returns the outfit.
Either way, that’s not going to be his problem. He adjusts minutely, makes it just a touch more comfortable for you and continues to scroll.
.
.
You wake up to a wetness by your mouth, and to your horror, DG smirking down at you.
.
.
Despite none of this being your fault, you apologise to everyone about having to reschedule DG’s music video shoot due to the previous day’s K-drama delays.
To your relief, the music video goes swimmingly and without a hitch, and the production is wrapped up on time. 
You’ll happily bet that his new song will go straight to No.1. If not, then at least the sensual music video will guarantee DG remains top of mind for weeks. 
You’re updating your boss and even she seems to be pleased.
"This is just work." DG interrupts as you're mid call.
You look up at him, brows furrowed.
Holding your hand to your phone to mute the speaker, you whisper, "I know."
"Good," and he walks away leaving you as confused as ever.
It's not the first time you have seen him shoot an MV, which thank the heavens is so much more efficient than bloody k-dramas, and also not the first time that there's been scenes that emulate an intimate moment. Lips nearly brushing together. Hands roaming bodies under fake rain.
Even if DG notices that you're watching the scene, eyes glazed over and bored, he still felt the urge to explain to you that there's nothing between you and the leading lady in the video.
Once out of sight of everyone, he facepalms himself for his ridiculousness.
.
.
You’re right, and you absolutely love it when you’re right.
The song goes straight to No.1 and holds that position for weeks, fending off competition from boy bands and girl groups and other solo artists. Apparently it’s going to be the song of the summer.
The music video also breaks records for being the most watched within 24 hours.
DG only reviews it once for post-production checks and finds it just fine.
There’s something he can’t quite put his finger on that seems off with it.
He wonders what it would look like if it was you starring opposite him.
.
.
“Where on earth is he?” You grit your teeth and grip harder onto the umbrella that is threatening to be swept away by the wind.
And another thing with being DG’s manager: it’s fine if he’s late but not if it’s you.
(Although to be fair, this instance of him being late is likely due to this particular music producer he’s meeting with enjoying the sound of his own voice.)
You were running late exactly one time in the past, during the first couple days of managing him, when the skies opened and drenched the earth. 
Heavens forbid DG’s perfect, beautiful, flawless hair is ruined by the rain. 
It’s not like he looked like a drowned rat. The paparazzi caught him in a wet t-shirt, fabric clinging to his abs and his pink hair slicked back stylishly. Even the goddamn raindrops were running fashionably down his high cheekbones and dripping off his pout.
For the next week, the tabloids and internet forums went wild with how hot he looked. 
(Who knows, maybe that was the inspiration for his fragrance commercial.)
Nevertheless, DG was displeased and it made its way back to your boss how displeased he was.
Ever since, you have been the unfortunate soul waiting in all manners of weather for him. Rain storms, blistering sun, freezing snow.
Today, it’s your favourite. Rain. You shiver against the elements trying to take shelter under the building entrance canopy, the wind whipping the downpour every which way and you’re getting soaked regardless of how you angle your umbrella.
“Hurry up, DG.”
You check the time over and over. He would be early to his next appointment if he exited the building now. 
…On time.
…On time if the traffic was in your favour.
…Late, but not terribly so.
…Fashionably late.
… Late enough to piss everyone off in the room.
Shit. Just as you begin to fret, wondering if something has happened to him-
Clicks and flashes from cameras alert you to his royal highness finally making an appearance, ready to exit the studio and making his way over to the car.
He materialises by your side, and you mutter a familiar phrase to him. 
“You’re late.” 
It’s a mantra you’re tired of repeating, but he relishes if the amused grin is any indication.
Without a word, he takes off his trench coat and drapes it around your shoulders. His right hand covers yours over the umbrella handle, left wrapping around your waist as he guides you through the throng of reporters and fans.
“What are you doing?” You hiss under your breath. 
You can imagine the optics now from the papers and your boss. It looks… Well. Not terrible but not the best.
“You’re soaked,” is all DG provides, accompanied with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 
He opens the driver’s door for you before he climbs into the passenger’s side.
.
.
Thank goodness for your gift of the gab.
He’s being a gentleman, you tell everyone that would listen. Isn’t this what Korea wants? An idol with manners and who looks after everyone? Is empathetic and caring?
Think how well it would resonate with the female demographic, who wants a boyfriend like this! The older boomer demographic, who thinks none of the young ‘uns have any manners anymore!
Your boss isn’t convinced until the advertising offers for umbrella companies roll in.
.
.
Truth be told, DG doesn’t know what possessed him to do that. Especially in front of cameras.
Though, it’s not like he could just let you get even more drenched could he? You’re standing there, looking pitiful and he was just going to let you hold the umbrella over him when he should be the one taking care of you-
Hold on.
DG frowns at himself.
Damn.
.
.
James Lee has never looked after anyone besides himself. You need to look after yourself if you are to survive this dog eat dog world. To make it atop the Pre-Generation, the First Generation and now the Second.
He had unfathomably high expectations of himself (that he managed to achieve) and low expectations for relationships (that hadn’t been proven wrong yet).
People have flitted in and out of the chapters of his life, no-one staying around for long. Definitely no-one staying around long enough to know him, for him to grow comfortable with. 
Perhaps it has been the forced closeness that has caused him to let his guard down. Cabin fever, in a sense.
But James Lee, Diego Kang, has himself also been around long enough to know there’s more to you and he wants more of you.
.
.
Finding reasons to spend time together isn’t difficult. Actually, finding reasons to spend time apart would be much harder.
You both get on with your jobs and your duties, even as the closeness grows day by day.
And every time when you’re alone and you call him James, his heart grows fonder.
.
.
Out of all the seats available in his apartment, James lounges next to you, long legs draping over yours.
It's another night in together.
These seem to be happening with increasing frequency. DG at least used to keep up appearances, networking with his fellow celebrities.
Parties where you used to look at him with distaste as starlets surrounded him, award shows that he couldn't care less about as you hung around in the background.
Now he prefers to stay in with you, using work as a thin excuse. Studying lyrics that he has already memorised, going over dances that are long ingrained in him.
"You're not going to her party?" You ask, you were sure this fan-favourite and DG were an item or had history. At the very least, the who's who of the industry always attended her gatherings.
"No," his eyes continue roving over the lines.
Then when you thought the conversation was done, he looks over the top of his paper, eyes sparkling with playfulness, "I prefer being here with you."
Oh. Your breath catches in your throat.
You think you might never breathe normally again.
.
.
No, that’s a lie. Any opportunities for rose-tinted glasses has long passed by. You both know each other too well for that.
You breathe perfectly fine. Actually, this morning you are taking deep breaths to try and centre yourself. 
It’s not working. 
“You’re always fucking late,” you snap, giving in to your anger.
Sometimes you think it is your fault for not watching over DG 24/7. That instead of going back home, you should just live with him so you can shake him awake when he is supposed to get up instead of when he wants to.
And does it hurt him to look the least bit contrite at making your life a misery? 
Why does he have to look so smug with a lollipop stick hanging out his mouth? Seriously, between all the rushing around this morning, when did he find time to look for goddamn candy?
“For fuck’s sake, James.” You’re speed walking towards his front door, looking at the Maps app on your phone and miss his smile at you snarling his name. 
You’re already running behind and every route to the recording studio is red due to roadworks or an accident or just plain ol’ congestion. “Shit!”
Your finger jabs at the elevator button multiple times.
“It’s not going to get there any quicker if you do that,” DG speaks lowly into your ear and you get the urge to pinch him.
Instead of prodding some more at the button, you turn around and prod him in the chest.
“You’re going to get me fired one of these days,” You growl. “It’s fine for you, Diego goddamn Kang, the star who is pretty much untouchable. I’m not. I’m replaceable. There’s a million people who would take my job-”
DG snatches your hand, holds it still. “You’re not replaceable.” Then adds with an infuriating grin, “So what if we’re late.”
The minivan is skipped, and his answer to your problem is his other pride and joy. A motorbike that looks far too aggressive and a complete death trap.
“I’m not getting on that,” you say as DG hands you leathers that materialised from god-knows-where and a spare helmet.
“Fine,” he says, shrugging and throwing a leg over. “I don’t think your boss will be happy.”
“Fuck!”
.
.
If this was any other situation, you would be acutely aware of yourself pressed up against DG’s back. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
Except all you can focus on is that you’re going to fucking die. You think you might be screaming.
“Stop screaming!” His disembodied voice calls out. Oh. Turns out you are.
For some reason, DG had thought the helmets with built in speakers and mic would be better for communication. Fun, even. Frankly, you’re just giving him a headache.
(Not to mention the fact that he bought a spare helmet at all. And leathers that he thought would be exactly your size.
He had never rode with anyone before and you certainly had never expressed any interest. Yet he passed by a motorcycle store when he had rare time to spare, and visited on a whim.
If he dwelled on this anymore, DG is sure his headache would turn into a full blown migraine.)
Later that night, when the ringing in his ears finally subside, he will still think about the way you held him.
.
.
When public opinion is on your side, then that’s fantastic. Amazing. You tend to get away with all sorts of things.
When it’s not, the truth can become muddied and there’s mental gymnastics from all sides painting you as the villain.
Fortunately, public opinion generally works in DG’s favour, especially in the case of his stalker who got sentenced for more jail time than if she was harassing a normal person, but not long enough to account for all the distress she has caused.
Such is the criminal justice system.
Her date of release looms large and near. DG, despite his talent and fighting prowess, realises certain traumas can’t be erased.
He grows on edge. Skittish. Snaps at any and everything. It’s noted by journalists. Other managers gives you questioning looks
You don’t miss his change in demeanour. To you, the reason behind it is obvious. 
You’ve heard about this case, everyone has. It dominated headlines for almost a month: the crazy sasaeng fan who believed herself to be DG’s girlfriend before moving onto another poor soul and was finally arrested.
As he spirals, nothing you do or say to him manages to get more than a nod or a frown. You try to offer that she had fixated on someone else before she was arrested, hoping that was a small consolation to him. And though he managed a weak smile, the black cloud still hangs over him.
In the end, you pack your bags and arrive at DG’s one evening. Instead of letting yourself in like you usually would, you ring the buzzer, smile into the door camera and tell him “It’s me!”
The door swings open to reveal DG looking perplexed (and worse for wear). Head tilting, curious and inquisitive when he sees your suitcase and carrier bags full of snacks.
“I’m staying for a while.”
“According to who?”
You barge past him anyway with a grin.
.
.
The date of his stalker’s release arrives and passes without drama.
You miss your home comforts but it makes you happy to see DG’s mood genuinely improve as the days go on.
The luxurious oversized mattress, fancy spa shower, and jacuzzi bathtub also helps to make your stay a bit more bearable.
Not to mention each morning DG actually cooks breakfast for you. Turns out he’s not bad at all at playing a househusband, and it’s also maddening how he manages to get up each day before you when he hasn’t got any place to be.
“Thanks James,” you say, when he presents you with a home cooked meal and his smile grows a bit more each day.
.
.
Peace doesn’t last.
Blurry photos of you both leaving and entering DG’s apartment at all hours of the day and night make the front page of certain news sites.
Headlines scream with leading questions. 
“Relationship beyond Manager and Idol?”
“How a Manager seduced their Idol.” 
“Who is this mystery person that has tamed DG?”
Why anyone deemed it newsworthy is beyond you. You’ve been to his apartment a million times. 
Yes, you suppose the closeness of DG and yourself in the photos can look a little suspect. 
In this particular one, it looks like you have your hand caressing his chest when in actual fact you were shoving him away for a dismissive comment he made.
And the other photo, of his hand on your wrist, was actually him dragging you away when he spotted a herd of fans in the distance.
More pictures unveil themselves.
A snapshot of you driving and DG feeding you candy.
You and DG, whispering intimately in your ear as his supercar is being towed away in the background.
You red faced and drunk as DG piggybacks you outside your building.
His jacket wrapped around you, hand on your waist and angling the umbrella over you.
Him smiling down at you (ok, you admit that you didn’t realise how soft that looks to other people.)
Finally an exceptionally pixelated image of you both on his bike, that could be anyone really.
Unfortunately, your opinion is in the minority as the articles are inundated with comments and furious, tearful fans shrieking that their idol is betraying them. 
Simply unhinged.
.
.
The speculation grows. You’re damned if you do deny anything, damned if you don’t. Your talent agency puts out an official statement.
To your ire, the statement is ‘no comment’ rather than anything more definitive. You glare at James when you find out, suspecting he has something to do with this.
He gives you a shrug, and a familiar look of mischief.
To his credit, he doesn’t leave you completely to fend for yourself. You stay off social media for your sanity, and when the paparazzi hounds you, he's the one with his arm around you, cutting a path through the crowd and shielding you.
It adds fuel to the fire. Does nothing to help your case. 
Still, you can’t help feeling safe and secure with his hand guiding you - holding onto your waist, round your shoulder, or simply - 
Your hand in his.
.
.
Outside of the conference room, where DG is wrapping up a press release for his newest album and nothing else, a reporter slinks out and approaches you.
You’re used to being on the other side of the conversation. Part of the staff, herding DG through camera flashes and questions being thrown at him though there was always some sort of camaraderie. Both parties just trying to do their job with deadlines and targets to hit.
This time you just feel a weariness as you see this person making a beeline towards you.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” They say, holding out their hand for a shake which you take with reluctance.
“Hi.”
A voice recorder is thrusted into your face, and you automatically take a step back. “Hope you don’t mind, but I just have a couple questions for you.”
“Um...”
“There’s been lots of sightings of you and DG together-”
You open your mouth to argue-
“Can you confirm your relationship with him?”
A vacant smile settles onto your face. It’s a practised expression where you follow all the cues to be polite and professional even as internally you wish to be anywhere but here. “I’m his manager.”
“Are you two together? Romantically?”
“I’m his manager.” You repeat through gritted teeth, and you’re surprised to hear your voice calm and collected.
“Is that a no? Or-”
“What even is this question?” You scoff, ignoring the way your cheeks heat, and refusing to partake in this circus a moment longer. “This is over.”
You manage to at least catch them looking apologetic, before you stride off into a corner to take a deep breath.
.
.
DG, much more adept and experienced at fending off questions, had finished the conference early and caught the entire exchange, watching you both with a bemused look.
Walking towards you with quiet, measured footsteps, his hand settles onto your lower back as he murmurs your name.
He bites back a laugh at your small, startled jolt.
DG tilts his head to signal ‘this way’. You give him a look but follow him regardless. Trailing behind, moving far away from other prying eyes. 
Up a flight of stairs, through multiple fire doors, turning left then right then another right then maybe a left. It doesn’t matter. You’re hopefully lost and decide to just put your faith in this wretched idol.
He finally seems to find what he’s looking for as he reaches an empty corridor; stopping mid-step and you collide into his back.
“Ack!” You exclaim, hitting the solid wall of muscle.
He lets out a huff of laughter and whirls around to face you, noting how cute your look of surprise is.
How strange though, that this is his current position. But is it really unexpected that the person that has been by his side for months has finally worked their way into his heart and has somehow learned to read him when no-one else could?
If he really thinks about it, yes actually, it is unexpected. No-one else has managed to grow close to him before. As James Lee, as Diego Kang. Birds of a feather or opposites attract or everything in between, no-one has got him like you do. 
There’s still so much more to tell and show you but… First things first.
Fidgeting, you shift your weight from one foot to another, growing self-conscious waiting for DG to talk, only to find him staring intently at your face. Impatient, you give in and speak first.
“What is it?”
“...”
“Diego-”
“James.” He cuts in abruptly, “It’s just us right now. Please.”
You blink in shock at the please and correct yourself at his insistence, lowering your voice so it doesn’t echo down the empty hallway. “James, are you ok?”
“Better than ever,” he says, a smirk now pulling at his lips.
You register his change in mood and narrow your eyes, wondering where this is going. “Why are we here?”
“When the reporter asked if we were together, you said you’re my manager.”
“I am your manager.”
“But you are interested in me.”
It’s not a question. DG, no James, says it like a fact and there’s no doubt in your mind or his. You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. Open it once more-
What.
You feel some cogs in your brain misfiring and all you can manage is a feeble, “Huh?”
“You told them you’re my manager, but didn’t say no to being with me.”
“...”
“So. What do you think?”
“Of what?”
“Us.”
“You like me. Tell me that I’m wrong.”
You take a step back. “...”
Another step. “...”
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
And your back hits the wall with an oomph.
DG slaps his hand on the wall beside your head, bends at the waist and leans his weight forward until he’s eye level with you. “Tell me and I promise I’ll stop.”
“...”
You’re cornered and he searches your face for a response.“Y/N?”
“...”
Fuck. Fuck!
How on earth are you supposed to respond when he looks at you like this. When his face is millimetres from yours and his breath is on your skin and his dark eyes pierces into your soul, pupils blown deliciously wide.
With his stupid pink hair and his fringe flopping, framing his face and his high cheekbones.
The stupid canines of his poking out that gives him so much character and is so hot it hurts when he flashes it accompanied with an arched brow and an arrogant smile.
His stupid pout and his stupid lips, that you know is constantly moisturised with a fancy overpriced lip balm to make it look kissable for the cameras.
And Jesus Christ, you hate to admit it but they do. They 100% do because somewhere in the back of your brain you always knew they look kissable but it has been often clouded by just simply how annoying and bratty you found him.
Except right now you don’t find him annoying or bratty at all.
Even as he’s confessing his feelings with complete confidence, no unease, no anxiety or doubts, because he always had a way of worming under your skin and he knows exactly how to push your buttons.
Damn it all.
“Kiss me,” you tell James, and he isn’t surprised at all by your reaction, face lighting up at your confirmation.
He shifts. 
Hand coming up to cup your cheek. He rubs his thumb twice over your skin, savouring you any way he can before tilting your face towards his. His lips at first brushes against your forehead. Leaves a trail down your nose, peppers both cheeks and then your chin. 
He draws back once, takes in your sweet face and gives you a smile so soft it makes your heart hurt.
Then finally, after wanting this for so long, presses his lips against yours.
Diego Kang, James Lee, tastes like candy and sugar.
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