#it’s like his character is taking a downwards spiral | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freelancearsonist · 9 months ago

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make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.”

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this.

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in.

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

➔ beta: @fhatbhabie dividers: @saradika-graphics

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #cece writes

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inbarfink · 1 year ago

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Okay, so here’s the thing….

We are still at a very early point in the narrative of ‘Fionna and Cake’ and therefore at a very early point in Simon’s character arc. It’s pretty clear that “I need to become Ice King again” is not the end point by any meaning of the word. But I am wondering where we’re going to go with this, cause… The series has yet to really tackle how miserable Ice King himself was a lot of the time. And how often he hurt people.

Like, yes, I was an advent advocates for 'trying to bring back Simon Petrikov was a really really Bad Idea on Betty's part, it was more healthy to focus on making sure Ice King was as happy and healthy and harmless as he could be', but I am also fully aware that he started the show being both extremely lonely and extremely sad and also a serial kidnapper who was very much a danger to those around him. And as much progress as he made during the show, getting Ice King to that point was a very serious struggle with a lot of backslidings and problems.

'Friends Forever' is, for example, an episode that stuck with me for a long time as a really heart-wrenching demonstration how even in that late stage, when he has buddies and people trying to seriously take care of him - Ice King was still very capable of seriously sabotaging his own relationships and hurting others and himself.

And it does make sense narratively that, like, characters like Astrid and Fionna and Cake, all of whom lack the full context of what Ice King's life was like (Fionna and Cake really just saw Simon at his worst and only got snippets of clips of Ice King and since Astrid was born after Humans came to Ooo that means she was also born after the events of ‘Come Along With Me’) all see Simon as a downgrade. Because they really don’t understand how bad Ice King was beforehand.

And thus is does make sense that with Simon's current mental state, and how he is surrounded lately with these kinda people who never really knew Ice King and don’t really understand how terrible and miserable he could be, and now hearing that his ‘sanity’ just took away magic and whimsy from some else’s whole universe, and how it feels like the actual gods of the multiverse are telling him that he should be Ice King, that he's supposed to be Ice King....

It makes sense that he might start kinda... romanticizing that time in his life again.

You know, the big thing about the outlook that Betty should’ve accepted Ice King as who he is rather than basically destroy herself to bring Simon back wasn't about whatever Ice King or Simon Petrikov were better or 'cooler' than the other. It was about, like, embracing change. Not obsessing about a past where things were ‘Better’ but seeing what is the best you can do with things as they are. Moving forwards.

And we all know how Simon feels about moving forwards right now…

And obviously that's a pretty bad mindset, even if it's understandable how he got there...

And honestly, if we do explicitly acknowledge that, hey! Ice King’s life was often just as much of a depressive spiral as Simon's is right now! There might be an element of… resignation in Simon’s decision.

Because Simon's downward spiral since getting cured is not a demonstration that he was better off under the Ice Crown's curse.... But, to him, more a demonstration that he doesn't need the Crown to screw up his own life anymore.

‘Cause as both as Ice King and as good ol’ ‘sane’ Simon Petrikov he is just as capable of being lonely and depressed.

And just as capable of losing his own identity.

And just as capable of pushing his loved ones away and ruining his own life.

And just as capable of becoming a weirdo obsessive.

And just as capable of making little girls cry.

He even started kidnapping people again! That’s the Ice King Classic!

So on some level, maybe Simon is resigned to the fact he’s always going to be SOME sort of screwed up lonely sadman who hurts others. And if that is his fate, he might as well be the screwed up lonely sadman who is mostly oblivious to how sad he really is and can shoot ice from his fingertips. And his arc is going to be about realizing that, whether he is Ice King or Simon Petrikov, healing and change ARE always possible for him.

But we’re gonna have to see where it goes…

#adventure time #atimers #fionna and cake #adventure time fionna and cake #adventure time spoilers #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna and cake series #fionna and cake show #at spoilers #fac spoilers #simon petrikov #simon adventure time #adventure time simon #ice king #the ice king #adventure time ice king #ice king adventure time #fionna and cake simon #prismo the wishmaster

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ohtobeleah · 18 days ago

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Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Twelve: [Bring Me The Horizon]

Summary: After Jensen and Jake finish their face-off, you tell Jake how it is. He practices the art of holding himself accountable for his actions, and you get a call that would send you into a downward spiral. Putting you in jeopardy right before your surgery.

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion. JEALOUS JAKE!

Word Count: 5.1k

Author Note: WOW and we’re back baby. Another year has passed us by and we are finishing this series. Strap in for the final three episodes of this roller coaster of a series. You never know where we might just end up.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The triangular theory of love is a theory developed by Robert Sternberg. In the context of interpersonal relationships, the three components of love according to the triangular theory are, intimacy, passion, and a decision/commitment component. For Jake, he felt like love was more than just a triangular theory. Love is all-encompassing in every aspect of life. And if you look closely, love can be seen all around us in all different forms.

“Bradshaw, now’s not the time man,” Jake sighed as he made his way back down the hospital hallway to your room, walking with his shoulders down and his ego battered and bruised. “I gotta fix an issue and my head’s not–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, Rooster interrupted with a crucial question he needed answered now.

“How is your mother gonna react when I show up to take your kids?” The genuine concern in Bradley’s voice was clear enough for Jake to stay on the line as he walked. “Do I need to be concerned about her calling the cops?”

“Dude,” Jake groaned to himself in frustration as he walked with purpose down the hall. He could feel his rage and frustration bubbling to the surface with every step he took. Who did this Jensen guy think he was? Who did Jake think he was? You didn’t ask for any of this and you definitely didn’t deserve his tantrum before. “She’s not gonna call the cops on you, just tell her to call me if you have any issues and get Jas to help you.”

“Your mother is a terrifying woman–” Rooster added, just to rub salt into Jake’s already existing childhood wounds.

“Well, at least she’s alive.” Jake had never regretted a sentence more in his life. The second he realised what he’d said and who he was speaking to, his heart fell straight out of his arse. “Bradshaw I didn’t mean–” Before Jake had a chance to speak, before he had a chance to explain that he wasn’t talking about Carole—he was talking about you—the line went dead.

“Fuck!” Jake looked at his phone screen to see the call had indeed been ended. He felt the panic inside his chest. The guilt.

Jake had developed a pretty uncanny ability to fuck things up. He couldn’t help himself at the moment. He was having a hard time regulating his emotions. It never had been his strong suit, but now it was worse than ever. Perhaps the idea of losing you forever was the cause. Jake couldn’t accept the possibility that there was a good to fair chance you might not walk away from this fight.

But he could see the bottom of your bed again and where your feet were underneath the breathable hospital blanket that did nothing to keep you warm. With every step Jake took in the hall, he got closer and closer to where he’d left you. And with every step he took he tried to formulate an apology that would reflect his utter sorrow. His pain. His guilt. You were the first person that deserved an apology for Jake’s actions. Bradley would just have to wait.

In hospitals, people see addiction every day. It’s shocking how many kinds of addiction exist. It would be far too easy if it were just drugs, alcohol and cigarettes people were addicted to. The hardest part about kicking an addiction is wanting to kick it. I mean we get addicted for a reason, right?

Often, too often, things start as a normal part of your life and at some point, cross the line into obsessive needs, compulsive out of out-of-control desires. It’s the high people chase. The high that makes everything else…fade away. But nothing could make Jake Seresin fade away. Nothing so far had helped you kick the addiction. Not even when you left.

The harsh reality about addiction is it never ends well. Because eventually, whatever it is that was getting you that high…stops feeling good and starts to hurt. So when the very person you were addicted to walked back into your hospital room, the hurt started all over again well and truly after the high had died down.

“Okay,” Jake stopped in his tracks when he saw that look in your eyes. Although a sense of calm washed over him the second he saw you again, he knew he was probably the last person you wanted to see after the way he behaved before. “I recognised I’m in the wrong here.” It was the look he wished he’d never been on the receiving end of again. A look of disappointment mixed with anger, hatred, and, above all, sadness. “I owe you an apology.”

“No thanks,” The tone you conveyed was sinister. There was no warmth. No love. No room for compassion or empathy. “I’m not interested in another empty apology.” You didn't even look Jake’s way. You just continued on with the little word finder you had picked up in Jensen and Jake’s absence. “If you’re done swinging your dick around in the hall like a psychopath, I need to rest.”

Jake was stunned. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He knew he deserved that. He knew he’d taken things too far. He knew he’d flown over the handlebars the second Jensen stepped into your room. But it was all out of fear of losing you. Why couldn’t you see that? Jake felt as if he could stand right in front of you and you’d look straight through him.

“Honey, don’t be like that,” Jake sighed as he took a few steps towards your bedside. The bouquet Jensen had brought you was lying haphazardly on the little bedside cupboard. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did alright, I know, and I promise you I’m trying here.” Jake sighed as he looked at the flowers another man had gone out of his way to buy you. A dying man.

A dead man walking.

“I’m glad you’re self-aware,” You replied yet again without paying any mind to Jake’s whereabouts in your room. “Never really was your strong suit.” You murmured just loud enough for Jake to hear your mild insult. You could have said it louder, hell, you should have. But regardless of Jake’s actions…he was an addictive drug. One that made it incredibly hard to kick the habit. One you knew you’d go back to. One you wished loved you the same way you loved him.

“Jensen knocked some sense into me,” Jake tried his best to explain all the while he tried to hold back the lump in his throat. The kind of lump that brought tears and panic attacks with it. “He was kind enough to set the record straight.”

“You understand how big of a piece of shit you have to be to say what you said, right?” It was the first time your tone had changed. There was something beyond painful in the way you spoke. Something Jake had tried time and time again not to be the cause of. Heartbreak. Betrayal even. “You jealous, insecure man.”

For a second, Jake absorbed the blow. He took it on the chin like a champion because nothing you were saying was wrong. He was scared of losing the love of his life in a way that wasn’t just through marriage.

“I know,” Jake replied as he picked up the bouquet and looked around. He was looking for somewhere to put them. Somewhere to display the beauty that they emulated. Beauty that reflected you. Where could he get a jug or something to put these in? “I don’t have an excuse to give you, honey,” Jake was trying his best to stick to the honesty is the best policy crap he’d been taught as a child. “I’m just, I got so worked up when he came in here knowing more about you than I did and–”

“Jensen is a friend from group therapy,” You explained yet again. “And this is the last time I’m gonna say it before I let you run off with whatever version of a warped reality you wanna believe but I swear, there isn’t anyone else.” You sat up a little straighter in your bed as you closed your find-a-word book. “I have cancer, Jake. In what world would anyone want me?”

“You love her, don’t you? You’re in love with my wife, say it.” Jake could hear himself asking the all-important question. He could see himself standing in the hall with the man who had selflessly intertwined his life with yours in order to make you feel less alone in the world.

“Maybe–” Jake vividly heard Jensens reply as he stood staring at the tears that fell down your cheeks. Tears he was the very cause of. “Maybe I love her, but I don’t get a chance to explore that, you do though.”

“Me?” It was the sincerity in Jake’s voice that broke you as he put the bouquet down where he’d originally found it and made his way to sit beside you on your bed. “I want you forever and the very idea that some guy—some guy I know is a better man than I will ever be—brought you, my wife, flowers when I didn’t? Kills me.”

“I don’t care about the flowers,” You sighed as Jake wrapped you up in his arms.

“I know, but I let my own insecurities out in a way I never should have and I’m so sorry for the things I said. You don’t deserve that, ever.” It was genuine. The apology for his actions. Jake knew he was in the wrong with how he acted out. You could very clearly see that he was truly sorry. But letting him know that now would have been too easy.

The pair of you sat in your hospital bed for the better half of five minutes silently enjoying each other’s presence and gentle touch. Until you broke.

“I hope you aren’t expecting me to say apology accepted?” You smiled softly as you nuzzled into Jake’s chest a little more. Finding a comfortable position to rest in as you sunk lower in the hospital bed that wasn’t built for two fully grown human beings.

“Nope,” Jake chuckled as he kissed the top of your head, freshly shaved and matching his own. “And I don’t think Rooster is gonna be accepting any apology I give him anytime soon, so the list is growing.”

“What happened with Rooster?” You asked cautiously. You felt the tension take over your husband’s body as he processed what you‘d just asked. Jake held you a little tighter as he once again kissed the top of your freshly shaved head. The notes of your shampoo must have seeped into your scalp. He could still vividly smell the residual fragrance of bergamot.

“Nothing that can’t be explained,” Jake sighed softly. He hated himself with a deep-rooted passion right now. The one thing he wanted to do more than anything else was take you home and pretend everything was alright for just one night. But he couldn’t do that. “Please, don’t worry about my mistakes when you have so much on your plate already. I’ll figure it out. Rooster and I always do.”

“Hmm,” You replied with hesitation as you let your eyes close. The lup-dup of Jake’s heartrate soothed your soul, a heart that begged to be loved in all the ways he deserved to be loved. “I hope so. Martha Stewart’s best and closest friend said the words that sent her to prison,” You explained all the while Jake’s fingers drew unidentifiable objects into the supple skin of your forearm, careful not to mess with any of the tubes attached to you. It was grounding. “So whatever happened between you and Bradshaw I hope you fix it before he spills all your dirty little military secrets.”

“Good thing you’re a true crime author, huh?” Jake smiled with a reluctance to give in to his biggest desire. What would be the repercussions of sneaking you out of this hospital right now?

“No way you’re ending up in one of my books anytime soon,” You giggled softly. Jake felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of your happiness. You felt it too. The moment his heart decided it needed a second to process the laughter you let out. “I love you.”

“I love you too, honey,” Although the circumstances said otherwise, for a second Jake felt like the luckiest guy on the planet. To be loved by you. To be the one you called home. To be the man you chose would forever be Jake’s greatest accomplishment in life. “I could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve you in any of them.”

************************

“No signs of life.”

There’s a reason surgeons learn to wield scalpels. They like to pretend they’re hard, cold scientists. They like to pretend they’re fearless. But the truth is they become surgeons because somewhere, deep down, they think they can cut away that which haunts us.

Weakness, frailty, death.

It isn’t just surgeons. It’s paramedics too. First responders like to think they have a hand in what fate holds for you. They believe that if they can move a little quicker, stop the bleeding a little faster, and save you from life-threatening injuries, they can give you extra time. Even for just a day.

But the truth is, we don’t know a single person who isn’t haunted by something…or someone. And whether people try to slice the pain away with a scalpel, pull someone from a car wreck, or shove it in the back of a closet…our efforts usually fail.

So the only way we can clear out the cobwebs is to turn a new page or put an old story to rest…finally, finally…to rest.

“Do we have any information on the victim?” Ilona shook her head as her unit chief looked around the scene. A single-car accident. The mangled wreck of twisted aluminium and shattered glass really painted a telling tale of destruction. No one could have survived the magnitude of injuries that they would have sustained on impact.

“I’ll see if one of the guys picked up a phone or something, perhaps it’s still viable,” Ilona replied in a monotone voice. She was new to the horrors that her job sometimes brought with it. The hurricane forced winds that would sometimes knock her right off her feet. But she was learning how to work through the plethora of different emotions in a professional manner. “Poor guy, what do you think happened?”

The black body bag laid out on the stretcher was a not-so-gentle reminder that life was a precious gift. Paramedics carried the deceased man until they were loading him into the back of the van. No sirens would be needed for this particular patient.

“Crash investigation should have a report for us in about a week,” Taylor, the unit chief, replied as he watched the doors to the ambulance close with a thud. “We’ll need to get an ID as soon as possible to inform the family.”

“I have a phone!!” Ilona heard the explanation from one of her co-workers. She turned with a grin on her face back to her boss.

“We have a phone,” She repeated. “I’ll get right on it chef.”

************************

Lydia still felt awful. She hadn’t quite shaken the existential dread that came with her almost career-ending mistake. She sat behind the desk at the nurses station just replaying the events back in her mind. How could she just assume someone to be someone’s emergency contact?

In retrospect, Lydia now understood clear as daylight that relationships were interpersonal and held deeper value than what was on paper. Jake Seresin may not have been your emergency contact, but he sure was the love of your life.

“You want me to do her observations?” Lydia heard one of her colleagues ask with a snicker. They all knew by this point in time what she had done. But now wasn’t the time to retreat and fall back. If she wanted to get past this, she needed to put on a brave face.

“Nope,” Lydia shook her head as he rose to her feet. “I’ve got it,” She explained with a faux smile. “Is he not intimidating?”

“Mr. Seresin?” Her colleague, Rebecca, replied with a mouthful of two-minute noodles she’d been scoffing down in the small window of reprieve. “Guy’s like a labrador. I mean, that is if you didn’t fuck up his wife’s chart badly enough to call the wrong person labelled clearly as an emergency contact.”

“Ha. Ha.” Lydia barely had the time or the energy to humour her coworkers as they giggled and snickered as she made her way into your room. Jake was wide awake. He hadn’t noticed Lydia standing in the threshold of the door. But Lydia noticed how he held you with such care as you slept soundly.

“Oh,” She cooed softly as she knocked her knuckles against the door. “Sorry to interrupt Mr. Seresin but I need to take some observations for Dr. Ignati.”

“Would it be alright if she slept for even just five more minutes?” Jake was quick to advocate on your behalf. He could tell just how tired and overwhelmed with everything you’d become. Now that he was here and by your side, he was going to make sure you got the best possible treatment there was to offer.

Lydia looked around at the Christmas lights that hung around your room. They twinkled and changed colour on a whim, never staying the same colour for long. The way they hung like they’d been thrown all over the place added a joyful smile across her face.

“I’m sure I can take my time,” Lydia agreed as she approached your bedside. “How’s she been feeling?”

“As good as you’d expect to feel given the circumstances, kid,” Jake replied with a yawn. He was able to stretch his limbs a little as he did so. Although, with every move he cautiously made, Jake was careful not to disturb you. “I assume her surgery is still going ahead as planned?”

“As far as I’m aware,” Lydia confirmed as she checked over your chart and wrote down what she saw on your monitors. “Dr. Ignati should be around earlier in the morning to discuss everything once more.”

“How long have you been working here?” Jake asked. He thought some small talk would be beneficial for not only him but for Lydia too. He could tell the question struck a nerve but pressed on nevertheless. “Because if I’m being perfectly honest, it doesn’t seem like very long.”

“Eight months now,” Lydia replied with a short tone. Jake chuckled to himself as he watched her cross out what she had previously written and wrote down what she had originally intended. “Can you tell I’m also not very good at my job?”

“It doesn’t seem out of ignorance,” Jake offered up his version of advice. “I just think you’re rushing things.” The advice didn’t fall on deaf ears like Jake thought it might. Instead, Lydia stopped what she was doing and took a nice deep long breath in. “In my line of work, things can go wrong in the blink of an eye,” Jake explained as he gently rubbed small circles into the palm of your hand with his thumb. If he was careful, he could feel the throbbing of your pulse point. “Gotta learn how to trust your instincts.”

“My last instinct was that you were your wife’s emergency contact,” Lydia didn’t feel as if she needed to remind Jake of her biggest mistake of all time, but she did anyway. Jake understood what it was like to stay hung up on mistakes he couldn’t change. But he knew what he was about to say next would ease the burden Lydia was feeling.

“Honestly, that’s more on me than it is on you,” Jake sighed as you stirred in his arms. He hoped you‘d stay asleep for just a little longer. You needed it. You deserved to rest soundly.

“How so?” Lydia asked softly as went back to her duties. What Jake said to her next, however, had Lydia looking at the situation she found herself in from a different perspective. And sometimes a little perspective is all you need.

“Well, I shouldn’t have let it get to a point where I wasn’t.”

************************

Life gets easier when you realise that there’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Decisions are simply pivots. Each one you make will take you down a new road that will likely be both magic and miserable. Beautiful and ugly. That’s because life is a polarity. Easy doesn’t exist without hard. Good doesn’t exist without bad.

There is no right or wrong answer. Trust that whatever decision you make can always be followed by another decision.

“I hate this,” You mumbled as you walked to the bathroom with your IV support poll. “I already hate all of this so much.” You knew you were feeding into the depression, but you couldn’t help but feel down in the dumps about your current situation.

“I think everything you’re feeling is valid, honey,” Jake answered as he trailed behind, giving you the independence he knew you wanted to keep but also staying close by in case you needed him. “After surgery–” Jake couldn’t even finish the sentence he’d planned to speak into existence.

“Don’t mention surgery,” You interrupted as you made your way over to the shower. “I don’t even wanna think about the surgery tomorrow.”

“You do know that even if you ignore it, you still have to have surgery?” Jake asked as he frowned his brows and looked at you through the mirror. “We’re on the same page about that, right?”

“What if I told you I’m just scared and don’t want anything to happen while I’m cut open like a fish?” You sassed as you looked back at Jake through the mirror. “If something happens–”

“Hey, nothing's gonna happen,” Jake was quick to close the small gap between the two of you. He stood so close that your back pressed up against his chest. His eyes never left yours through the mirror you stood before. “I won’t let anything happen to you, or the kids for that matter.”

“You left the kids with your mother,” You reminded your husband as he pressed his lips into a tight line of regret. “That alone is gonna cause them enough trauma Mr. ‘I won’t let anything happen to the kids’”

“You wound me, sweetheart,” Jake sighed as he tilted his head back and let out a sigh. “Besides, it’s actually you she hates, not the kids,”

“Do you wanna help me shower or not?” You finally turned around to stand face-to-face with Jake. He was already smirking ear to ear. And it didn’t take long at all before his hands were dropping to your waist, slowly but surely making their slightly calloused way to the exposed skin of your ass. The hospital gown left little to the imagination. Jake wasn’t complaining.

“When have I ever passed up the opportunity to see you naked?” Jake replied with a smirk you recognised was laced with lust. You felt him squeeze softly at your arse cheek playfully. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on,”

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” You giggled as Jake made sure to count the staples on your head. He knew whatever came next would have to be soft. It would have to be gentle and full of love. Not that it ever wasn’t full of love.

“You drive me crazy, honey,” Jake explained as he caught your lips with his. You couldn’t help but to melt into his body as you kissed him back. Jake’s hands kneaded at the handfuls of arse he never wanted to let go of as he moaned into your mouth.

The feeling was electric. The moan your husband let out sent shivers down your spine. It was an animalistic attraction that you’d tried so hard to suppress in your separation. But no toy on earth could satisfy you like Jake could. Not even when they were bought with his money.

“I love you so much,” Jake cooed as he pulled back just enough to let his forehead rest against yours. “You’re gonna get through this, I promise,” He left it at that as you wrapped your arms around his waist for a much-needed hug.

When you let go, you took a moment to drink in the sight of your husband. You stared at all the perfect little imperfections that littered his skin. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than normal. That was to be expected though.

“Jake?” You cooed as you reached up to swipe the pad of your thumb across his lower lip.

“I’m right here,” Jake replied as he kept his eyes closed. If he opened them he knew the tears he was trying so desperately to keep in would fall. If he cried in front of you he'd never be able to stop himself.

“I need you to wake up for me, alright?”

“What did you say?” Jake frowned as he opened his eyes and looked at you all confused. He knew what you said. He heard it crystal clear. But he needed you to repeat it. He needed to hear you say it again, just once. The fluorescent bathroom light flickered as he stared at you. For a second…Jake stood alone in a hospital room he didn’t recognise. Only for him to find himself standing right before you again in the blink of an eye. “Honey?”

“I said I need you to get my phone for me?” You repeated calmly. “My phone is ringing and if I try to race to it I won't get there in time.” The explanation fit the response you gave him. Jake thought for a moment there he was going crazy. He needed more sleep, that was without a doubt the answer to his second of madness.

Jake silently nodded in agreement before he kissed your forehead. He was only gone for a few seconds before he returned with your phone. Still ringing.

“Who is it?” You asked as you reached out to take your phone from Jake. By the look smeared across his face, it wasn't someone he necessarily liked.

“It’s your boyfriend,” Jake teased as he handed you your phone. Based on that comment alone you knew it was Jensen.

“Careful Seresin,” You teased lovingly, hoping Jake believed what you had told him earlier. “He might be my next husband if you don't play your cards right.”

Jake knew you were kidding and if anything he deserved that comeback. He didn't like the guy, that much was true. But he could see how having someone who knew what it was like to not know your own body could be beneficial to the mind.

“You caught me at a bad time,” Jake watched as you answered the phone and held it up to your ear. “I–oh,” You paused. The immediate worry that took over the expanse of your face was enough to have the little hairs on the back of Jake's neck standing on edge.

“Jensen Huges–” The name hung heavy in the air around you as you listened to the woman on the other end of the line. According to her, there had been a small piece of paper tucked into the phone case of this particular phone at the scene of an accident. Your name. Your number. “Oh, no, no don't tell me that,” You begged.

Jake was unable to hear what was being said in the silence, but as he watched your eyes well with tears, he knew.

“Y/n, give me the phone, honey,” He whispered as he gestured to your phone. You shook your head in response as you continued to listen to the woman who had introduced herself as Ilona. A police officer with the Rhode Island police. “Sweetheart?” Jake cooed as he reached out for you. The second his fingertips grazed your shoulder…You fell. “Shit–”

“NOOOOOOO!” The guttural scream you let out scared Jake to his very core. He’d never in his life heard you sound the way you did as you crumbled on the floor in the bathroom. “NOOOOOO!”

“Baby, baby I'm here, what happened?” Jake asked softly as he cupped your face in his hands. Your phone was long forgotten. It had crashed down when you did. “Tell me what happened so I can help you, honey?”

“He–he left me,” You managed to gasp out between sobs. “And I can’t–I can’t breathe, Jake, I ca–”

“Hey, I’ve got you,” Jake promised you as he held you tightly in his arms. “It’s gonna be alright,” Jake seemed to have been in the business of making promises he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep. He had no fucking idea if things would be alright. But he needed them to be.

“I can't do this without him,” You cried out in utter anguish. “He, he was the st-strongest,” Jake could tell where this was going as you struggled to speak through your grief-stricken sobs. “If he—then I,”

“I’ve lost count of all the rooms you've been tall in Y/n,” It broke his heart to see you like this. So full of heartbreak. So full of hopelessness. “You gotta keep fighting, I don’t know what I’ll do without you,”

“I don't know how to!” You admitted to not only yourself but to your husband as well. “I don't know how!”

“I’m right here, honey,” Jake held you as tight as he could on the bathroom floor. “You don't have a choice,” He explained as you cried your heart out in a way Jake had never seen you cry before. He could hear your voice echoing in his head.

“You need to wake up,”

“Don't give up on me now Y/n, I can't lose you to this alright?” Jake felt his own tears streaming down his cheeks. The tears he no longer had the strength to fight. The way you willed yourself to wake up from this nightmare you were living broke his heart into pieces. The tears he no longer had the strength to fight. “Please, you gotta keep fighting this.”

“He was the stronger one,” You replied as you cried yourself into a ball in Jake's arms. Clutching at his arms as your nails dug into his forearms. Grief was a funny thing. “I can't–”

“You have to,” Jake cried with you. He was losing the love of his life and there was nothing he could do to stop this nightmare from happening. “I’m gonna be right here every step.”

“I just want you to wake up,” It was all you said. Jake knew he heard you that time. He heard you loud and clear… “Please, don't leave me,”

But he had no idea what you were saying.

**********************************

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @marvelogic

@itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional

@jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere

@withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30

@accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989

#jake seresin x reader #was it over? // jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin angst

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hana-no-seiiki · 10 months ago

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cat villain reader my beloved. I'm so obsessed with it already. Please tell us more.

HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA THEY ASKED FOR IT SO YOU CANT BLAME ME NOW F-

@sophiethewitch1 hi here’s your daily schizophrenic voice giving you even more mental illness

another short one cause im still lazy asf

I feel like a broken record just playing different flavors of the same oc/reader on my blog with the batfam i swear

tim is the only batfam member who figured out your identity prior to your own snooping

mostly because bruce’s identity was already aired out to your by selina and damian being his blood born son + appearing out of nowhere was a given.

as such it provided a lot of interesting scenarios

such as that one week where you were extremely active in your heists. like more so than the usual which was already a lot.

of course, you always tried to keep a sense of mystery as your cat villain self so asking you as robin wouldn’t have worked

so tim decided to approach you in class ( you were his senior or maybe even a young, fresh out of uni prof) and ask you why you seemed so…different or frantic lately

“oh. am i?” tim narrowed his eyes. it was so you to answer with another question, even as a civilian.

“sorry, i’m just really excited about this new limited edition robin figure of the new guy in the suit and—“

you proceeded to go on a ramble about your headcannons of the dude, saying how different and/or similar he was to robins of the past and ofc how much you admired him

this leads to his eventual downward spiral into depravation and horny

oh and unrelated to the boys, my headcannons for reader’s powers are as follows (mostly inspired from cat related cartoon characters)

invisibility/teleportation (from kitty chesire)

and cataclysm (from chat noir)

okay back to the boys

you and jason definitely had the biggest enemies to lovers arc out of everyone

like next to dick and damian, jason and you definitely hated each other’s guts

at that time you were dating dick and wanted him to stay as robin. pretty much in denial and anger, which led to you lashing out on jason.

at that time you still had hope for batman’s parenting skills and wanted jason to not take the opportunity he was given for granted

eventually you two found a lot in common and after a lot of deliberating and losing your mind with thoughts of “what ifs” and “but what about”s you broke it off with dick to pursue him

only to find out that jason was killed

people that knew you say you moved on pretty quickly. as if he was no more than a passing thought in your pretty little head.

but people like selina knew that out of everyone on this planet, the incident broke you the most

turning you into this near-empty husk, an imitation of what you were like

only filled with fear and anxiety

you would hurt people more, be more reckless

and boy do these men like playing savior to the fallen like you.

EXTRA:

i absolutely believe that as soon as you found out red hood was jason you two boned. like literally on whatever street/alleyway/battle you guys were in

emotions were high

and you two definitely cried the whole time im not sorry-

also you two always quote pride and prejudice lines at eachother

went from rabid dog that bit you several times to your goodest boy fr fr

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yesimwriting · 28 days ago

Text

Safe

A/n this was originally meant to be a smaller drabble but it spiraled, also i'm rewatching outer banks and am deep in my jj era <3

Warnings/info: the time period isn’t super relevant but i did write it with mid-ish season 1 in mind, kook!reader, reader smoking for the first time, kinda sheltered reader, jj having a bit of an attitude at first, and my first time writing for a character so pls be nice 😭

Summary: As the newest addition to Figure 8, you haven’t been able to make many friends outside of Sarah Cameron, no matter how hard she tries to get her friend group to bend their no-kook rule. But after JJ pulls you aside at a party, you start to think that you may not be as much of a lost cause as you thought.

----

Thinking about JJ whose little more to you than a fixture of Sarah's friend group, the same group that's too hesitant to bend their no-kooks rule for a girl that Sarah's only recently started hanging out with for you to ever feel fully welcomed around them.

Sure, most of Sarah's friends are nice enough--John B a little more amicable than the others because he's Sarah's boyfriend, and Pope's been happy enough to make conversation with you since after the first time you drank a little too much in front of them (apparently, you're a lot funnier when you're tipsy).

The second half of Sarah's friend group has an easier time openly holding onto their doubts. And you can't even really fault them for it. Kiara's faced the social brutality of your world enough times to warrant her doubts and JJ has every reason to hate kooks.

It doesn't mean it never feels awkward, though. Like when Sarah invites you to a party and then innocently leaves you alone for five minutes just for you to almost immediately accidentally lock eyes with JJ.

He's across the room, standing next to Pope and a guy you don't recognize. Pope's too caught up in friendly conversation to notice you standing there, but for whatever reason, JJ's head is turned towards you. He watches you with an openness that'd be a lot more unnerving if you hadn't recently finished your third drink of the night. You stare back, if for no other reason than to try to decipher the slight draw of his eyebrows.

For a second, you think he might do something. Not necessarily wave you over, but maybe nod or smile politely or offer anything that implies at least acquaintanceship. Instead, he allows his gaze to shift downwards at a pace that feels a little too deliberate before returning to his conversation.

You sigh, a lot more agitated by the snub than you've let yourself be about anything. Before you can fully lean into the feeling, there's a voice, "Hey." You turn, surprised by the closeness of the sound. "You're new, right?"

You blink, wondering if the question is an assumption rooted in your lack of familiarity or in the way you're carrying yourself. Maybe a little of both considering you can't remember ever seeing this guy.

"Yeah," you confirm with a polite nod, "My family and I moved right before summer break."

The stranger nods back: “Cool," he mumbles, "We don't get a lot of new people." There's nothing sharp about the way he says it, but something about the sentiment makes it difficult to not sarcastically let him know that you've noticed. It's not that anyone's been particularly cruel about you being new, it's just hard to move to a town where most friendships were cemented in sandboxes and on swing sets.

When the guy you don't know continues to watch you, you realize that you've yet to respond to him. "Yeah," it's only a little more deflated than you wanted it to be. You shift your weight from one foot to the other before amending your statement, "But everyone's been pretty nice so far."

"I'm sure," he breathes the words out like they're some joke you're not privy to. If the stranger notes your confusion, he gives no indication of it. "And I'm about to be a whole lot nicer..." He reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out something that takes you a second too long to recognize as a joint.

Oh. Your fingers press themselves into your palms. It's not that you're against the idea of smoking, it's just not something you were expecting to do for the first time tonight. Especially with some guy you don't know.

He places the joint between his lips before pulling a lighter from his pocket. The stranger takes his time inhaling the smoke before extending his arm in a silent offering. When you don't immediately jump into action, he prompts you, "Come on..." He takes a step towards you, "Think of it as a welcome gift."

The more you think about it, the less the idea bothers you. This isn't how you saw your night going, but getting high with some guy you just met has to be better than awkwardly waiting for Sarah or forcing yourself onto people who don't really want you around.

You lift your hand, but before your fingers can touch his, something warm and hard presses into your shoulder. You step back, too surprised to really try escaping the force that just latched itself onto your arm.

"Hey, princess." You sigh. It's JJ--just JJ, whose addressing you with a familiarity he's never directed towards you. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

Really. You don't know what his issue is, but clearly, he has one because why else would he pointedly ignore you just to do this when someone besides Sarah starts being nice to you? You part your lips, ready to tell him as much when his hand moves off your arm and comes to rest around your shoulders. He tugs you towards him, making it impossible to ignore his warmth.

JJ straightens slightly, turning his attention to the guy in front of you. "Mind if I steal her for a second?"

The guy frowns. "Uh..." He pulls his arm towards himself. "No, man, go ahead."

JJ offers him a tight lipped smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. With that, he begins to walk forward, arm still around you.

He's quick, making his way through the crowded living room and into a less familiar hallway with long strides that are nearly impossible for you to keep up with. "J--JJ" He doesn't react. "What--"

Before you can get the question out, JJ stalls in front of a shut door. He opens it, ushering you into the new room with a startlingly gentle squeeze of your shoulder. JJ's right behind you, shutting the door behind him.

JJ exhales, the sound sharp and a lot more frustrated than you've ever heard him be. While JJ might not like you, he's never been mad at you. He's never been mean to you. At least, not in a way that transcends occasional bouts of passive aggression.

You're quiet for a moment, attention briefly shifting away from him and onto your surroundings. His sudden interest in you was so distracting, you hadn't really thought about where he might've been taking you. You're both standing in a bedroom now. Completely alone. More alone than you've ever been with him.

The realization is something that you immediately force yourself to push past. He's the one that ruined your chance at hanging out with someone that wanted you around. "What's your problem?"

"My problem," from him, the phrase sounds ridiculous. Like you’re the crazy one for not already understanding his actions. He scoffs, shaking his head once. "Did you even know that guy?"

There's no good answer. Your lips part, a half thought out lie resting against the back of your throat. After a second, you decide against it. He'd be able to tell. "Does it matter?"

He scoffs again, this time the sound even sharper than before. "I guess book smart doesn't count for everything."

"Hey--"

"Did you even ask him what he was smoking?"

You sigh, crossing your arms in front of your chest. "No, because I was hoping it was full of hard drugs that'd kill me." You lift your chin slightly in an attempt to force yourself to hold his gaze, "I know what weed looks like."

He stills, eyeing you in a way that you don't understand. You guess you can't really blame him for his surprise. You doubt you’ve ever directed your sarcasm at him.

JJ's quick to refocus, his frustration returning so quickly it nearly gives you whiplash, "It could have been laced with anything. Just because you look like you came out of a princess movie doesn't mean you live in one."

You press your lips together, deeply unimpressed by the thought of JJ Maybank of all people giving you a safety lecture. You might not know him well enough to have personally witnessed the extent of his recklessness, but Sarah's told you enough stories for you to understand that he's being a total hypocrite.

And while you'd be completely justified in calling him out, there's something about the way he's watching you that tells you he doesn't want to hear it. "I'm not stupid, I saw him smoke it himself first."

JJ scoffs for the third time. You roll your eyes. "It's a party, lighten up."

He's studying you with an openness that even the alcohol in your system can't make a bearable. You swallow in an attempt to ignore the feeling. JJ takes a step forward, and then another, moving at an agonizingly measured pace until he's so close you have to tilt your head to hold his gaze.

You're not sure what he's looking for, but his assessment ends with his lips pulling themselves into a smirk. "You've never smoked before, have you?"

Your skin feels a little warmer than it did a second ago. It'd be an easy enough thing to deny, but then you wouldn't just be someone who hasn't smoked weed before, you'd also be the girl insecure enough to have lied about it.

You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. "I'm going back to the party," the claim is a lot more certain than you feel. "But if I decide to go upstairs and ask Sarah's brother for a line, you'll be the first to know."

The sentence leaves an uncomfortable heat crawling up your neck. It wasn't exactly a cruel thing to say, but it wasn't nice either. JJ may not be your best friend but anyone in proximity of either of them is well aware of the issues between him and Rafe.

You swallow in an attempt to dismiss your regret. You force your gaze to the ground as you shift forward. He's standing in front of the door, but he'd--he'll move if you make it clear you're leaving.

His hand finds your forearm before you can turn fully. Maybe the Rafe comment had been too much. "JJ--"

He presses his lips together, expression uninterpretable as he watches you. "I didn't know you were such a brat." When you give him no sign of recognition, he continues, "You hear 'no' for the first time in your life and you throw a fit."

You glare. "Maybe it's because it's not your place to tell me not to do anything."

"So next time I see you doing something unsafe I should just let you?"

He's still holding onto your arm, which would be a lot more irritating if wasn't for the way that he carefully dragged his thumb against your skin. If you really wanted space, you would have tried pulling away by now.

You let out a breath. JJ had no right to do what he did, but he didn't mean it in a bad way. And that has to count for something. "And you're always so safe?"

His eyebrows draw together at that. "For you--safer than him."

Your lips part, but before you can begin to explain that that's not how you meant it, he releases you.

JJ's hand finds his pocket. He gives you no indication of what he might be looking for until he's pulled it out of his pocket. "You want to smoke? At least do it with someone who isn't going to leave you passed out at a party or worse."

You'd roll your eyes, but you're too happy with your newfound peace to risk it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a lighter before bringing the joint to his lips. He inhales, holding the smoke in his lungs before letting it out.

He extends his arm, offering you the joint. You eye him curiously, wondering how much of this is coming from a place of pity.

"It's a party," he mumbles, elevating his pitch in an attempt to mimic you, "Lighten up."

You halfheartedly glare at the use of your own words against you as you reach for the joint. JJ watches you as you place the joint between your lips. You follow his example, inhaling for a long second before pulling it away.

He places a hand on your back, smoothing comforting circles against your upper spine. "Hold it." You listen as best you can, resisting the urge to exhale until JJ tells you to let it out. To your surprise, he doesn't tease you for the raspy cough that follows. Instead, JJ just continues to trace circles against your back until you can breathe fully again. "There you go."

After you recover, he takes another hit. You watch him expectantly, but instead of giving the joint back to you, he shakes his head. "You're gonna wait a second." You frown. "Don't give me that look, baby."

You ignore the uncomfortable warmth settling in your chest. You barely even talk to JJ and you're already used to his never ending plethora of nicknames, but something about hearing that now, after he's been so nice and patient and so many things you never thought JJ could be...

Maybe you can blame your shift in perspective on the beginning of your high.

JJ steps back with no warning, taking another hit as he walks past you and towards the bed. He sits, sighing as he relaxes himself against the pillows. After he's settled, JJ lazily extends his arm, patting the space next to him. "Sit with me?"

You walk forward slowly, steps measured until you're standing directly in front of the bed. "Wasn't there a guy walking around earlier telling everyone to stay out of the bedrooms?"

He lifts his head just enough to look at you. "If you don't want people in your house, don't throw a house party."

Though oversimplified, a relatively fair point..and you are starting to feel tired in a way you don't understand, a bone deep drowsiness that's as heavy as it is light. You walk towards the other side of the bed before sitting next to him.

If you seem as hesitant as you feel, JJ gives no indication of noticing as he shifts, moving to sit closer to you. Before you can react to the proximity, JJ takes your hand. You let him squeeze your palm to his. "Feeling okay, princess?"

You nod, the motion oddly thought consuming. "Yeah, like--really okay." You don't realize how much you mean it until you've said it. "I think I get it now."

JJ lets out a breath that feels like a laugh. "Get what?"

He bends his leg, letting his knee press against your leg. His skin is warm in a way that reminds you of summer. You don't think twice about leaning into the feeling, relaxing your arm so that it can press against his. "A better question would be what don't I get?"

This time, he actually does laugh, the sound bright and much too enjoyable. You laugh too, if for no other reason than to have something in common with him.

"Well, since weed makes you so much nicer," he ignores your pointed glare, "You can smoke with me whenever you want as long as you promise to always call daddy JJ first."

You sit up, lifting your head slightly to look at him. "Do you really want to have just called yourself that?"

He grins shamelessly, gently pulling your hand towards his chest. "I'd rather you call me that..."

You let out a sigh, relaxing against your pillow in an attempt to dismiss the warmth settling beneath your face. "Don't--I was just starting to think you might be a tiny bit likable."

JJ groans like your words have deeply wounded him. "A tiny bit?" He presses your arm into his chest, dragging his fingertips up and down your forearm. "I thought we were better friends than that."

Friends. You frown, turning your attention towards the wall in front of you. "Well, ignoring me earlier knocked you down a few points."

His hand stills against your arm. "I wasn't--" He sighs. "I--I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk to me or if you were there with that guy and then I was going to--" JJ shakes his head. "I was an asshole."

It's not exactly an apology, but you'll take it. "Kinda."

He starts tracing patterns against your forearm again. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

The thought of pushing for details is tempting, but nowhere near as overwhelming as the heaviness behind your eyelids. You're leaning before you can stop yourself, you head finding JJ's shoulder. "I'm sure."

He drags his nails against your skin. "You're sleepy." It's not a question, but you're about to protest anyway. "It's okay, I'll be here when you wake up."

And for some reason, the assurance is enough to get you to close your eyes.

----

i had fun writing this and kind of want to expand this dynamic so if you'd like to see a part 2 of this or anything jj related in general pls lmk !!

#outer banks #outer banks x reader #jj mayback x reader #jj x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #jj maybank x kook!reader #kook!reader

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decayofroses · 4 months ago

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Succession war Kurapika

I've completed all the available HXH chapters (400), and there were a few scenes that really stood out to me with Kurapika.

I love and adore him as the main character of this arc, and we've seen his perspective and his downward spiral in yorknew.

Seeing him now, and how far he's strayed definitely makes his POV the most interesting to me.

I wanted to point out/ talk about some of the panels throughout the SW.

This panel especially stood out to me, and it's one of my favorites out of the entire manga. He mentions how every time he got a part of his brethren back- he lost something. While I think it could be a physical presence, I think he's talking about himself here more than anything.

Each time he's threatened, coaxed, paid people off, he's lost a part of himself.

Kurapika strays away from his relationships, while to protect them- and also what I believe is out of guilt (and the other which I'll go over in a moment). I think he knows what he's doing to himself, and I don't think he can handle facing it head on, or risking harming his friends physically or emotionally.

And again, when Kurapika agrees to join the zodiacs.

Straying even from Leorio, it's clear he'd rather face things alone, and without distractions. Which is exactly what they are, distractions.

His quest to collect his family is coming to an end. "Where would I go?" I think he means this in a literal, and metaphorical sense. Where will he end up by the end of this? Which path will he go down? He has no place to call home, and he truly believes he has nothing left, and nobody to welcome him back.

Despite having allies, and who quickly became close friends.

He didn't realize it at the time, but shortly after teaming up with Bill and others- he understood the importance of allies.

"Things didn't proceed so simply", things weren't as simple as gathering pawns, and walking the path of revenge alone.

He formed genuine bonds that mean more to him than simple pawns for his quest. He's now torn between his isolation, and his care for his friends. Despite this, he will continue to punish himself and walk this path alone- it's much harder than he'd originally intended. Pushing his friends away to complete his goal, because it serves as his only purpose in his eyes. Even if he knows it's wrong.

Oito asks if spying on the 4th prince is for his convenience. Kurapika takes a moment, and tells her this is simply a strategic choice. I don't think he's lying, but I do think he wants to protect her, and wobble- while still keeping contact with the Prince.

At the moment, he will prioritize protecting the two of them. I think it happens to align with his goal, but it isn't necessarily for his convenience.

The reason I bring this up is to highlight that despite the fact he wants to push his friends away, and work towards his goal- he won't risk the lives of others.

He says he will repeat it as many times as needed, that they are there to protect her and the prince. To trust him.

He tries to be someone who will risk everything for the sake of recovering the eyes, but deep down he can't. Much like how he cannot truly abandon his friends, only isolate himself.

Kurapika is loyal, and unwilling to sacrifice others for the sake of his goal. He forced a stalemate, and took advantage of his nen knowledge to level out the playing field. A stalemate buys them more time, making it so it won't be as easy for experienced nen users to take advantage of non nen users.

It was a brilliant idea that may be risky, but also offers protection for him, and the queen.

During this conversation with Mizaistom, it's clear that Kurapika has not abandoned all of his morals, he wants to avoid killing the Prince despite having the remaining eyes. He would rather try other methods, and is opposed to killing.

Mizaistom and Kurapikas dynamic is one of my favorites, but that's for another time.

That's all I have to talk about, for now. I wanted to go over my favorite panels, and his relationships in the succession war.

#kurapika #hunter x hunter #hxh 2011 #hxh #succession war #dark content #kurapika kurta #leorio paladiknight #mizaistom nana #oito #analysis #character analysis #kurapika analysis

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lees-chaotic-brain · 1 year ago

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How would jjk men react to reader being pregnant with quadruplets?

Feat. Gojo, Yuta, Inumaki, Nanami, Megumi, Itadori (all characters are aged up)

Note: I did headcanons for this request because there were so many characters I wanted to include, and it would get a little boring to write the same scenario out in a full fledged fic like seven times. However, if there are one or two that you want me to turn into proper fics lmk!! I had to do research on pregnancy for this bc it's been awhile since my high school health class

CW: pregnancy, implied thoughts of abortion ig, mentions of fear regarding labor, AFAB reader bc, yk, pregnancy, one singular swear word

Word Count: 1.2k

JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

Gojo

I feel like Gojo would think you were joking at first, and wouldn’t believe you until you got frustrated and he finally realized you were being for real. He would have mixed emotions. On one hand, he was excited to have a big family and a house full of laughter and love. On the other hand, he was afraid, because more babies meant more defenseless mini-people for him to protect.

He had only known that he was going to be a father of quadruplets a few minutes ago, but he already knew that it would destroy him if he ever lost one of them. That he would gladly give his life for them. And then there was the matter of you. He already knew that childbirth was difficult for women, but quadruplets?? Childbirth was something that even he couldn’t protect you from and that terrified him.

After a serious discussion in which he made sure you were okay with the added risks and you continuously reassured him that this was what you wanted, he settled down and began imagining a future for your family. Until he realized that he would have to share your love with four little gremlins who would surely take after their clingy father. Then it suddenly seemed less appealing.

Yuta

Baby boy would be shooketh. Because he’s sorry please don’t be mad at him and oh you’re not mad at him and the two of you are having quadruplets well technically you are but he’s the dad and oh god what if he’s not good at being a dad and-

You would have to calm him down as he fell into a downward spiral. Once you had properly reassured him, and he had fully absorbed the information he was ecstatic. He has always wanted a big family, and together the two of you were making that dream come true. Cuddling up to you he would thank you for loving him and gifting him with the many kids he had always dreamed of having.

He for sure would be the type to rub your stomach and whisper sweet nothings to the growing babies in your womb, telling them how much daddy loves them and how excited he is to meet them.

He would also start baby-proofing every square inch of your house before you had even started your second trimester.

Inumaki

He would be in shock. Because he put- wait how many??? babies in you. There was no way he heard you right. There was no way that you were pregnant with quadruplets. Because, wait, he didn't sign up for this! Yeah, he wanted tons of kids, but four babies at a time was a lot. And the strain it would have on your body was concerning as well.

After he stopped opening and closing his mouth as he gaped at you, he managed to organize his thoughts. First he wanted to make sure you even wanted that many kids because, well, it wouldn’t be easy to give birth to or take care of that many. Once you had reassured him that you were, in fact, sure that you wanted to go through with the pregnancy and that you were prepared for whatever the future held for your not-so-little family he took a moment to process his own emotions.

At first he was conflicted. Sure he was excited, but he held his own private reservations. What if something went wrong during labor? What if he wasn’t cut out to be the parent of one kid, let alone four. But as the months sped by and your stomach grew, the anticipation grew, until one day he let go of any and all trepidation and allowed himself to be optimistic.

He also bought tons of matching onesies for the whole family.

Nanami

Ever the responsible adult and caring husband, first he sat you down and had a serious discussion about the pros and cons of having quadruplets, and whether or not the risks were worth it. Deep down he was thrilled, but he wanted to make sure the two of you were on the same page and understood what continuing meant.

Once the two of you had established you were going to see this through, and it was something the two of you wanted his planning would begin. First came the research. He thoroughly educated himself on everything regarding pregnancy, learning everything he needed to do to ensure your comfort and the healthy birth of his children.

Expect a special diet plan that fulfills the needs of you and your unborn children in the healthiest way possible, essential oil massages, weekly check-ups starting your second trimester, vitamin gummies and more.

He also would begin saving up because raising four children would be expensive. Would for sure have a whole financial plan set up and college savings accounts set up for each of his children within a week of his learning.

Megumi

Honestly, he wouldn’t have super strong feelings about it. He wanted to be a dad, but he didn’t care if it was one, four, or one hundred. He just wanted to have kids with you, and beyond that as long as you were happy he was too.

So when you told him, his only response was asking you what you thought about it. When you told him you were excited, he was excited too. He had wanted to build his own family for as long as he could remember, and you were helping him reach his dream. What more could he ask for? The only other thing that mattered to him was that his children had siblings. As a kid he had resented Tsumiki, but as an adult he couldn’t imagine the loneliness he would have experienced growing up without her. So yeah. If you were happy, and his children would have siblings so they would never have to walk through life alone, he was content.

There was nothing more he wanted in life than your love and a family with you.

Itadori

Kids!!! He had wanted a ton of kids, so this was perfect! You were happy with it, so even better! He sees it as a four-in-one deal, and is over the moon. His golden retriever personality becomes even worse when you’re pregnant. Like, this man is at your side 24/7.

Constantly following you around, looking at you with big pleading eyes as he begs to cuddle in bed with you so he can talk to your stomach.

Oh my god talking to your stomach. This man would talk to your stomach more than he talks to you. Asking what your kids want to be named. Telling your unborn babies about his day. That he loves them and can’t wait to meet them. Describes all the fun things the six of you are going to do once they’re born. Definitely tries cuddling your stomach because he ‘wants to know what it feels like to hold his children.’

Also is a little shit that constantly asks ‘are they coming yet? Why not??’

#lee's brain writes #jjk x reader #jjk x you #inumaki x reader #gojo x reader #yuta x reader #itadori x reader #nanami x reader #megumi x reader #nanami is baby daddy material for real #so responsible #i wrote a whole essay for inunmaki #and even after shortening it i had to make the others longer so that my bias wouldn't show #jjk fluff #jjk crack #jjk fic

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venerawrites · 2 months ago

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Helloo! could I humbly request relationship headcanons for Sasuke before and after the war? as in the difference between him then and after? I always thought he'd be a lot more mature and his views on things might change? especially since before he never would've had the time to actually consider things like romantic relationships and such to a deep extent? I'd love to hear your thoughts! I wish you a good day/night!

(fem reader or gn!neutral is up to you! I'm okay with either!)

author's note: hi, lovely! I am so glad to get a request for Sasuke, as he is one of my favourite boys, but I don't really get the chance to write a lot for him. I guess the "after the war" Sasuke can be a bit OOC if you follow Boruto, but as I haven't watched it and I don't really agree with how most of the characters developed... I just kind of wrote the way I envision it. I hope you enjoy! <3

BEFORE the war

It is very hard to imagine Sasuke having a relationship with someone during the time when the only thing that plagued his mind was the idea of revenge.

If he was to get interested in someone, I would imagine it would be a civilian/retired ninja during his travels with Team Taka. (I don't really imagine him falling for a ninja tbh)

I think even here, we have to separate before and after Itachi's death...

Let's roll with the idea that he meets his s/o before killing his brother. During this time he won't be really interested in forming a relationship - for a really long time he won't even understand what is that funny thing inside his chest and why he feel the need to visit his s/o's house every few months.

Sasuke has the tendency to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, so I imagine that this is how he will behave with his s/o the same way - he will visit his their house at random times, always staying for different periods of time; demand that they heal him (if his s/o is a healer or had any basic medical knowledge); he would buy stuff for the house from the local market or leave some of his own (such as some of his clothes), almost as a way to establish a claim over them/their property.

He would never put a label on the type of "situationship" him and his s/o share, but it is clear to both that whatever is going on is deeper than a friendship.

Still very cold and reserved - would share very minimal information about his past or his goals, preferring to either sit in silence or ask his s/o questions.

Kind of grumpy and rude ALL THE DAMN TIME.

He didn't want to entertain the idea of having feelings for someone, yet he couldn't stay away. The intentions of his visits were always masked with some type of "excuse" - he was in "hiding"; he needed somewhere to "heal"; he wanted a "break" from his team etc. Yet he couldn't help but feel annoyed he was getting distracted from his main goal and he was taking it on his s/o in the form of snappy comments, rolling eyes, constant huffing and just in general bad attitude.

A silent protector - he would check on his s/o quite often, sometimes not even visiting their house, just watching from a distance to make sure they are okay. I imagine during this time he would be highly alert and worried Itachi may try to target his s/o, so he may even act a bit controlling by banning them from leaving their house after dark or letting any strangers inside.

Now Sasuke after killing Itachi and learning the truth about his clan... is a COMPLETELY different story.

We all know his mental health completely collapsed during this time and his mind spiraled downward. This would affect not only his actions, but also his relationship.

For starters, he would clearly establish that he consider them as "his" (if it was not clear before, it is now). His paranoia that everyone is after him, fueled with the fact that he not only wanted a revenge on Konoha, but also the belief that he needs to start rebuilding his clan soon, would push him into constantly trying to persuade his s/o to leave with him.

Now I've said that before, but I don't see Sasuke with the shy, agreeable type of partner... so most likely his s/o would just cuss him out and tell him to leave.

Lot's of arguments, jealousy and gaslighting - Sasuke is literally a walking RED FLAG during that time.

He also is not the type to give up easily, so even if his s/o tries to 'break things off', there is no getting rid of him - his s/o is HIS and he would make sure not only they understand it, but that the WHOLE WORLD does. Nobody loves like an Uchiha after all...

AFTER the war

If you expect head canons based on Sasuke's personality in Boruto... you better stop reading here! I've never seen Boruto, but I've read enough to know that (at least for me) almost all of the OG characters are ruined. So here is my interpretation of what type of partner Sasuke would be after the war...

Firstly, let's start with the fact that he will be by himself for a long time while travelling during his "exhile". Even if he had some type of partner/crush before the war, it is unlikely their relationship would survive after the war.

(which is quite good actually, because as I mentioned above, such relationship would be highly toxic and dysfunctional!)

I think at least a few years need to pass for him to really find himself, find his purpose and accept his past and that of his clan. He has been through a lot of trauma which needs a lot of healing and self-discovery.

Like mentioned above, I don't think he would fall in love with a ninja. In fact, I believe someone who is not really part of that bloody and cruel world would be perfect for him and he would finally have the chance to be himself.

Someone with a lot of patience would suit him well, because while he is more mature, I think he would be very insecure. He never really formed any significant bonds with other people, so he is unsure how to proceed and how to properly treat his s/o.

Definitely friends-to-lovers type of love story.

Sasuke after the war would be more patient and calm, but still fiercely overprotective. I still think he would scold his s/o of they are too careless or too trusting with strangers, he would be nearly as controlling as his younger self.

Tbh I never understood the character development in Boruto, because in my opinion adult Sasuke would totally want a quiet settled life with his partner, away from battles and more bloodshed.

It's already settled in him to be a provider and to be honest I imagine him as a very traditional male figure - the head of the family, the one taking care of his partner and kids, providing protection and security.

He still has a lot to learn and overcome, but the main thing that sets him apart from his younger self is the willingness to listen to his partner and work on himself.

He is still occasionally rude and snappy, and to an outsider way too cold and reserved toward his partner, but to his s/o it would be obvious that he does try to show affection in his own way - waking up before everyone else, so he can prepare breakfast; unconsciously shielding his partner (and kids) with his body in public; small gifts, most of which handmade; subtle touches on the arm or the lower back...

Overall, a piece of work... but definitely one that is worth it!

cc artwork: Christian Benavides

#sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke headcanons #sasuke imagine #naruto requests #naruto imagines #naruto headcanons

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